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kopfkino-o · 1 year

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The Seer’s Stone - Chapter Five

Summary: Elain Archeron is tired of being the “lovely, sweet gardener” everyone wants her to be. After losing her beloved, her humanity, her life, she’s ready to claim her own path forward with the help of her friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, as she searches far and wide for the mysterious Seer’s Stone: an ancient artifact of old rumored to once belong to an ancient Oracle. But will fate itself step in to stop her? Or will Elain defy the strings of destiny that bind her and forge her own path forward, choosing her own fate, friendships, future, and love, along the way.

Pairing: Elain x Azriel

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Wordcount: 3800

Taglist: @downingg2001 @gracie-rosee @nivem565 // Let me know if you want on (or off) the tag list for future updates! Thank you all for reading <3

Read:

Chapter One | The Crone’s Trade

Chapter Two | The Oracle of Seraphyros

Chapter Three | Last of Our Kind (Azriel)

Chapter Four | An Empty Seat

THE SMUTTY STUFF - A PREVIEW

Author’s Note: Not saying I’m going to write a Tarqwyn fic, but also not going to say I’m not gonna. Writing Elain and Azriel together on page was so fun and I can’t wait for where their story here is headed 👀

Thanks for reading, y’all!

- Court

Cassian teased Elain the entire flight up to the House of Wind. He tickled the extra sensitive spot between her collarbone and neck, sought out only the hard updrafts of cold wind that ripped at the skirts of her pale purple dress, and pretended he was about to drop her not once. Not twice.

But thrice.

Elain was pale and wobbling by the time he all but dumped her onto the terrace of the House, his laughter so loud and rich it echoed off the red stone walls that made up the private home and stirred a flock of blackbirds perched amongst the rocks to flight. She would have thrown up right then and there on her brother-in-law's shiny leather boots if she wasn't half as much a proper lady.

“Rhys would have never done that to me,” Elain insisted, stumbling as she tried to make for the wide-open terrace doors.

Cassian’s laughter deepened further. “Well I’m not Rhys, and this is no Riverhouse. Best leave your expectations at the door, sweetheart.”

“I suppose I should expect nothing less from the couple who allows a magic house to cook and clean for them.”

“The House is our friend, thank you very much.”

“My point.”

Cassian cracked a smile. “Is it just me or have you grown some claws, Lainey?”

“Always had them," Elain said, throwing a smile at him. "You all just never bothered to notice.”

With that, she snickered at the look on his face and strode proudly into the House of Wind.

Elain found Emerie and Gwyn sitting inside, both women were slick with sweat and panting heavily, their Illyrian leathers and sheathed weapons somehow perfectly at home amongst the casual décor and sunny interiors. The former waved weakly at her, clearly exhausted, while the latter sprung up to her feet, teal eyes sparkling and a wide smile spreading across her freckled face.

“Elain! Cauldron spare me, I’ve been waiting to talk to you.” Gwyn grinned, bounding eagerly over to her. “I tried that recipe from baking club, the one with cinnamon and cardamom. I browned the sugar and left the butter out to melt overnight, just like you suggest, and well, the dough looked fine. But then when I put them into the oven, well, things sort of took a turn for the worse—”

“What she means to say is she almost set our new apartment on fire,” Emerie said plainly, the Illyrian woman's hazel eyes bright and clear.

“Almost, and did, are two very different words. Linguistically speaking.”

Emerie shrugged. “Schematics.”

Gwyn stuck her tongue out at the other Valkyrie. “If I wanted a grumpy opinion I would have just marched down to the Library and asked Merrill."

Elain cocked her head at the mention of the High Priestess, the woman and her moods all too familiar to her as of late.

“I thought you’d finished your last shift at the Library ahead of your trip down to the Summer Court.” She said.

“Oh, I have, but I still like to visit my friends there to catch up on the drama every now and then. Plus, I just... wanted to spend a little more time there before I depart for Adriata." Gwyn shifted nervously on her feet, her teal eyes flicking toward the wide expanse of widows. “I’ll be away from Velaris for two whole months if you can believe it. Apparently, learning the art of the spear is, apparently, no easy feat.”

Elain nodded, remembering the priestess's mention of her plans to travel south to the Summer Court to learn the art of the three-pronged spear from the southern court from their time spent working together on the details of Nesta's mating ceremony a few months prior.

All of the Valkyries who were comfortable with leaving Velaris were soon due to travel far and wide across Prythian to expand their knowledge of different weapons, fighting styles, and battle strategies. Gwyn amongst the ranks of them, and, apparently, the one who came up with the idea for the journeys in the first place.

“I hear Adriata is beautiful, though. Feyre often speaks highly of the city” Elain said. “And the High Lord who rules it."

Cassin coughed pointedly from where he leaned against the doorway.

."I've always wanted to travel south and see the white-sand beaches and bright blue water of Summer. And the Spear-Daughters of Summer are amongst the fiercest warriors in all of Prythian. Save for us Valkyrie, of course. But,” Gwyn shook her head, teal eyes dropping down to her feet. “ I mean, Mother bless me, I’ve never even left the Night Court before. The idea of traveling so far is just so... new.”

Elain blinked and a lovely, hope-filled image shimmered in her mind's eye.

Yes, so very new but how very beautiful.

She couldn't stop herself from reaching across the space between them and taking Gwyn's hand in her own, squeezing it once and offering a smile she knew was not her place to explain but one she could not suppress.

"I have a feeling you're going to be happy there, Gwyn. Truly happy." She said.

The priestess quirked a copper brow, her freckled lips parting as if to question the statement further, but then Nesta was sweeping into the room, her beautiful face fixed with a general’s hardness and a goddess’s grace, sword flashing silver at her side.

She paused in the doorway, straightening at the sight of her little sister, and raked Elain over with a critical eye that saw everything and missed nothing. Nesta’s lips twitched at the sight of Elain’s unruly hair, her wrinkled and wind-tousled clothes, the flush of green still on her face.

Then frowned.

“Why do you look like you’ve just survived a tornado?” Nesta asked.

Elain threw an accusatory look at where Cassian was leaning in the doorway, smiling smugly as he cleaned his nails with a hunting knife, wings splayed wide and haloed by the sunny terrace beyond.

If Nesta was iron and frozen flames, then he was steel and crackling fire. Two sides to the same coin, honed and tempered by sheer grit and determination. A perfect match.

"Bumpy ride," Elain answered sweetly.

"You're green. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Nesta. Just a touch... flight sick."

Her older sister’s eyes narrowed further. “Well, if you’re going to be sick, try not to lose your lunch on the carpets. The House is willing to do much and more, but cleaning up vomit is not one of them.”

Cassian barked a laugh. Emerie merely rolled her eyes.

But it was Gwyn who leaned in close and whispered to Elain, “She found that out the hard way.”

Nesta scowled. "I can hear you, Berdara."

"Perhaps that's the point, Nes," Gwyn said sweetly, tossing a curtain of copper-brown hair over an armored shoulder before turning to Elain and gently patting her arm. "I'll send you those spices you asked for as I find them. But, until then, best of wishes, Elain. The next time you see me, I'll be good and properly trained on how to drive a spear thrown a grown male's gut."

With a wide smile and dramatic flourish, Gwyn scooped up a wooden stave from the corner of the room, brushed past Cassian as if he were nothing more than a mere stalk of wheat, and sauntered out into the blinding light of the terrace and training ring beyond.

"Mother spare me," Nesta rolled her eyes, though even she couldn't hide the smile turning up the corner of her lips. "A few months out of the Library and she's got enough confidence one might think she's the future Princess of Adriata."

Elain only smiled.

A lapse of silence settled between them and Elain used it to glance around the room, noting the changes that had been made to the House since the last time she visited. The once heavy velvet curtains were replaced with light linens that billowed in the wind and light bright, natural light pour into the space. The old, dusty furniture had been replaced with more modern, but still comfortable, outfittings and nearly everywhere she looked a bookshelf lined the wall.

Even the marble of the hearth was new, the stone simple but chic and, above it, hung a portrait of Nesta and Cassian clad in armor and proud atop the high peak of Ramiel, swords raised and heads haloed with writhing crowns of silver flame.

Something in Elain's heart tightened. It felt strange to see this place, this home, filled with so many things that reminded her of her sister. And the new healing and happiness she’d found within it.

"What?" Nesta asked, the question almost self-conscious.

Elain shrugged. "Nothing. I just like what you've done with the place."

"You came all the way here to assess my interior design tastes, then?"

"No."

Nesta glanced over at Emerie and Cassian and gestured with a slight jerk of her chin toward the open doorway. Leave us, that gesture said. The former groaned as she rose and trudged, albeit slowly, on muscular legs for the door, collecting a longsword and wooden shield as she went. The latter merely winked, blowing Elain a kiss and offering Nesta a look that would have had anyone else blushing red before swaggering out to the training ring.

Finally alone, Nesta let her guard down, the hardened general softening to a concerned older sister. Even the hard glint in her blue eyes seemed to ease up.

"Is everything okay? Your head, the visions?" She asked softly.

"Yes, Nesta. I'm—"

"And Feyre, the babe?"

"Everything is fine, Nesta. I swear it.” Elain assured feverishly. “I've just come to fetch a book, that's all. No need for any worries. Everything is perfectly fine. ”

Nesta blew out what very well might have been a sigh of relief but then the worry furrowing her brow turned hard one more and the thin line of her lips became a scowl.

"You came all the way here for a bloody book?"

Elain nodded. "I need it for a gardening project. The collection of the local flora and fauna is far more impressive in the library here than in the one Rhys and Feyre keep at the Riverhouse."

The lie came so easily it felt almost as if it were the truth.

Elain's gut twisted at the realization, twisted and withered at the utter lack of suspicion in Nesta's eyes. Nesta, who she had shared every secret with. Nesta, who had always been there and always understood. Nesta, who was her older sister and closest friend. Elain had never lied to her, never had a reason to, until now.

Until these last few months.

A clash of steel on steel drew Nesta's gaze out towards the veranda. Once that might have hurt her, might have made Elain feel small and overlooked, but she understood more now, could See more now. She and her sister had different purposes now, new lives and relationships that demanded more focus, more attention. Nesta had her Valkyries and her mate. Elain had the twins and her gardens and her ugly little secrets.

"Alright," Nesta said finally, nodding slowly. "Ask the House if you need help. It can find just about anything, anywhere, but only if you're polite. Come find me before you depart. We can take the stairs together if you're feeling up for it."

"I'm not sure my body could physically handle that," Elain chuckled.

"You'd be surprised what your body can do when you put your mind to it."

Oh, but Elain did know. Perhaps a little too well.

But she merely smiled, grabbing her sister and hugging her tight, before bidding Nesta goodbye and watching, lovingly, almost enviously, as her older sister strode out to the training ring and her new life that waited within.

Alone and unwatched, Elain wasted no time getting down to business, hurrying at once for the stairwell.

The floor above was occupied by House of Wind’s library at the end of the hall with private bedrooms lining the narrow space on either side. Elain moved swiftly past them on silent feet, checking every other heartbeat over her shoulder until she stood before the closed door of the last bedroom on the left.

She wasn’t sure how she knew this particular one was his, only that she could feel it. Could scent it. She’d never been inside, never even been close, but she knew it in her bones.

Heart in her throat, she knocked once.

And waited.

When there was no answer she knocked again, louder now.

Again, no answer.

So Elain rallied her spirits, forcing down every worry and fear that warred within her and tried the doorknob. Unlocked. She glanced one last time down the hallway towards the stairwell before slowly pushing the door open.

The space beyond was well-lit, the linen curtains thrown away from the wide panel of windows that illuminated the meticulously neat and utterly empty room.

The worn leather couch was unoccupied and the nearby neat column of books was seemingly untouched. No cloak hung from the iron peg in the entryway and her delicate ears caught no whisper of movement within.

“Hello?” Elain called out anyway, nerves a maelstrom in her stomach.

But, again, no answer came.

So she gathered her skirts and slipped quietly into the Spymaster’s bedroom.

The scent of mist and cedar and something more floral hit her at once. It was so familiar, yet the space around her so foreign. Elain couldn’t stop herself from taking in her surroundings, feeling as if she'd d stepped into another realm, a world entirely of his own that gave her the chance to steal an intimate look into his personality.

The unlit heart was completely devoid of ash or burned logs as if it’d been a long time since a fire had been lit within it, if ever at all. Nearly every visible surface was lacking even a speck of dust and every single thing within the room seemed to have a methodically dedicated place.

Artwork hung on the walls, some pieces clearly done by Feyre’s hand, others older, more classic. A long bookshelf occupied the western wall and was stuffed full of books and greenery and trinkets from worlds Elain could only ever dream of visiting. Whirling golden instruments from the Dawn Court, fur-trimmed masks from the Winter Court, and tiny, carved wooden bobbles that could only hail from the Human Lands.

A potted Kingsflame flower bloomed in the corner, healthy and vibrant as if it’d been tended to both night and day, while a collection of seedlings were just now greening on the window sill. A star-sphere and a looking glass sat upon a nearby table, a bushel of carefully dried flowers and a worn hunting tapestry hung carefully above it.

And the books, Mother bless him, there were so many books. Perhaps even enough to rival the collection in the Library just down the hall. They occupied every spare space, all neatly stacked with obvious care.

Elain drifted further into the room, rounding a cutout in the wall and mounting a small set of stairs up to where a large, four-poster bed occupied most the space. It was made, clearly long-since slept in, but the bedding was surprisingly worn, the cobalt and amethyst quilt threadbare and bearing the hallmarks of something obviously handmade.

She found what she was looking for just beyond the bed.

The large, elegant desk was framed perfectly by a cascading beam of sunlight as if it’d been waiting just for her.

The stacks of papers atop it were neat, the collection of scrolls and tomes in the cubby nearby even neater. A large ale glass that reminded her of the one her father used to drink from held a collection of quills and writing utensils, a fresh pot of ink capped and waiting beside it. Even the small astrolabe resting at the desk’s edge was clean and neat, the interlocking golden spheres polished so thoroughly they shined in the sunlight.

Elain approached it as if she were in a dream, her attention clouded by her plan.

Find a map of the Prison, commit to memory, and bring it back to Kalla and the Twins so they could help her design a plan for infiltration. Find the fragments of the Stone, find the Staff.

Easy enough, Elain thought sarcastically.

She opened the unlocked center drawer and began to shuffle through the papers inside. Her eyes flew over the papers, drinking in different codenames and dossier titles and reports from spies in any and every court. If there was a secret, it was here. If there was any kernel of hidden knowledge, it was here. None of it mattered to her, though. Her course was set, her mind decided.

The Prison, the Middle, the Autumn Court. The Stone, the Staff, the—

"I never took you for a snoop."

Elain jumped at the low, soft voice and her hand immediately fell away from the map of the Prison she'd wriggled free, flashing instead to the dagger concealed at her side, and whirled.

Only to find Death standing in the doorway.

Azriel was dressed all in black: black knee-high leather boots, black leather breeches, a black tunic with black iron fastenings, black scaled pauldrons with matching black gauntlets, and a black cloak that flowed from his shoulders like smoke, even his hair was fully black in this light, but his eyes were bright gold and his face was flushed with life and color, as if he'd just come off a cold wind. Shadows swarmed around him, snakes twinning and whispering around his hands and shoulders, already murmuring her secrets.

Beautiful. Terrifying. A face she’d seen in countless dreams.

Elain snapped her hand behind her back, straightening at the sight of him, and forced a demure smile, steeling herself against his assessing gaze until she was nothing more than a trembling fawn. Innocent, unaware, and entirely unassuming.

"Cassian asked me to fetch something," She said sweetly.

Azriel only cocked his head. "Did he?"

"Training plans. For the Valkyrie’s afternoon drills."

Azriel took another step into the room, shadows swirling. One in particular curled around his neck and murmured in his ear, whatever secrets it whispered drawing a small smile across his lips.

“They tell me when you lie, you know.” He said softly.

Cauldron spare me.

Elain swallowed hard, racking her brain for an excuse. “Nesta asked me to help find your travel long. She wanted to know if you'd be back before the Valkyries head out for their trips abroad."

"That's not it either, is it."

He took a step.

"Mor was worried about you."

Another step.

"You lie again."

They were so close now she could smell the wind on him, could see the veins of emerald in his hazel eyes. Could see the pale smattering of freckles that graced his cheeks, tiny constellations dusting his golden skin as if the Mother herself had tossed them there.

“I needed a map.” Elain breathed.

Azriel hummed. “That’s more like it.”

He reached behind her and gently plucked up the documents she'd discarded between scarred fingers. Elain watched anticipatingly, heart hammering in her chest, as he unfolded them and studied the various maps of the Prison Isle with eyes that gave away nothing. A beautiful, tortuous face that gave away absolutely nothing.

“Why?” He asked after a long moment.

Elain straightened. “It’s none of your business.”

“Is it not?" Azriel countered. "You are here in my bedroom, uninvited, trying to steal from me after all."

“I wasn’t stealing, merely borrowing. And your door was unlocked besides.”

Azriel leafed through the maps again, hazel eyes churning. Unable to bare the tension between them, Elain eached for the map and tried to snatch it from him, but he was too tall, too fast, for her to even come close. Instead, she found her fingers curling over the strong expanse of his forearm, his burnt skin warm beneath her grip. Their eyes met over the sparse space between them.

This was a mistake.

Elain yanked her hand away, fumbling as she took a step back. The edge of the desk pressed into the column of her spine but the dul pinch was a welcome reprieve from the heat building in her blood. Mother spare her, why did he have to have this effect on her?

"Why?" Azriel asked again, voice softer this time.

Elain sighed. "I just...I need to see if something's there. If something I thought might not be real is, in fact, very real after all."

"You saw something."

I wasn't a question. And Elain certainly wasn't about to answer. She tried to draw further away from him, desperate to put space between them, if only to stop the strange feeling that swirled in her belly whenever he was near, but Azriel only drew nearer.

"The Prison is not to be considered lightly," Azriel said. "The Isle itself is largely uncharted. The land is just as much a monster as the creatures locked away on it. It's law unto itself, unchecked and untamed."

"Right, because I'm utterly incapable of taking care of myself. I suppose you've forgotten it was me who stabbed the King of Hybern just like everyone else."

Elain could see the blow land. Something in Azriel's eyes flickered out at her words, the harshness with which she spoke them, but Elain refused to let herself feel guilt over them.

Desperate to be away from her, from the weight of his sad hazel eyes, Elain moved to shove past him. She didn't need the physical maps to navigate the Prison's vast isle and complex passageways. The mere glimpse of documents was all she needed. Her magic could help her recall them later, and in near-perfect detail too.

Azriel's hand flashed out and caught her wrist. A bolt of static skittered up her skin from where their bodies touched. "I don't doubt you, Elain. I never have." He said gently. "But you just can't wander into the Prison without a plan. There are residents there who scare even Rhysand. Who scare even me. I won't let you go alone."

"I'm not going alone. I do have friends, you know."

“The twins might be privy to a lot of things, but access to the Prison is not one of them. Rhys has only granted myself and a select other few the ability to bypass the wards there. No one else could ever even dream of getting past that sort of magic without his knowledge. Or his approval." Azriel released her wrist. Her skin felt cold without the warmth of his touch. "And something tells me you don't intend to ask Rhysand for that."

"Rhys would grant me a palace amongst the stars if I asked nicely enough. Feyre too, for that matter." Elain said defiantly. She wasn't going to back down on this, not now that she'd finally spoken her mind. "Besides, I don't need Rhysand's permission. I don't need anyone's."

Azriel chuckled, the sound sending his shadows skittering and warmth radiating through her bones. "I’m not sure I’d call that spelllspinner you’re hiding away in the Library a friend. She’s far from trustworthy from what I’ve gathered.” He said and Elain did not fail to note the sly little smile that curved his lips. He knows about Kalla then. She did her best to master herself, unwilling in letting him know he’d surprised her with that reveal. “It’s not like she’ll do you much good, either way,” He continued. “One mere tug at the threads of those binding the spells to the Prison and your spellspinner will scramble her mind so thoroughly she'll forget her own name.”

