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cheolhub · 1 year

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EVENING GLOW — KIM MINGYU ࿐

summary. you’re having a horrible, no good, very bad day and mingyu wants to do everything he can to make it better.

wc. 4.5k+

warnings. hurt/comfort, overthinking, reader goes through it and cries a lot, allusions to having anxiety, smut! soft bf!mingyu, so much praise (it’s insane), pet names (angel, baby, sweet/pretty girl), reader is v needy and sensitive, a lot of reassurance, hand holding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, slight dumbification, creampie, V SOFT, unprotected sex — MINORS DNI 18+

note. because i love keir ( @jeonghantis ) and bc they deserve the world and all of the stars. also it’s really for anyone who’s had way too many bad days in a row <3 u are very loved (by me and ur fave). also, i lost sight of the plot half way thru this (very common reoccurrence in all of my mingyu fics) so i apologize for that hehsh. i appreciate ur feedback! <3 and yes, this is loosely based off evening glow by wave to earth <33333333 + @toruro i also hope u like this hehehe

bad days aren’t uncommon for you, but you’ve had significantly less since kim mingyu waltzed into your life like the klutz he is. he manages to make every day brighter by simply existing. every smile, every laugh, every touch makes bad days seem like a distant memory.

that’s not to say you don’t still have them because you do.

you still have days– like today– where it seems like nothing is right. days where you overthink every single thing in your life, ‘am i doing this right?’ ‘does he still love me?’ ‘does any of this even fucking matter?’ days where you want the earth to crack all the way open and swallow you whole.

those days are beyond harsh. they have you trudging back home with wet lash lines, cloudy vision, and a loud voice in your head that’s begging– pleading– don’t cry, don’t cry, please don’t cry.

and today… today felt like you went to hell and back. the second your eyes opened, you knew it was going to be one of those days and it truly was a series of rather unfortunate events. you woke up late and alone, you were reprimanded by your boss, you spilled your much-needed coffee during your break, your coworkers were much more hostile than usual, you got yelled at by clients over the phone, your personal phone died halfway through the day because, of course, you forgot to charge it last night, and then, the intrusive thoughts came. the ones that had you overthinking like crazy.

and it’s not like you could talk to anyone about it (read: talk to mingyu about it). your phone was dead and you hated all of your coworkers, so you were stuck. stuck in limbo, it seemed, mind plagued with horrid thoughts. everything good in your life didn’t feel so good anymore.

which is why you were practically in tears when you got back home, letting them roll down your face shamelessly as your hand fumbled the keys. you eventually got it into the lock– after steadying your shaky hand– turning the metal and letting yourself in. the second you shut the door, you press your back against it, head in your hands as you let out the soft sobs you've been holding in all day.

on most of your bad days, you can keep your tears at bay till you make it into the shower. but, on days like today, you just can’t and your sobs echo through the empty apartment, reminding you that you’ll be alone till your boyfriend arrives. it’s not the prettiest sight, though, so you’re partially glad that mingyu misses it since he gets home after you.

he usually does, at least.

what you don’t realize is mingyu is home and he’s wandering around the apartment with his brows furrowed, confused as to where the sound of crying is coming from.

and when he sees you at the main entrance with your hands covering your face, he feels the air leave his lungs and his heart almost literally cracks in half.

he treads carefully, slowly making his way to you. “...baby?”

you’re startled, choking on one of your sobs at the sound of his voice. out of mere embarrassment, you quickly wipe your tears with your sleeve though it does nothing to hide the fact that you actually have been crying.

“gyu…” you say with a wavering voice, doing your absolute best to keep up your shitty facade. you quickly feel your resolve crumbling as you both stand in awkward silence, so you put your head down to avoid eye contact. “i-i thought you were working?”

he ignores your question and counters with his own, “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

you bite your trembling lip and shake your head, eyes still trained on the floor.

he walks a few steps closer, now towering over your trembling body, “c’mon, angel. tell me what happened.”

you take a shuddered breath, slowly raising your head to look up at him. he frowns at your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks and at the fact that all you can say is “hi…” in a nearly-inaudible, yet dulcet voice.

“hi, baby,” he whispers back, hands coming to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping at your stray tears. “tell me what happened.” he repeats, a bit more demanding this time.

you deflate, “i just had a bad day… it was nothing.”

he shakes his head at how you invalidate yourself, “it’s not nothing if it’s making you cry, Y/N…” he gently reminds. “please tell me? i wanna help… if you’ll let me.”

you sigh, leaning into his touch. your eyes flutter close and the words escape you before your brain can process them. you tell him everything trying your hardest to not let your emotions get the best of you. it’s not like mingyu would care if you were crying and blubbering out your words, but you knew he hated seeing you so upset, so you refrain from shedding more tears.

you try to refrain, at least. you can’t stop the way they helplessly fall when you open your eyes again. “nothing was going right, gyu… my day was so bad that it had me overthinking every little thing.”

“i’m sorry, baby.” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “i’m so sorry i wasn’t there for you.”

you shake your head profusely, swallowing the lump you feel in your throat, “n-no! no, please, it’s not your fault, gyu, i swear. my phone died, so it’s not like you could’ve known anyway.”

he pulls away from you, hands coming down to hold yours. “what did you think about?”

you squeeze his hands, “a lot of things…”

“like?” he frowns, pressing further.

you look away, mumbling out a lie, “i dunno. it was a lot… i can’t really remember right now. ”

truth be told, you didn’t want to admit the anxiety-induced thoughts you had earlier knowing he’d worry. if he heard half the ones you had about your relationship, you know he’d probably break down himself. you’re well aware mingyu loves you more than anything on earth because he never fails to remind you.

but sometimes, the tiny voice in the back of your head– the one that says he’s too good to be true– gets a bit too loud and you tend to forget all his little reminders– all the ‘i love you’s’ he whispers into your ear right before bed, all the kisses he peppers onto your face, all the hugs where he squeezes the life out of you.

“you don’t have to tell me what you thought about, but i do want to tell you something,” he starts, a small smile making its way onto his pretty lips. he leans into you, with a voice so small as he says, “i love you. and i know i suffocate you with it sometimes, but it’s true. i love you so much. please don’t ever doubt that.”

you nod, sniffling, “i know.”

his smile grows, “and?...”

your lips curve up a bit and you whisper, “and i love you, too.”

“you better not forget it,” he playfully jokes, forehead resting on yours again. “you know i love you the most, though.”

you giggle softly, shaking your head. “you always turn it into a competition. you know it isn’t right?”

“i know it isn’t, but i do.” he confirms, voice tender and a bit hushed. “i want you to remember that the next time you think too hard. i love my pretty girl the most… more than anything. i’d do anything to keep you happy. wanna see that pretty smile everyday.”

the genuinity– the love– that drips from his words has you weak. the words replay in your head over and over almost as if it’s on a constant loop.

i love my pretty girl.

my pretty girl.

your breath hitches at the unanticipated pet name, remembering the sweet, innocent way it rolled off his tongue. you know you probably shouldn’t feel this way, but it doesn’t stop the way you squeeze your thighs together, pussy pulsing at the mere term of endearment. you’re almost sure mingyu can feel the heat radiating off your skin, yet he does nothing. he stands still, warm, brown eyes staring at your tear-stained face.

so you take matters into your own hands.

you stand tall and lean into him. your nose brushes against his and the proximity between the two of you closes quickly. i want to be kissed, your face reads– begs– and he finally sees that, obliging reluctantly.

his eyes flutter and his lips graze against yours before you take the lead and close the gap for him. as his mouth collides with yours, you feel warmth erupt in your body and you relish it.

the kiss is soft. gentle. it nearly has you melting under him.

but the longer his lips mold against yours, the longer his tongue roams the inside of your mouth, the needier you get. it’s like all your worries wash away. all the bad thoughts evaporate into thin air. all you can think about is the everlasting love you have for the man before you and the incessant love he has for you, too.

you untangle your hands from his in favor of pawing at his chest, nails digging into the cotton fabric of his shit and slightly biting into his skin.

you’re slowly, yet surely losing your mind. the kiss deepens and all the coherent thoughts you had minutes prior are being pushed to the back as mingyu is on the forefront of your mind. you’re overcome with need for him. need for him to make you forget everything. need for him to fuck you till all you can think about him and the way his cock makes you feel.

and mingyu knows this, of course. he knows with the way you claw at him and how you whimper desperately as if you’ve been deprived from his touch for far too long.

it’s why he doesn’t make you beg for it. instead he’s pulling away, watching you chase his lips while he breathlessly asks, “you sure you wanna do this, baby?” he looks so enamored with you. there’s no doubt you look like a complete mess right now, but it’s like he sees past it. past the tears, past the red eyes, past all the sadness.

“please,” you whisper, sniffling again.

he murmurs okay against your lips before grabbing your hand and guiding you to your shared room.

he diligently strips you of your clothing, first your pants then your shirt. his fingers skillfully popping the buttons on your blouse and slipping it off your body, letting it fall into a pool on the ground.

“so beautiful,” he whispers, massive hands immediately moving to grope your tits through your bra. “you’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”

his words linger in the air and you feel them. you feel beautiful when he stares at you half naked in your cotton panties and mismatched bra. you feel beautiful with your puffy eyes and snotty nose. mingyu makes you feel so beautiful even in your most unfavorable moments.

you whimper at his heavy hands, your own tugging at the ends of his shirt, wordlessly begging for the fabric to join the other clothes on the ground. he obliges immediately, practically ripping it off of himself before his hands are back on you.

he pulls your bra down, letting your tits spill out, kneading at the flesh with hearts in his eyes. a breathy version of his name comes out of your mouth–

and the sound makes his cock ache. his body yearns and begs to be inside of you. so much so that it has him swiftly unclasping your bra before gently pushing you onto the bed. he thinks it’s gentle, at least. mingyu tends to forget his strength so his gentle can be your rough.

it doesn’t matter, it never has. every single act mingyu performs for you is one that comes from a place of love. he’s a benevolent man, not a single malicious bone lives in his hand-crafted body.

“gyu,” you whisper, hand slipping in between your thighs to work on your clothed clit as he towers over you. at your own contact, you feel a shock run through your body and your back just slightly arches off the bed. “need you.”

he curses under his breath, suddenly unable to breathe in his loose house shorts. he hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down and presenting his leaky, hard cock to you.

and the sight has your entire body going hot. you throw your head back against the plush pillows and moan out his name, louder this time, fingers moving faster against your clit– though it would feel so much better if he finally put his hands on you. or better yet, his cock inside of you.

“gyu,” you drag out his name in a cry and you finally feel the bed dip under his weight.

“i know, baby,” he whispers, hand moving yours away from your soaked panties in favor of replacing it. when his bigger fingers begin to rub circles into the covered bud, you gasp and let yours grasp at the sheets under you. “i know you need me. i’ve got you.” he reassures you, voice shaky as he notices just how wet you are. “gonna make you feel so good, don’t worry.”

but you don’t realize how sensitive you are because the second his hand slips inside your panties, his warm hand finding your heated cunt, fresh tears spring to your eyes. “oh, fuck,” you shudder, shaking underneath him.

“you’re so wet,” he mutters the obvious, fingers dipping in between your folds to collect your slick before pulling his hand out.

