#i really tried thinking about what the intention behind each design decision was and how I can keep that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magicbystarlight · 3 years ago

Text

One For Sorrow, Two For Joy - Part Three

Masterlist, Part One

Part Three of Eighteen

Summary: For the last three years, you’ve been working a repetitive Ministry job and wrapped your life around an unhappy relationship. After realizing how empty your life has become, you leave everything behind and stumbles across an unlikely job for you - Office Manager for Weaselys’ Wizard Wheezes. There you wish to find something you lost in the war: hope.

Word Count: 3632

Warnings: 18+, Fluff. Like sitting on a cloud kind of fluff. Brief mention of vomiting. Minors DNI.

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant

Two days later, you were back in the office. It was a pleasant surprise to find that where there had once been a single desk, there were now two. Before you even sat down, George strolled into the office with a rather large box. He hadn't shaven or gotten a haircut yet, but at least he was here.

"What is that?" you asked, peering in to see what looked to be an assortment of junk.

"This," he said, plopping the box down with a thud, "is all the stuff Fred and I had been working on. Most of them need some work, but they’re all rather genius."

He pulled out a purple box that resembled a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "These are all the worst possible flavors you could imagine. Worse even. And this," he said, holding up a muggle whoopee cushion, "will have you farting uncontrollably for an hour."

He continued, pulling out a never-ending stream of joke items. With an infectious smile he told you what each object did - some better than others. The energy he radiated was much like it was in Hogwarts, though there was still a pang in his voice whenever he said his brother's name

As he set down a faux diamond necklace, he looked at you expectantly. "So, what do you think?"

"I think you have a lot of great options to choose from," you said honestly.

He cocked his head. "What do you mean 'you'? We're doing this together, aren't we?"

You were taken aback. He wanted your help? "Really?"

"Didn't you want to make more decisions? Well, here's your first one. Which one of these amazing ideas will save my shop from financial ruin and keep you happily employed?" He gestured grandly to the laid out projects.

You looked carefully at the options, contemplating which one would garner the most attention and therefore the most sales.

"Well?” he prodded.

You waved him off. "Shush. I'm thinking."

Most were great products, but individually none would be able to bring in quite the attention the shop needed. But maybe a set would. You started pulling out items with a similar theme: muggle inspired. The whoopee cushion, a shocking quill, self-tying trip laces, a fake spider, and a wizard's guide to the best jokes and insults.

"A joke box?" George asked, looking over the items.

"One item wouldn't be big enough for what we need. By creating a collection of sorts, we can do a big marketing campaign for it and bring in more money per sale. We want a lot of fanfare, a lot of interest."

George looked unsure. "It's gonna take more time than I was planning. Some of these things don't work properly yet, and then we have to mass produce them plus come up with a design for the box..." he said, more to himself than you.

"Then we're wasting time thinking about it! If we start now, do you think we can have it ready by mid-December?"

He nodded. "If we really push it, maybe even early December. It'll be a load of work but, if I recall correctly, you’ve got a bit of experience with this kind of stuff."

You smiled widely, excited. "Which one should I test first?"

You enthusiastically tried them all. Some of them didn't work right. The whoopee cushion didn't make you fart for an hour, it made you vomit instead. Which, while hilarious for George to watch, wasn't the intention of the product and needed to be fixed. It took some trial and error, but eventually, you got it right.

Within a few days and many extra hours, you’d managed to get all the products working perfectly. It had all been going smoothly.

Then you got stuck on figuring out a name and design for the box. Any time either of you mentioned an idea, it was dismissed quickly. Not because the names or designs were bad, but because they didn't feel quite right. It got so bad, that you decided to put it on the back burner and instead focused on mass producing the items.

"So how many should we actually make?" you asked.

He contemplated for a moment, scrunching his still unshaven face. "A hundred?"

"Sounds good. We can always do more if people show a lot of interest."

George did something he had been doing a lot recently: he smiled. "You know, I never would have expected you to be as fun as you are."

"What?"

He held up his hands as if surrendering. "It's not a bad thing! I'm just saying, you know, you seemed a little...uh, conventional?"

You laughed. "Is that a nice way of saying you thought I was boring?"

He shook his head, laughing as well. "No, not boring. Just not one to partake in, uh, pranks and whatnot. You know, other than, uh, the DA, I don't think I ever saw you in detention. Pretty sure I only ever saw you in the library. A typical Ravenclaw, ya know?"

"Well, first off, there is no typical Ravenclaw. It’s a bunch of hyper focused yet easily distracted kids who got assignments done through late night cram sessions because they’d spent their time doing anything but the assignment,” you teased. “Yeah, I may have been a bit of a stick in the mud, but I was also friends with Sarah and that earned me plenty of detentions."