Elain had been afraid of that. While Kalla was confident within her own abilities to manipulate and break the threads of magic, the twins hadn’t been so convinced, both Nuala and Cerridwen afraid of something exactly like this. The Prison was old, they’d warned her, and it’s magic older still. Breaking past those wards would be no easy task, especially not without Rhys or someone who carried his expression permission to step foot on the Prison Isle.

But Elain had hoped, Mother had she hoped…

Closing her eyes, Elain drew in a long, steadying breath and loosed it on a slow exhale. "Are you going to try and stop me?" She asked him finally.

“No. Never.”

“Then what do you want, Azriel?”

Now it was the shadowsinger who drew in a deep breath of his own. Azriel met her eyes when he finally answered, his voice soft but resolute. “Let me help you, and Nuala and Cerridwen, with… whatever it is you’re trying to do. I won’t ask questions, won’t pass judgment, only lend help where I can.” He said. “You want on the island without Rhys or Feyre knowing? Fine, consider it done. The Prison is no place for recklessness. I won’t stop you, Elain, but I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything in my power to try and keep you safe.”

Azriel extended the maps he’d caught her with as if he were offering an olive branch. Elain could only stare at him. His words were both hope and heartbreak.

“You don’t have to face the darkness of that wretched place alone. Let me help you, Elain.” The spy master of the Night Court, the man who they claimed was Death given form, pressed. “Let me face that darkness with you.”

Elain eased the maps from his burnt fingers and tucked them into the pocket hidden in her cloak lining before meeting Azriel’s hazel eyes. She offered him only one word in answer before brushing past him and striding from the room.

“Fine.”

#The Seer's Stone #The Seer's Stone fanfic #elriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfic

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estrogenpatchnotes · 6 months

Note

Dying was not a peaceful experience for Shadow the Hedgehog. Whether the unpleasantness of this particular death was unique to the hedgehog, or if it was due to the nature of its well earned demise is a matter of debate for scholars of all inane and overly narrow subjects.

The long trip down the Styx eventually deposited the Hedgehog where all eventually find their way, that place in which all mortal souls face judgement, the House of Hades. In landing at its entrance, the quilled menace was greeted with the visage of the ever eager Hypnos, brother to death, lord of sleep.

Hypnos

“Wowzie, wow! I’ve never seen a creature like you emerge from the Styx before. And it says here you disintegrated from atmospheric re-entry? Have you tried not leaving the atmosphere to begin with?”

Shadow

“Leave me alone to die.”

Hypnos

“No can do buddy, you’re already dead!”

The recently vanquished Hedgehog was puzzled by this declaration. While it had sent many souls down to Hades, it was not aware of anything that lay beyond the veil of death. Indeed it seems that of the very few things it had learned in its brief time walking the earth and traversing the lowest heavens, it had failed to consider the nature of its own mortality.

Shadow

“Dead…”

Hypnos

“Yup! Right here on the list, “Shadow the Hedgehog, died of Atmospheric Entry Related Disintegration”!”. I’ll admit it’s an impressive way to go, especially for a mortal. Even Zag would be hard pressed to beat that one.”

Shadow

“Wait, hold on, this has to be some sort of trick… Sonic of course, he must have-” Hypnos

“Woah woah woah, slow down there little buddy, I don’t think you understand. It’s fine, most mortals these days don’t-”

Shadow

“Get out of my way, I don’t have time for any cheap tricks, I have to figure out what’s really going on here”

The unnatural quickness that served him in life was called forth once again as Shadow the Hedgehog rushed forth, cutting quickly ahead of the many varied petitioners within the House of Hades. Despite his efforts, his escape was cut short before it even began by the monstrous, three headed Cerberus.

Hades

“Who dares disturb the order of my house?”

The lord of the dead loomed from his throne, sending the many waiting shades scurrying from their places in the queue and into the shadowed corners of his hall. His weighty gaze resting upon the impudent hedgehog held by the scruff of its neck in one of Cerberus’s terrible maws.

Hades

“Speak now shade, and do it quickly to explain yourself, you won’t have time again for such luxuries during your time in Tartarus.”

Shadow

“My name’s not Shade, it’s Shadow, and you’re the one who should be explaining himself to me. What’s the meaning of this, where am I?”

Hypnos

“Ha ha, Lord Hades I see you’ve met our latest guest. When I read his file I just knew you’d want to meet him as fast as possible! Not only did he come down in one of the most spectacular ways I’ve ever seen, he also apparently dropped a bunch of things called… The Chaos Emeralds?”

Hades

“Did you just say… the Chaos Emeralds?”

At the mention of those artifacts, the Grim Lord of the Underworld was distracted from his righteous fury at the intruding hedgehog. His mind turned back to the early days of his rulership over the Underworld, when the old order of the Titans still colored all aspects of existence both living and dead. That some of the most ancient jewels from that era would find their way once again to the Underworld gave even him pause.

We take a refrain now from the House of Hades to look upon the surface of the Earth, where the former enemies and allies of Shadow the Hedgehog now contemplated the aftermath of a prior tale.

I did actually read the whole thing here that’s delightful

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bryhaven · 2 years

Text

Top 10 Films

Thank you for the tag, @onigiri-dorkk! I've been tagged in a number of challenge posts, and I will try to get to them soon ahah 😅

This was supposed to be a discussion of films but then again, I managed to find AOT/SNK and RivaMika parallels while going through this list 😂

This challenge has been fun and it was hard to pick only 10, let alone rank them! But for the sake of the game, I tried 😌

10. The King and I (1999)

A musical animated adaptation of a Siamese (now called Thai) King who hires an English schoolteacher to have his country learn western modern ways. It was very amusing and enjoyable that the villain and accomplice here are written as comedic. And the added young love story between the crown prince and the servant girl is endearing. And I'm actually fond of forbidden love tropes ahaha. Plus the musical scenes are fun and brilliant! A great family movie! 🥰

9. Troy (2004)

A story focusing on the Trojan war and the heroes in it. I've always enjoyed historical and legend-type movies as they give a glimpse of life in ancient times. I appreciate Achilles (Brad Pitt) and Hector (Eric Bana) in the movie so much that I included them in my AMV tribute to heroes and legends. The Iliad, which is the battle between Achilles and Hector, is one of my favorite legendary fights. Plus one of Achilles' last scenes and the line, "You gave me peace, in a lifetime of war." is so heartwarming. And now that I think of it, it's something that Levi could say to a certain special someone during post-war. 😏

8. Unknown (2011)

An action-thriller revolving around seeking the truth, hence the title. Liam Neeson always delivers when it comes to action and suspense-filled scenes (plus he is the namesake of my Ackerchild OC 😌). The story progression will keep you on the edge of your seat and leave you wondering until the plot twist turns into an answer with a shocking revelation. His character is also badass, brooding, and serious, while also suffering from injury and trauma. Reminds me too much of a certain someone in SnK. 😄 Plus the way that the two main characters develop from reluctantly working together to understanding and caring for each other is just *screams in RivaMika vibes*

7. Brother Bear (2003)

A story about literally walking in another's footsteps to learn a valuable lesson by seeing the other's point of view. It showcases brotherly and familial love in a lighthearted adventure. Watching the movie has a significant and special meaning to me for personal reasons. The plot twist is absolutely heart-wrenching and beautifully executed. Plus the original soundtracks gave me chills, were perfect for each and every exhilarating scene, and hold the rare honor of making me cry. 😭

6. Taken (2008)

Another one of Liam Neeson's action-packed movies. This revolves around the rescue of his character's daughter from human trafficking. As always, his character is badass, brooding, and serious. Some daddy issues, wherein his character struggles with fatherhood to a growing teenage girl. Fatherly love 💖 and gotta love the brilliance of how he tracks down his daughter and saves her. His style and strategies blew my mind, it's amazing! Plus that line in the GIF is iconic!

5. Entrapment (1999)

A story of two thieves, skillful in their own ways, working together to steal an ancient artifact. I love how they came up with brilliant spy-like strategies and synced together to accomplish the task. Recollecting this reminded me as well of @chaosisbeauty23's "Are you in?" two-shot spy story. It gave me similar vibes. Sean Connery's character trained Catherine Zeta-Jones' character, they had trust issues and conflicts, and they grew close through the duration of the preparation until they eventually got to trust each other enough to continue working together. Plus the age difference! Rings a bell? *screams again in RivaMika vibes*

4. Kiss of the Dragon (2001)

A story of a cop helping to crack a major drug ring and ending up having to save a prostitute and her daughter to ultimately resolve it. I guess I have always been fond of unexpectedly-working-together and damsel-in-distress tropes, and this movie has two of those tropes in it! 😂 Recollecting this reminded me of @nuri148's "Not a Pirate" where Mikasa has a child. I love the chemistry between Jet Li and Bridget Fonda here, you can feel the tension and awkwardness ahaha. Plus the height difference! *screams again and again in RivaMika vibes* ghad seriously why am I associating these films I watched years ago with the current RM fics I've read bahaha 😂😅

3. Con Air (1997)

A story of an ex-convict trying to get home to his family after he's been finally freed. I always go soft whenever strong, badass, brooding guys show tenderness and affection with regard to their families or the people they care for. Levi Ackerman as a father, anyone? 😌 This story hits with both the action and the feels. Plus the "How do I live without you?" performed by Trisha Yearwood is just *chef's kiss*

2. Brave (2012)

A story of a princess struggling with life as a royal and trying to find her own path. Merida is my favorite Disney princess and I find her relatable in ways. I enjoyed the adventurous-type songs here as well. I absolutely love her unconventional and strong character which deviates from the typical dainty and girly princesses. She's spirited, stubborn, and won't take any BS 😂 Plus she's great with a sword!

1. The One (2001)

And finally at the top 1 spot is coincidentally "The One" released in 2001 bahaha 😂 another one of Jet Li's action-packed movies which I love. And there are two Jet Lis in here ahaha. The story revolves around Yulaw (Jet Li) traveling across the multiverse hunting down and killing all his counterparts or other selves until only two of them are left. With each counterpart killed in every universe, the energy and power get divided between the remaining surviving counterparts resulting in them having increased strength, intelligence, and speed. I've mentioned this in a post before that this is similar to how Levi's and Mikasa's superhuman powers came to be.

I absolutely love the plot and story progression in this sci-fi setup, which makes you wonder, what if we actually have alternate personas in other universes (and we just don't know about it because there are people who make sure that we don't know in order to ensure peace and balance)? Plus Jason Statham's character as an ally here was unexpectedly funny!

I also appreciate the romance factor in the movie in the sense that, it is shown as trust, comfort, and care. Doesn't need to have all the kissy scenes or so to show genuine love. And one of Jet Li's character's lines about his love here is just 💖

Jet Li always delivers as well when it comes to action and suspense-filled scenes. Plus just look at the parallels below (The One vs AOT S3):

Using a dead person as a shield then obliterates everyone afterward.

Jet Li's characters in movies are usually brooding, badass, serious, and aloof from people. Plus he is charmingly handsome and rather short in stature IRL too! Yep, Jet Li is a real-life Levi Ackerman 🤣😌

I swear I watched all of these way before I even encountered Attack on Titan. I didn't mean for this to be too long and to include much RivaMika and AOT, but it was fun recollecting the movies and then associating them with my brain rot 😂

Now that I have this list, I realize I tend to gravitate towards action movies and familial ones. Plus most of these movies have that one badass, brooding, serious guy who is insanely skilled and strong, and has a reputation but also soft for their loved ones. Geez I already have a type way before Levi Ackerman bahaha 😂🥰😌

None of these movies are focused on romance but the couple GIFs are intentional bahaha 😏

Tagging: No one, no pressure. 😅

#rivamika vibes #attack on titan #the king and i #troy #unknown #brother bear #taken #entrapment #kiss of the dragon #con air #brave #the one #top 10 list #haventhoughts

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dreams-of-cerulean · 2 years

Text

Anyway, deck list. This post will be about the fight. The last post will be about the rewards and the victory log, which is the actual important thing.

First things first, I was right. The black lightbulb was waiting for me in the final room - and it was the one with the Something bright inside it. Before the Something took on the form of a White Silhouette, now it took on the form of a white dragon several times taller than me. Oh, and it summoned White Silhouettes as minions, that asshole.

Before I entered, I discovered an odd status effect, which I wasn’t sure if it was there before since I couldn’t open that part of the System before.

The Crown - Absolute - Your attacks are not affected by Weakness or Resistance.

I’m not sure if The Crown is in reference to the Throne Room or to my soul’s nature as Keter. Hard to say because the effect is worth of both - a king’s power and a power that exists above the world’s nature.

Anyway, the artifacts I had allowed me to draw an extra resource and card per Moment. And the really rare artifact allowed me to get an extra Resource for every enemy that was burning. So at a minimum, I get 3 cards and 3 resource per Moment. At times, I was getting 6-7 resources a moment.

That still didn’t prevent me from nearly biting the dust as soon as the fight started. Turns out the dragon had a fun instant death beam that traveled instantly, so I made sure to stay close to it the entire time. Even while it was flailing its legs and tail or summoning minions at me. It was a race of time for both of us - either it kills me early or I kill it late.

My strategy relied on Shape Reality to constantly stack the power Pyromaniac by returning it from Exile and multiply the burn stacks I inflicted on the dragon. My deck was around 13 cards at the very end - instead of my usual thirty-card atrocities after taking Yugi’s advice - and honestly, that made getting the cards I wanted very easy. 3 of those cards were also Powers, so they got Expelled as soon as they were used, so the in-combat deck size was 10. I had two Duelist’s Guile cards, which allowed me to draw 3 cards and discard 1, so I could almost cycle through my deck every Moment. Finally, Card King allowed me to retain cards in my hand instead of discarding them at the end of the Moment, which was very useful in keeping my safety cards which were Hammer Parry and Seal Magic.

Hammer Parry had a nifty effect where it increased my Defense equal to half of the damage I dealt last Moment. It was a pretty bad card early on, not worth the 3 resource. But after I was inflicting Burn damage in the thousands or ten thousands, I honestly started feeling like I was Lils with her absurd durability - like falling six or seven stories without a scratch durability. Urgh. Bad memory.

Anyway, Seal Magic was my answer to the Dragon’s beam attack and could completely nullify it. Problem is it doesn’t discriminate what magic it stops, so any magic casted on me could trigger it, leaving me open for the beam attack. There definitely was an element of luck to winning that fight.

But I did. And the asshole tried to play dead in the end - and point-blanked me with a Beam. I don’t know what drove me to play along, since I knew it wasn’t dead because it didn’t give exp. But I suspect that I just wanted to prove to myself, even at the risk of losing the run, that I wasn’t afraid of it anymore. The Seal Magic that I already had up took care of the Beam, and I took care of it with a Burning Riff.

The fireworks were nice.

#online::Levant #mostly rehashing the strategy and fight in online post //#longpost //

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ishipallthings · 2 years

Text

Cap-IM Rec Week 2022 (Mon)

Multiverse Monday, July 18 for @cap-ironman Rec Week!

Hi guys! I’m so excited for this year’s rec week, strap in for some fantastic works :)

For today, I’ve highlighted some works where Steve and Tony end up in a different universe.

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

a hop, skip, and a jump by @ironswordandstarshield

“Before I go, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

“About?” they ask they return the stone to its place.

“Timelines. Alternate realities.”

Soul Searching (The Hop, Skip, Jump Remix) by @navaan:

Tony lives a peaceful life in Irondale and then Steve Rogers drifts into town. It's the beginning of a romance — and not all is what it seems.

Moments by CSHfic, VSfic

After being trapped in a pocket dimension, Tony tries to find his way home - and ends up lost in the multiverse.

A Thousand Kisses Deep by @laireshi

Steve doesn't seem too happy when Steve Rogers of Marvel Ultimate gets transported into their universe. He seems even less happy when Tony and the new Steve get closer to each other.

Broken Mirrors by @laireshi

“He hid some things from me,” Tony says, then shrugs. “It’s fine. I hid some things from him, too. Don’t you know this story?”

616 Steve meets MCU Tony.

The Best of Intentions by @sineala

Steve Rogers, Earth-1610, attempts to warn Steve Rogers, Earth-616, away from Tony Stark. Events do not proceed as planned.

Icebreaker by @sineala

Months after Tony is murdered on a strange, starless world, a world almost no one remembers, Steve plummets from a drone plane into the cold waters of the North Atlantic. He's fully expecting not to survive -- but instead he wakes up on another new world, where he meets a very familiar stranger. And it turns out the two of them have a lot in common.

Stay With Me by sara_holmes

Where Steve doesn’t quite die, ends up stranded in the multiverse and would quite like to know how the hell so many versions of himself ended up sleeping with Tony Stark. Well, that’s going to make things a tad awkward when he gets home.

A Fistful of Steves: This Town Ain't Big Enough by Raikishi

When Tony Stark takes a bullet intended for Steve Rogers, he wakes up in a world entirely peopled by alternate incarnations of everyone's favorite Star-Spangled Man.

Welcome to Stevechester, Population: Steve.

A Little Travel is Good for the Soul by @valdomarx

Tony was not expecting angry, argumentative versions of himself and Steve to appear in his living room one day. But now they're here, he's sure that he and Steve can help them work through their issues together.

MCU Steve and Tony travel to the Avengers Assemble universe and meet their counterparts.

now that we have seen each other by Mizzy

Steve's crush on Iron Man seemed to him to be much more reasonable than his crush on Tony Stark. A meeting with some identical Avengers from another reality raises some important identity questions, though, and with their shattering revelations in tow, will Steve's heart survive this experience?

Though Your Face Is Lovely by @chibisquirt

Tony Stark is an experienced adventurer by the time he's working beside Captain America and the Howling Commandos... which is why he should have known better than to pick up the artifact. Transported into another universe, he's going to have to find a way home, even if it means dealing with these "Avengers" people, some of whom seem awfully familiar...

Anthropocene by @firebrands

Anthropocene: (noun) the current geological age, viewed as the period during which human activity has been the dominant influence on climate and the environment.

This is a story about how across timelines, across universes, it's always them: Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, and how their relationship will always influence those around them. This about them getting it right, over and over again, until it sticks.

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned for more! Check out my tag for previous years’ rec lists :)

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #capimrecweek #marvel #fic rec #my rec lists #have fun!!

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froggie-recs-fics · 3 years

Note

Hellooo, I will love you forever if you could rec me some post war Drarry fics (any trope will do just no kids pls) that also really explore the wizarding world in depth. Thank you💕

I tried to rec fics that particularly intrigued me regarding worldbuilding/magic theory, but some may have those as less of a focus than others. (check out my Drarry favorites list which has other fics with fantastic world building!)

As always, a ** signifies a favorite

(while making this list I completely forgot that “post-war” also included 8th year. Oops. You can find more 8th year fics in the rest of my Drarry rec lists, which can be found in my masterlist!)

Let us begin!

**Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70K, Time loop, time travel, coming out)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

Cool world building elements: magical theory, muggle/wizard relations, post-war life

Higher and Higher (Temptation) by birdsofshore (E, 28K, Dom/sub undertones, Auror Harry, Curse Breaker Draco)

Only Harry Potter could manage to put on a magical collar on impulse and find himself unable to take it off again. Now following Draco’s direct orders gives him intense pleasure, and Draco has a whole heap of troubles to deal with, not least the way Potter looks when the collar has him gasping with bliss. The whole situation would test the morals of a saint... and Draco’s no saint.

Cool world building elements: magical artifacts and wizarding jobs

**Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (E, 104K, Veela Draco, Enemies to Lovers, Auror Harry)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

Cool world building elements: Veelas, life in the Ministry of Magic

Nearly Lost Things, Carefully Tended by SquadOfCats (E, 46K, Slow burn)

Three years after the war, Harry is lost, drifting, and feeling left behind. In an effort to get control of his life, he commits to cleaning out Grimmauld Place top-to-bottom and forcing it to be a home, whether it likes it or not. The rotten old house is stuffed full of antiques, and Harry is shocked to discover none other than Draco Malfoy running the local antique shop. Malfoy is polite -- too polite, and Harry soon finds himself with a mission: to annoy and bother Malfoy with the most hideous, absurd antiques he can find. But along the way, Harry comes to appreciate Draco, his work, and the power of connecting to the people who came before him. It's a hard lesson, but Harry learns that if he wants to build a future, he has to reconnect to his past, and Draco might just be the one to help him do it.