“don’t tease me,” you plead weakly.

he frowns, shaking his head, “i’m not– i won’t,” he tells you softly, rolling your panties off your body and down your legs. he tosses the cotton material over to join the other articles of clothing on the ground before his hands spread your legs open, displaying you for himself. “i told you that i got you, pretty girl, i promise.”

you give him a broken nod, squirming in discomfort.

his hand is back on your pussy in no time, tapping at your drooling hole with two of his fingers. “this still okay?”

you nod again, “yes, gyu.”

he leans down, lips meeting yours as he presses into you with his index and middle fingers. he’s quick to swallow your moan as he stretches you open, feeling the way your gummy walls invite and welcome him in.

your kiss is more fervent this time around. you can feel his need, the way he shoves his tongue into your mouth, messy and uncoordinated. it has you trapping his fingers between your wet walls, grinding with all your might against his hand.

you have no clue how he manages to multi-task, both finger-fucking and kissing you into oblivion, but he does both without fail. you whine desperately against his lips, one of your hands coming to wrap around his wrist in hopes to support yourself.

the wet squelching of your cunt fills the room and it has him pulling away from you for a second to groan out, “you hear that, angel? pretty pussy takin’ my fingers so fuckin’ well.”

you clench around him again, enveloping him as if your life depended on it– you feel so fucking good–

and yet you crave more. it feels good, yes, mingyu always has you seeing stars, but you need more. more of his fingers, more of him. and mingyu is probably well aware of the fact with the way your pussy swallows his fingers, but you know he’s reluctant about giving you too much because of… prior events.

you want that– you want too much. you want to forget about your shitty day. the only thing you want to think about, the only thing you want to be all-consumed by in this very moment, is mingyu.

“m-more–” you whine against his lips as he wildly pushes in and out of your messy cunt.

fingers unfaltering in speed, he pulls away from you breathlessly, lips wet and swollen. “more, baby?”

“mhm,” you give him pleading eyes as you whisper, “wanna cum.”

“fuck,” he mumbles, nodding his head mindlessly as if your words put him into a daze. his fingers pull out and his ring finger joins the two that are already covered in your slick. they push into you slowly, effectively opening you up. “how’s this, beautiful? this enough?”

you pant, clamping around the digits, squeezing them like a vice. “m-min-” you muffle your moan with your hand, more tears stinging in your eyes.

“no?” he asks, an endearing grin on his face. he maneuvers till he’s in between your legs, he moves further down the bed and your heart thumps erratically in your chest.

it’s when his lips wrap around your clit while he concurrently thrusts his fingers into your sopping heat that you let out an ear-splitting moan. you lace your fingers into his silky hair and tug at his roots without a care.

he winces and moans against you at the feeling, the pain making his cock throb against the bed.

your mind escapes you, melting at the pleasure. his tongue flicks at the sensitive, swollen bud while his fingers curl against your sweet spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge and you’re on the brink of pure ecstasy.

“s-so close, fuck, i’m close, gyu.” you babble breathlessly.

he moans again, tirelessly continuing his brutal attack on your pussy, but the sound waves of said moans shock your entirety and teeter right over the edge. your vision goes black for a solid minute, only a few specks of white in sight, your blinding orgasm taking your entire body over.

you jerk under him, back arching as you release all over his fingers, the tightrope in your tummy completely unraveling and allowing you to soak his fingers in your syrupy arousal. his mouth moves down as he pulls out and slurps you up obnoxiously, eating you out as you cum.

and you can’t stop shaking, not even after he’s pulled his mouth and fingers away from you. your body twitches and writhes like he’s been working you for hours and mingyu, astounded, has never seen you like this– well, he definitely has– not after a single orgasm, at least.

he shudders, body burning with need. the taste of you alone has his brain a bit fuzzy. “are… you okay? was it too much?” he manages to ask, voice strained.

mingyu thinks his question falls on deaf ears when all he hears is your heaving and tiny whimpers. he moves to clean you up, partially worried he overstimulated you, but then you make grabby hands at the large, flushed man.

he leans into your touch, allowing you to grab on to him, “what’s wrong?”

when he looks into your eyes, glassy and glazed over, he notices the hint of need. the pinch of pure desperation. he sees the way you wordlessly ask for more of him, how you wordlessly ask for him to just fuck you already– he can’t deny you. not with the year-long day you’ve had or with the way his cock is basically begging to stuff you full.

he pecks your lips and sits up again. a soft chuckle escapes him as you chase him for another kiss, but it quickly turns into a sharp breath when he looks down at your puffy, pulsing pussy. you’re crying for him, that much is obvious, but your pussy is just weeping.

an endless trail of arousal continues to drool out of you and it’s so enticing… yet it feels so tantalizing…

he feels a bit guilty for being this hard, for wanting to fuck you so bad. it’s in his good nature. you’ve told him countless times that it’s okay, that you need him, but he just wants to make sure.

“are you sure?” he whispers, so soft that you could almost miss it. “we can just go to bed if you’re not up for this, Y/N.”

you can tell that mingyu is fighting inner turmoil. you know he always feels guilty for fucking you stupid. today, though, you’re sure he feels guilty for the other things.

you don’t want him to. he shouldn’t feel guilty for something beyond his control, so you muster up all your strength and, in a wavered voice, tell him, “i want you… always want you.”

you hear his breath of relief and see the wobbly smile on his face and you mirror it. he’s quickly ridding his mind of the guilt and shame at your reassurance and lining himself up with your hole. he slides the tip of his cock between your lips and revels in the way you jolt gently.

“deep breath f’me,” he mutters, knowing you’ll need it. when he hears your shaky inhale, he takes one of his own right as he pushes into you. “fuck,” he says breathlessly. you’re still so fucking tight around him.

a broken whine bubbles up in the back of your throat and mingyu watches the way your eyes screw shut and your jaw goes slack. beautiful, he thinks to himself. even when you’re fucked out of your mind.

he finds the strength to push past the resistance, slowly shoving himself inside of you till his pelvis meets yours.

when he bottoms out, your face contorts and you’re spluttering over your words, “s-so big,”

he nods his head like he knows. “i know, baby,” he murmurs, sliding one of his hands into yours. “but you’re so good for me, always take me so well.” he whispers this time as he’s leaning down, moving your intertwined hands next to your head on the pillow. his free hand cups your heated cheek and he studies you for a few minutes, cock fully sheathed inside of you.

he watches your face change as you become accustomed to the size of him, how your contorted, pained face relaxes as the minutes pass. when your eyes flutter open and you whimper his name, “gyu…” he pulls out a tiny bit before pushing back in– something of an experimental thrust– and discerns your positive reaction.

he repeats his actions, inching out a bit more and sliding back in with ease. his eyes observe you intently, noticing every reaction you make as he drives his cock in and out of you, each one going deeper than the last.

his hand squeezes yours and his lips graze against yours, “feel good?” he asks, breath fanning over your face.

“uh-huh, so good,” you respond in a pant. “th-thank you.”

he falters a bit, but continues to deliver his deep and calculated thrusts. “why are you thanking me, angel?”

“for taking care of me.”

mingyu’s heart swells and nearly bursts right then and there. his smile practically reaches his ears because mingyu, admittedly, loves being the cause of your pleasure. he’s a giver. he always has been.

it makes his hips move faster, his hips flushing to yours with every stroke. the bed squeaks under you, loud and annoyingly high-pitched. neither of you are bothered by the sound as you’re wrapped up within each other– you’re moaning and whining for more and more against his lips and he’s promising to deliver through deep groans and grunts against yours.

and he does deliver. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix and it knocks the wind out of your lungs. you squeeze the hand in yours and your other comes to claw at his body. you dig your nails into the flesh of his arm, biting into him in favor of leaving crescent shapes on his smooth skin.

he hisses, but the subtle sting just spurs him on. that and the way your pussy contracts around him.

“oh fuck,” you whisper, a high-pitched whine following the words. you’re so sensitive from your previous orgasm that it’s making all too much. your body is buzzing and the familiar knot is forming quicker than usual. “mingyu– mingyu, i-i’m so close.”

he nods, breathing out, “it’s okay, baby– cum for me. you deserve it.” you deserve everything you want, he fails to add.

you don’t hold back, completely unraveling under him. you’re easily reduced to a mess, gushing all over his cock while you mewl a mantra of his name. your brain leaves you for a solid minute as you mindlessly babble out thank you’s and i love you’s.

he pulls away from your lips as he watches you come undone. he’s truly so enraptured by you. with your tear-stained cheeks and the drool that trails past your bruised lips. when you tell him you love him– almost incoherently– his dick twitches in your spasming cunt.

“i love you.” he groans, swiftly rocking into you. you’re sobbing in overstimulation, but he eases you with more praise. “you’re so good, fuck, so perfect. i love you so bad.”

his hand leaves your cheek, instead grabbing your free hand and intertwining your fingers. he pins your hands next to your head, just like the other, and continues fucking you.

“my pretty girl,” he murmurs, holding your contrastingly smaller hands tightly. “i’m gonna cum inside… you want that right?”

the question triggers your mind back to life. “please,” you moan weakly. “n-need it.”

he twitches again, a throaty groan coming out of him before he gasps. his entire body stiffens before he presses himself all the way inside of you. his groans and grunts distort to needy moans as ropes of his seed paint the velvet walls of your convulsing heat.

he attempts to control his breathing. after a minute straight of panting and whining, his heaving chest slows and falls into a steady rhythm.

“are you okay?” he pants, pulling out of you, body still hovering over yours. “was it too much…”

your lips turn up into a tiny, sweet smile and nod your head, “‘m okay, baby.”

“good,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing your lips.

he releases you from his grasp and falls next to you, trying to recover more before cleaning you up. he sighs, soothing a hand over your skin and you scoot into him.

“i wanna help you,” mingyu starts with the softest voice you’ve ever heard after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “you can always tell me when you’re having one of these days, baby… you know that right?”

“i know,” you nod, mindlessly tracing shapes onto his bare chest.

“i’m always gonna be here for you… as long as you’ll have me.”

“i know.” you repeat, words whispered this time. “you always make the days better– make them shine– you literally have a heart of gold, mingyu.”

he chuckles, “i don’t,”

“no, you do. just trust me. if we cut you open right now for open heart surgery, there’d be 24 karat gold in the shape of a human heart inside of you.” you tell him.

mingyu smiles widely. happily.

“just remember that this heart is all yours, angel.”

taglist 🏷️: svt : 🔖 @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol @miriamxsworld @enhacolor @jihoontea

#mingyu smut #svt smut #seventeen smut

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t-lostinworlds · 9 months

Text

Treasure Be Damned | Nathan Drake

》 PAIRING: movie!nathan drake x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: childhood best friends to lovers; angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: Nathan wished it didn't take something drastic to happen for him to finally realize what he felt for you. And no matter how much that gold was worth, you will always be his greatest treasure.

》 WARNINGS: both are orphans (mentioned), tech genius!reader, protective!nathan, switch pov halfway thru, kinda canon divergent (a.k.a. i made slight changes to some scenes from the movie), pining, jealousy jealousy, idiots in love, some angst, kidnapping, canon level violence, injuries, love confessions and a cute fluffy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.4k+

A/N: hello! me again with another fic. this may seem super random but this was commissioned by the lovely @theslayerofthevampires ! thank u so so much hun <3 my first ever commission btw. trying to stick to a certain word count was actually quite interesting to me alskalsk but this was fun to write and i hope i did it justice!