He laughed. "Now Sarah I remember being absolutely chaotic compared to you. You two were practically opposites." Looking back down at the parchment he'd be writing on, his smile weakened. "I was, um, sorry to hear about her."

Your own smile faltered. "Yeah. I was too."

“Can’t imagine what you must have thought of Fred and I,” he said, changing the subject.

Your lips tugged up again at the memories of the twins. “Always thought the two of you were incredible. A tad annoying during exam time, sure, but I knew you were more than just a couple troublemakers. Your pranks were always bloody genius.”

His face morphed into a wicked smirk. "More than just a couple of troublemakers, eh? You know, if you were in love with me, you could just say so."

"Oy! Shove off!" you yelled, throwing a non-charmed whoopee cushion at his head that he easily ducked. I tried to hide my smile and failed terribly. "Thanks for such a touching moment!"

An idea struck you that night. You couldn’t decide if it was a great or horrible idea, but it was one that wouldn’t shake itself from your mind. You didn’t want to share it with George yet and were lucky enough to have the next couple days off, but there was something you needed that you could only get from a Weasley.

You knocked once on the blue door of the quaint little house before Harry Potter answered the door– blurry-eyed and with a cup of coffee. It had been a while since we had seen each other, but recognition flashed across his face. "Oh, uh, good morning."

"Mornin' Harry. Is, uh, is Ginny home?"

"Um, yeah, one moment. Hey Gin? It's for you!"

Harry gestured for you to come in with Ginny bounding down the stairs behind him. She was wearing her Quidditch robes for the Holyhead Harpies. Her face morphed into terror as she saw you. "What did he do now?"

"Oh no! Nothing," you laughed. "He has been on his best behavior, I swear. I actually came to ask for a favor."

Ginny raised her eyebrow quizzically as you explained what you needed, but agreed to help nonetheless. "Can I ask what it is for?" she asked as she pulled out a rare solo photograph of Fred.

You shook your head. "Not yet. I want George to see it first and, if it goes well, we'll go from there.” You glanced down at the photo and saw an issue with the picture. "Umm, Ginny, I think this is George."

She scrunched up her face as she studied the photo, before turning it over. George Weasley was written on the back in neat cursive. "Wow, yeah, you're right. Here," she pulled out another, nearly identical photo, "this is the one." She flipped it over where it had Fred's name written. "Mum couldn't even tell them apart half the time."

With a rushed goodbye and thanks to her and a confused Harry, you left and Apparated back to your own tiny apartment. And there you worked for several hours trying to find the best way to incorporate Fred's photo into the design. It wasn't until the very late hours of the same night that you were happy with what you had created, thinking it would do justice to Fred and his memory. Hopefully, George would see it the same way.

After another sleepless night, you found yourself nervously standing on the doorstep of George's loft again. It took a single knock for the door to open. Only the man who greeted you looked vastly different from the one you had seen a couple of days prior.

"You got a haircut," you stated dumbly.

"And I shaved," he said, rubbing his now bare chin.

He looked like the George you remembered from six years before, the one who had given the metaphorical middle finger to Umbridge as he rode out on his broomstick with his brother in an array of fireworks. If it weren't for his missing ear, he'd be nearly identical to his eighteen year old self. "You alright there?"

"Oh, um, yeah. Sorry, it was just a shock to see you not look like a hermit."

"Dazzled you, did I? Can't say I blame you, I am a handsome bloke," he said with a cocky grin.

You rolled your eyes and pushed past him, your heart racing because of how nervous you were and nothing more. His apartment smelled of citrus and all the cobwebs had vanished. There even seemed to be more light as you sat down at his table in the kitchen. The single piece of toast you had come to despise had been replaced by a half eaten plate of sausage and egg.

"Not that I don't enjoy your company," he started, sitting back down in front of his plate, "but aren't you supposed to be relaxing on a day off?"

"Technically, yes, but, I, um, I had an idea for the, um, for the box, and I wanted to show you." You placed the wrapped box on the table, fingers drumming against it.

He excitedly reached for it, but you pulled it just out of reach. He shot you a questioning look.

"Before you look at it, I, um, I need you to remember that this, this isn't something we have to do. This is only a suggestion. If you don't like it, I'll just, I'll just drop it. Okay? It is totally up to you."

"Okay," he said slowly. You reluctantly pushed the box towards him, biting your finger as he unwrapped it. Seconds felt like hours as you watched him take in the whole design. On the top, Fred smiled and waved before bending over in laughter. In gold was written "Fred's Fantastic Funbox" with an all purple backdrop. He stared at his brother and your heart sank, afraid you had just undone all the work he had accomplished recently. "Where did you get the picture?"