Cool world building elements: Grimmauld Place, magical artifacts

I could be wrong, I could be ready by harryromper (M, 57K, Angst, Pining)

At first Harry wonders if they’ve managed to destroy his vaults and are trying to tell him in the most oblique way possible. But when he turns the page he realises they’ve found a vault. A vault in the name of Lily and James Potter.

The parchment trembles a little in Harry’s hand. He takes another gulp of wine.

Harry Potter left Britain after the war and didn’t look back. Ten years later, when Gringotts discovers a vault containing his parents’ belongings—including their badly spell-damaged wedding rings—he’s forced to face up to friends and family who’ve grown in ways he could never imagine, a wizarding London rebuilt beyond his expectations, and the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s the entirely unforeseen problem of Draco Malfoy.

Featuring pureblood wizarding traditions, ancestral magic, open mic nights, marriage equality, a diner in Brooklyn, and the return of Fleamont Potter.

Cool world building elements: magical theory, Pureblood culture, wizarding traditions, house magic

**If an Injury Is to Be Inflicted by shealwaysreads (onereader) (E, 44K, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, BAMF Harry, BAMF Draco, Morally Grey Characters, Dark Characters)

If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.

Harry Potter disappeared a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and with him went all hope for true change in magical Britain.

Three years later, Draco indulges himself and attends his first Dog Fight—the infamous underground fights with no rules, no referee, and no points system bar blood on the floor. The game was simple: you win, or you die.

A glint of green amidst the blood-red changes everything.

Cool world building elements: Wizarding politics and conspiracies, house magic, wizarding underground world

**you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (M, CNTW, 20K, Soulmate AU, Terminal Illness, Angst with a happy ending)

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Cool world building elements: soulmates, wizarding jobs, post-war life

**In Pieces by dysonrules (M, CNTW, 85K, Enemies to Lovers, Professor Harry, Ghost Draco)

Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new DADA instructor, only to find his teaching efforts thwarted by a very familiar ghost.

Cool world building elements: magical theory, Hogwarts

**Running On Air by eleventy7 (T, 74K, Mystery, slow burn)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Cool world building elements: magical theory

#drarry #drarry fic rec #drarry fic rec list #ewe #time loop #time travel #coming out #curse breaker draco #enemies to lovers #slow burn #angst #pining #bamf harry #bamf draco #soulmate au #ghost draco malloy #professor harry potter #auror harry potter #veela draco malfoy

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ayuki-ikuya · 3 years

Note

I come bringing ideas and headcanons.

OK, so we all already know what The Three oldest archons abilities. So I’ve come up with my own ideas we could use for the younger archons! (And yes I’m grouping Ei, Venti and Zhongli as the older siblings since Ei Is 1000 years old Venti is 2,500 and Zhongli is 5,000-6,000 and the other archons are still in the hundreds I think)

Again these aren’t canon just stuff you can use for future Requests for Twisted wonderland x Teyvat God! Reader

For Dendro archon!Reader

Definitely a Bow User. And Is a Healer. But the their Ult can cause damage

I have a theory That during the Archon War The dendro Archin created the Regisvines to fight for them, and only two were left. I also Headcanon The dendro archon can bring plants to life and overwrite what each plant can do. (Maybe even bring mushrooms to life 👀).

Maybe They can create a giant plant from the ground that spreads Healing energies and since this is a god where talking about can Cure Curses (Ahem Vils Curses Ahem) and major Diseases and what not.

For Their Ult maybe a giant plant monster (kinda like how Gouba and Oz exists ) that will attack for them (could make for fun combos with different elements like if the dendro archon was wet Hydro Plant monster)

For Hydro archon!reader

Polearm or sword (theirs way too many Hydro Catalyst) Healer and Dps, Why? Cause I say so.

You’ve mentioned how Hydro archon summons a giant wave? I’ll do you one better and their E skill summons a giant sea creature of your choosing to soak the fighters (A cool visual is their polearm turning into a big dream catcher then going swoosh and Baam Maybe like A giant Water Koi fish finna drown your ass *ahem ace ahem*)

Now mihoyo likes to reference Their character form honkai impact into genshin impact (and since they took a characters look from Honkai and another characters abilities with the whole Dual ego thing for Raiden shogun and Ei) I’m gonna base this Ultimate Skill From a character from Honkai (for research search up Herrsercher of Sentience)

Since the Hydro archons whole thing is about Justice. Now here me out here. WATER WHIP. Just a giant whip of water that can go on for miles (maybe it’s salty maybe it’s like fresh water depends on our readers mood lolol). Like, It’s whip of water strong enough to cut diamond or whatever it would be very cool (Kalim would wanna see if he could do something like that with his UM Que jamil trying to stop him)

Maybe their hair turns into water too.

Pyro archon! Reader

Claymore. A Big strong war god needs a big strong weapon. Dps and Defense.

Now It’s not just one claymore, It’s DUAL-CLAYMORE, why? Cause it’s a war god that’s why!

I like to think the shield is like Xinyans and XiangLings combined and it’s constantly sending off tiny Fire Discs. Or just symbols shooting fire like what the Pyro Abyss mages can do

For Ultimate I like to think it’s like Childes Daggers but Bigger and on fire just a huge sword made of fire.

The pyro archon doesn’t think just BURNS. and STABE

Cryo archon! Reader

I can’t really come up with much for Cryo archon. But maybe a Catalyst that can summon a giant blizzard that drops down giant ice swords (kinda like Ganyus)

Definitely a sub DPS.

Maybe a healer too since The Tsaritsa is The archon of love?

What do you think about these abilities? Since you mentioned that the students and staff would assume their just strong mages I tried to be very creative with these abilities.

Also how I think the lore could go is maybe somewhere after leonas overblot and before azuls, Crowly has found a way to send Yuu home reluctantly. Yuu, grim and the aduece duo, and maybe some of heartslaybul or savana claw whoever you want come with them to the office to send them home. But Yuu is contemplating whether or not they WANT to go home now. But something goes wrong, maybe grim messes up the spell for the portal to work becuase (although he doesn’t want to admit it ) doesn’t want Yuu leaving, and their greeted with a surprise guest. Now this gives Yuu time to decide if they genuinely wanna go home and when teh archon finally has the materials they need to create a portal Yuu will tell them to leave the portal open (maybe put it into a tiny pocket mirror like the how we have the teapot) because they wanna stay for a little while or just until grim graduates (Que a happy fire cat ) and the archon whose grown attached to some people here was like ok “let our friends visit whenever they want, only if their headmaster allows it”

Now onto the headcanons

Anemo Archon! Reader and Mondstadt! Yuu

Everyone expected a lot of things not a person with Green eyes and (H/C) hair with green highlights. And an odd thing about them was the glowing stone on their person, Yuu didn’t have that?

Everyone’s freaking out because they’ve accidentaly taken another person from Yuus world.

And since Venti Is a well known famous bard In teyvat let’s say or Dear (y/N) is also a known bard and is not at all freaking out about what’s going on in fact let’s say our dear reader recognizes Yuu! And so now (Y/N) is now a new student (and a new headache for Crowley) in the ramshackle dorm! Yup! Just an ordinary human bard, Ehe~.

I’ll leave the rest of this up to you, Where Yuu has to explain what the world of teyvat is like (and why Yuu doesn’t have a phone (and a vision) because Twisted wonderland is far more advance in Technology and teyvat has JUST invented the Camera)

Also I head canon that people with Visions can summon their weapons and object with their visions, ok? Ok. To make things make more sense when reader pulls out a lyre from floating glitter.

Geo archon!reader and Liyue! Yuu

Same things happend here, but hey! We’ve summoned a Funeral Consultant! A very (ahemATTRACTIVEahem) Wise funeral consultant at best!

Our dear Friend (y/n) is very calm about the situation as well. After all everyone and liyue knows their god was killed and The Adepti are watching over them

So Our dear reader is seeing this as a free vacation 😊

Electro Archon!Reader and Inazuma!yuu

Since the god of Inazuma isn’t “Dead” or hasn’t left and the people know what their beloved archon looks like, Yuu will definitely Be Freaking the fuck out

“YOU DIDNT BRING ME HOME YOU JUST SUMMONED MY PEOPLES FUCKING GOD OH SHIT”

insert the meme of the womens face that gets zoomed in on the second panel “the. WHAT.” 😃

And y’know how Eis “Hello” voice line where she makes the traveler her guard she says the same thing to Yuu except “I recognize you are one of my people as your archon I shall be your guard and keep you safe from any danger in this Foreign world” and let’s say The puppet will not be used and Reader will be in control becuase they don’t have to worry about erosion right now so the puppet will be resting while (Y/N) is in control protecting their Precious Inazuma citizen is ok.

Well until They can get the materials they need to open a portal. I’ll let you figure out the rest, but congrats ramshackle you now have a god in your abode 😃✨

-Plot Anon 💗

PLOT ANON-SAMAAAAAAAAAA ILY!!!!!!!!! Thank you for your hard work sob

Anyways, for skills of the archons-

Dendro Archon

I think they'd use a sword or a catalyst tbh, if the skills you listed, it makes a little more sense to have them be more of a catalyst

For their elemental skill, I think they'd summon/throw something similar to Klee's and Aloy's elemental skill except they heal if someone in your party is nearby, their healing could scale by their EM or ER.

For their burst, I like your head canon for the Dendro Archon, so I might go off from that and your idea for their burst, just more tweaking. The dendro archon would be able to summon a large plant that heals AND deals Dendro damage by sapping mobs hp. The amount of life sapping it does and the healing would scale off their original HP (artifacts that give hp won't be of use)

Hydro Archon

I agree with hydro polearm or sword. Too many catalysts

Mmm... To be honest, I think you should have the burst be her skill... The whip idea is intriguing, but I think it would work more for a skill which can allow them to use it several times before waiting for the CD to go down. I think the whip skill would work better with Crit as well.

AND AS FOR THE MENTIONS OF WAVE AND A SEA CREATURE, I'LL DO YOU ONE BETTER BUT FOR THEIR BURST!!!! They summon a large tsunami which takes form of a monster/animal and lunges at the mobs (similar to Zhongli tossing down a dumbbell), however the amount of damage the burst can do is depending on if they are afflicted by the wet status the mobs are afflicted by. If already afflicted with hydro, the mobs would receive double damage while those with other elements afflicted on them would receive the element combination DMG and normal DMG while those that aren't affected by an element, they would receive normal damage. The amount of damage the burst does is scaled by EM.

Pyro Archon

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA CLAYMORE

Hmmm.... I think the skill would be they set an AoE with magma, mobs will receive damage from it and will continue to receive damage if they stay on it, but those who are in party, they will receive an ATK boost that scales from HP.

For the burst, I think I'll use a character from Honkai Impact with their special move which is Murata Himeko in Vermilion Knight: Eclipse battlesuit. Pyro Archon uses their claymore and another claymore but made of pyro and is far more larger and their cut scene has the Archon raise the pyro claymore above their head and slam it down to send pyro erupting from the ground (similar to the pyro axe wielding hilichurls)

Cryo Archon

I agree with catalyst

Mmmmmm.... I'd say her skill would beeeeee... Trapping several mobs or so in ice. They can either do 2-4 ice traps depending if you got their c1. (The ice traps are similar to Mirror Maidens traps BTW but it deals or affects the mobs with cryo)

For burst, I like the idea of summoning a blizzard/swords, but it's similar to Ganyu's. SO I'LL DO YOU ONE BETTER!!!! Cryo Archon will summon a blizzard which freezes mobs without having to use hydro, the freeze status lasts for a total of 15 seconds or higher if you got their c3

Hmmm... I like the idea, but imma tweak it a bit. The archon was in fact summoned through that portal because Grim decided to mess it up just for Yuu to stay a little longer, and so the Archon now resides in Twisted Wonderland as well in order to aide them until they can return back to their world. That way it makes more sense and makes it more fun.

Anemo archon

Yuu would be a bit jealous about them because they got a vision.

Crowley needs to hide his money

Sam has been strictly told to not give them wine that Sam stores in his shop...

Vargus is conflicted about them because they legit float without magic

Trein recurved a major headache

Divus is praying to whatever god existing to take them back

Ehe

EHE TE NANDAYO!?

Geo Archon

Yuu feels awkward meeting the consultant of the funeral parlor having to meet the Director...

Crowley is praying for dear god for them to go away.

"STOP TAKING MY MONEY YOU GORGEOUS FIEND" - Crowley

Train + Crewel + You = Besties

Sam was literally threatened to not joke around with you with business.

You legit did not fuck around with people when in contracts.

"Osmanthus wi-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP" - everyone

Electro Archon

Yuu is literally terrified in "your" presence.

Shogun malfunctioned due to being in an entirely new world so you had to disable Shogun's rules and create new ones regarding this world.

Yuu is still unaware of Shogun being a puppet

Crowley is no longer safe.

The staff (specifically Crewel) is supporting Shogun/You to beat Crowley's ass into shape.

Only the Diasomnia dorm knows your predicament with you and your puppet(s).

You are the definition of Queen/King/Royalty of the school. If you search up NRC, your picture literally plastered on it as the definition.

#twisted wonderland #genshin impact #twisted wonderland x genshin impact #archons #NRC

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

Text

Bloopers

Word count: 2150

Warnings: tickling, fluff

Ok, this one is a little different than the others I've written; it's about the actual cast (specifically our fav British actor Mr. Hiddleston 😉)

* * *

“And… cut! Alright, let’s move on to the next battle scene then.”

The voice of the director echoing through the set snapped you out of your thoughts. You stood up and stretched a little, preparing to film the first scene of the day that you’d be part of. Script in hand, you joined the other cast members on the set for the scene briefing.

It still felt surreal that you had actually gotten to this point. You had signed up for an audition the moment you’d heard this role was open, figuring you could at least get some exposure by trying out for a big-name movie like a Marvel movie. As an up-and-coming actress, you needed all the exposure you could get. Never in a million years did you think you’d actually land a part in the movie, let alone the role of a supporting character.

You were trying desperately to get over being star-struck by the actors and actresses you were working with. They were all surprisingly down-to-earth, nothing like you’d expected from such famous stars as these. The moment you’d arrived on set, they had welcomed you with open arms as they had all the cast members, no matter how small their role was. They’d been trying to get you to relax a little, to see them as friends and coworkers rather than A-list celebrities. And you were trying – really trying – but you were still pretty shy and reserved off-set.

“Ready for your first shoot of the day?” Chris Hemsworth asked as you approached the crowd of cast members standing in the middle of the set.

“Uh… yeah, I think so!” you replied uncertainly. You glanced down at the script in your hands. This particular scene didn’t have many lines, as it was mostly an action scene, but those were the scenes you tended to struggle with. You had gotten good at getting into character when you had to have conversations, but you really had to think hard about how your character would move in battle.

“Come on, you have to say it like you mean it!” he chided, grasping your shoulders in emphasis. “Try again – are you ready?”

“Yes sir!” you shouted. He laughed heartily, releasing you with a final pat on the shoulder.

“Alright, it may be a battle scene, but you aren’t a soldier. We’ll work on it.” The flowing crimson cape of his costume swished along the floor as he turned to find his place in the circle of cast members. You followed suit, slipping into an opening right beside Tom Hiddleston. He glanced at you with a warm smile, which you returned timidly.

“He can be a bit overenthusiastic sometimes, can’t he?” Tom whispered. You nodded, looking across to where Chris was now casually twirling his hammer by the strap on one finger. “He is right, though. I’m certain you’ll do just fine. Give yourself a little credit.”

“Thanks,” you said appreciatively. You turned to face the director as he reviewed the upcoming scene.

It was a pretty standard fight scene by Marvel standards. Your character was battling alongside Thor and Loki as the villain attempted to slip past your defenses to gain access to Odin’s vault of magic artifacts. Magic, explosions, weapon-swinging… the whole works. There were a complex number of camera angles included in the scene, which meant a lot of stopping and restarting of filming to change position.

Physically, this type of scene was exhausting. It required a lot of ducking, jumping, and running, not to mention a LOT of falling. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go home with a few scrapes and bruises after this type of active scene. Like Chris and Tom, you insisted on doing your own stunt work. It wasn’t like you were jumping from buildings or anything like that; you knew you could handle this yourself.

“Ok, next clip!” the director called out, prompting you to prepare for the most difficult part of the scene. In this part, your character is standing a bit too close to an explosion and is thrown backward into Loki, who catches you before you fall backward onto the ground. You stood still as the stunt crew hooked you up to the wire that would yank you backward.

“Nervous?” Tom asked, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“A little, maybe. Is it fun, being dragged around on the wire?” you inquired.

“It’s a bit like riding a roller coaster. Except… you’re not in a cart, and you may crash into things.”

“Hmm. Comforting.” He patted your shoulder firmly a couple of times before walking past you to get into position for the shot.

“Alright, y/n, we’re not going to count down for you – we need a genuine element of surprise in this scene. Got it?”

“Understood,” you confirmed. Your heart was racing with adrenaline, anticipating the moment you would feel the rope tug you backward. Not to mention, Tom was going to be the one to catch you. Your heart fluttered a bit more at that thought.

It felt like minutes went by, although it was probably only seconds. Suddenly you felt the harness under your costume tighten around your waist as the wire finally pulled you backward. True to character, your arms flailed out as your heels slid backward across the floor for a millisecond before Tom caught you, sliding his hands under your outstretched arms to hold you up.

The sudden gentle pressure of his fingertips under your arms tickled like hell. Your knees buckled a little and you yelped in surprise. Tom lowered you to the ground, giving you a moment to rest after your first take.

“The fall was perfect, y/n, but try not to bend your knees like that when Tom catches you. Remember, you’re supposed to be a fierce warrior; your character would jump right back up to their feet,” the director called from off set. You avoided Tom’s gaze as he helped you to regain your footing.

“Did I hurt you? You shouted when I caught you,” he asked, concern weighing in his tone.

“No! Nope, I’m fine, sorry. Just got nervous. First take and all, you know?” you responded quickly, trying to hide your blush.

“Understandable. I recall the first time I was pulled down to the floor by a wire during the infamous ‘Hulk smash’ scene…” he chuckled. “I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you.”

You set up for a second take, this time heart pounding for different reasons. How embarrassing would it be if Tom found out what really happened there? You needed to focus more this time.

This time, when the wire grew taught, you were at least prepared for the swooping sensation in your stomach as you slid backward. Once again, Tom caught you right on cue, his hands lifting your upper body up from under your arms. It still caught you off guard how much it tickled. You let a giggle slip out and went limp in his arms again, nearly causing him to drop you to the floor.

“Cut!” The director walked closer to you and Tom so you could hear him better. “Don’t forget – don’t bend your knees. And it’s probably breaking character to be grinning like that after getting launched by an explosion.”

“I know it’s fun doing stunts and all, but you have to think like your character even during the action scenes,” Tom advised, helping you up off the floor once again.

“It’s not that! I just… never mind,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burning again. Tom raised his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, ducking down to catch your gaze as you stared down at your feet.

“Promise. I’ll get it this time,” you assured.

You both set up for take three, this time determined you would get it completely right. You gritted your teeth, trying to envision the actual explosion they’d be adding with CGI later. The wire tugged, and you flew backward once again into Tom’s waiting arms. You almost maintained your composure, until he started to pull you to your feet, fingertips digging into the hollows under your arms. You shrieked, letting out a few more giggles as you stumbled forward to evade his fingers.

“Cut!” You steeled yourself and turned around to look at Tom, who was giving you a confused look. You shot him a look of apology.

“Am I missing a joke? Did Hemsworth put you up to something?” Tom asked, placing his hands on his hips, a grin tugging at his lips. Even after you ruined the take three times in a row, he only used the kindest tone with you. You couldn’t lie to him.

“No… I just… when you slide your hands under my arms to catch me, it… it sort of tickles. A lot,” you mumbled sheepishly. You risked a glance up from the floor to look at Tom, whose eyes had lit up with understanding.

“Ahh! Now it all makes sense!” he exclaimed. “Well, I do apologize; it was not my intention to tickle you. I’ll try not to this take.” He shot you a mischievous wink, not unlike his character.