+ also i couldn't think of a better title and the summary is kinda cheesy but we love cheese in this house so alksalkslaks

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

You and Nathan had been best friends for as long as you could remember.

When he punched a guy twice his size all because they made you cry on your first day at the orphanage, he quickly gained your trust and loyalty. It was reciprocated when you dumped all your lunch on a kid when they poked fun about why his brother left him.

You two had been inseparable ever since.

Nathan was protective of you, and you were protective of him.

As years passed, that protectiveness only grew tenfold. With it came the care and affection that went from strictly platonic to something warmer, sweeter.

For you, at least.

You couldn't pinpoint when it started, all you knew was that everything Nathan did for you suddenly felt special—like it was solely for you.

The change wasn't outright. It was a slow realization, when the little things he did made your heart grow warmer and beat faster all the same.

At first, you thought it was a simple crush—a silly phase, that with time, it would fade.

But no.

As months moved to years, it went from something that lingered to something you couldn't escape from.

The moment you truly figured that what you felt about him wasn't as simple as an adoration for your best friend was on your eighteenth birthday.

Nathan had spent all the money he saved from working odd—and honest, he made sure to make that known—jobs on a silver necklace.

Maybe you watched way too many romcoms, maybe it was all in your rose-tinted head, but there was an underlying romance in the way he stood behind you, so close and warm, as he put the necklace on for you.

With bated breath, you let him, trying your best not to melt over his simple touch. His fingertips brushed against your skin so delicately but felt electric in all the right ways.

You only regained your breathing when he finally stepped back. Yet he took it away a moment later when he gently tapped the charm—shaped like a compass—sitting between your collarbone, a fond smile on his lips when he said,

"So you'll always find your way back to me."

How could you not fall in love?

What a cliché.

Falling in love with your childhood best friend.

It would've been cute if it was reciprocated.

But whatever he saw you as was strictly platonic.

You were constantly reminded of how unrequited your love was with the hook-ups he brought back to the apartment.

You had agreed to be his roommate to help lessen the expenses. Even though you had only recently moved in together, you were starting to doubt if it was a good idea—for your heart's sake, anyway.

It didn't even stop there.

Because here you were once again, sporting an ache in your chest as you watched him flirt with a blonde girl at the bar.

As much as you enjoyed visiting him at work, seeing him flirt with the pretty customers regularly will always leave a bad taste in your mouth.

Jealousy.

A feeling you shouldn't be entertaining in the first place. You were just a best friend. You had no right to go all green-eyed whenever you saw him with another girl.

Nathan Drake wasn't yours.

You didn't even realize that you were too deep into your thoughts until a familiar voice brought you out of it.

"You okay?"

You blinked, looking up to see Nathan regarding you with brows furrowed in concern.

"Huh?"

"You've been glaring at that thing for a good minute now," he explained, nodding at the personalized cocktail he made for you.

He always did that whenever you stopped by, experimenting with new mixes he thought you'd enjoy solely based on how well he knew you. You give him your honest feedback in return. It was your own little game.

"Is it bad?"

"No, no, no," you said, taking a sip before smiling. "I liked it."

"Just 'like', damn. I need to step up my game," he sighed in feigned disappointment. When you didn't react as much, he added, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Nathan looked at you for a moment, lips pursed as he shook his head.

"You're such a bad liar."

"I'm not," you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes. "You just know me so well."

"I do," he hummed, grin turning proud. "I also know when something's bothering you so, what's up?"

"Girl things." You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. You could tell it confused him, because he was never uncomfortable to talk about those topics with you. But before he could even question it, you quickly added, "I think I'm going to head home first. You didn't forget your keys, right?"

"That was one time," he grumbled, eyeing you for a moment because he obviously didn't buy your excuse. A second later, he sighed, "Yeah, I got my keys."

"Okay, See you later," you said, gathering up your things before walking towards the door.

"Let me know if you get home safe," he called out.

You only threw him a salute in response.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

It was the harsh light from the huge window in the living room that woke you up.

You must have fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of watching your comfort movie—a poor attempt at trying to distract yourself from your lovelorn predicament.

Who knew dealing with feelings could be so exhausting?

It was the smell of bacon that coaxed you out of your cocoon, though.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Nathan greeted as soon as you stepped into the kitchen. He threw you a warm smile over his shoulder before he continued making breakfast—shirtless, might you add. "There are painkillers beside your water in case your neck is killing you. I would've carried you back to your bed but you kick in your sleep and I've learned my lesson so…"

It did happen once.

He was trying to coax you off the couch and back into the comfort of your bed. But as he got closer, your leg having a mind of its own when you were deeply asleep, you kicked him straight in his jewels—his words, not yours.

The loud thud of him falling on the floor didn't even shake you awake, not even when he was groaning in pain.

You couldn't even remember any of it.

"How many times do I have to apologize for you to let that go?" you chuckled, settling at your usual seat at the small dining table you had.

"Not enough," he snorted. "I still feel the phantom of the kick, you know."

"You're so dramatic." You rolled your eyes, glancing around only to catch a glimpse of that old yet familiar green trunk. It was then you noticed some of his old stuff littered around, trinkets and memorabilia he hadn't looked at in a while. Just as you were about to question him about it, you saw the excited look on his face. You narrowed your eyes, asking, "Did I miss something?"

"Quite a lot, actually," he chuckled, sauntering over to you with your breakfast for the day. Putting the full plate in front of you, Nathan leaned down and quickly kissed your forehead. "Eat. I'll tell you all about it."

You ignored the phantom of his lips on your skin.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

A treasure hunt.

Nathan dragged you into a treasure hunt.

You didn't trust this Victor Sullivan guy, but Nate seemed to be adamant about finding this gold in hopes of finding Sam too. And you trust your best friend's judgment so that made Sully a friend of your best friend, much to your dismay.

"Do I look okay?" you asked, straightening out your long, black evening gown as you emerged out of the makeshift changing room.

When you didn't hear an answer, you looked up to see Nathan staring at you with a certain look in his eyes.

Your face warmed. "What?"

"Okay?" he scoffed, shaking his head as if he was offended by the word you used. With a gentle smile, he gestured at you with both hands. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks. You don't look bad yourself," you responded with a shy smile, unable to hold his gaze for much longer. You fixed your entangled necklace, instead.

"Here, let me," he said, quickly walking over to you to straighten it out, his touch featherlight against your skin. "It's a gorgeous necklace. The guy who gave this to you has good taste."

"If good taste means licking his own ass, then, it's a bit questionable."

"Okay, gross," he playfully grimaced. "All I'm saying is that I picked the right one for you."

"You did." You smiled fondly.

"Perfect," he hummed with a smile, his gaze slowly trailing from your necklace up to your eyes, his next words barely even a whisper. "You're perfect."

You didn't know if it was even meant for your ears but you could only stand there, staring into his brown eyes that seemed to shift from one emotion to another.

Nathan was about to say something when Sully came out of nowhere with that grumpy look on his face.

"Why are we bringing her again?" he asked as if you weren't standing in front of him.

"She's a genius with computers," Nathan said, a bite in his tone. "She's going to help us get through any security tech easy breezy."

Sully narrowed his eyes between you two before shrugging.

"Fine," he grumbled, looking you up and down before walking away. "We leave in ten minutes."

"I don't think he likes me very much," you sighed once the door shut.

"I don't think he likes anyone," Nathan said, smiling at you reassuringly. "Don't take it personally."

And you didn't. Truly.

But when you got to the auction house, it definitely felt more personal when the old man wouldn't tell you anything.

No communication. No updates. No information. Nothing.

Only when you ask Nathan directly were you able to get a grasp of what was going on or when to proceed to the next step—if he wasn't distracted.

With the countless pretty ladies dressed to the nines, you best believe he wasn't anywhere near focused.

You were angry because this was a dire situation. One wrong move could get you guys caught. You were too goddamn young for prison.

You definitely weren't bitter over something else.

"Do you always feel the need to flirt with anything that walks?" you spat when he finally reached the door you'd been trying so hard to keep open without getting caught. It took him three minutes more since he was busy chatting up some random trust fund girl.

"I wasn't—Jesus," he grunted, the door hitting him on the way as you walked past it.

You couldn't be bothered to wait anymore. You didn't look back and simply sped walk towards the power switch.

"You're upset," Nathan said once he caught up with you.

"I'm not upset," you grumbled. "I'm annoyed."

"It's the same thing."

"It's fucking not."

"Okay, geez," he conceded, pouting, "What'd I do?"

"What aren't you doing?" you asked sarcastically, harshly tapping on your phone as you tried to decode the security lock on the main switch. "Oh right, focusing on your job!"

"Christ, do you two always bicker like an old married couple?"

"Shut up!" you and Nathan barked synchronously.

Shaking your head, you calmed yourself, punching in the security code.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright? I was just trying to scope potential—"

You glared at him.

"I'm shutting up."

"Just do your thing. I want this over and done with," you grumbled, stepping aside once the circuit box finally opened.

"You're a genius," he praised with a smile, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. "Thank you."

"Whatever."

You wished you could say everything went smooth sailing from there, but when did it ever?

Everything happened so fast.

One minute you two were walking out of the control room, the next you were being chased down but huge men.

Running in heels was not fun.

And then it was a blur, someone grabbing your arm in a way that made you scream in pain to Nathan tackling the guy to the ground, landing blow after blow to his face until blood started to splatter on the suit he was wearing.

"Touch her again and I'll kill you."

You'd never seen him so angry before.

But that anger quickly disappeared when he fussed over you, hands soft against your cheeks yet the panic and worry were evident in his eyes.

It took several 'I'm fine's and a couple more reassurances that you weren't badly hurt to get him to fully calm down and help you up so you could get out of this place.

Unbeknownst to you, there were curious eyes watching everything closely with a knowing yet wicked smile on her lips.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

You thought the feeling of being outcasted was only a small blip at the auction house.

But you were so wrong.

"What happened to you?" you asked when he finally met up with you at the church in Barcelona, soaking wet from head to toe.

"Long story."

"So you brought your girlfriend with you" A girl—Chloe, you later learned—suddenly appeared.

"She's not my girlfriend," Nathan quickly corrected.

Yes, it was true.

But the way he shut it down so quickly as if the thought made him hurl made the sting harsher.

It didn't take long for you to notice how Nathan seemed to be following Chloe around a lot.

So much so that you were becoming more of an afterthought.

They were always conspiring amongst themselves. It was in their line of expertise, you supposed, and you were just the tech girl. But it wasn't like you were clueless about it. Nate has told you enough stories for you to get the gist of what was going on.

It was getting pathetic, trailing behind them like some puppy, wanting to feel included.

When Nathan argued with Sully that you were not leaving his side when it was time to split up, you could only laugh at it now.

What was the point when you were immediately alone when you got into the tunnels?

Even more as you stood by yourself at the club, watching him dance with Chloe, so close, in the guise of blending in.