“Thanks… I’ll try to keep my composure this time,” you promised.

The director shouted additional directions and reminders to you as you set up for yet another take. As you got into position, you turned your head to look at Tom standing behind you. He grinned at you, although you couldn’t tell if it was a smile of encouragement or a mischievous smirk. Maybe it was the costume…

The wire tugged you backwards once again, and the outcome was the same. Tom even tried to catch you closer to your upper arms, but the sensation was still too much for you to handle. A rapid stream of giggles bubbled from your chest as your muscles weakened once again. Tom was laughing with you this time, though, now that he knew better.

“You did that on purpose!!” you exclaimed, spinning around to face him once you’d regained your footing.

“On purpose!?” His mouth dropped open in mock offense. “You think I did that on purpose?? Come here, and I’ll show you ‘on purpose.’” You shrieked, spinning around to run away, but he grabbed hold of your wrist before you could get very far. He tugged you backwards, trapping you against him in a bear hug.

“Wait!! C-can’t we talk about this?” you begged.

“Sorry, no can do.” Before you could protest further, Tom’s fingers were digging into your ribs, eliciting a startled squeal from you. He laughed out loud at your overzealous reaction. “Mahaybe… eheh… maybe this will help you get all the giggles out, hmm?”

“No, Tom, wahahait!!” you begged, folding into yourself and twisting around to break his hold without success.

“I apologize, my dear, but this is for your own good. Can’t have you continuing to mess up these takes, now can we?” His fingers darted up and down your sides and ribs, and your knees buckled beneath you, sinking to the floor. Tom followed you down, still holding fast while he continued to skitter his fingertips over your belly.

“Stahahap!!” you pleaded, grasping feebly at his wrists as laughter poured out of you.

“Now, honestly, y/n – this is supposed to be a battle scene and you’re laughing like a schoolgirl,” he teased, wrestling to hold you still while he continued to torment you. “How are we going to get through this scene if you don’t start taking it seriously?”

“THEN STAHAHAP TICKLING MEHEHE!” you retorted, yelping as his hands spidered higher up your ribcage.

“Oh, is that what I’m doing?” Tom wrapped one arm further around your ribs so he could pull your arms up, giving him unrestricted access under your arms. He scribbled maddeningly gently at the hollows, making you explode with uncontrollable laughter.

“OK! OK! IHIHI’LL GET IT RIGHT THIS TIHIHIME!!” you shouted. Deciding you’d had enough torture, Tom finally released you from his hold. You took a moment to catch your breath before looking up at your fellow castmates, who were smirking at you, much to your dismay. You felt heat rising to your face as you picked yourself up off the floor, turning to face a grinning Tom (who was looking more and more like Loki by the second with that mischievous gleam in his eye).

“Well then! I’ve had my fun for the day,” he announced casually.

“Thahat was so mean!” you groaned. He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you in a one-armed hug for a moment.

“You know you loved every second of it,” he teased.

“Shut up, you,” you muttered, pushing him away jokingly. The two of you got back into position to try the take again.

This time, you got it right. Because honestly, nothing could have been worse than the torment he’d just put you through. But, if you were being honest with yourself, he was right - you had loved every second of it.

#not sure how to tag this one #loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #marvel tickle #ler!Tom Hiddleston

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1kook · 4 years

Text

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected.

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead.

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily.

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook.

Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with.

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke.

Neither of you laugh.

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak.

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got.

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case.

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car.

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight.

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him.

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father. “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing.

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance.

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering.

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #mine

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loeyparker · 4 years

Text

hurt her to save her - d.m

pairing: draco x fem!reader

word count: 7k

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death and torture

plot: getting closer to Draco during sixth year has consequences. Draco realizes that when he’s forced to hurt you in order to keep you safe from Voldemort

a/n: my HP obsession is back so I’ve returned to writing fics but i might have went overboard with this one lmao . it wasn’t requested, but if someone wants part 2 i’m gonna do it <3

Draco Malfoy had a very good memory. Besides being cunning and arrogant, he was also incredibly smart – which is precisely why he was second best in most classes. Behind the cold, uncaring façade the youngest Malfoy put out into the world however, stood a boy who remembered things he probably should have forgotten.

Lately, Draco Malfoy couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything but fear. He attempted to mask the feeling either with anger, determination or indifference but the true, raw feeling of fear was behind it all, much like a dementor guarding all his other emotions. The past summer planted dread and terror deep into his mind and the ink on his skin felt like it was seeping through his skin, entering his veins and poisoning his heart.

By the time he arrived back at Hogwarts for his sixth year, he felt drained. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, the young boy attempted to pretend to be a normal student, despite the countless sleepless nights and stray tears that sometimes escaped through small cracks in the emotional wall he’d built around him over the years. The tears only saw the light of day in the darkness of the Room of Requirement, where he found himself surrounded by old artifacts and silence.

“Draco, Severus has been telling me you seem distracted.” The soft, yet scared tone of Draco’s mother rang throughout the empty, rotting room in the Shrieking Shack. Broken windows allowed for the wind to invade the abandoned building violently and loudly, and to dance around the three figures standing in the dark. It caused a shiver to run up Draco’s spine, but he couldn’t tell if the reaction came from the cold or from Narcissa and Severus’s stares aimed at him.

Draco felt so small under their gaze.

“That’s true, I have been.” Draco admitted, looking forward. He focused on a spider trapping a moth in its web. “With school.” The moth fought, attempted to flap its wings but the web was too sticky. “I have to keep up my grades. Them dropping suddenly would be suspicious.” Draco’s voice didn’t waver, despite his heart beating at a much more rapid pace than normally.

“Lie.” Severus Snape spoke simply. The professor was tasked with taking care of the Slytherin boy, but he wasn’t about to listen to his childish lies while the man knew what he had been seeing in the past months around Hogwarts.

Draco didn’t move.

Narcissa sighed and got closer to her son. She placed her palms on Draco’s pale cheeks and she felt them being hollower than she remembered. Draco still didn’t look at her. The spider was covering the dying moth in his web, fully suffocating the creature.

“My boy, the dead don’t need lovers.” Narcissa’s voice was quiet, regretful even. Her heart ached for the boy who was so quickly deprived of a childhood.

“You cannot forget about the assignment because of a girl.” Snape spoke up, his voice monotonous.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Draco spat back and took a step away from his mother, whose hands dropped. He didn’t feel the lack of her palms on his cheeks, as they left no warmth Draco could feel. “And there’s no girl.”

“Do not lie to us, boy. I have seen you with the Ravenclaw girl, I am not blind.” Snape saw the glances between Draco and you in the Great Hall, he saw the way Draco fixed his gaze on you during DADA. He also caught you walking into the Room of Requirement not long after Draco the previous night. On top of that, Minerva had mentioned how Draco’s recent assignments closely mirrored yours. You had a certain style noticeable in your homework answers, and that style began to be seen in Draco’s own homework which lead everyone to speculate the two students may be closer than everyone thinks.

Before Draco could deny, Narcissa spoke “Under other circumstances, I’d be delighted to hear about a girl in your life.” Her tone was soft, yet it held an edge and sternness to it. “But you have a mission, Draco. Do I need to remind you of the consequences to befall our family if you don’t succeed?”

“No.” Draco spat. He already knew the consequences – loud and clear. They had been drilled into his mind, heart and soul the entire summer. If he couldn’t kill Dumbledore, Voldemort would kill Draco’s entire family instead.

“The girl is another weakness. Another person to add to the death list, Draco.” His mother pleaded. “You know he will kill her if he finds out.”

“I know.”

Draco could feel all the warmth in his body melt away and even his bones felt cold and heavy.

“You can still save her.” Snape spoke. “Focus on you mission, hurt her. Make her believe you don’t love her.”

Draco glanced at the spider one last time, and the moth laid still in the webs of the predator. The wind made the web sway, but only slightly. It was too sturdy to be blown away by any forces.

“Hurt her to save her.” Narcissa’s voice echoed through Draco’s mind all the way back to the castle. The Room of Requirement didn’t appear that night, and so the boy went to bed instead. He entered an empty Slytherin common room and even though the fire was burning, Draco couldn’t feel its warmth. Not even as he knelt in front of the flames, attempting to warm his freezing hands. His movements were mechanic. As he laid in bed that night, he couldn’t remember how exactly he got back into the dorm from the Shack.

However, he remembered events that took place years ago perfectly.

He especially remembered the night of the Yule Ball, two years prior. He can pinpoint the exact moment he spotted you in the crowd of well-dressed students. It was, in his mind, the first time he really, truly saw you. He remembered the small -but noticeable skip of his heart that happened as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. You were smiling, but sitting at the wrong table – which confused him for a moment. You were sat at the Gryffindor table, right next to the Weasley twins who were making you laugh. A Ravenclaw boy whose name Draco didn’t know was behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders thus signaling that he was your date that night through possessive body language. You didn’t acknowledge his presence much, though.

Pansy, Draco’s date, made comments about your dress each time you stood up to dance. The long dark blue satin dress gently touched the ground with each step you took, the slit in its side slightly exposed your leg with each movement. There was a smile on your face the whole night.

Draco thought you looked so beautiful.

He thought you looked beautiful even when your glance danced towards Ron Weasley until the end of the ball.

Draco also remembered the night Pansy dragged you into Umbridge’s office a year later. She held your arms behind your back forcefully while you struggled to get out of her grasp. Your wand was in her possession and you looked angry. A great juxtaposition to how you looked on the night of the Yule Ball. He remembered thinking how much sense it made for you to be tangled in Harry Potter’s mess because that’s what Potter did. He had everyone on his side, all odds in his favor while Draco was being dealt bad cards at every turn.

You fought and tried to get away from Pansy. Your hair was messy, and your oversized blue sweater was getting untucked from your jeans with each forceful move you made. A frown painted your soft features, your eyes seemed darker than usual. Draco caught a glimpse of the scars on your wrist which he immediately knew came from Umbridge’s detention sessions, and he felt a flicker of rage rise into his stomach. The feeling directly contradicted the satisfaction he had been feeling at the sight of Potter getting his plans spoiled right in front of him.

“Parkinson, lay it off.” Draco found himself spitting when he realized the pressure on your wrist was painful. He spoke before he realized what he was doing, and so he found the confused gazes of Ginny and Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and you – all fixed on him. Pansy obeyed Draco with discomfort.

You looked at him quizzingly, not really understanding why he was suddenly…helping you? He met your gaze just for a second before a heavy glare returned in his eyes and he turned away, focusing entirely on Harry and Umbridge.

It was minutes later when he watched your figure getting smaller as you ran away from Umbridge’s office, escaping with your friends. Draco and his friends were left behind and unable to follow as they each struggled with curses thrown at them in the escape. You were all long gone by the time the group of Slytherins came to, and Draco remembered that he found himself wishing he had people running into the line of fire for him like Harry did – he wished you would’ve glanced back at him in your escape and then weeks later when he was told about the events of that night, he found himself hoping his father didn’t hurt you in the Ministry attack.

Those thoughts and memories didn’t stay with him for long that summer, though. Draco couldn’t say that you crossed his mind after he received the Mark.

Until that night.

It was late and he was in the Room of Requirement, still fiddling with the cabinet. It was the fourth consecutive night spent in there after finding the damn thing, and he wasn’t anywhere close to fixing it. Frustrated, he punched and kicked the wood so hard that his knuckles sent sharp waves of pain through his arm. It was because of the noise he was making, the kicks and grunts that he didn’t hear the Room’s doors open and close.

You had previously been in the Gryffindor common room, attending one of their parties. There weren’t lots of Ravenclaws there – hell, it was only you, Stiles, Padma, Anthony and Michael. And it was all going well. You were sat on a bean bag chair with Stiles in-between your legs, surrounded by your Gryffindor friends: Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ginny, with Dean and Seamus on their way to you all with butterbeers in hand. The atmosphere was fun and light – a welcomed escape from the reality surrounding you, but you all decided to enjoy the moment and pretend the world outside the common room didn’t exist for the night. So you sat close to the fire and you didn’t know if the hot flames were warming you up or if it was the fact that Ron was focusing an unusual amount of attention on you.

You’ve had a crush on the Weasley boy since third year, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop your heart from beating faster each time he smiled at you.

You were having a great time.

“And if I become an Animagus to help Scott, then what?” Stiles spoke. Harry shook his head. You puffed. “What? We’d be the new generation of the Marauders; someone has to keep the legacy alive.” He continued, determined.

“Lupin would kill you, mate.” Ron laughed.

“You know animagi don’t pick their animal though, right?” You questioned. Stiles looked up at you and beamed.

“I know. But it’s like, vibe related so I think I’m safe. I’d absolutely be a dog, or a wolf.”

You glanced worryingly at Harry, but the boy simply burst out laughing and denied jokingly. Everyone else hearing the conversation laughed as well.

“Stiles, if it’s vibe related then you’d be a weasel.” You spoke, prompting laughs from everyone. Ron high fived you for the joke and you smiled wider than you thought possible.

The good mood didn’t last long, though. Only moments later Lavender Brown joined the group and comfortably sat herself in Ron’s lap. You watched him give her a quick kiss and wrap his arms around her. “What are we talking about?” She asked and it was as if your ears got covered. The sound faded, your smile dropped, your shoulders slumped. Ron would never like you back, you had to accept that. It was pathetic how you longed for the boy for so long.

So, you excused yourself and left the common room entirely to take a walk. You didn’t expect to end up outside the Room of Requirement, and you didn’t even feel like going inside. But the hall was dark and cold and you began hearing footsteps and the flickering light of Filch’s lantern slowly began illuminating the stone walls and with a haste movement, you went into the Room before Filch could walk around the corner and catch you.

You found yourself in a Room much different from the training grounds you had known while being part of the D.A. Tall piles of clutter seemed to reach the ceiling and despite the room being extremely vast, it felt tiny and crowded because of all the objects tossed and piled everywhere in sight. You walked on a path formed through columns made out of old boxes and books, all piled amongst stacked chairs, empty owl cages and rusty potions equipment. Loud bangs followed by grunts caused you to stop in your tracks and draw out your wand. The room in itself seemed unpredictable, and so you already had about six defensive spells ready to go in your mind and on the tip of your tongue.

You caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair before anything else. It looked messy – very different from the way Draco usually wore it: slick and perfect. Now, it gave you the feeling that he’d been vigorously running his fingers through it, causing it to become tousled. He was only in a white shirt – the robe, vest and tie laid disregarded on a near-by couch.

Lowering your wand, you gently knocked on a table to get his attention.

He turned around in a panic. His hand reached for his wand but stopped midair when he saw you. “What are you doing here?” Draco spat with no hesitation. His heart skipped a beat again, like it did on the night of the Yule Ball.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You responded, glancing at the cabinet in front of him. At the time, you didn’t think anything of it.

“None of your business.”

“I don’t care anyway.” You glared. “This room appeared to me like it did for you and since I think I need it, I’m not leaving.” With your arms crossed, you leaned against a random tossed out piece of furniture.

“Isn’t there a Gryffindor party you should be at?” Draco’s gaze remained cold and the scowl on his face didn’t falter.

“You know about that?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I know everything that goes on around here.” He broke eye contact by focusing on folding up his sleeves. When his hand began working on his left forearm, he stopped abruptly, remembering. He went stiff at the realization, which you noticed. Before you could speak however, he looked back at you with a smirk, “Was Lavender Brown there so you ran away?” It was as if he didn’t look struck by lightning just two seconds before.

However, his words made you forget his strange behavior. “The hell? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/L/N). Everyone knows you have the hots for Weasley. Least you can do is own up to it.” He teased with a mixture of annoyance and amusement present on his face.

“Piss off, Malfoy.” Walking up to the old couch Draco’s uniform laid on top of, you sat down and watched as the dust flew out of its cushion. Draco groaned. “I’m just gonna nap here until I’m sure Filch left and isn’t near the Ravenclaw tower.”

Draco mumbled some things you didn’t bother to understand, and then silence befell both of you. He didn’t really bother to fight you to leave even though, in retrospect, he should have had. Maybe if you didn’t stay with him that night, he wouldn’t be meeting you in the Room months later with tears burning his eyes. But, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that night. That night, he just rolled his eyes at you breaking the silence ten minutes later, when he thought you were asleep.

“What are you even doing there?”

“I told you, none of your business.” He spat.

“Is that the vanishing cabinet Peeves broke a few years ago?”

Draco turned around. It was his turn to be surprised by your knowledge. “How do you know about that?” He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over your figure as you sat cross-legged on the old couch he napped on countless times before. You wore casual clothes – which he always thought looked great on you, and your hair laid straight over your shoulders. The few candles he had lit around softly luminated your face with warm tones.

You smiled proudly at his question.

“Fred and George shoved Montague in it last year” you laughed “it was quite funny.”

Draco remembered the incident. He was, after all, the one who found Montague stuck in a bathroom after the encounter with the twins.

“You’re trying to fix it, aren’t you?” Draco watched you jump up from the couch and walk next to him to examine the cabinet. He suddenly felt on edge, exposed. The Ravenclaw in you was jumping to solve a problem, while the Slytherin in him was about to explode. “Have you tried a mending charm?”

“Of course, I tried a mending charm.” Draco answered with annoyance in his voice. You rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t work.”

“Well, then- “

“I don’t need nor want your help, (Y/L/N).” He glared down at you. “I can handle it myself.”

“Asshole.” You mumbled before taking a few steps back from Draco. He didn’t turn to you. Instead, he focused on his task even though his mind wasn’t on it anymore. He focused on your footsteps as you began to walk away without another word and before he could overthink, he spoke up softly. “But you can stay, if you want.”

You didn’t stop walking as you answered him. “I don’t.”

Draco then heard you utter “Lumos”, heard your footsteps getting quitter and quieter, then the heavy doors being pulled open. After they closed, he found himself surrounded by silence once again. Not dwelling on it, he pushed the thought of you away and resumed his work. Nothing was more important than his assignment.

Things slowly started to shift after that night.

The next day in Transfiguration as he was zoning out, a paper butterfly landed on his desk. He glanced around the room but saw nobody giving any sign of sending him the note. However, after he opened it and read its contents, his eyes immediately found you. On the paper was a list of incantations that would be useful in repairing things, and he knew you had sent it even though you looked focused on the textbook in front of you. It looked as if you were purposefully trying to ignore him, and Draco allowed the ghost of a smirk to form at the corners of his lips.

Two nights later, Draco walked into the Room of Requirement and you were already there. A few more candles than usual were lit as you sat on the (now clean looking) couch, reading a heavy, dense book. “Have they worked?” you asked without looking up from your book.

Draco sighed, loosening his tie. “No.”

And as time passed, you and Draco began spending more and more time together. Initially, you tried to help him fix the cabinet. It gave you a distraction from Ron and Lavender. But it was also obvious that fixing the old thing was important to him – he seemed desperate and for some reason, you felt like helping. And so, you found yourself sitting close to Draco on that old, tossed out couch with different heavy books resting in your lap every night, both searching for spells that could work. Each few day the space between you decreased until you reached a point where your knees touched and your shoulder pressed into his bicep. Sometimes you could even feel his minty breath on your face – just for a second. But the feeling began to linger even as you walked the stairs up to the Ravenclaw tower late at night.

You also found yourself thinking less and less about Ron.

Then, about a month after the Gryffindor party, the Katie Bell incident took place.

Harry began suspecting Draco of the attack and accused him of being a Death Eater. You didn’t go to the Room of Requirement for a few days after that because honestly, you were scared. You knew, deep in your heart that what Harry was saying made sense and because of that you started to believe that Draco’s cabinet wasn’t just some fun project. You lit on fire all the parchment you had written mending charms on, in a haste and with shaky hands.

You didn’t want to see him after that.

But you found yourself days later sneaking out of the tower late at night, quietly making your way to the seventh floor.

Draco got heavily scolded by Snape for the necklace attempt. The Professor found his action completely foolish and didn’t hesitate to let Draco know that. The boy arrived at the Room feeling beaten, defeated. On top of that, he was met by the empty couch and the broken cabinet and he snapped. In a fit of rage, he broke one of the cabinet’s doors and threw it at the couch. The noise he caused rang through the entire room, momentarily covering the silence. He couldn’t bear the sight of his failure any longer and the thought that you were now possibly scared of him after rumors of him being a Death Eater spread around the school, thanks to Potter, angered him even more.