Maybe if you weren't distracted you would've noticed the man sneaking up behind you. You would've been able to run before he could grab you from behind, hand over your mouth as he started dragging you backward. And maybe you were quite good at kicking someone's jewels when you hit the jackpot the first time, enabling you to escape and scream for help.

You were yelling Nathan's name, but it was the loud gunshot that caught his attention.

It was heartbreaking to think that it took you getting shot in the leg for him to fully acknowledge you.

You were overwhelmed with too many emotions that you became numb, simply letting them take you back to the safe house in silence.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he sat by your temporary bed, carefully wrapping the bandage on your thigh after he cleaned it. Thankfully, the bullet was only meant to slow you down, not kill. "I'm supposed to be looking out for you."

"It's fine," you sighed. You knew he was being sincere. He looked thoroughly distraught when he saw you drop to the ground. You knew it wasn't his fault, and you knew he was already blaming himself enough. But with the pain and bitterness—both physically and emotionally—you couldn't stop it. "You were busy. I get it."

He frowned. "What's with that tone?"

"There's no tone," you grumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"You're annoyed."

You shook your head. "I'm not annoyed.'

"So…you're upset," he hummed, reaching for your hands. You pulled away, carefully getting comfortable on the bed.

"I'm going to sleep," you sighed, pulling the covers over you.

Nathan got the hint, standing from his seat with a sigh, "Okay, goodnight, just…call me if you need anything."

So when you woke up in the middle of the night when a sudden sting went up your leg, you quickly yet carefully got out of bed to look for him.

You wish you hadn't bothered.

The last thing you wanted to see was him and Chloe getting cozy on the balcony, a bottle of wine between them.

You figured you weren't important enough to interrupt their moment. Besides, the ache in your leg couldn't compare to the absolute pain in your heart. It only intensified when they started leaning toward each other.

So you quickly went back to bed, tainting the pillowcase with salted tears.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Here." Nathan kneeled in front of the foot of the bed, tying your shoelaces for you. "So, I've been thinking…"

"Uh oh," you joked.

"Maybe you should sit this one out."

Your smile quickly got wiped off your face.

"What?"

Nathan glanced at the door. You followed his gaze, catching a glimpse of Chloe before she hurriedly walked away.

You pressed your lips, nodding in understanding.

"It's not what you think it is," Nathan placated.

"Sure it's not," you scoffed.

"Look, you're injured and—"

You stood up, abruptly cutting him off. You grabbed your bag, limping around the room as you gathered your stuff.

"Woah careful, your wound is still fresh," Nathan followed you around, arms out in case you stumbled. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving. That's what you wanted, right?"

"What? No!" he rushed, hands on your shoulder, stopping you. "What I meant was, you need to recover first."

"Right," you scoffed, shrugging him off before you continued packing. "Because it's going to be dangerous and you're looking out for me, trying to protect me and all that bullshit."

"It's not bullshit!"

"You know, after all we've been through, I thought I could count on you to at least be honest with me," you said bitterly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," you pressed, harshly zipping up your bag. "If you wanted me out of the picture, you could've just said so."

Shaking his head, he argued, "That's not it."

"Maybe," you said, looking him straight in the eyes. "But fewer people, more gold to go around, right?"

That rendered him silent.

"You've known me your whole life," he started, hurt flickering in his irises. "You really think I'd do that to you?"

"I don't know anymore, Nate." You threw your hands up exasperatedly. "Because ever since you met them, I barely recognize you anymore. You've been wanting their approval so bad you're getting desperate for it.

"And I always thought that when we get the chance to find this treasure, we'll do it together, side by side like we always do. But all I've done this whole time is be a third wheel to whatever this is." You gestured at him and the door, laughing sarcastically. "Fourth, if you include Sully."

"That's not true," he argued weakly, realization dawning on his face.

"You whisper among yourselves, nobody tells me a fucking thing, you don't even tell me anything anymore! I'm always left chasing after you because you couldn't be bothered waiting for me to catch up. Fine, I might not know everything about this treasure but it'd be nice to get filled in every once in a while instead of leaving me clueless! Hell, you're starting to forget you brought your best friend with you—"

"I didn't forget about you—"

"You didn't even notice I was getting dragged away until I was shot!"

Nathan looked away.

"All of you are always excluding me and it sucks," your voice cracked, blinking away unshed tears. "And don't think I didn't see you conspiring with Chloe last night."

He looked confused. "Last night?"

"When I came looking for my best friend for help because my leg was hurting like a bitch but I didn't want to be a cockblock so, you're welcome."

"You're not—" Nathan cleared his throat, shoulders slumping, looking at you apologetically. "Y/N…"

You shook your head, harshly wiping at your eyes, putting your jacket on. "The more it goes on, the more I think that you just brought me along because it was convenient for you. Now that I'm considered a liability, gotta leave the extra baggage right?"

"That's not fucking true!" he gritted, pulling his hair frustratedly. "You're part of this as much as I am!"

"Right. Where are we going next?"

Nathan blubbered like a fish out of water.

"That's what I thought," you scoffed, slipping your backpack on.

"Wait, dammit," he cursed when you walked past him, chasing after you into the living room. Frustrated, he called out, "All I'm asking is for you to sit this part out because you're hurt."

You stopped, slowly facing him.

"I never thought that the loneliest I'd ever feel is when I'm supporting you to chase this dream you'd been wanting ever since you were a kid," you admitted, chest tightening as you stared into his troubled brown eyes. "So, I'm not sitting this one out, Nate, I'm done."

You shoved the cross right on his chest.

"Have fun on your honeymoon," you said, bumping his shoulder as you walked out the door.

"Y/N!"

You never looked back.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Nathan was smart in a lot of different aspects. But emotions and feelings?

Oh he was stupid as fuck.

He wished it didn't take something drastic to happen for him to accept what he truly felt for you.

Part of him was relieved because at least you weren't there when the plane fiasco happened, especially with your injury. He was appeasing his guilt by telling himself that you were safer this way.

Nathan wouldn't know what to do with himself if something worse happened to you.

But as he was decoding the postcards Sam sent—a difficult task to focus on when he couldn't stop worrying about you so much—Chloe suddenly came in with a package.

"It has your name on it."

He opened it confused, but nothing could prepare him for what was inside.

The dread and fear started to creep up his spine when he held the silver necklace he gave you.

You never took this off.

As he emptied the box in a rush, photos upon photos of you tied up and gagged, beaten and bruised with blood tainting your delicate skin, Nathan felt like his entire heart was taken from him.

'The map or her. Choose wisely.'

It came in flashes, moments where you'd been there for each other, the joy and heartbreak, success and failures—you were always there, his one constant.

Then came the moments where he dreamed about you and him, doing things best friends shouldn't be doing.

He always knew what he felt about you but he shoved it down in fear of ruining the friendship you'd built over the years. But now? Denying it seemed insignificant. Now there was a chance he wouldn't be able to tell you at all.

Nathan was losing the love of his life.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"That didn't take long," Braddock laughed sardonically, standing up from a large rock nestled on the beach somewhere in the Philippines.

"Where is she," Nathan growled, the tube map holder slung on his back.

Braddock nodded at one of her men, Nathan's heart sinking to his stomach when they dragged you in, your yelp piercing his chest when they shoved you on the sand.

Nathan instinctively tried to run for you.

"Not so fast," Braddock hummed, clicking her gun before pressing it on the back of your head. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"I think you already figured out I don't play games when it comes to her."

"Well, let's see," she challenged. "On your knees, Drake."

"N-Nate," you whimpered, adamantly shaking your head. Even in your state, you were still trying to protect him.

"It's okay," he reassured with a smile, hands up as he did as told.

Braddock grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you closer to where he was.

He stifled his anger. But best believe he'd already plotted so many ways to make Braddock suffer for what she did to you.

But one wrong move could cost your life.

"Hand it over."

"Untie her."

Braddock rolled her eyes but did so anyway.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Nathan whispered, your tear-filled eyes meeting his. He lifted his chin once, gaze flickering behind you. "I got you, okay? You're going to be okay."

"Enough with this sappy bullshit. Hand over the map or she dies."

Nathan slowly grabbed the map, only to throw it away as far as possible.

On cue, a huge explosion distracted Braddock enough for you to abruptly stand on your feet, hitting her under the chin with your head.

"You bitch!" she yelled, dropping the gun.

Nathan quickly pulled you aside and grabbed the weapon. With no remorse, he shot Braddock on both thighs, once more on the arm to be petty.

He'd do much worse if you weren't on borrowed time.

Nathan grabbed your hand and made a run for it.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The silence was tense.

But Nathan was focused on taking care of you first.

He was busy enough trying not to cry whenever he'd discover a new cut and bruise on you that he couldn't even dwell on the fact that you were showering together. You were both in your underwear, but still.

It was when he had you sitting on the counter as he patched you up when you spoke.

"You didn't have to do all that for me."

"You know, it hurts me so much that you think I wouldn't take a bullet for you," he sighed, finishing up a bandage before meeting your glossy eyes. "You're more important to me than you think you are."

"No, I know it's just—" You bit your bruised lip. Nathan quickly pulled it away with his thumb, not wanting you to worsen your injury. You leaned into his touch as you continued, "You've been dreaming of this since you were a kid and I feel like I've ruined it for you."

"You didn't ruin anything."

"But you should be out there looking for the gold," you said. "Instead you're stuck here with me."

"Listen to me, if I had to choose between that gold and—" He took a breath, holding your face in both hands as he stared at you longingly. "The woman I'm hopelessly in love with then…"

Nathan breathed out with a smile, "Fuck that gold."

You stared at him in a way that made him believe that he'd done it.

He'd finally ruined your friendship to a point of no return.

That until you broke out into the sweetest, brightest smile that made his heart grow and his knees weak all the same.

"It's not as hopeless as you think it is."

Nathan felt like his heart was about to burst.

"Yeah?" He grinned, giddy and warm, gently parting your legs and stepping a little closer.

You let him into your space. But suddenly your brows furrowed, frowning. "What about you and Chloe?"

"So you were jealous."

"Nate."

"There's no me and Chloe," he reassured, gently taking your hands, kissing the insides of your wrists before placing them on his shoulders. "Maybe I got the incredibly stupid idea to make you jealous—I know, baby, I'm an idiot—but she shot that down real quick."

"But—"

"Those times you've seen me with her, all I kept talking about was you," he admitted, blushing. "I'm sure she'd grown sick of me being lovesick."

Nathan probably talked her ear out about how hopelessly in love he was with you, seeking advice on what to do because it was the one thing he couldn't go to you about.

She had been really helpful, pushing him to confess because it was better you know before it's too late, and that in this line of work, you'd never know when that would be.

If only he hadn't let his cowardness win.

"She argued with me that leaving you behind was a bad idea, and if I listened to her I—" He pressed his forehead against yours with a shaky breath. "I'm sorry."

"I know you like to take all the blame but this isn't your fault," you hummed, fingers combing the straggles of hair on the nape of his neck.

"It kind of is," he pressed, eyes watering as he thought about what he dragged you into.

He couldn't stop thinking about the pain you'd gone through all because he was being reckless. For as long as he could remember, he made a vow to himself to always keep you safe no matter what. Yet here he was, failing at that—failing you.