“Training for the next Triwizard Tournament, Malfoy?”

Your voice made him turn around quickly, surprised look on his face.

A small smile danced at your lips, and you took out your wand. Pointing it at the broken door, you cast out “Repairo,” and the door lifted from the couch, gently levitating towards the cabinet and fixing itself. In the end, it looked as if nothing had happened. “At least this works, otherwise you would’ve had to pick up some muggle skills.” You teased.

Draco let out a small laugh, before his face fell again and he sat down on the dusty floor. His back rested against some other piece of forgotten furniture and he brought his knees up, hugging them to his chest. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes.

You quietly sat next to him with a huff.

“Why are you here?” Draco asked quietly.

After a moment of silence, you answered with honesty “I don’t know.” And you didn’t. You couldn’t understand why, despite the pit in your stomach that took shape as soon as Harry accused Draco of being a Death Eater, you were alone with him in a secret room, late at night.

Opening his eyes, Draco made a quick decision. He placed his left hand on your right knee, squeezing. Your eyes met – he looked calm; you were confused. “Do you trust me?” Draco’s voice was just a whisper. Alas, through the deafening silence of the Room, you heard him loud and clear.

“I don’t know.” You answered again. And, mirroring his impulsive move, you placed a hand over his. He felt cold at the touch and as you got used to the slightly stinging feeling, he found comfort in your warmth. “All I know is that I’m here, for some reason. I felt like seeing you.” You admitted, your voice tender and quiet.

Draco didn’t speak for a while. You thought you embarrassed yourself but didn’t dare to move.

“There are things about me that you really wouldn’t like if you knew.” The boy finally spoke. His eyes were glued to the cabinet that was a few feet from you both, but his mind was miles away. “I’m not a good man.” He admitted with no waver in his tone, no hesitation.

And maybe it was the daily, month-long meetings you’ve had with him. Or maybe it was the flicker of decency you saw in him when he got Pansy to release her painful grip on you the previous year. But your mind dug up small events and information buried deep in your memory that made you frown at his words. You remembered Dobby. Harry told you he was the Malfoy’s house elf who tried to keep him safe during second year, and it all seemed strange to you. You knew that house elves, if owned, could not act on their own volition no matter how strong their beliefs and inclinations were. In your mind it seemed unlikely that Dobby left the Malfoys without their knowledge and so, for the longest time you had a hunch it was Draco who sent Dobby to warn Harry. Especially since Lucius was the one who snuck Tom Riddle’s diary into Hogwarts. You were also quite sure it was Draco who helped Harry figure out the monster from the Chamber of Secrets was a Basilisk.

But overall, you knew Draco didn’t grow up in a good environment. He’d been heavily manipulated his entire life and it was in that moment, as you sat next to him on dirty floors, hand on top of his, that you decided whatever he was doing, he was doing either because of blackmail or manipulation.

“You can’t let the bad things from the past define you,” You whispered as your fingers slowly occupied the empty spaces between Draco’s own fingers. He was quick to grip your hand into his. “I think you are good. You’ve just been dealt shit cards.”

Draco didn’t show any emotion as he processed your words. But that night as he lay in his bed all he could think about were your words. Nobody had told him he was a good person before, and he’d never felt supported before in his life. And he felt a wave of emotions hit him all at once. He felt envy because Potter had had you all this time and because of your friendship with him, Draco didn’t get close to you sooner. He felt jealousy because he remembered you were in the Room in the first place because you were heartbroken over Ron – again, someone he didn’t like had all the things Draco felt he should’ve had instead. He felt comfort knowing you weren’t scared of him despite Potter filling your mind with (true) accusations. He felt hopeless because he was a Death Eater now and you were one of the good guys. He also felt entitled, selfish and determined because for the first time in a while, he found himself wanting something – someone, that he wanted for himself: you.

Over the next few months, you both unintentionally grew closer. Draco remembered every smile, every laugh shared between the two of you in the candlelight, hidden deep inside the Room of Requirement. Most days, he worked alone on the cabinet while you studied and pretended he wasn’t doing something potentially harmful. You both found yourselves finding comfort in the other’s mere presence.

You began to think less about Ron and more about Draco and it made you feel strangely guilty, especially when Ron would throw his arm around you like he used to in the Great Hall and you’d catch Draco’s eyes and excuse yourself to move back to the Ravenclaw table.

On certain nights you attempted to get Draco to do homework with you. But with each passing day, he became more and more anxious and afraid. And with each passing day, it hurt and worried you more and more. On a few occasions you did his Transfiguration homework for him just to keep him out of detention.

He owled you a Merry Christmas note during winter break but told you not to write him back. He knew you wished him happy holidays as well.

You gave him a Christmas present when you got back to Hogwarts – a ring, as you’d noticed he liked wearing them. His face lit up at the gesture and it was the first time he embraced you. The action was impulsive but it felt right. One of his arms wrapped around your lower back, the other cradled your head gently. His face buried in your neck and he held you so tight you didn’t dare move. He held you to make sure you were real and wouldn’t slip away from his grasp.

A little over a month later, Draco was feeling the pressure of his tasks heavier than ever. He felt sick each time he looked at the cabinet and you were noticing that. You were also noticing his complete disinterest in school and his reoccurring absences. He’d spend days in the Room, not even coming down to eat. You snuck him meals each time you could but sometimes you’d find them untouched on the floor.

“Alright, Draco. What’s going on?” You confronted him one night.

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” you pleaded “Draco you’re not acting like yourself please, tell me what’s going on so I can help.” You never pleaded with a man before, never thought you would. Your ego felt too strong for this. And yet, there you were, standing behind a disheveled Draco Malfoy with an ache in your chest.

He ignored you.

You felt like throwing something at his head.

You watched as he opened the cabinet doors and took out a rotten apple. He held it in his hand for a second too long. It wasn’t unusual, you’ve watched him do this repeatedly over the past five months. You flinched when he threw the apple on the floor with vicious force. He then kicked the bottom of the cabined a bunch of times, yelling out in anger and frustration. His scream echoed through the Room. You pursed your lips.

“I can’t do this.” He finally spoke. “I can’t bloody do this and everyone’s going to die.” He started pacing around the small clearing amidst clutter. “My mum, my dad, me…you – we’re all going to die.” He kicked the plate of food you had brought him a few hours prior, spilling the contents over the floor.

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s gonna kill you and mum in front of me, make me watch,” He was frantic “probably gonna torture you first so I die remembering your screams. Then,” he pinched his nose, wiped his mouth “then he’ll kill me. I’ll be last and everyone’s gonna be taking the piss out of me, the fucking kid who couldn’t fix a fucking,” he kicked the cabinet again “magic fucking cabinet!” he kicked and kicked until you could feel the pain he felt in his leg yourself.

You walked up to him and attempted to pull him away from the large wooden broken object, but he pushed you away forcefully. You stumbled back in shock. “How dare – “ You couldn’t finish your sentence, however. He hastily turned to face you, pulling up the sleeve of his left arm aggressively, exposing the Dark Mark.

No words came out of your mouth after that.

You couldn’t seem to peel your eyes off of the mark, and Draco watched you with a pained heart. Part of him expected you to run, another to pull out your wand and attack. He didn’t know which one was coming, he didn’t know which one he preferred. However, he didn’t expect you to walk up to him with slow, steady steps.

His eyes locked with yours as you took his arm into your own. It was as if the Room emptied and the only things in it were the two of you. Holding his arm to your chest, you got as close to him as possible. As he looked down at you, his heavy breath fanned your face. “It’s okay, Draco.” You whispered. “I understand.”

And you did. You understood his choice, understood the position he was forced into. And your heart ached for him.

That’s the night Draco remembered best. The way your figure was illuminated by the soft glow of yellow candles, the soft fabric of your sweater rubbing on his skin. The kindness in your eyes spreading warmth through his veins, the way your lips moved when you spoke his name. Most times he thought about conjuring a Patronus, Draco believed the memory of that night was what he needed to focus on in order to succeed.

With his hand on the back of your head, he quickly lowered himself to reach your height and caught your lips in a kiss. He felt you smiling into it and he found himself mirroring you, until you pulled away to giggle into his shoulder. He couldn’t do anything besides kissing the top of your head.

Days later you were both laying on the couch you had transformed into a cozy spot. You were focused on his Mark, tracing your fingers along the lines of it, gently. Draco knew he was supposed to feel pride in having the Mark – that’s what his family had told him, but he felt something close to shame each time he looked at it.

You rested your hand on top of it, covering it. “I’m sorry. But we’ll figure it out.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

A week later he was forced into the meeting with his mom and Snape at the Shrieking Shack. The following night he walked towards the Room of Requirement late, with heavy steps. It felt as if each movement he made on the way happened in slow-motion.

You were reading comfortably when he finally reached you. A smile formed on your lips upon seeing him, but it faded when you took in his appearance, his sour face, hardened figure, stone gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Draco didn’t speak, only pointed his wand towards you. You froze. “Draco?” His hand shook, his face wavered. You were confused.

“I have to do this, (Y/N). He’ll kill you otherwise.” Draco’s voice cracked.

“No, he won’t. You’re a skilled Occlumentist, right? He can’t get into your mind.” You immediately caught on.

He shook his head. “He’ll know, he’ll know. Snape knows, mum knows,” he sounded so scared that you attempted to get up to comfort him, but he threated so you sat back down “he’ll know.”

Tears formed and blurred your vision as your heart picked up speed.

“You know, I didn’t wanna think about you, I wanted to stay focused. I came here to do a task, that’s it. I came to be great, to do great things for the Dark Lord.” Draco began, “But then I saw you. I’ve wanted you since fourth year and then here you were, being good to me and…you woke up a weakness inside me. And I got selfish, I put my mission aside to get something for myself.”

Tears now ran down your face, and Draco mirrored you. You shook your head, silently pleading for him to reconsider.

“But I have a mission, (Y/N) and it’s so important. I can’t be distracted. And I can’t have you being associated with me – it’ll get you killed and I can’t – I can’t have it.”

The candles flickered and for a split second your mind went to a Divination class, where Trelawney explained candle magic. Their dancing light showed instability, chaotic energy while its tall flame indicated success brought about with complications. The air felt cold as you stared at Draco who hadn’t fully stepped into the candlelight. An abyss of darkness stood tall behind him, the sights of it deepening the pit in your stomach. Despite his shaky hands, dark circles underneath his saddened eyes and hollow cheeks, Draco looked put-together. His hair wasn’t messy like it was the first night you found him in the Room. It was back to its slick, flawless style. He wore his all-black suit, and his tie wasn’t loosened.

“I also can’t have you walk out of here knowing everything about me.” His voice hardened and for the first time while being with him, you felt fear.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Your voice was small. You sat up, your eyes beginning to look for a way out.

“I can’t risk it, you’re friends with Potter. You’re one of the good guys.”

“I won’t put you in danger, Draco.”

He grimaced at your words as if they’ve hit him with the force of a Cruciatus Curse. He tried not to let any more tears fall. You took his reaction as an opportunity to get closer to him. Maybe if you could take away his wand, touch him. Maybe then you could change his mind.

“I won’t endanger you either,” He whispered. “That’s why I have to do this.” At that, he lowered his wand and took two long strides towards you. Another one of his unpredictable actions that left you frozen in your spot. In a swift motion, he cupped your face between his calloused palms. “You know this is the right choice.”

“No,” you whispered and shook your head “no, it’s not. You can teach me Occlumency, I can help you,” your fearful eyes bore into his saddened ones, his heart ached at your words, at the fear he was capable of instilling in you. “We’re a good team, remember? I can help.” You kept pleading as your own hands rested on top of his. You felt the ring you’d given him still on his finger.

He simply shook his head with a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. “I’ve already corrupted you enough.” Draco admitted and you were taken aback; rendered speechless. “You’ve been covering for me with your friends, lying to Professors, basically doing my homework while I’m working on bringing the school down.”

Your heart dropped; hands started shaking. Draco felt it. He felt the weight of his words starting to crush you. Down in your mind you knew he was doing something bad with the cabinet, but you didn’t think it was so drastic.

Draco continued. Hurt her to save her, his mom’s words rang through his mind. “I’m using the Vanishing Cabinet to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” his words made you remember the Death Eaters attack at the Quidditch World Cup, where you were almost trampled. You remembered the attack on London that sent one of your family members to the Hospital. You remembered how ruthless the Death Eaters were at the Ministry, when they were throwing deadly curses at a bunch of teenagers.

And there it was.

The look of betrayal, hurt and fear on your face that Draco never wanted to see. He tried to remember the night you saw his Mark, the night you accepted and comforted him. That’s what he wanted to remember, not this. “After I get them here, I’m going to kill Dumbledore.” He continued.

Chills erupted on your body and you recoiled from his touch.

“I knew you were planning something bad, but this, Draco?” You couldn’t speak louder than a whisper as you took small steps away from him. He knew this was coming; the disgust, the unacceptance. Was your speech about understanding him all bullshit? “You don’t have to- “

“Yes, I do. It’s my mission.”

“No, listen to me. You’re not this person, you’re not a Death Eater. I know you, Draco. You’re still a good person put in a terrible situation but it’s not all lost, we can-“ Despite your fear, you still found yourself comforting him, pleading with him. Your mind lead an inner battle between understanding the boy’s motives and wanting to let Harry know of everything that was happening.

You couldn’t let Dumbledore die, couldn’t let Death Eaters attack Hogwarts.

“I cursed Katie Bell. Almost killed her.” Draco cut you off.

“I know.” You deadpanned. He parted his lips and frowned in confusion. “I saw the necklace in your bag a week before it all happened. Then I saw it on McGonagall’s desk. It wasn’t hard to piece together the puzzle.” You explained.

Despite the warmth spreading through his heart at the thought of you not abandoning him even after knowing that all those months ago, at the thought that he’d finally found someone to be on his side for once in his life, someone who understood and maybe even actually loved him – despite it all, Draco’s eyes had never showed less emotion.

You wanted to cry but didn’t. Your ego won.

“You know I have to do this, (Y/N).” His voice didn’t waver anymore. The more reasons you gave him to love you, the more his decision solidified in his mind. “And you know I’m doing the right thing,” he wanted to hold you so bad, but he didn’t move; instead, you both stood feet away from each other. “Knowing all this puts you in danger. Coming here every night puts you in danger hell, even looking at me in the Great Hall puts you in danger. I can’t see you brought into the manor tied up, imprisoned and killed as a punishment for me. And you know I’m right. I’m not just some irrelevant follower, I’ve sat at a damn table with The Dark Lord countless times this summer. He’s been in my home; he knows me personally.”

You couldn’t look at him the more he spoke. So, your gaze was stuck on a candle, but your eyes remained unfocused.

“You’re smart.” Draco kept speaking, his tone now loud and confident. “This is the part where you tell me that even though you wanna change my mind, you know I’m doing the right thing,” he even joked. You wanted to cry but couldn’t speak. He was right. “Tell me you’re proud of me because I’m putting someone else’s wellbeing above my own for once” his voice became muffled, as if he spoke from underwater. It was silent for a moment as Draco watched you process his words, “You’ll be on the right side of history after this. You’ll go back to Weasley who’s a better choice for you than I could ever be – even though it kills me to say that.”

All you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

By the time you looked back up at him, he had a few tears running down his face and his wand pointed at you. And so you cried.

“We were a good team, weren’t we?” Draco spoke with one last saddened smile.

“Draco, please. I love –“ you began, but Draco couldn’t bear hear it.

You watched Draco wipe his tears with a swift motion, before a white light formed at the tip of his wand. His voice came out strong, unwavering, and determined. His hand stopped shaking.

“Obliviate,” Draco uttered before you could react.

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #hhtsh

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ameliajessicawilliamspond · 3 years

Text

PART 3

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The Mandolorian reached down, absent-mindedly pulling the scarf into his hands when something fell from it, landing with a light thud on the powdery snow below.

The holocron.

Din's voice caught in his throat. Luke found it! No wonder he was so insistent on recovering the scarf. He held the artifact up in the air toward the jedi triupmhantly, only to have that feeling shatter like glass the second his eyes settled on Luke's now limp body. Din nearly dropped the cube as he ran back to Luke's side.

"No, no no, cyar'ika, please, don't fall asleep. You've got to stay awake for me." Din begged, but knew he was fighting a losing battle. Luke barely stirred at his words. Din tried to get his hands back over the wound but they were too limp and slipped off. Din swore under his breath when he realized Luke's violent shivering had stopped.

That's when he gave himself a moment to panic. He reached down, grasping at Luke's shirt and placing the forehead of his helmet down on Luke's chest. A small sob eacaped his mouth. This wasn't supposed to happen. Something in him screamed that Luke should never be harmed. Not that he couldn't be, he was a person after all, and he was always near danger, but it just felt... wrong to see Luke like this.

The mandolorian broke from his moment of panic, knowing time was not on their side. Din set his jaw, whispering a quiet "okay, alright" to himself as he thought of a plan. He pulled the coat he had put over Luke tighter around his shoulders. He didn't have any bacta patches on him, so the wound would have to wait until they got back to the ship.

Carefully, ever so carefully, Din scooped one arm under Luke's shoulders and the other under both knees.

"Ni Ceta, cyre." He apologized, before hoisting the jedi up in his arms, pulling a whine from the young jedi's lips. Din held him close, tucking his head into his shoulder to protect him from the elements before activating his jetpack and rushing toward the ship.

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

Slamming the entry door behind him, Din rushed to deposit Luke in the ship's medbay. He needed to warm up. Right now. His lips were purple, his golden hair frozen to his forehead, and he had stopped shivering whuch meant his body had stopped fighting. Hypothermia had most definitely set in.

Reluctantly leaving the jedi's side, he rushed to the control panel and turned the heat up as high as it could. The circuit board blinked ten missed calls, three from General Leia and the other seven from Han Solo. He promised himself he'd call back at some point, but that was the last thing on his list of priorities at the moment. Setting the ship to auto-pilot, he left the cockpit and rushed back down to the ship's hold, putting water on to heat and collecting every blanket he could find.

Before he could smother the jedi in the warm blankets he had to stop the wound from bleeding. He gingerly lifted Luke's shirt, causing the young man to stir, a sudden presense in his head that felt like it was pushing him away and a trembling warning of "don't" echoed in his mind. Din shushed him, rubbing his arm to try and convey that he meant no harm. There wasn't much he could do for it now, not with the equipment he had available and Luke would need to be taken to a Medcenter, but he could at least stop the bleeding. Din tapped Luke's ice cold arm. "I'll be right back."

He grabbed two large bacta patches and a warm wet towel to clean the wound. Kneeling back down next to Luke's body, he gently reached down to wipe the blood staining the jedi's side. A sudden heaviness set in the air and that warning flashed through his mind again. Din shushed Luke again and tried to continue but there it was again, louder this time, and now he could feel an invisible force lightly pushing back against him.

Din tested it, taking his hands away from Luke's side, then back again, each time the feeling diapersed. Back and forth- push. Back and forth- push. Back and forth- push.

"Kriff it." Din swore as he tossed the rag away, knowing it was useless at this point. In one quick movement shoved one patch under Luke's side and the other on top.

A Force Wave burst from the jedi's body, shoving Din hard against the opposite wall.

Din shook his head, stunned by the sudden outburst before his eyes settled on Luke who was now semi awake and jerking violently in the bed. The mandolorian rushed to his side, one hand on his arm the other on his cheek.

"Cyar'ika, Luke listen, it's me! It's Din, you're safe. I've got you, you're gunna be fine." Din tried as Luke screamed incoherently, wide eyes struggling to settle on the Mandolorian. "Luke, you have to stop, you were shot, you're suffering from hypothermia, I need you to calm down. Let me help you. Gedet'ye, cyre."

Luke slowly began to settle, blind panic settling in to exhaustion and pain, his face falling as he started to cry. "I-It h-hurts." He managed.

Din's heart dropped into his boots.