"I'm sorry for being such a shitty best friend this past week," he said, caressing the apples of your cheeks.

"You were pretty shitty," you teased, though he could see the way your body relaxed a little. He could tell that you appreciated hearing his apology. It must've been weighing on you since you left.

It made his heart ache.

"I was and I'm sorry," he said regretfully. "I guess I just got so caught up in this whole treasure-hunting thing that I lost sight of what's truly important to me. But still, it's no excuse. I was the one who dragged you into this, I should've been attentive enough."

You turned your head and kissed his palm, a silent way of saying it was okay. He felt like he was about to melt.

"And I'm sorry for taking so goddamn long to tell you how I feel," Nathan admitted.

"Yeah well," you hummed, smiling at him sweetly. "We're both at fault on that one,"

"Still, I'm sorry," he whispered, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "For everything."

You nodded, a smile on your lips. "I can't say I forgive yet—"

"Understandable."

"But hey," you hummed, leaning closer. "You have plenty of time to grovel and make up for it."

Nathan chuckled, brushing his lips against yours with a whisper, "Can I start with a kiss?"

You nodded with that cute giggle of yours, one that still echoed as he finally closed the distance.

So many things filled him up at once—soft, sweet, warm. So many emotions rattling his heart as your lips molded into one—relief, passion, love.

It was gratifying, a kiss he'd been dreaming of for as long as he could remember. But, with your fingers in his hair and his hands on your waist, your warm body flushed to his with no space in between, nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

And yes, it was going to take some time to repair the cracks that were made in your relationship. But he was willing to wait and do whatever it takes to gain your full trust back.

Nathan didn't care how long or how much work it would take, as long as at the end of every day, you came back home to him—it was more than worth it.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Kid, are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, Sully," Nathan said unapologetically. "But whatever the wife says, goes and her plan is usually better than yours."

"I'm technically not your wife yet," you giggled, your engagement ring glinting as you continued bypassing the security cameras using your phone.

"Technically, yes," he agreed, shrugging. "But in my head, you've been my wife ever since you put that ring on."

"Always thinking ahead, huh?" You finished up the job, slipping your phone into your pocket before turning to him with a raised brow.

"Oh yeah," he hummed, pulling you closer by the waist. "And once we get married, in my head, we already have three kids."

"Three?" you choked out a laugh.

"Five?"

"Let's start with one and see where that goes."

"We should definitely practice later."

"Do I always have to remind you two that this is an open line?"

"Oh we know," Nathan hummed, kissing you with a loud smack which earned an annoyed groan. He then gestured at the door with a bow. "After you, Mrs. Drake."

"Still up for debate."

"I'd take your last name any day."

"I was thinking hyphenated."

"Not a bad shout."

"Get moving you two!"

"Sully, you're getting so close to getting your wedding invite revoked."

You laughed at that.

Nathan couldn't resist kissing you once more.

"Let's go," you giggled against his lips. "We still have treasure to find."

"I'm in no rush," he shrugged, brushing his nose against yours. He was sure his eyes were glowing with pure adoration. "Already got the best one right here."

You groaned and called him cheesy but you still kissed him anyway.

Treasure be damned, with you by his side, Nathan was the richest man alive.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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428 notes · View notes

greenerteacups · 30 days

Note

Hey GT, glad to see you're back! I'm still halfway thru Lionheart (just read the world cup chapter, what a delight) and your notes got me wondering.

I'm sure you've probably answered this before but how do you manage to make the world feel so rich? I'm not that into the fandom so I don't know If there are some things fanon agreed upon or if it is your own musings about the magic world. Like Draco explaining to Hermione about portkeys or how many languages Krum speaks.

How do you decide what's important enough to get a mention? Where do you go when you need answers and Canon is not enough to provide it?

Thanks for the kind words, and for the question! It's a matter of personal taste, like anything. Some writers prefer an athletic, streamlined plot, with only as much worldbuilding as you absolutely need (how does Panem run a command economy of 4.5 million people primarily on fossil fuels when its coal district has a population of less than 10,000? fuck off! who cares! they're Y/A dystopias about a TV show where teens beat each other to death!). Some writers, on the other hand, won't bother to start the story until they know the pH of the soil in every region of the world they're writing about. I'm somewhere on the second half of the scale, in that I'll give details that aren't strictly necessary to the plot, just because I like to feel like I'm writing about a world where real, extraneous things can happen. Some details are foreshadowing; some details are Special Mouseketools that will Help Us Later; and sometimes, you just get to know a cool fact about portkeys.

I guess part of the fun of building out a world is getting to think about Everything, which is what my brain normally does. I have a pretty broad body of literature as a starting gate, so there's plenty of room to play. E.g., when I started writing Krum, I thought about how he's not super fluent in English in canon, and that naturally made me ask why, because he clearly has taken English, so either he only started lessons recently or it hasn't been a priority for him; and then I went "wait, what's his first language? Bulgarian, right? But Durmstrang isn't — hang on—" and then I pulled up an actual map of Europe, which led me to realize that he wouldn't likely be speaking his first language at Durmstrang, which means he already had to become bilingual just to start his wizarding education, and that explains part of why he doesn't have a ton of time/effort to spare for a third language, plus he'd probably have a translator available whenever he traveled with a team because he's a B.F.D. — etc., etc. And then you keep thinking about that until you remember that you're supposed to be writing a fic, and you scramble to get back to doing that. Only now, you have worldbuilding! Congrats.

To try for an even halfway useful answer to your question: worldbuilding becomes most important when it creates limitations, because limitations define your characters and give them chances to develop/reveal themselves. So the details of portkeys become important because they explain the limitations of magical travel, which is a big nebulous ??? in the original series, since the introduction of teleportation via Apparating means that all other forms of transportation become inefficient by comparison. It also means the limitations introduced by travel — that is, not all characters can be in all places at once — also go away, because anyone can be anywhere immediately. From a narrative perspective, this sucks massive horse ass. Hence: I dumped a shit ton of limitations on Apparation (i.e., (1) it requires a ton of energy, (2) it's really fucking hard, (3) it's really fucking dangerous, (4) it's more of both the farther away you're going, (5) it's more of both the more people you take with you, (6) you can't Apparate without a clear destination in mind which means (7) you need to have been there already, and so (8) some people prefer not to do it). Hence, I also put limitations on portkeys (i.e., they have to be set up well in advance, you need to identify out both destinations precisely beforehand, and the calculations are difficult to do). Those limitations, and the Watsonian explanations you create for them, are your worldbuilding. They're what make the world feel real, because they give it grit and character. They give you a more complete sense of what you can and cannot do.

The rest of it is taste and preference, really; it's what interests you, and what parts of the world you want to explore. That's going to be unique to every author, and that's the beauty of worldbuilding — it reflects the parts of the world that you like to think about.

#greenteacup asks

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sugar-omi · 7 months

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bro that teen pregnancy shit fucked me upppp 😭 I fr am in tears and rolling around my bed lol

my brain went on a tangent halfway thru the moms section I was like damn okay what if mc and cove just ran away huh then what

AND THEN I remembered they’ve already ran away before which is part of why mom is so worried about cove’s influence and hellooooo???? full circle moment 🫢 made myself gasp fr

ya u make me think so many thoughts on this one good lordddd

-🗑️

LOL AWW I DIDN'T THINK EVERYONE WOULD GET SO EMOTIONAL </3 AND LMAOOO I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU THOUGHT ABT RUNNING AWAY AGAIN, PLEASE IS THIS GONNA BE A TRADITION LOL anyway, well good morning!!!! here's more angst n food for thought🤭🤭

tags : Angst / Hurt/Comfort, headcanons, fem/afab reader, pregnancy

[part 1: "everyone finding out cove and MC got engaged because they're pregnant"]

his whole world stops. his ears feel like they've been stuffed with cotton and his world is spinning outta control.

now lets assume the rubber broke, just for, simplicity n lore sake.

it's not that he wasn't already worried about this happening, he had been worrying about this for weeks since you realized what happened.

but even then, he already had the fear of god in him about this happening. both because his mom and dad were on him about safe sex, but also because he has a lot of feelings about being an accident n child to teen parents... and he really didn't want to recreate that situation or put feelings like that onto another life, another human with complex emotions and many many thoughts. a human and life he's responsible for.

it shocks him so much, because he's very worried about repeating of his childhood on his child, and his kid feeling the same way he did/does.

he already knows that either way, the babe will probably have mixed feelings on being a accident, and essentially being a bump in road of his young parents lives

but it's also everything he had been worrying about, finally coming to fruition.

even though he's very, very stressed and scared for your futures, he's long since decided to make it work. he really wants to make it work. he wants to do the best by you, and the babe. and he wants to give his kid what he didn't have.

but anyway...

you're very worried about dropping the news on him

and i bought you aren't surprised at how pale cove gets when you drop the news...

and if he's not sitting down already, he is now. (he might just faint, like forreal this time too from the looks of it...)

he's very emotional, and super nervous, but what scares you is that he's very quiet...

when he does speak though, his first question is "what're.. what are you gonna do?"

because before he gets too emotional, he wants to know what you want first. you're carrying the baby and you're the one who'd go through all the changes, and you're the one who has the most intense feelings and being pregnant makes your emotions n hormones even crazier and more intensified.

all that plus how young you two are? and all the plans you two had? yeah, it's a lot, and regardless of how he feels, he wants to do whatever you want and he'd understand if you decide not to keep it.

but if you say right then and there, you wanna keep it, cove says he'll take care of you, and the babe, comforts you and hugs you. then he says wants to get married..

or if you say you dont know... cove says you two will work through these emotions, and that no matter what, he'll take care of you, and the baby if you want it.

when you do eventually say you want to keep it, even if you say this a couple minutes after, or a few days after, cove comforts you again and promises you'll work through this, and that it'll be okay.

then he brings up getting married...

of course it's more emotional, and maybe even a bit romantic!

so imagine this, you're sitting on your bed, and you and cove are hugging each other, you're wrapped up in his arms and it's a great comfort.

you're both really emotional, and calming down after crying and having a moment.

cove pulls away, takes your hands in his and even with glassy, red eyes he has a determined expression. goes on about how much he loves you, and how much he treasures you, and that he's going to do his best for you, and take care of everything.

his speech probably draws you back to tears, even brings him to tears but he keeps going because he needs to tell you all this!!