"I know. I know, I'm so sorry. But you're going to be just fine." Behind him the water he had put on began to signal it was heated. Din turned to grab it but something freezing cold gripped his hand and he looked to see Luke hanging on to him like a lifeline. Din squeezed the cold hand, taking notice of how purple his fingers now were. "I'll be right back, I'm not leaving." He slipped out of the icy grip and grabbed the water and making tea. He helped Luke sit up and told him to drink and Luke did so with great difficulty. Once he had some warm liquid in his belly Din buried him in blankets.

After about 10 minutes the ship was like a sauna on a pleasure planet. Even after stripping down to just his pants after he got Luke calmed down enough to close his eyes, Din was sweating. Yet Luke still hadn't begun to shiver again. Din paused, looking at the jedi for a moment as he carefully considered his next move. He knew he had to get Luke's body up to temperature and fast and he knew the best way to do that.

"Luke," Din said, carefully approaching the jedi who barely mumbled in response. "I'm going to touch you now. Don't throw me across the room." He said, hoping for some reaction but getting none. The mandolorian took a deep breath and a chance.

Trying not to jostle Luke, he carefully slid in behind the jedi and pulled him close, the Luke's back leaning up against his bare chest as Din wrapped his legs around his sides, careful to avoid the injury there. Luke jumped momentarily before sinking back into the heat Din's body was giving off.

A long sit and a very sweaty mandolorian later, Luke finally began to shiver. And after, he stopped shivering naturally. Finally, Din felt like he could breathe again. He allowed himself to relax, knowing there was nothing more he could do now except wait. He hunkered down closer to Luke, resting his chin in Luke's hair. His eyes began to slide shut, rest finally calling him.

That is, until, something else called instead. A ping rang out through the room signaling an incoming call.

Din groaned, knowing he couldn't ignore the what was bound to be Han or Leia, but loathe to leave Luke. Regrettably, Din pulled himself from the bed, slipping on his shirt, chest plate, and helmet for privacy before answering the call.

"Mando! Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to call you !" Came the voice of a very stressed Han Solo.

"We ran into some trouble." Din said simply, wondering how many questions the man would ask.

"Where's the kid?" He said, his voice deadly serious.

"Luke's here. He's hurt." Din told him honestly.

"Yeah, I know." Din tilted his head in surprise. Han crossed his arms, clearly upset. "Leia and Grogu started freaking out. I thought Leia was having a heart attack, and Grogu won't stop bugging out, grabbing his head, running around, tryjng to tell me stuff but I can't understand a word he says."

Din sighed. Luke's force signature and connection to the two acted as a warning signal when something was happening to the other, sometimes even effecting them physically.

"He's... he's stable." Din started.

"I don't like the sound of that." Han said.

"We need the Medcenter ready to receive him when we land." Din said, desperately trying to keep his voice even. "He was shot."

Han sucked in a breath through his nose, his mouth separating in shock. "Blaster fire?"

Din shook his head. "Bullet."

Han's eyes blew wide. "Kark, that's... well that's just uncivilized! Anything else I need to know?"

Din pursed his lips beneath the mask. "He's suffering from hypothermia."

Han paused, his eyes distant for a moment and Din wondered, recalling what Luke had told him in the cave, if he was remembering the last time he himself saw Luke in that state. "Kriff." He swore, rubbing his hands over his face. "How did this happen? Where were you?" Han asked and Din felt a pang of regret.

"Luke was kidnapped while I was incompacitated." Din answered.

Han sucked in a breath, angry his friend and brother wasn't protected properly, Din knew, because he felt the same way. "Look, you can tell me more when you get here and we get him fixed up, alright?" the smuggler said and Din nodded in response. "I gotta go talk to Leia and explain all this. Let me know when you're close to landing, the Medcenter will be ready."

Before Din could respond, Han hung up. Din took the helmet back off, wiping the sweat from his brow. It was still hotter than Tattooine on board. He double-checked their course before returning to Luke's side, silently apologizing to the unconscious jedi all the way back to Endor.

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

It took two days and a handful of bacta baths and patches later to fully revive the jedi.

Two days of Din hoping he didn't mess up his field medication, two days of a cold jedi and a tired Han. Two days of Leia and Grogu fighting the pain in their heads from Luke's own pain.

Two days to sit with his failure.

Of course the first thing Luke asked for when he's conscious is the holocron.

"Are you going to open it?" Din asked when Luke didn't activate it, opting to fumbling around the cube in his hands.

Luke's eyes locked on his, two windows into the bluest ocean and Din knew he could drown in them.

"I wanted to thank you first. For saving me and for helping me find this." He said, his gentle voice filled with gratitude the mandolorian felt he did not deserve.

"I almost let you die." Din reminded him.

"I almost let you die." Luke retorted.

"No, you saved my life." Din corrected him.

"As did you." Luke countered.

Din sighed. "You're determined to contradict me, aren't you?"

"I'm determined to see the truth, and the truth is I was captured while failing to save you and you ended up saving me." Luke said matter of factly.

Din threw his hands up in the air. "Then we're at an impass."

Luke let out a small laugh, hiding his smile by ducking his chin down, his blonde hair falling over his eyes and Din decided that was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "I guess we are." the jedi said, before looking back up at the Mandolorian. "I've been meaning to ask you, when I was..." Luke trailed off for a moment. Din filled in the blanks, the image of Luke's broken body lying in the snow invading his mind. "...well, you said some things I don't think I understood."

Din felt a red hot flush crawl up his neck. He'd never been more grateful for his helmet. "Um...well I was worried, and when I worry I sometimes forget to stick to Basic and end up slipping into Mand'oa. It was just things like I'm sorry and such. Just slipped out."

"So, 'Cyar'ika' is 'I'm sorry?'" Luke asked, genuinely curious. Din silently cursed the fact that the man was a jedi, because anyone else wouldn't have remembered such details when they were busy dying of hypothermia and a gut wound. "Or is that 'Crye'? Or are they similar?"

This time Din ducked his head, not able to hold eye contact with Luke, even through the layer of his mask. "No." He said, hoping that was the end of it, but Luke waited, scooting forward in the bed ever so slightly, waiting for an answer. Din took a deep breath. "It...um...they are...terms of endearment?" He said, testing the waters. When Luke didn't react, Din continued. "Cyar'ika means...um, kark- it well...it means like... sweeheart o-or darling and-and Cyre means...it means beloved or...love."

Luke's eyes widen, a flush making its way across his cheeks. "Oh." He breathed out.

There was a beat of silence as Luke took it all in and Din let it sink in that he actually just told him that. The mandolorian stood. "I should go." He said, turning toward the door.

"No, Din, wait." Luke said, reaching for him and grabbing his wrist, gently turning him back to face him. Luke tugged him so that he was kneeling in front of Luke's bed. The jedi took both his hands first, then they made their way to his helmet. "May I?" He asked. Din, to his own surprise, nodded immediately. Luke removed his helmet, placing it delicately next to him on the mattress, before returning his hands to Din's. "I am happy you were there. You have become more important to me now then I would like to admit. Almost losing you on the bank of that river I...I couldn't breathe. I...I love you, too." Luke said, before turning beat red and pulling his hands from Din's. "That is...if that's what you...Oh, you probably just said those words in the heat of the moment, oh kriff, I'm an idiot..." The jedi stumbled over himself. "Um, I'm sorry i just assumed--"

Din chuckled, cutting Luke off with a kiss. Their lips connected and something ignited im the air around them. Like something so new and precious, but something that's always been there. The two melded into one and for a brief moment nothing else mattered. The events of the past week melted away like ice in the hot sun.

Luke pulled away, a laugh dancing off his lips as he mumbled an apology. Din wasn't sure what he meant until he noticed every object in the room was floating back down to it's correct spot in the room. Din caught the holocron before it landed back down, climbing up next to Luke on the bed, his free hand wrapping around the jedi's.

"What on this thing, anyway?" Din questioned, tossing it in the air like a ball for a moment.

Luke shrugged next to him. "Not quite sure, honestly. It's from the jedi temple, gotta be at least thirty years old. I'm hoping to be able to learn more about the jedi way but a lot of this information was destroyed during the rise of the Empire." He took it from Din, poking and prodding at it until a blue hued hologram lit up the sml medcenter room.

Before them stood a tall man with nearly shoulder length brown hair and jedi robes, darker than what Din had ever seen a jedi wear and Din's couldn't stop staring at his familiar blue eyes that were almost as blue as Luke's. Beside him stood a Togruta girl, no older than 16 with duo lightsabers Din recognized, fighting in what could only be The Clone Wars of old. Beside him Luke gasped, and Din tore his eyes away from the holographic pair to look at the jedi. His eyes were watery with unshed tears, his free hand clasped over his mouth. "That's...I think that's my father." Luke said. Din squeezed his hand. "I never knew him like this." Luke said, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes followed the holographic ghost of his father

Din's eyebrows knit together. "Who's the girl?" He asked.

Luke's eyebrows mimicked Din's. "I think thats my aunt."

"You're Aunt?" Din asked, looking at Luke, who's eyes still hadn't left the projection.

"Yes...I never met her." He said, distantly.

Din paused. "I think I have."

Luke blinked once. Then twice. Then turned the holocron off, turning fully to look at the mandolorian. "...You WHAT?"

THE END

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And there we have it! The finale! Sorry took so long, but I hope it was worth the wait! Please enjoy and let me know if you liked it!

[ REQUESTED TAGS: @kineko123 @zarakem @ryleeamberrr @asthefirerisesblog @reinaorgana @16mistypaw @bi-witch-rose @mayor-aaya @theonlyredcar ]

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felassan · 4 years

Text

Mass Effect development insights and highlights from Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

This is the Mass Effect version of this post.

[In case you can’t read it the subtitle in the bottom left logo above is “Guardians of the Citadel”]

Note: Drug use is mentioned.

Cut for length.

Mass Effect 1

ME began its life in a vision document in fall 2003

Codenamed “SFX”

Conceived of by Casey Hudson and a core team from KotOR. Its genesis was the intention to create an epic sci-fi RPG in an original setting that BioWare owned (so they could have full creative control), and in a setting that was conceived of first and foremost as a video game

Initially players could control any squadmate, but they wanted it to be about Shep and for players to be focused on Shep being a battlefield commander, rather than on switching bodies

By the start of 2004 its story was shaping up. Initially humans landed on Mars in 2250 and discovered evidence of an ancient alien race and a powerful substance, Black Sand, which rapidly advanced tech to the point that FTL travel was possible. (My note: obviously now the Prothean artifacts on Mars & associated mass effect force tech enabled this in the final canon, but I wonder if aspects of the ‘Black Sand’ naming-type & powerful substance stuff was rolled into red sand from final canon) Humans were suddenly capable of travel to multiple star systems and made contact with a multitude of other species. At the start of the first game, these species together with humans had a fragile peace, with focus placed on the political center of the galaxy, a hub known as Star City, later renamed the Citadel

Multiplayer was a vision for the series as far back as 2003. The plan was for ME1, an Xbox exclusive at launch, to take advantage of the platform’s online components. Early designs saw players meeting in one of the central hubs to interact and trade items in their otherwise SP adventures

By 2006 it had the name ME and the story was more specific, with the theme of conflict between organic and synthetic lifeforms. The story’s scope now stretched across 3 games and included scope for full co-op MP

They tried to do MP in every game, discussing it from the get-go, but it always just fell by the wayside. “When you’re trying to build something that is a new IP, on a new platform, with a new engine, you’ve got to really focus on the core elements of the game.”

The conversation system prototype was made in Jade Empire, and some of ME’s earliest writing was done in an old JE build. At first there was no conversation wheel. Paragon was “Friendly” and Renegade “Hostile”. In the prototype Shep was a silent unnamed Spectre. Many conversations in the prototype about the player’s choice in smuggling a weapon through Noveria made it into the game

In said prototype a merchant referred to themselves as “this one”, though the word hanar never appeared. The PC in it also had the option to end a conversation with “I should go”. In the prototype also, Harkin was voiced by Mark Meer

An early version of the Mako got used as the krogan truck in ME2

Early concepts of the Citadel were drawn in pencil by CH. A piece of concept art of its final design was painted based on a photo of a sculpture near Aswan, Egypt

As with any new IP naming it was a struggle. They put out a call to all staff for ideas, did polls, made a name generator that combined words that they liked in random ways and made pretend logos of ones they liked in Photoshop to see if they could make themselves love the name or find visual potential in it. (Some of these names are in the pic at the top of this post.) CH liked “Unearthed” as it was a reference to Prothean ruins dug up on Mars and humanity’s ascendance going away from Earth. They knew the game would have a central space station featuring prominently so some of the ideas were based on that - “The Citadel”, “The Optigon”, “The Oculon”. “Element” was another one they had in mind due to the rare substance in the game

CH: “I was a big fan of John Harris’ book Mass, which had epic-scaled sci-fi ideas, so that was a word that came up often. Many of the names came from the idea that the IP featured a fifth fundamental physical force (in addition to the known four of gravitational, electromagnetic, strong nuclear and weak nuclear) so the word ‘effect’ came up pretty often.” Ultimately none of the ideas really felt right. One Monday morning they were going over the names and Greg Zeschuk said he had an idea on the weekend: “Mass Effect!” CH: “I said, ‘I don’t hate it’, which in the naming process is a high compliment. And it stuck!”

CH on Shep’s Prothean vision from the beacon: “It was hard to imagine how we would do this. CG was - and is - really expensive. Instead I wanted to try doing it through photography and video editing. So I went to a local grocery store and bought a few packages of the weirdest looking meat that I could find. Then I set up a little photoshoot in my basement, complete with some electronics parts and some red wine for juicyness.” He used these props to create a video sequence where the photos were rapidly cycled and blurred, along with production paintings, to create the scary vision an organic/machine experiment on the Protheans. These mashups were also used as inspiration for concept artists and level designers who were working on these themes

Tali used to be called Talsi

On the licensing side they often joke that they’re licensing N7 not “Mass Effect” due to N7′s popularity

There was a confidential internal guide to the IP in 2007 to help devs along and summarize/synthesize the vision etc. Some excerpts from it are shown in the book and this is the first time the public have ever seen them

Early versions of Asari had hair

Asari were designed as a nod to classic TV sci-fi (with human actors wearing obvious makeup and prosthetics to play aliens)

The turian design guideline was “we want them to be birds of prey”. They also wanted a range of alien types, some close to human like Asari, while others were to be a lot further away, like turians

BioWare patented the conversation wheel, which was a first for them. CH had been frustrated with reviews of Jade Empire that said that the actioncentric game was too wordy [with its list dialogue]. “I’m like, story is words. [...] What is it about our games that is making people feel like they’re wordy?” Then he thought “In a game you kind of need to feel like you’re continuing to play it. Maybe you should continue feeling like you’re playing it actively into the dialogue.” “[The wheel] kind of gave a new experience with dialogue when you did start to react based on emotion, and that’s ultimately what we’re trying to bring out in our games”

The original krogan concept was based on a bat “with a really wide squidgy face. We just used its face on top of this weird body and it kinda worked”

Geth musculature was based on fiber-optic cables, with flexible plates of armor attached

The vision for the IP was 80s sci-fi inspired space opera

The concept art of Saren lifting Shep by the throat inspired a similar scene in-game. The staging wasn’t planned til designers saw that art

A squadmate with Shepard on the way to meet Ash in an old storyboard was called Carter. Early name of Kaidan or Jenkins?

Bono from U2 was kinda instrumental in bringing us ME lol

Finding the right cover art for ME1 was notably tricky

Matt Rhodes got his start drawing helmets for ME1, including one which would become Shep’s “second face”. He estimates he drew between 250-270 different ones

Some of the sounds in-game were people smashing watermelons with sledgehammers and sticking fists into various goos

The audio team had fun trying to slip the iconic main theme into unexpected places throughout the MET. “We were very aware of how powerful that track was for the fans and it was tempting to overuse it for any moment we wanted to make really emotional”.

The theme was creatively repurposed in ME3: slowed down and reworked as the ambient sound for the SR-2. “If you listen to it for a really long time, just stand in the Normandy and listen, you’ll actually hear the notes change slowly. It doesn’t sound like music, it sounds like a background ambiance, but it’s there.” (My note: Well no wonder the Normandy feels so much like home?? 😭 sneaky..)

Bug report: “Mako Tornado”. There wasn’t enough friction between the tires and the ground, causing testers to lose control of the vehicle and send it spinning into the air like a tornado. “As it turns, the front end comes up, and then it starts spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning faster and faster and faster until it just flies up in the sky” (My note: Sounds like a regular day in the Mako to me)

Cerberus originally had a bigger role in this game. It was cut but they had a whole explorable outpost. “I called it Misery,” says Mac Walters, “It was this planet with a little outpost that said ‘Welcome to Misery’”. Everything on the outpost was shit - dirty worn stuff, no windows, no kitchen, the vehicle bay was open to the elements etc

The Reaper sound is literal garbage. Some audio designers went on a recording trip to a national park. One of them got fixated on a garbage can, “a metal bear-proof receptacle with a heavy lid that creaked horribly when opened”. “It was like, ominous, spooky, tonal and almost musical. I decided to throw a mic into the garbage and record it moving. I didn’t know what it was going to be until later”

They were making lots of noises to record like throwing logs and rocks around. An old couple peered at them through the window of their camper van in the woods and must have called the cops because then the cops showed up, pulled them over and told them to stop. The cops towed their car (the driver’s plates were Cali plates and expired), drove them to Edmonton outskirts and then the audio producer Shauna got a call and had to go pick them up “like three little boys”. “We got a stern talking to”. Once back they were playing around with the garbage sound, editing it etc. Casey heard it and proclaimed “That’s the sound of the Reapers”

Preston Watamaniuk: “There are things I could have done to Mass 1 to make it an infinitely better game with better UIs” and some simple cuts and changes. “But when you’re living with it, it’s very hard to see those things”

BioWare Labs

As social media and smartphone games exploded, BioWare dedicated a small team dedicated to exploring opportunities here - BioWare Labs

Mass Effect: Galaxy used a unique graphic art style and static visual presentation common in visual novels. It has the distinction of being the only iOS game BW have made during their first 25 years

Scrapped ideas were a 3rd person space shooter called Mass Effect: Corsair and 2 DA titles - a strategy game and a top-down dungeon crawler starring young Wynne. (My note: Maybe the corsairs stuff was rolled into Jacob’s backstory in 2, the Alliance Corsairs)

Corsair was a very short-lived project that never got its feet under it. It was a spin-off on Nintendo DS featuring a behind-the-ship perspective and branching dialogue. At one point it had MP. The idea behind it was basically “ME: Freelancer” - fly your ship around, do missions, get credits. It had a limited branching story but was a gameplay-centered experience intended to fill the gap between ME1 and 2. That gap ended up being filled by Galaxy

Galaxy and Corsair’s smaller screen allowed concept artists to use bold colors and a simplistic character design style to help those games stand out from Shep’s story

Nick Thornborrow did some art for Corsair but was worried his art style didn’t fit ME. He moved to DA where he feels his art style fits better

Lots of BioWare VAs and even a lead writer and the VO director are drawn from Edmonton’s local community theater scene, which is vibrant. Think this is how Mark Meer got involved

Mass Effect 2

Player choices carrying over was a first for BW

Dirty Dozen-inspired plot

Its plot is a web of conditionals (see Suicide Mission)

Was more of a shooter than anything BW had made since Shattered Steel

There was 2 camps on the team, those who wanted to push combat and systems forward and redefine the ME experience and those who wanted to make a true sequel, with the same gameplay and systems but a new story. Karin Weekes: “I think it ended up being a good push-pull. It felt like a pretty healthy creative conflict”

“ME2 was a game you could hold up to someone who argues that games aren’t a serious medium and go ‘Oh yeah, then why is Martin Sheen in this?’” Sheen was their first pick for TIM

The idea for TIM came from a mash-up of concepts CH had collected over the years. The name “Illusive” originally came from his pitch for naming DAO’s Eclipse engine, a word inspired by Obi-Wan’s line “It’s not about the mission, Master. It’s something... elsewhere. Elusive”. “I thought, what if we called our next engine 'Elusive', but used an ‘I’, and then it’s like ‘Illusion’. [...] I still really like the word with an ‘I’ and what it conjures”

When ME1 DLC was in production, CH had been watching a lot of CNN, specifically Anderson Cooper. “How is one guy travelling to all these places and never looking tired and always being able to speak with clarity?” CH says it seemed almost superhuman. “What if there was someone who is the absolute maximum of the things you would aspire to be, but also the worst of humanity?” Cooper, though not evil, became an inspiration for TIM down to the gray hair and piercing blue eyes

Inspiration for TIM’s behind-the-scenes role pulling political strings came from Jack Bauer’s brother Graem in 24. Graem “can call up the president and tell him what to do and hang up, because he’s so connected and so influential”. Sheen had played a president and his performance brought gravitas and wisdom to the role. He had quit smoking, but the character smokes. He didn’t want to fake it, but he also didn’t want to smoke, “so he actually asked for a cigarette” to hold so he could stop his words to take drags with natural cadence

Writing was still pushing to write and revise lines hours before VO started. A series of problems like injury and some writers leaving for other opportunities left it so that Karin, Lukas Kristjanson and editor Cookie Everman hand to land the story safely, with PW helping where they could. Lukas: “We took over the writing bug and task list, and I can’t stress enough how much [Karin and Cookie] did to get ME2 out the door. There’s no part of that thing we didn’t touch”. Karin: “That was the most dramatic 2 weeks of my life”

Initial fan reaction when they started promo-ing ME2 was very negative because people didn’t want to know about new chars like Jack and Mordin. “[fans were like] ‘Get them out of here. We want our characters from the first game’. But then when they played them, those became some of the most popular chars [of the series]”

Concept art of Thane has an idea annotation saying “Face can shapeshift?”