"y/n... i want to marry you, i want us to be a family.. i know i don't have a ring and this isn't very romantic but.. will you marry me?"

doesn't matter if you say yes right away or if you ask him if he's sure he wants to get married, he reassures you he's not just doing this because he thinks it is what you and/or your or his family would want.

he wants to marry you anyway, why wait?

now about telling your parents.

regardless of if you have cove there while you tell them, or you do it alone, lets say cove finds out what your mom said about him being a bad influence.

i also think your moms are a bit icy with cove too, so even if he has to force out all the details of your conversation, he already knows your moms aren't happy

but to know your mom thought, maybe even thinks so still especially with the news, that he was/is a bad influence on you.

it makes him sad. because what if she, or even both your parents, thinks that cove is dragging your life down with marriage and a baby?

well, like i said in the first post, this totally opens up a new can of insecurities and doubts, and he kinda spirals into his own mind.

he even starts thinking about what if you regret marrying him, and/or having his baby. what if you decide you hate being a parent, or being married, or being a family all together?

what if this holds you back so much that you start to resent him. god he's so afraid of you resenting him.

and your moms being short with him doesn't make him feel better because now he just had a thought, what if your family hates him so much that they start talking to you about how much of a mess this is, and then you realize how they're right, and decide to leave him, or even worse, leave him and the baby?

it's all very irrational thoughts, and when he wakes up (after maybe 3 hours sleep), he realizes it is a bit.. ridiculous. just a bit. he knows you wouldn't abandon him so easily, and you certainly wouldn't be swayed by your family

but he also wouldn't blame you if you had, or have (now or in the future), any resentments. he just really wants it to work.

i think this is also the time when he realizes exactly how much his parents divorce fucked him up.

he very determined for you two to make it work as a family. not co-parents.

he wants to see his kid every day, he wants to see you everyday, he wants to celebrate every milestone as a family and he definitely doesn't want to fight with you like his parents did. and even more so doesn't want to make your kid hear or see all of it.

he doesn't wanna fight, and then you or him walk out for hours or days. doesn't wanna sleep in separate rooms, doesn't wanna sleep by the crib to comfort himself with the presence of his darling baby, or because you two fought, like his dad used to.

doesn't wanna have to explain why mommy* and daddy are fighting, or why they don't sleep in the same room, or why they aren't talking to each other, or why they aren't living together anymore.

definitely doesn't want to explain what divorce is and what that means for them.

(*just saying mommy for simplicity sake)

but he also doesn't want to repeat what his dad did, and take on all the burden by himself.

it's hard to find a balance too, because he's torn between working his ass off to provide and prove that he can do it, that you aren't making a mistake... and accepting help, or letting himself relax sometimes.

but i think wanting to be there for you during the pregnancy, forces him to leave his days more open.

of course he still works more than usual, but he also makes sure to carve out time to see you, and be there to comfort you or bring you food, flowers, or go on a date.

remember i mentioned therapy in the last post?

please encourage him to start it. because this is a very big transition in your lives, and you both want the best for yourselves and the baby, so lets do the work before they get here, okay?

fighting with his dad

now he definitely appreciates his parents concern, and their support and words of wisdom, all that stuff...

but when his dad says something like "you don't want to end up like me and your mom." or "you shouldn't mess up your future." or even if he insistently tells cove, "think about your future! y/n's future!"

cove gets upset, just because does that mean his dad is projecting onto him, and telling him that they're fucking up just like he and mom did? or is he telling him that he's dragging your future and his into the mud?

either way, that's what makes him say something mean, just like i said in the last post:

cove would probably end up saying something (a bit) hurtful like "i would never end up like you and mom." , "i would never marry MC if i didn't know it'd work. unlike some people, i'm not gonna make my kid listen to us argue and then try to play happy family." , or "trust me, my kid won't end up with a childhood like mine." / "trust me, my marriage won't end up like yours."

he definitely hangs up the call or walks away from his dad immediately afterward, shaking with anger and anxiety. he's so stressed. and he's worked up.

after the argument, there's only 2 places cove could go at this moment. to you, or to work.

and if he's at work, he's distracted, but tries to focus on his job. he's still mad at his dad, and he already feels like crying. he really didn't need his dad to doubt him.

he gets it. he gets it, he really really does. but he feels so fragile, that he'd really appreciate a little faith.

now if he's with you, which he'd probably run to you after work anyway just so he doesn't have to face his dad yet. he's like a big baby

he's holding you, arms around your waist and his head on your stomach or lap, or you're laying on your side and he has his hand on your belly, as if he's waiting for the baby to reach for his hand through your tummy.

when he tells you what happened, and why he's so somber, please run your fingers through his hair and just listen to him for a bit... eventually he'll start rambling about all the things he's been holding onto, including his fears about you resenting him

it'll probably be a long talk, but once you reassure him that you wanna make it work too, and that you know cove will be a good dad (and vice versa), and that your moms don't hate him, they're just... upset. and worked up about the turn of events.

and you talk about his dad too, and the argument, you both realize it comes from a place of concern.

he doesn't wanna see you two try to be a family and fail. he doesn't want you to make mistakes he did while raising cove...

conclusion, it's a very fruitful conversation. and cove goes back home, teary eyed and a bit like a lost puppy, and that night he doesn't find his dad waiting for him (cliff tries to work as late as possible, both because he wanted to give cove some space, but also because he has a bad habit of avoiding situations... so when he does get home, he spends the night in his room)

of course they can't avoid each other forever, and the next day cove actually makes the effort to find his dad during his lunch break to apologize.

he said something really hurtful, that i don't think cove could live with if he didn't apologize.

his dad definitely laughs when cove mentions that you said that cove should try therapy, and even if you don't say that his dad should consider it too, cove does say to his dad that a family therapist sounds like a good idea.

#olba #our life: beginnings & always #cove holden x reader #cove holden #angst #hurt/comfort

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shoezuki · 6 months

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I dunno why but I feel like Gepard can handle liquor. Like Sampo has the gift of bein smart knowin his limits and what to drink and when, so he gives off the vibe of being able to handle a lot but he's not that heavyweight. He's jus big brain conman XD. Get enough in him n he'll go down like the rest.

But Geppie. Man's sippin vodka from the bottle and not even slurrin his words. When he was a trainee the older guards decided to prank him with a glass of absinthe n called it a weak alcohol only for him to get halfway and not even bat an eye, only stopped cuz it tasted like ass. Dude takes the path of preservation seriously. Even his liver is beyond destruction XD.

Which is why I find two situations very freakin funny, which I'd love your opinion on:

1) Sampo starts up a drinking competition with him. It's on one of his guardian mandated holidays, so Gepard doesn't have to be responsible, and Dove 3 in 1 won't leave him alone anyway, so he agrees. Partway thru Sampo realises he's losin but Gep insists on gettin the drinks so he can't even cheat his way to victory. Cue Gep having to drag a very drunk, incredibly flirty Sampo back to Natasha but he keeps running off. Even being drunk doesn't stop him from havin smoke bombs up the wazoo.

2) Sampo manages to cheat, scheme, girlboss his way to victory. He comes out on top but now has the problem of an incredibly drunk, dangerously curious Silvermane Captain who won't stop flooding him with the oddest of questions. "Why are your eyes so green? Is your hair natural? What happened to the rest of your shirt? Do you really enjoy crime or is it jus something you fell into?" Whi- okay that one was oddly specific and he doesn't have the capacity, as tispy as he is, to answer.

He really needs to get him back home, before he asks the wrong person the wrong question, but isn't cognitive enough to face being questioned by Bronya and would sooner die than face Serval. So he opts into takin him to one of his more obvious hideouts which poses 10 million problems in and of itself when he keeps freakin touching everything!

ANON YOURE RIGHT YOURE A FUCKING. GENIUS. I been thinkin bout this A LOT ACTUALLY prob cuz for some reason fandom seems to lean towards gepard bein a horrific lightweight (i mean i know Why the lightweight trope is very much seen as 'cute' and childlike n whatever but i digress). But tbhtbhtbh i agree w u 100% like.

Gepard is a Tank of a Man. Homie can handle anything. Mfer the living embodiment of preservation like dude could be like 'serval this drink sucks' and hes gulping down perfume, unaffected. Dudes prob ate weird shit out on the front lines n questionable rations. The stuff in his fridge is expired n hes jus shrugging and eating it anyways.

I think w sampo its like. He SEEMS like he can handle his liquor. And hes not bad w it. But hes an Actor. Mfer could be plastered and you wouldnt know. Dude could convince a breathalyzer that hes only a Little Tipsy. But theres a threshold for him where he jus Caves at some points. Like u said tho man is Always competent w bombs. Like drunken boxing but w daggers dude could be blown over by a gentle breeze but still kicks ass.

I imagine that gepard doesnt Usually drink in that he jus. Doesnt care much. But absolutely his drink of choice is the hard shit. He jus has whiskey w ice or vodka w tonic water like a freak. Maybe a white russian if hes feelin zesty. When his guards convince him to go to the bar n challenge him to take shots he shrugs n jus packs them back no big deal.

But oh my god like. The 2nd scenario. I imagine it in order like first sampo realizing gepard has an Inhuman tolerance n making it his missiom to get the good ol captain fucked up. N it takes a while but like. Gepard jus gets more... blunt. But in a strange soft questioning way where he asks the things he wonders bout but never says aloud. The kinda soul reads like 'sampo youre a criminal not because you need to be but because you enjoy the thrill and attention right?' N sampo is just like holy fuck. But its like his inhibitions are gone and hes so Curious about everything and everything. He hangs onto sampos every word n it drives sampo crazy

#alcohol mention #sampard #anon im holding you. we r holding hands.#i like gep being a sturdy lad. like. a tank. nothing shakes him. someone tries to poison him but he doesnt notice #getting stabbed is a mild inconvenience ok. all the silvermanes get food poisoning from the cafeteria food one day except him.#except wine fucks him up a lil quicker #who knows why bsbsvdjddh #anon #ANOTHER ALTERNATIVE: gepard is the 'can i have a sip of your water?' 'its not water' 'what' 'its vodka'

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milkweedman · 10 months

Text

>knitting the second round of my first 2 round repeat

>get to the end of the round and realize it doesn't match up

>after some examination it looks like I started on the wrong stitch, (I don't mark the beginning of the round)

>well, it happens to the best of us

>tink back to the beginning of the round and restart round 2, this time for sure on the correct stitch

>make it to the end of round 2

>doesn't match up again !!!

>I must have just messed up somewhere during this round

>can't find the mistake but my eyes aren't that great and I can't count for shit

>I will just tink back until I find the mistake and then keep going again

>zone out while tinking back and don't realize until I hit the beginning of the round

>well at least I know im past the mistake, I'll just restart from here and try not to mess up this time

>get to the end of round 2 for the third time

>not again :(

>does not match up

>very annoyed by now, this is already an annoying round to do bc this is the round that establishes the pattern, so I have to pay attention the whole time (not that I am, evidently). Also, overall this is round 3 of the whole piece, so it's hard to read stitches bc there's so little there and it's all bunched up on my needles.

>determined to figure out how I messed up exactly so that I can fix it because I don't want to do that again

>can't figure it out

>ok I will just do this very painstakingly and slowly and check each stitch and make sure it's all going well

>*p3 k1* very slowly

>hang on

>halfway thru the round before this instead of k3 p1 I switched to k2 p1

>well that would do it

>I will just have to undo the stitch below, reknit it so that it's in pattern, then work the stitch above, until I'm back at the beginning of the round and out of this hell

>does so

>it takes a while but at least now I know im fixing it

>NO !!!!

>still doesn't match up. What now ?????