At one point when designing Thane concept artists sent multiple variations of him to the team asking them to vote on which was the most attractive

Most of the Normandy crew was written by lead level designer Dusty Everman. Lukas gave him advice in the evenings between bugs

BioWare Montreal made ME2 and 3 cinematics

CC for Shep was based on tools used by char designers to create in-game chars. Under the hood similar tools existed to create aliens

Aliens were much easier to animate than humans. When something is human it’s very difficult to make it look realistic and you can see all the mistakes and everything

Over the holiday period in 2007 CH worked out a diagram on a single piece of paper that would define the entire scope and structure of the game. The diagram is included in the book

Bug report: “I shot a krogan so hard that his textures fell off”. At one point shotgun blast damage was applied to each of the pellets fired, and shot enemies ended up with just the default checkerboard Unreal texture on them after their textures got blown off

Blasto was meant to be 1 step above an Easter egg but his fan popularity prompted them to bring him back in ME3

They rewrote chunks of Jack 2 days before she went to VO. She was the only one they could change because all the other NPCs were recorded. They redesigned her mission by juggling locked NPC lines and changing Shep’s reactions by rewriting text paraphrases to change the context of the already-recorded VO

Lukas snuck obscure nods ito ME2′s distress calls. In the general distress call for the Hugo Gernsback, there’s BW’s initial’s and Edmonton’s phone number backwards. In a fault in a beacon protocol there’s the initials and backward phone number from Tommy Tutone’s “Jenny”. In 2 other general distress calls there’s initials and numbers from Glenn Miller Orchestra’s “Pennsylvania 6-5000″ and initials and numbers from Geddy Lee and Rush’s “2112″ respectively

Mass Effect 3

“The end of an era marks the beginning of another”

ME3 “marked the end of Shep’s story”

Saying bye to Shep was as difficult for devs as it was for players

JHale’s final VO session included Anderson’s death and romanced Garrus’ goodbye. “We were in the session and we both just started crying”, Caroline says. “I couldn’t come on the line to give her notes because I was crying, and she was crying. And so there was just this minute-long pause of like, nothing, nothing, nothing - just silence through the airwaves. And then I came on and just told her that I was crying and she said ‘I’m crying!’” They talked about these anecdotes also here on the N7 Day reunion panel

The Microsoft Kinect voice support required devs to teach Kinect hundreds of commands in a variety of accents across multiple languages. The result was useful but made for some awkward moments. Numerous players accidentally said “geth” or “quarian” while making a particular decision and accidentally killed Tali

MP chars were voiced by cops and military people

The helmet on one of the MP chars was originally designed for cancelled project Revolver

The payload device at the end needed to attach to the Citadel while essentially serving as a giant trigger. “It ended up becoming quite the engineering feet just to visualize how this thing would move and connect to the Citadel”

Concept artists explored creating an anti-team, where Kai Leng was almost an anti-Shepard essentially, with an elite squad to counteract your team. This idea never went beyond concept phase

ME3 Special Edition was released on Nintendo Wii U exclusively. This exclusive version of the game includes Genesis 2 (a sequel to the original Genesis comic) and unique gameplay features that took advantage of the touchscreen GamePad. For years Sonic Chronicles: Dark Brotherhood had had the honor of being BW’s only game made for a Nintendo console

FemShep regrettably didn’t feature in major ME marketing til ME3. Later releases like DAI, MEA and Anthem have taken increasing care not to gender their protagonists in cover art

To capture combat sounds they took a trip to CFB Wainwright, a military base southeast of Edmonton. They got a big tour of it and were allowed to record anything they could find. The tour ended with them getting to drive and shoot tanks (real shells). The force of doing that sent waves through Joel Green, he felt his whole chest compress when it went off; the perfect sound for the Black Widow! After the trip the soldiers let him keep the shell he fired and it’s been passed on like a torch to various devs since

Kakliosaurs began life as a joke in the writers’ room after John Dombrow placed a Grunt figure on a t-rex toy he had on his desk. Lore was brainstormed to justify the mash-up before someone asked, “Why don’t we put this in the game?” They loved it so much Karin had custom coffee mugs made

Bug report: For a while Tali’s final romance scene would fire when she was supposed to be dead

“Balancing combat: how designers in ME3 entered an ‘arms race’” - the solution to players feeling OP vs players feeling frustrated by really strong enemies is to find a good middle ground, but for designers Corey Gaspur and Brenon Holmes, it was war. Brenon designed enemies, Corey designed guns. Corey “was obsessed with bigger, heavier guns. We had this sort of informal competition where he’d make this crazy overturned gun that would just murder all the enemies, and then I tuned some stuff up to compensate”

Brenon had to invent new ways to “stop Corey” and this led to the Phantoms. Corey had in turn designed consumable rockets that could wipe out entire waves of enemies. He must’ve figured this would make short work of Brenon’s space ninjas, but Brenon had other plans: “I had just added the ability for her to cut rockets [when Corey was playing MP and he was watching]. She cut the rocket in half... Corey just turns and looks at me and is like: ‘Really dude? I just shot a rocket at this Phantom and she’s fine? Not even damaged? Zero damage?’”

This friendly rivalry helped elevate ME3′s gameplay. Corey had a knack for making a gun feel so good to fire it had his fellow designers scrambling to keep up. It was his version of balancing. Before Corey sadly passed away he mentored Boldwin Li in all things weapon design and the arms race continued

Corey designed the Arc Pistol. It was causing problems for enemies because it was too powerful. It seemed hell bent on staying that way, Boldwin would tune down all its stats and it was still doing 3x the damage it should have been doing. “I was like ‘What the hell?’, and then I looked closer. It secretly fired 3 bullets for every pull of the trigger! Corey, you sneaky jerk”

The day it launched there were midnight launch parties across North America including one near the BW building. Numerous devs sat at long tables greeting fans and signing autographs as the fans picked up preorders. When midnight struck the line was long enough that it took several hours for some fans to get their game. One particular fan is remembered: “It was 3am. Some guy drove up from Calgary with his friends. He was like one of the last people in line. I think he was sort of tired-drunk. He threw himself across the tables, pulled up his shirt and shouted ‘Guys, sign my abs!’ And like I did, because he waited so long. It felt impolite not to. So I hope he enjoyed his copy of ME3″

For designing Protheans concept artists had free reign to design something that read as ancient

Before the concept art team had the story of the game to work toward, they explored wild ideas of their own including an image of the crew stealing back the Normandy to go after the Reapers

Jen Cheverie was testing scenes and was initially excited to be testing Mordin scenes, til she saw she was testing the Renegade version of his death. “This is even before like all of the audio and everything was in, so you didn’t even have the sad music. I remember sitting at my desk and my hands just went to my face when I saw that the gun Shep pulls on Mordin is the gun he gives Shep in ME2. I burst into tears and was crying for the rest of the day. People are waving to me as they walk by and I’m like, ‘It’s ok, I’m just killing my best friend’”

There’s a segment called “Shepard’s story ends”. Casey on the ending: “There’s a whole bunch of things that come together to make it incredibly tense and emotional for players. I think the biggest one was the sense of finality, that whatever it was that happened in that very last moment... was it.”

Wrapping up the story was a massive feat. In a way all of ME3 is an ending. Its final moments were the players’ last with a char they’d been with all the way from Eden Prime

“And while the critical reception of the game was extremely positive, many fans were unsatisfied with the ending, which became one of the most controversial in the history of games.” CH: “We were, on one hand, at the end of a marathon trying to finish the game and the series. But as devs we also knew that there would be more. We knew that we would continue to tell the story. In retrospect, we didn’t fully appreciate the tremendous sense of finality that it would have for people”. He envisioned an ending that posed new questions, something in the tradition of high sci-fi that left players dreaming about what that particular galaxy’s future could hold. “Frankly, there’s a lot more that we could have and should have done to honor the work players put in, to give them a stronger sense of reward and closure”

AAA games are massive undertakings with a million moving parts. Somehow they come together but even the best-planned projects don’t turn out quite like devs hope. From start to end video game production is a series of compromises. It’s rare if not impossible for devs to ship a game they’re entirely happy with. “I think that people imagine that when you finish a game, it’s exactly the way you wanted it to be. But whether people end up loving or hating the final result, we work hard to finish it the best we can, knowing that there’s a lot we would have wanted to do better. I think that’s true of any creative work”

As the dust settled after the initial reaction to the ending and later its epilogue, meant to show the wide-reaching ripple effects of Shep’s final choice, “players emerged mostly asking for one thing”. CH: “Now, most of what we hear, after both ME3 and MEA, is ‘Hey, just go make more Mass Effect’. And that to me is the most important thing. Knowing that players want to return to the ME universe is what inspires us to press on and imagine what comes next”

Mass Effect: Andromeda

By creating a new ME in a new galaxy the team was challenged to put their own visual stamp on the game while keeping it true to the franchise

Being the first ME game on a new gen of consoles meant for more detail

“Massive transport ships called arks populated with salarians, turians, humans, asari and quarians” made the risky jump to the Cluster

MEA was the first time BW had truly codeveloped across 3 studios: Edmonton, Montreal and Austin. The bulk of the work especially early on was done in Montreal, which was composed of a handful of Edmonton expats and heaps of experienced devs who joined from elsewhere specifically to bring a new ME experience to life. Series vets in Edmonton then came on to contribute writing, cinematics, design and QA, along with leadership from creative director Mac Walters and the core Production team. Austin writers and level designers also joined the fray

“It took a new team to take ME beyond the Milky Way”

Mac: “A lot of people in Montreal joined BW as fans of the franchise, so they just had this passion, and it felt like it was more like the days of Jade Empire, where a smaller younger team gets to do something for the first time. Even though it wasn’t necessarily a new IP for me, it felt fresh and new because of that. The team was just super excited to be working on it”

Early plans had the player exploring hundreds of worlds, procedurally generated, allowing for a nearly infinite variety of experiences. But as development wore on, it became clear that the game narrative required more specific, hand-touched level design on each world to keep the story focused and the experience engaging. “The plan was to give players numerous uncharted worlds to explore. Designers worked hard to come up with procedural elements that would make such planets special. Eventually the team made the difficult decision to abandon procedural planets in favor of more memorable hand-touched alien worlds, each with a specific story to tell”

One challenge was defining what ME meant without Shep. Care was given to include many of the MET’s key species. “Ryder recruited turian, asari, krogan and salarian followers”. Like Shep Ryder represents humanity’s hope for a peaceful coexistence among aliens who had long operated without human contact

Beginning with MEA the team decided that with few exceptions vehicles in ME have 6 wheels. Early Nomad concepts were bulkier. Later ones focused on its ability to move over its ability to protect itself from hostile fire, underlining the themes of exploration

German concept designer and auto-motive futurist Daniel Simon was contracted to create the Nomad and Tempest. The Tempest’s final design took inspo from the Concorde

Concepts for angaran fighter ships have the following notes: “Two doors swing open, wings rotate down to function as landing struts, the landing struts split open. It has a spinning turbine engine

Despite being set a galaxy away and some 600 years after Mordin’s death, there was a time when he had a cameo. It wasn’t cut due to running out of time however, it was cut due to drug references. John Dombrow explains: “One day I had to write a small quest for Kadara. I thought it’d be amusing if these 2 guys living way out on the fringes in a shack were growing plants for uh, medicinal purposes, and needed Ryder’s help with it. It occurred to me, wouldn’t it be amusing if Ryder had the option of actually trying ‘the medicine’ to see what would happen? And I thought, what if it turned into some hallucination that somehow involved SAM - like maybe SAM would sing? But why? How could I motivate that? Then it hit me. Who else in the ME game sings unexpectedly? MORDIN. As a nod to him I wrote SAM singing Modern Major-General. It got even better when our cine designer John Ebenger wanted to take it even further. Bless him, he came in on a Saturday to do a special hallucination showing Mordin himself. It was great. Til the fateful day we were told MEA had already been submitted to the ratings board. That’s when you declare things like drug references in your game. Mordin fell under that category which meant it was a no-go. We were too late”

Ryder’s white AI armor contrasts Shep’s iconic dark armor (intentional design)

Concept art for Ryder involved experiments with cloth (cloaks, ponchos, capes - “Pull here to release cloak”) and asymmetrical design elements

For alien design, there’s a few exceptions but humanoid figures are the ME standard and this persisted into MEA

Kett and angara concepts explored striking lines and textures

– From Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

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dearheartwitcher · 3 years

Text

masterlist of all my ocs

i think i did one of these a while ago and it just fucking disappeared BUT THATS OK because ive made more bitches since then anyway i will try to keep this up to date :)

DND Characters

Fennryn “Fenn” Autumntide:

wood elf ranger. a little older, think 35-40. they were orphaned as a baby for reasons unknown to them, and found by a dwarf in the mountains: Rhiannon “Anna” Autumntide. she took them in and raised them, though she tried very hard for most of her life to keep an emotional distance, treating them more as a charge than her own child. despite cultural differences, she did her best to raise them as any elf might be raised, teaching them what elvish she knew alongside dwarven and common, and that when they become of age, they will have an adult name, which she says they should pick themself. she also taught them about the forest, and nature, and right from wrong, and how to protect those who need protecting. fenn was a feisty child as a result, though they mellowed greatly with age. as fenn got older, though, so did anna, and it eventually became undeniable that the bond they shared was close, familial. when fenn became of age to choose their adult name, they chose to take on anna’s last name. though they never said “i love you” to each other, it was felt, and shown. fenn cared for anna until her death.

after anna’s passing, fenn putts around their cabin for several months or perhaps a couple of years, before the loneliness becomes too much for them to bear. after much self-debate, they leave their home, and set out to find anything, anything other than the crushing isolation of their cabin in the mountains.

on their own, fenn is strong, silent, and awkward. they experience some anxiety, unused to seeing so many people, and all the sights and sounds that are so unfamiliar to them. they start smoking herbs to help them relax. fenn is also kind, and trustworthy, and they have a desire to do the right thing. they have a quiet sense of humor once you get to know them.

fenn’s spotify playlist

Alistair:

okay so UNFORTUNATELY..... this will be a bit of a trend among the dnd characters— i have several characters i love whose campaigns were canceled very early into the story, that i plan to play again as soon as i have the chance. (as well as a couple that im playing currently!) and seeing as there are people in my current circle who i play dnd with who follow me, im not gonna post their backstories to this list.

alistair is a half-elf warlock. they are very high-energy with little regard for personal space. they do not speak about themself or their past or their work or even their patron. they are extremely mysterious despite being extremely talkative.

alistair has a joyful appreciation for morbid artifacts. they love to study, and are very curious by nature. they also have a collection of teeth in a jar, which they have proven to collect themself, by hand. also, their eyes glow! thats pretty weird, huh?

in a modern au, they’re a camboy and they mod furbies.

alistair’s spotify playlist

Vivienne Chandrakant:

an elven sorcerer. vivienne is on her own— but she used to be an adventurer. her old party’s quest was heavily observed by a higher power, and they regularly received divine guidance and assistance. the world had become overrun by a plague that was known to turn its victims into unnatural beasts, and vivienne and her friends were on course to stop it. however, when things turned dire, and they needed the gods most, they went silent. vivienne watched her party die. she has seen the terror of the plague firsthand.

she lives with an immense amount of guilt. she occasionally drinks to cope. despite herself, vivienne cannot resist the call of a person in need. and unfortunately for her, it leads her right back to another adventuring party. vivienne cares deeply for the safety of others and has a tendency to mother hen And mama bear. she tries her best to keep her distance from others, emotionally, to questionable success— she is not cold or unkind, only prefers to keep unattached, now.

in a modern au, shes a social studies student and part of a polycule. (art from said modern au because i dont like her old art anymore lmaoo)

vivienne’s google doc (incl. backstory and brief descriptions of her old party members)

Jesse Ravenscroft:

human bard. jesse hates his job— thats how jesse describes being a bard: his job. he plays the clarinet, and while he is technically very skilled, there is no heart in his music. it is unknown to his party what brought jesse to seek adventure, or much else about him or his past. he is extremely pessimistic and not easy to get close to.

besides the clarinet, jesse is very technically skilled in many things, in fact, several of which he seems to enjoy much more than music or storytelling or anything else that would normally be associated with a bard. he seems to specialize in the arcane and in academia, and he’s the go-to for solving riddles among his party.

jesse is extremely sarcastic, and while he is not very friendly, he does have a sense of humor (even if it’s a little mean), and he somewhat enjoys bickering with his party (though you certainly wouldnt guess it).

in a modern au, jesse is in college for engineering or something. he lives in a frat house despite not being in a frat, and the jocks all bully him into doing their math homework. he works at chuck e cheese, as chuck e cheese. he is in a polycule with more people than should reasonably want to date him. he smokes cigarettes and drinks shitty beer and drives the worlds shittiest car. (i make his life hell because its funny)

in a medieval royal au, he is a mean, spoiled prince. he bullies his primary guards for fun.

random fact, jesse is fantasy jewish. in the modern au he is of course, regular jewish.

(i have a LOT of art of jesse. a lot a lot. i love my clown he is very dear to me)

fic of jesse and one of his party members in the royal au (18+, read ao3 tags)

jesse’s spotify playlist

Ford:

firbolg maverick(iirc). made him for a brief cowboy campaign that used a ruleset called Snakes’n’Saloons. ford is very kind and generous by nature, and loves to put his strength to good use. however, his size and strength can be very intimidating before you get to know him, and... even sometimes after you get to know him. is he doing that on purpose?

he has a sister named Clementine, who is very notably not a firbolg. she is sweet and kind, maybe even more so than her brother, and she runs a general store in town.