>has a sinking feeling I cast on the wrong number, too

>8 stitches too many (80 instead of 72)

>after all of that tinking (280 stitches ?) I still have to frog it

#knitting #its seeded rib stitch for anyone curious #not at all a difficult stitch once you get going but i do often fuck up the first repeat once or twice #this is a bit much tho lol #and like to be fair i regularly frog the cast on multiple times as i figure out sizing #just....not usually with 3 rounds of tinking and stitch surgery first....#btw seconds after realizing i needed to frog it all my roommate accidentally mustard gassed the ground floor #so we're ALL having a time rn it seems lmao

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th3p0rtalmaker · 16 days

Text

Incarnate Deleted Scenes - Hector's (Scrapped) Transformation

Writing chapter 1 of my Incarnate fic took FOREVER. There were so many revisions, so much prep and planning that took place in my head before I started typing anything, and I think I genuinely triggered myself a little bit because there were several incidents where I would be in the middle of passionately and excitedly working on the chapter, only to suddenly feel drowsy and fall asleep while sitting at my laptop. I was going thru my Google Docs and found one of the original drafts of Hector's initial transformation. While rereading it, I realized it was actually pretty good and there were parts I might be able to recycle for later on in the fic. And since chapter 4 of Incarnate was really short, and it was posted about seven months after chapter 3, I figured you guys might appreciate getting to read this deleted scene while I work on chapter 5! Hope you enjoy! ^^D

(Continue reading under the cut)

Adira dropped to one knee beside him, eyes wide in disbelief. Her brother wrapped both arms around his chest protectively and gave her a fearful glare. “Don’t touch me! What have you done?!” Hector demanded. The panicked, begging tone in his voice didn’t make Adira feel any better about this horrific development. “I won’t touch you unless it’s absolutely necessary,” she assured gently. Adira then turned and shouted down the bridge, “EDMUND!” thankful to see her king already halfway to them. “No!” Hector yelped, rolling onto one side and turning his back to her. He was panting softly now, fear and anxiety lacing his every breath. “H-he can’t see me…I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry…” he murmured breathlessly, beginning to tremble. “Hector you didn’t do anything - Edmund and I will figure out what to do, you’ll be okay,” Adira soothed, sliding her Shadow Blade into the sheath on her back. “What happened?” Edmund called as he approached the island of black rock. “The Moonstone shattered,” Adira replied, looking up at him.

“How?” the king demanded upon drawing level with them. Adira stood and stepped around Hector’s body, letting the monarch kneel at his back.

“I broke it,” she confessed readily, kneeling in front of her distraught brother. “The opal is no longer a viable container for the Moondrop’s power-” “How do you know?” Adira gestured to the pile of rubble at the base of the pedestal. Upon registering the sight, Edmund’s face went pale. “The power of the Moonstone needed a stable vessel…” Adira trailed off. She hadn’t quite processed the sight of the celestial magic moving from one host to another of its own accord, much less the fact that Hector had been its first choice. “Vessel?” the other knight whispered, his luminous eyes wide with horror. He lifted one arm off his chest for a sudden inspection. Adira saw the thin layer of red coating his skin, and was momentarily relieved to see one thing she did know how to deal with. “No-no-no, what is it doing?!” Hector whimpered. “It’s just bloodsweat, tam'muḍu,” she assured. “You’ve had it a couple times before, remember? It’s a result of intense stress, which you are definitely undergoing-” “It’s everywhere,” Hector muttered, holding his other arm beside the first. “Everywhere!” Adira took note of the thin layer of red liquid coating the second appendage, then let her eyes run along his form. She realized that the darkened spots on his tunic and leggings, which she had presumed were normal sweat stains, were quickly expanding to cover his entire body. And there was a definite red tinge to them. This Adira had not, in fact, had to deal with before. She only remembered a handful of occasions from their training years in which Hector’s anxiety had become so overwhelming that blood vessels just beneath his skin had temporarily ruptured. This allowed thin traces of blood to mingle with his sweat, painlessly seeping through his skin. But the bloodsweat had always been localized to one or two areas, never spread over his whole body. “Okay, roll onto your back,” Adira instructed, forcing her voice to remain calm. “We need to figure out what we’re dealing with.” Hector gulped, shivering and holding both fists to his chest.

“Please-” she heard him whisper, although what he was asking for Adira didn’t know. Edmund carefully grabbed the younger man’s shoulder with a gloved hand. Adira saw Hector’s eyes widen briefly, before shutting tightly as his teeth ground together and he tucked his chin to his chest. She’d never done well interpreting the body language of other people, but she’d known Hector long enough to read him like a book. Before the king could pull on him, Adira’s hand shot out and grabbed Edmund’s, ripping it off Hector’s shoulder.

“He said he didn’t want to be touched - we have to keep physical contact to a minimum,” she warned, throwing his hand aside. Edmund blinked at her, then glanced down at the pitiful state Hector was in.

“I don’t think he’s going to react the way you normally do,” the king reasoned with a confused expression.

“That’s not the point,” Adira countered firmly. “This is an emergency and he’s panicking. He needs to be cared for, not man-handled.” “And how are you determining the difference?” “Right now, he is.” “Adira! What happened to the Moonstone?” Adira nearly jumped at the sound of Princess Rapunzel’s voice. She and Edmund turned to see the Coronan party arriving at their end of the bridge, Rapunzel already standing close by and ogling wide-eyed at Hector. “Is Hector okay? How can I help?” "Keep that blonde ball of nightmare fuel AWAY FROM ME!" Hector screeched, crossing his arms over his chest and curling further into himself. Rapunzel stepped back in surprise, the rest of her friends coming to a stop behind her. After sharing a brief look with the white-haired warrior, Edmund told the princess, “You and your friends are not citizens of the Dark Kingdom, and should not be present for this.” “What about me?” Fishskin asked, stepping up beside his girlfriend. Adira respected the concern he exhibited for a man that recently tried to kill him, but knew the presence of the long-lost prince would only agitate her brother. “You aren’t a member of the Brotherhood, and you mean nothing good to Hector,” she answered soberly. “He needs the help of people he knows and trusts.” “But I’m the Sundrop, there must be-” Rapunzel began to argue. “Respect our boundary, princess,” Adira snapped icily. Her hand reflexively reached behind her head, fingertips brushing the hilt of her Shadow Blade as she leveled a glare at the Sundrop’s host. She’d witnessed the younger woman’s inability to resolve conflict and respect the boundaries of those she considered friends - she was beginning to see how much Rapunzel had to learn in the ways of respect and diplomacy. “You endangered my brother’s life without reason once already. I won’t permit it a second time.” “He tried to kill us!” Short Hair snapped back, stepping ahead of Rapunzel. “Now she’s offering to help him, and your response is to threaten her?” Adira’s eyes narrowed, and she gripped the handle of her Shadow Blade fully. Rapunzel looked shocked, as if she hadn’t expected Adira to defend her own brother from unwanted meddling. “Guys, let’s leave it,” Fishskin spoke up, glancing uncomfortably at Hector’s gasping, vulnerable body and placing a hand on Rapunzel’s shoulder. “This is serious. Adira and Edmund probably know how to handle it better than we do.” Rapunzel nodded silently, leaning into her boyfriend’s touch. “Thank you, son,” Edmund said with a nod. Short Hair scoffed and held a short glaring match with Adira, before turning and following the rest of the group across the bridge and out of the Moonstone chamber. Adira maintained her grip on her sword’s handle until the door to the chamber gently boomed closed. She released the weapon with a small sigh and let her shoulders drop slightly. “Hector, if you can’t roll over we’ll situate you,” she said, looking down at him. The younger knight’s eyes met hers nervously, his shoulders and chest heaving for breath as the bloodsweat soaked through his torn clothes completely. “But you can do it yourself if you want.” His gaze dropped away, and his face creased with a look of helpless discomfort as his parted lips began to tremble. Adira assumed the appearance of Rapunzel and her friends had spooked him too much. “You want us to do it - yes or no?” she asked gently. (Insert missing segment where Hector is covered in ooblek bloodsweat) Adira fell silent as the substance coating Hector’s body went from navy purple to an electrifying shade of blue, slightly glowing of its own accord. He yelped and yanked out of her grip, stared at himself in horror for a moment, then pushed himself into a sitting position with a loud groan. “What are you doing?” Adira demanded nervously, holding one hand as close as she could to Hector without accidentally touching him.

“I’m not dying in a puddle of magic bloodsweat,” Hector grumbled irritatedly, pressing a hand to his injured ribs. “Hector this isn’t the time for you to be moving in any way,” Adira countered, hoping she wouldn’t have to wrestle him back down. Edmund shifted his bulk a little closer to the smaller man, as if that would dissuade him from attempting to stand in his panicked state. “Says you!” Hector sneered. “You don’t even know what’s happening right-”

A pained shriek rent the air, and then there were long, thin spikes of black rock extending out of Hector’s right arm, the one closest to Adira. They were clustered just beneath his wrist and elbow, and completely circumferenced his forearm. All three warriors watched in a mix of shock and horror as the shards paused, then laid flat against Hector’s forearm in a series of interlocking shards. The startlingly blue former-blood continued oozing from the seams between the black rock shards, a few drops growing large enough to slide down to Hector’s elbow and then plop softly on the ground. Hector was staring in wide-eyed, slack jawed horror at his newly encased limb. Only a few moments of silence passed before he began releasing small whimpers and moans, his body starting to tremble. At his sounds of distress Adira snapped out of her own reverie. “Hector lay down,” she commanded sternly. He slowly and shakily complied, holding his right arm protectively to his chest. “Can I look at your arm?” Adira requested, forcing herself to speak in a calmer, soothing voice. Hector shook his head with a slight gasp. “Hector I need to see your arm-”

“It’s not going to help you,” Hector whimpered. “None of us know what’s happening-” “I’m not going to do anything painful; I’m just going to scrutinize it,” Adira assured. Hector resisted a few moments longer, before reluctantly lifting his arm in her direction. Adira let him rest the appendage in her open hands this time, and her eyes searched the black shards for any helpful clues that could be found. Hector continued whimpering softly in a manner that perfectly mimicked his furry sisters. The oozing seams suddenly disappeared as the shards magically stitched themselves together, forming an unbroken layer that covered Hector’s entire forearm. An epiphany struck her. “That’s what it’s doing,” she muttered conclusively. “What w-what’s doing?” Hector demanded. “What are you thinking, Adira?” Edmund inquired. “The Moonstone - Moondrop has augmented his blood into some kind of adhesive,” Adira explained, looking up at the king. “It’s meant to hold the black rocks in place to form armor.” She lifted Hector’s arm slightly for emphasis, bending his elbow a little to make sure he wasn’t hurt by the action. “That’s why it made sure Hector was coated before the rocks even broke his skin. And if their emergence causes him to bleed, that means more adhesive for a stronger stick,” she explained. Hector’s face creased with confusion.

“Arm…wh-why armor?” he asked, sounding more out of breath with every word. “Well, the Moondrop probably doesn’t want its new home to be destroyed as easily as the last one,” Edmund reminded them uneasily. Hector’s eyes went wide and he shrieked, “NO!” He pulled his arm out of Adira’s hold once more and cradled it to his chest, turning onto his right side and curling in on himself. “No-no-no-no-no!” he whimpered in despair. This time it sounded as though he was truly starting to cry. “Make it stop! Give it the fucking Sundrop, not me!” he begged. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” “Hector I swear on the house of my father I will find a way to reverse this, but it isn’t going to happen right now,” Adira affirmed, even as her stomach trembled from the weight of what she knew was about to take place. “You have to trust us, and you cannot fight what the Moondrop is doing.” Hector simply lay curled on the floor for several moments, panting heavily and making distressed murmuring noises. Then his body tensed and he let out a groan. “Not again, not again-not again-not again-”

“Give me your hand,” Adira instructed gently, holding her own near Hector’s bowed head. “Let me keep your arm off the floor.” Shaking, not looking up at her, Hector slowly peeled his left arm from his body and rested his hand in hers. Adira gripped said hand and pulled it closer to herself, extending his arm just enough to be sure that the forthcoming black rocks wouldn’t come in contact with any other part of his body. Hector spasmed momentarily, and then the tips of fresh black rocks sprouted from the blood-adhesive coating his arm. Adira set her mouth in a firm line, but couldn’t completely hide her grimace. She watched the same destructive force that had torn apart her kingdom push itself through her brother’s flesh - while he was still alive to feel the pain. Based on the sounds Hector made, he was groaning and growling through it with gritted teeth. His left hand tightened around hers in a death-like grip. His right hand dug into the black rock floor with curled fingers, scratching desperately. The new spikes of black rock reached a satisfactory length relatively quickly, and after a moment’s pause, laid flat against Hector’s forearm. He released a loud sigh of relief, then heaved for air as his left arm oozed and dripped for several seconds. Finally the flat shards melded into a single, unbroken layer, and Adira gently rested Hector’s arm on the ground. She let him lay still, breathing heavily with his head bowed, and studied his goop-covered body to figure out the best way to proceed. “Do your feet hurt from sweating too?” she finally asked. Hector panted for several seconds before replying.

“Yes…why?”

“We should get your boots off then. The black rocks will easily tear through them, but any scraps of leather that get caught between you and the armor might hinder it from conforming properly,” Adira advised.

“By that logic, should we strip him entirely?” Edmund asked. Adira shook her head. “His tunic and leggings are thin enough not to cause problems, probably his socks too,” she replied. “And if we remove his clothes we’ll probably remove a significant portion of the adhesive, which his heart will have to work even harder to replace.” She fully believed Hector’s clothing wouldn’t be a hindrance to his future armor. She also knew Hector had a deeply ingrained discomfort with being seen naked that rivaled her aversion to touch. She could hear the relief in her brother’s panting immediately after her declaration that he would only be losing his boots. Addressing him once more, she said, “Hector, I’m going to remove your belt and garter so they don’t get destroyed or cause problems. I need you to roll onto your back so I can cut the garter off cleanly.” “...You said…save it,” he wheezed, lifting his head to give her a confused look. “We can mend it much easier if it stays in one piece,” Adira elaborated gently. Hector thought over her logic for a moment, before nodding dazedly. Adira took note of how dizzy and clumsy he was when simply rolling himself over. True to his prediction, he lay soaked and surrounded by a pool of his augmented blood, and the loss of bodily fluid was starting to take its toll on him. “Edmund and I will be quick,” Adira said as she drew a knife from her boot and slid her other hand beneath Hector’s garter. She looked up at Edmund and gave him a short nod, which he returned. “If you feel another wave of the rocks coming, tell us immediately,” she instructed as she positioned her blade beneath the garter, holding its sharpened edge against the accessory.

“‘Kay,” Hector moaned uncomfortably, his arms resting limply by his sides. Edmund deftly slid the knight’s boots off as Adira cut through his garter and pulled it off his thigh. “Has your heart rate slowed?” she asked as she slid the knife back into her boot and set the accessory aside. She then grabbed the belt around his waist. Hector, with his eyes closed, took a deep breath and weakly muttered, “No.” Adira nervously looked down at his feet. It was almost impossible to tell he was even wearing socks. His tunic and leggings had nearly disappeared beneath the ever-thickening layer of blood-adhesive as well. “He can’t keep losing blood at this rate,” she grumbled to herself as she undid his belt, slathering her hands in the glowing substance as a result. “Sister,” Hector grunted nervously as she pulled it off. After setting the belt aside, she turned back to make eye contact with him. “Please…this…is a dream?” he begged weakly. His normally luminous eyes were dim, while the glow of his magically augmented blood seemed brighter than a few minutes prior. Adira’s expression dropped sadly, and she gently pressed her soiled fist into her brother’s limp, open palm. “I’m afraid this is very real, tam'muḍu,” she replied. As the reality of the situation fully gripped him, Hector’s chest and shoulders began to heave once more. His eyes shut tightly and he started shaking ten times worse than before, pulling his hand away from his sister’s. He started whimpering in the manner his bearcats did, hugging himself and murmuring, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” “Hector, you don’t need to apologize,” Adira insisted gently. “You did your job as well as you could. I’m the one who - I should have…” she trailed off. She should have what?

Should she have abandoned her quest for the Sundrop upon discovering it inhabited the body of a foreign princess? Should she have chosen another route through the Southern Mountains, avoiding a confrontation with Hector entirely? Could she have been more careful and not unleashed the homeless power of the Moonstone on her own brother? Adira found herself locking eyes with Hector once more, knowing what he deserved to hear, but unable to pinpoint why he deserved it from her.

“I…” Hector broke the staring match, grinding his teeth and pushing his head back with a loud moan. Letting go of the moment, Adira turned to see if she could pinpoint where the rocks would appear next. Edmund set his hands on Hector’s ankles in preparation, but Adira waved her hand disapprovingly. “Let him move, or do whatever he needs to,” she instructed. “We have no way of knowing where the rocks-” Hector’s moaning became significantly louder and he started scratching at the floor with both hands. Edmund pulled his own hands away just as new black spikes began emerging just above Hector’s ankles and just below his knees. These were significantly larger than the ones from his arms. Twin armies of miniature spikes also erupted over his feet, completing their mission of coverage surprisingly fast and forming what looked like a type of shoe. Hector attempted to bend his knees so his feet could rest flat on the floor, his teeth gritted and his every exhale punctuated with a pained grunt. Adira eyed the spikes that would eventually cover his shins and calves as they extended out of his body. “He’s not strong enough to keep his legs up,” she declared. “Can you support him without getting stabbed?” she asked, glancing at Edmund.

The king nodded and placed his hands behind both of Hector’s knees, careful to not touch the emerging black rocks while bending his legs so his feet laid flat on the floor. These bigger spikes were causing noticeable bleeding, making the section of adhesive between them impressively thick and causing the pool beneath Hector’s legs to spread a bit faster. Adira felt a pinprick of relief once they laid flat against his shins and calves. That was instantly snuffed, however, as a new ring of spikes began pushing free just above Hector’s knees, while his lower legs still had oozing, dripping seams. Then her heart gave a nervous shudder as a second ring of spikes erupted above the first, and then a third, starting a new pattern that was directed towards Hector’s upper body. Hector began wailing open-mouthed, fingers curled and nails digging into the floor as his arms went rigid. Not seeing an opposing ring of spikes emerge closer to his hips, Adira assumed the black rocks were now on a course that would end near her brother’s head. And that would require some repositioning. “Lift him - off the ground!” she commanded. “They’re not going to stop!” She turned away from Edmund’s confused face and slid her hands beneath Hector’s lower back. “What are you doing?!” Hector demanded through his wailing. “Making sure there’s space between you and the ground,” Adira replied, practically shouting over the sounds of her brother’s pain. “We’ll hold you up until your legs are done, and then put you back down, okay?” she explained, pulling up so that Hector’s hips and lower back were suspended. Edmund held his knees even higher. The black rock spikes erupting over his thighs were much shorter and wider than the ones from his lower legs, yet they caused just as much bleeding. Hector’s legs twitched and spasmed as he vented his pain, feet flopping against Edmund’s diaphragm. His knees remained untouched by the rocks, merely slathered with the glowing blood-adhesive. “Did the seams on his lower legs close up?” Adira asked loudly, focused on keeping her brother partially suspended in the air.

“They did,” Edmund confirmed equally loudly. “Good,” Adira replied. Once Hector’s legs were covered hip to toe by a flattened layer of the black rocks, she instructed Edmund to gently put him back down, moving in tandem with the king to limit her brother’s discomfort. Hector’s wailing was finally reduced to animalistic whimpering and heavy, ragged breaths. He lay with all four limbs splayed on the ground for a few moments, upper legs oozing from their still-open seams. Hector’s sweat-drenched head flopped in Adira’s direction, and he gazed up at her through unfocused eyes. “You…s-said-” His eyes then widened and he sloppily slapped both hands to his abdomen, gripping it desperately. “Stop! Stop-stop-stop PLEASE!” Realizing his un-armored hands were going to be impaled, Adira did the one thing she really didn’t want to do in this situation. She grabbed his forearms and lifted his hands off his stomach, holding firm as he struggled to escape her grip. “LEMME’-!” he demanded, then cut himself off with a strangled, high-pitched scream, louder than any war cry she’d heard him emit on the battlefield. The shards of black rock that emerged to cover his abdomen were not long or spiked. They were wide, short, and round, akin to scales, and maybe a quarter of Adira’s palm in size. Their sharp edges gleamed like miniature chakrams as they broke through the blood-adhesive coating Hector’s belly, traveling in two opposite directions from the centerline of his body. Adira grimaced, seeing tears spill out of her brother’s eyes and pour down his face, mingling with the sweat dripping from his forehead. He ripped his right arm free and raked his nails across his stomach in an attempt to claw the “scales” from his skin. Adira quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away, letting his left arm slide through her grip before tightening around his other wrist. Hector twisted and thrashed as the black rock scales blossomed over his torso, covering his stomach, pelvis, and chest and leaving pencil thin seams between them. No matter how hard he tried to yank his hands free, Adira refused to let go. The black rocks were relentless, spraying droplets of the glowing, blue blood-adhesive to pepper both their hands and Adira’s arm guards as they appeared, before laying flat to Hector’s form. If Hector’s fingers were trapped beneath his new armor, then…well, Adira didn’t know what would happen then. She was determined not to find out, no matter how many tears she had to watch him cry or how disturbed his screaming and sobbing became. The only thing that could possibly be worse than watching her brother be adapted to the Moondrop’s liking - against his will - would be watching that modification process go wrong. Hector tried pulling his wrists close to his mouth so he could sink his fangs into her hands, but Adira shifted and made sure he bit down on her forearm guards instead. He tried in vain to twist his neck and throw her arms aside, biting down multiple times in search of a promising grip while continuing to scream his lungs out. Adira simply shook him off each time. When she saw the black rock scales progress over his shoulders and around his sides, she let him latch onto her arm properly. Using it as a third anchor point, Adira began shuffling backwards on her knees and pulled Hector towards herself, rolling him onto his belly. “Get his legs!”

At her demand, Edmund carefully grabbed Hector’s left leg and lifted it over his right leg, pushing gently against the man’s lower back as he did so. Adira waited until Hector was completely overturned to release his wrists and pull her arm from his mouth. Once he was freed from both their grips, Hector pushed himself up into a half-plank, shaking on his elbows and forearms, before falling flat on the floor. He was still screaming, sobbing audibly with his fists clenched by his head, which was turned to face Adira. The woman’s gaze flicked between his tear streaked face and the black rock scales that washed over his back and shoulders. They even extended down to cover his upper arms, stopping just above his elbows. The two waves met at his spine and merged together, and at last, the Moondrop was satisfied.

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