Loren Vale:

another wood elf ranger babey what can i say. its an addiction.

not much about loren’s past is known to their party yet. it is known, however, that they used to be a mortician. they practiced for a good few years in one of the bigger, central cities. they liked their job, and were good at it, and it paid the bills. over the years, however, they began noticing different things while they worked. this led them to the study of what power remains when a creature passes on. they became engrossed in this study, and eventually closed down their business.

loren moved to a cabin in the woods, to study on their own and to attempt to commune with the forces of nature. eventually, their study led them to the art of carving bones. these carvings proved to enhance their abilities depending upon the intent and the imagery carved into the surface of the bones.

loren is not the type who likes to stay settled for long— they tend to just do whatever seems the most fun at any given time. when they got tired of carving bones alone in the woods, they began slowly emerging, until they were eventually swept up for a quest.

in a group, loren is good-humored and sensible (...mostly). they do occasionally get elbow-deep into some creature guts for fresh bones for their collection, and they seem to appreciate morbid curios, like taxidermy. theyre also not shy, and can be a little flirtatious.

loren’s spotify playlist (literally only has one song on it)

Cecilia “Cece” Marigold Coriander Sprout:

rabbitfolk trickery domain cleric. cece was raised on an island, in a temple worshipping Remos (the in-game equivalent to the christian god; she was basically raised catholic). she hasn’t talked too much about her past— just that everything changed when Eventide came. eventide came to all the young clerics in cece’s temple, speaking to them in their dreams, promising them lives more full of fun. there followed an uprising— the temple became eventide’s first, and for the time being only, place of worship. and the cleric’s lives have been more fun. they still worship him, but unlike remos, eventide answers, and he tells them how much he loves them.

and cece is the most special. she has been sent on a special mission off-island to spread the good word. word of a god who listens, a god who wants you to live your life to the fullest, a god who is happy when you are happy, a god who just wants a slice of your birthday cake.

cece is joyful, and friendly, and just a little mischievous. she loves love, and is not shy about sharing it with her friends (or really most anyone else, for that matter). however, she is also not immune to embarrassment, and feels very strongly that there is a “good” silly and a “bad” silly. she is very passionate about her god and feels genuine hurt when he is mocked.

in a modern au, she loves funky modern fashion like e-girl and kidcore, and she loves to craft and do stick’n’pokes for her friends. she’s not popular, but she likes to go to parties anyway.

google doc containing some of cece’s diary entries (+bonus, her drawing of eventide)

cece’s spotify playlist

————

Cressida

brief world details: demons are real but not in the biblical sense. they are beings who can exist on other planes (“hell” and “limbo”) and who, at least in most cases, used to be human. cressida city is one of the remaining standing cities post-environmental apocalypse. it’s very sci-fi. full of demons and humans alike. the government is a sham and cops are still pigs. there’s an extensive seedy underworld (figurative) in the city. one demon in particular, Cordia, is heading an organization (“Orion”) of empowered humans (“celestials”) in an attempt to keep the city from going entirely to shit, and to eventually assist in overthrowing the corrupt governing demons in hell. (tl;dr demons are real kinda and so are superpowers. big sci-fi city)

Ellis:

ellis actually came to be because of a dream i had. i was having an awful nightmare that i just could not force myself to wake up from. which is unusual for me, because i almost always become lucid toward the end of a nightmare and can force myself awake. but even though i became lucid, it was like i was trapped. then, all of a sudden, the dream just froze. and perched in front of me, was a very nice looking man, dressed in a very old-fashioned brown suit. he calmed me down and apologized, and he told me that he could change the dream if i wanted. and i did, and he did. he snapped his fingers and i was suddenly somewhere else completely, and he was gone. he felt so real to me when i woke up that i had to create ellis.

ellis is an entity who lives in limbo, alongside a demon named Crow. ellis also works for crow, helping to keep limbo and all its souls in check. ellis has the ability to enter people’s minds, and he can do several things ranging from browse dreams, sort through memories, or even change them completely. he is kept very busy and is often left quite tired as a result. he does his best in his work, though he’s not a stranger to making mistakes. he’s gotten very good at fixing problems (especially the ones he causes).

ellis is a romantic at heart, and to his knowledge, always has been. it does not take him very long to develop romantic feelings for crow. despite the fact that he is pretty openly flirtatious, it takes him over a century to actually confess his feelings.

ellis and crow live very analog lives. even though they live in the future, residing in limbo allows them to keep separate from the rest of the world. they find comfort in being old-fashioned.

ellis and crow’s spotify playlist (wip)

Cyrus Darcy:

cyrus darcy is a huge bitch with a stupid amount of money for one man. he lives to dress pretty, lounge around all day, get wine drunk in vip lounges, and hook up with handsome men.

cyrus’ fortune was left to him by his parents, who died when he was about 20. up until that point, he’d been living pretty rebelliously with a much rougher crowd. the death of his parents didnt exactly sober him, but it made him change his lifestyle pretty quickly.

cyrus actually catches the attention of Cordia because of his powers— cyrus has the power of suggestion. as long as someone is within eyesight(approx.), he can give them a short, simple command that they are then compelled to follow. he uses it often enough just to get what he wants (which is mostly for people to leave him alone).

Rosier:

rosier is my fucking. beloved.

rosier is a demon, who lived as a human in the early 1800s. he was born in france, and his family moved to canada. he was just a little entitled, as his family was pretty well-off. he was also pretty cocky, as is the wont of handsome, rich young men who have natural charisma and leadership skills.

for the napoleonic wars, he sailed back to france and joined the army. he was pretty good at playing soldier, and despite being pretty young, he became an officer easily. unfortunately, though, one wrong decision he made led to the deaths of most of his men. and not long after, as the survivor’s guilt settled in, he met his own end as well.

rosier’s recklessness regarding the lives of others landed him squarely in hell, as a demon. he was now stronger, his senses were sharper, and he learned he could change shape; a large, pitch dark, bipedal creature, with wings and claws and long, sharp fangs. Sonnellion, one of the archdemons governing hell, and a lover of war, quickly claimed him. rosier became, in essence, sonnellion’s dog. he was forced to do terrible things under sonnellion’s command, and despite his protests, he was not physically strong enough to do anything about it. for a time, rosier accepted his position, and kept himself in check. on occasion, away from sonnellion, he even maintained some semblance of his old self: confident, charming. with the addition of the powers he gained when he became a demon, he was even more a force to be reckoned with.

after almost two hundred years, it all became too much. rosier snapped. he shifted forms, in a wild, furious daze, and flew, far away from hell, and from sonnellion.

rosier landed himself on earth, in the united states. the sights were unfamiliar to him— how many years had passed? he settled in the woods somewhere. the woods were familiar enough— woods are woods. (he was discovered, more than once. he became wildly frightened, every time. The Mothman, they called him, but he wouldn’t find out until almost a century later.)

as the years pass on, rosier hops from isolated location to isolated location, forgetting himself, forgetting he had ever been anything but this. his mind completely broke. as the apocalypse happened around him, he almost entirely lost the ability to speak.

he spends several years living in the ruins of a city, surviving on whatever he can find in the endless abandoned buildings... until he is found by Arley, Cordia’s right-hand.

rosier initially fights with arley, of course. between fight and flight, his instinct has become fight. but they keep coming back, trying to learn more about him. it doesnt take too long before they realize that hes scared of them, just territorial, and they change their approach.

arley, for lack of a better term, somewhat tames rosier. it takes weeks before they can get him to follow them to their headquarters, and show him to cordia. cordia, much older than rosier, recognizes him.

after a very lengthy process of getting rosier to settle down, he eventually takes up residence in the largely empty hotel that is orion’s hq building. he spends most days hidden away in spare rooms, only answering to the calls of arley, and occasionally Curtis, the resident chef.

arley is the one person who makes rosier feel the safest, and as such takes charge of his rehabilitation. they help him remember how to speak, read, and write. and after several months... rosier is a man again. mostly.

rosier, at this point, now has limbs that have turned black at the tips, his hair is longer and wilder than ever, hes much taller than he ever was as a human, and his eyes are solid red all the way around. and he still has some fur. but mostly, he’s a man again.

its another while still until he can communicate very effectively. and his shift is easily triggered by any physical feeling of stress for some time. but he slowly regains control of himself. arley eventually enlists their friend Denver, a very chill guy, to see if he can offer rosier help that he cant get from arley.

a few years in the future, rosier becomes more than the sum of his parts. physically, he looks to be a fairly normal, tall man, aside from his all-red eyes, which he keeps. his personality is like it was before, but also not. he is no longer afraid for his life every day. he is strong, and confident, and has a good sense of humor, and denver has been a horrible influence on his fashion sense.

fic about rosier going into heat and arley helping (18+ obv, check the tags on this one)

fic about denver and rosier (18+)

fic about future rosier and arley (18+ sorry theyre all porn rosiers hot)

rosier’s spotify playlist (wip)

rosier and arley’s spotify playlist

rosier/arley/denver’s spotify playlist (wip)

Marcy:

marcy is my BABY. they are pretty young, like 19/20, and VERY energetic. their favorite things in life are roller skating, their friends, parties, sex, and drugs. they love parties SO much, and before joining orion, that was how they spent most of their time. they love music and like to play around in different music software when they get a quiet moment. before they came out as nonbinary, they also used to do roller derby. marcy is very athletic and has very strong legs in particular.

marcy’s powers that got them scouted for orion, have to do with gravity control. they can essentially increase and decrease the effects of gravity on their body at will. they use this to float around sometimes mostly, but they can also use it to scale buildings, jump extremely high, and come down hard— think like an irl ground pound.

marcy comes from a huge family, they have 9 siblings. 3 older, 6 younger. their family is very important to them, especially since as one of the older siblings, they contributed greatly to raising their younger siblings. although they spend most of their time at parties, with friends, or at orion, they technically still live at home. theyre a huge mama’s kid.

they have adhd, and theyre medicated. theyre not super dysphoric so sometimes they bind and sometimes they dont. theyre pan + poly.

(drawn here with my bf’s oc Kier <3)

marcy’s spotify playlist (wip kinda)

Evelyn:

it is not yet really known what evelyn is. non-human, yes, certainly, but she isnt quite a demon either. she has a very strong aura visible to only a select few people— namely, those capable of connecting to the afterlife planes.

when evelyn was a human, she lived in the victorian era. she was the daughter of a wealthy man, and they had moved to the united states from england when she was a child. she was born with the ability to see into the history of people and objects, though this was usually chalked up to a keen sense of intuition.

evelyn was often in poor health, and there seemed to be no cure for her condition. because of this, she was often confined to her home. she spent a lot of her spare time reading. she developed a love for learning, of course, but also for stories of fantasy and romance. she was lovely, and smart, and because of her status was much sought after by young eligible bachelors. however, despite her secret wishes to be swept off her feet, no man ever interested her.

until Robin, that is. robin was beautiful, and charming, and better than all the other young men at every game there was to play. more than that, he had a quick wit. he interested evelyn more than any other man ever had. they ended up spending time together fairly frequently, and he seemed to really appreciate evelyn’s mind in a way she was unused to.

and one night, it is revealed to evelyn what made robin so different. he wasn’t a man at all.

evelyn and robin had a lengthy (for the time) love affair. her father approved of the courtship well enough, but the true extent and nature of their relationship was kept very much a secret. evelyn was enjoying her life more than she ever had.

suddenly, without forewarning, robin just disappeared. no word, no nothing. she just left.

evelyn died young, succumbing to her poor health.

when she comes back to life, stronger and healthier than she has ever been, she is in a world completely foreign to her. she quickly packs away her initial shock, and sets out to make good use of this opportunity she’s been given.

evelyn spends her time reading, again. she plays a game of catch-up for months, learning all that she can about the way that this new world works, how it came to be. she finds a job as an archivist for the city, and a nice modern apartment.

when members of orion spot her aura, though, they know they have to get her to meet Cordia. and evelyn agrees, because she cant resist the appeal of being special, and the whole arrangement is so weird that it makes her intensely curious.

evelyn enters the meeting room and it is immediately undeniable. cordia is robin.

an argument ensues, and then a heartfelt conversation, and then a passionate exchange, and then an argument again, and the cycle continues several times over several months. evelyn rightly holds a lot of anger toward cordia, not only for leaving but for the extent of her deceit, when evelyn herself had been so vulnerable. and cordia is literally the worst at emotions.

theyre still in the middle of their slow burn. theyre working on it, wish them luck.

evelyn’s spotify playlist (wip)

evelyn and cordia’s spotify playlist

Audrey:

audrey is a demon bimbo serial killer. she’s a huge bitch.

audrey is one of my characters who is a part of cressida’s underbelly. she works in a club run by a demon called Jack. jack is one of the archdemons in charge of hell. he likes to be up in the city running the red light district for shits n gigs. jack is a fucking asshole and audrey is one of his favorites. jacks favorites get special treatment, and audrey relishes in it.

audrey uses the club as a way to meet her victims. she mostly goes for gross, rich old men whom she can take full advantage of before doing away with them.

the personality she shows most people is a drunk, dumb slut. in actuality she can be pretty harsh, and her actions are all carefully measured and calculated.

on a random night, audrey lets (yes, lets) herself get kidnapped by some guy named Flynn. flynn is by all standards, a fucking loser. and he also happens to be a serial killer— who preys on cute girls. audrey lets him have his fun for a brief moment, before turning the tables on him, showing him who’s really in charge. which makes flynn just about piss his pants.

audrey decides this is pretty funny, and starts making a habit of hanging around flynn to torment him. she teases him mostly about things of a sexual nature.

in a weird way, they like each other. but obviously its extremely toxic.

audrey did not have a good past as a human and its better left at that, i think.

(audrey and flynn <3)

audrey’s spotify playlist

Denver Keeley:

denver is mostly, at first glance, just a guy. he’s one of my older mortal ocs, physically, at around 35 years old.

denver is chill as fuck. the first thing most people note about him is that he’s clearly obsessed with the 1970′s. he dresses in carefully curated vintage and vintage-style clothing. if you visit his house (he regularly has visitors, his doors are figuratively almost always open), it’s styled much in the same way. his decorating sense looks right out of a 70′s catalogue or something. if you get to know him, you might find out that he’s kind of handy. because of all the rare old shit he keeps around, he’s had to learn how to be his own repairman for most things.

the second thing people notice is that he lays the charm on very thick, and seemingly outright refuses to call anyone by their real name. he prefers to give everyone a petname. he also uses a lot of 70′s slang, some of which no one else understands even remotely. he never introduces himself with his full name— just denver.

denver loves music, and if you ask, he’ll tell you that he’s a musician by trade. which is mostly true enough. he likes to carry around a pencil and mini notebook with him to write down tunes and lyrics that come to him. he “plays guitar well, and sings badly” if you ask him. he also collects CDs and vinyl albums. (he releases music semi-anonymously as Denny Keeley and The Corks. only his family ever calls him denny, and the corks dont exist. he is the corks.)

the real truth is though, that denver owns and operates the city’s single largest marijuana grow op. he does it all: flower, prerolls, edibles— pick your pleasure, denvers got you covered. and his shit is divine. he seems to think that it’s no big deal and rarely thinks to even bring it up, despite the fact that it’s an extremely lucrative business for him.

business is so booming, in fact, that Jack wants denver to deal for him, exclusively. denver actually refuses, preferring to do his business his own way.

denver happens to run into Arley and some of the others from orion while in town. they look extremely rough, so after chatting a while, he offers to let them come chill at his house to lay low and recover for a little while. unbeknownst to denver, this puts an even bigger target on his back, and jack later sends some lesser demons to try and kill him. orion saves the day, fortunately for denver, who again is literally just a regular human guy. this prompts Cordia to begrudgingly offer him some protection, in exchange for denver promising to never go exclusive with anyone. because cordia loves few things more than an opportunity to piss off jack.

denver and arley start seeing each other more often, and denver offers a job to their friend Kier at his farm. and it looks like jack isn’t done with denver yet.

denver didnt have the easiest childhood. he loved his mom, but she left the picture pretty early in his life. his dad wasnt great, and he remarried. his dads new wife also wasnt great. denver has a younger sister who was easily the favored child, and didnt share the same experience as denver in their upbringing at all. she grew up to be very normal, and has a kid of her own already.

denver has had trouble settling down. he’s been in a lot of toxic relationships, mostly with women who he let boss him around and mistreat him.

eventually, denver ends up in a poly relationship with arley and Rosier.

fic about denver and rosier (18+)

denver’s spotify playlist (wip)

denver/rosier/arley’s spotify playlist (wip)

smoking with denver spotify playlist

Madison “Zinc” Deacon:

madison is uhhhhhhh........... uh... yikes. they are a human with no special powers or anything. theyre pretty high-energy and fun-loving. they like to joke and tease and invade their few “friends’“ personal space. they love colorful bracelets and garfield. i dunno whats up with that. they have adhd and probable autism.

madison is a scientist. they work for a lab that studies celestials. its hardly ethical science. the lab does not treat their subjects particularly well and madison is no different.

madisons specialty, technically, is in robotics. particularly cybernetic enhancements. madison was born deaf/hard of hearing, and they designed their own cochlear implants. they make and sell all kinds of gadgets and cybernetics to help fund their hobbies outside of work.

their hobbies outside of work are kidnapping celestials and doing even less ethical experiments on them in their secret lab, in an abandoned part of the sewer under the city. ...and blogging! their penname is “Zinc”. they blog about both normal things and about their findings.

their business partner is a man named Henry, who is an even more advanced robotics buff. henry offers madison information in exchange for the fucked up gadgets henry could never dream up on his own. (last time it was taxidermy pigeon spy cameras.)

henry is the one who gives madison information about Arley, who becomes sort of madison’s white whale. except they do manage to capture them pretty easily the first time. this is when “zinc” becomes not only madisons penname, but their villain name as well.

their only other friend is Alexei the tranq guy, the guy who sells them tranquilizer so they can kidnap more people.

Jonesy:

jonesy is an employee of Denver’s! one of his star employees, in fact. denvers business operates very nontraditionally. he insists that every employee get paid salary, and that no one is required to work any set number of hours. breaks are whenever you want them for however long you wanna take them. some people take advantage of this system, but denver truthfully doesnt care. he’s happy to provide when he can, and he has more than enough means for the foreseeable future.

but jonesy is happy to do the work. he enjoys sitting in the quiet and rolling joints all day, or whatever denver needs done.

because of the salary denver pays them, jonesy can afford a pretty decent apartment on their own in the city. they keep many, many reptiles, mainly lizards. all of which have weird names like “soap” and “vape cloud”.

jonesy is pretty young, and likes to hang out and smoke with other cool people. they’ve adopted some of denvers 70′s slang, as most of his employees have.

Mateo:

mateo is the newest addition! i dont have a lot of info about him yet :)

i was going for a kind of soft punk meets jack black vibe when i designed him. he was made specifically with Curtis in mind. curtis is the live-in chef for orion and he deserves a hot bear bf.

mateo’s powers involve gaining super strength from the food he eats. the better the food, the more powerful he gets from it!

and ive talked a bit about this in other places, but ofc as a fat person myself i usually dont like when a fat characters powers are related to eating in some way. because it often comes across as a joke or like, “oh this character is only fat because their powers make them eat” or whatever other weird shit can come from characters like that. so i just want to be very clear that mateo would be fat regardless of his powers. hes fat and hes sexy and he was designed that way for curtis. and then he was given food powers because its cute to have the chef’s boyfriend power up from eating his cooking.

i havent decided much about his story yet! but i know he has good taste in music for sure. i mean, just look at him.

Ashley (aka Verrier):

poor ashley lmao

ashley is another demon who, like rosier, was brought to hell as one of sonnellion’s subordinates.

when he was alive, he was a relatively successful businessman on wall street. family business, yknow, doing his best to take after his father. he wasnt quite fit for it though, and shit went south, and he landed himself in hell.

he is, technically speaking, very powerful. he has the ability to control dark matter, and give it physical form, or turn it into a force. if not for that, he would not have been nearly as high-ranking a subordinate as he is. he worked very closely with rosier, until rosier’s disappearance. he and rosier had... some kind of relationship, for a time, until that point. they were there for each other. in more ways than one.

being the most technically powerful subordinate after rosier, sonnellion had ashley take over rosier’s position. but he was significantly less suited for it, and it got him punished severely several times over the years. he is pretty good at his job now, and it mostly involves him doing paperwork. war involves a lot of behind-the-scenes, these days.

everything gets fucked up when he gets summoned by Shae.

shae is another employee of cordia’s. they’re a new addition and sort of a wildcard. they’re a very powerful witch, and they summon ashley for their own personal gain. they strongarm him into making a deal with them, binding himself to them to make them more powerful.

(they’re going to fall in love, kind of. they have to get through their preemptively-divorced era first <3)

(he needs new art)

(cressida belongs to @ghastly-ghosty-ghost !! any ocs mentioned that arent on this list are his :) except alexei the tranq guy LMFAO)

#tw for audrey and kinda for madison !#neither of them are good people and they both do bad shit #i dont go into heavy detail but just a heads up #ocs #long long post under the cut #knock knock its knuckles #so glad to have all my guys in one post now tho #i sure do make a lot of enbies lmfao #this was a labor of love fr #last update: nov 21 2022

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