"Ginny gave it to me, but she had no idea what I was going to use it for. No idea at all. It was all me, please don't be upset with her. She just did me a favour."

"It's- it it's, just- I -" There were tears forming in his eyes.

You braced for the backlash. To be fired. To be kicked out. To lose all the progress you and George had made.

"I love it." Before you could feel the impact of his words, George had come around the table and wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug. "It's amazing. Thank you." He pulled back, face stained with tears, but still with a smile on his face. "I know why I’m crying but why are you crying?" he asked as he ran his thumb across my cheek where your own tears had began to fall

"Relief. I was worried you wouldn't like it. Or worse."

He embraced you again, resting his chin on your head. "I love it. I really do. You have no idea how much it means to me. Honestly, Fred would have created a similar design for himself. The chap thought quite highly of himself."

You laughed into his chest, happy that you hadn't rebroken him. You stayed that way for a moment or two longer, before pulling away and wiping your wet face with the sleeve of your sweater. "So, are you ready to get started?"

"Do you have no life, woman?" he chuckled. "It's your day off, you already spent your other day off working, apparently. Do you Ravenclaws ever have any fun?"

"Work is fun, George. At least, my work is."

He rolled his eyes. "You're only saying that because I'm your boss. But fine, you've convinced me. We'll get started, but only if you agree to take a vacation after all this is finished."

The day flew by quickly and you actually managed to get a majority of the boxes done and had gotten to experiment with the placement of the products until you were both happy with it.

"Bollocks," George shouted, "What time is it?"

You stared at your watch until your brain understood the numbers. "A quarter till six."

He got up hurriedly, running his hand through his short hair. "I'm late. Supposed to be at the Burrow fifteen minutes ago. Mum's gonna kill me. We're having a family dinner." He fumbled around, putting on his coat and scarf before checking his reflection in the mirror on the door. Just as suddenly as he had gotten up, he froze and spun to face you. "Come with me."

"What?" you asked.

"Come with me!"

"To your family dinner?"

"Yes! Mum can't be mad at me if I bring a guest, she'll be too busy fussing over you."

"I don't know George, I don't like imposing on other people."

"It's not imposing, Mum loves fussing over people. That's why she had seven of us. The woman is truly obsessed. Besides, Mum will talk my ear off if you don't go. I've only got one ear left and you wouldn't want me to be some earless fool, would you? Besides, we can show everyone what we've been working on."

"Everyone?"

"Well not everyone, Charlie is in Romania, and Bill and Fleur took the girls to visit Fleur's family. It's really just us famous ones and Percy." He noticed that you didn't look convinced and got on his knees. "Please?"

You sighed. "Fine, but we've got to stop by my flat first."

Ten minutes later and the two of you Apparated just outside the boundary of Burrow with a loud pop. "What kind of person keeps a stash of gifts in their apartment?" George questioned as he released your hand and began walking towards the mismatch home.

"A prepared one!"

He shook his head. "The chocolates I get, everyone loves chocolates. But the muggle quills? What witch has a load of those lying about?"

"They're called pens, George. And they happen to be a lot less hassle than ink pots and quills, I'm still amazed that we haven't accepted such useful items into our daily lives. In fact, we could probably use these at the office."

He didn't seem convinced, but any reply was cut off by his sister who had stepped out of the front door. "George! 'Bout time you got here! Mum's upset and is holding dinner hostage. Ron's having a—oh, hi."

You gave a little wave. "Hey, Ginny."

Ginny gave her brother an exasperated look as if she knew exactly why he had brought you along. She said nothing as you followed her. Inside you were greeted by an overly cluttered, but homey kitchen where a red-haired woman waved her wand around several different pots and pans.

"Is it George? George Gideon Weasley! Do you have any sense of punctuality? Your family has been waiting for you!" She turned around, and the anger that had been on her face seemed to melt away. Her voice was soft as she said, "You cut your hair." She ran a hand over his hair with tears in her eyes.

"Mum," he said tenderly, "you shouldn't cry in front of guests." She looked around until her tearful eyes landed on you, quickly wiping them. "This is the new shopkeeper we've been telling you about. Also the reason I'm late. She's been working me to the bone!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, my dear, I didn't see you there!" She sniffled a little as she greeted you.

"I should be apologizing to you, Mrs. Weasley. I'm afraid George is right about being late. But hopefully a box of chocolate will make it up to you?"

"How thoughtful! Thank you, my dear. It's wonderful to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you. Well, come, come. We're eating in the backyard tonight."

She had Ginny lead us out to where you could see Harry, Ron, Hermione, Percy, and another very familiar face sitting at a long table. "Arthur!" you shouted happily, leaving George behind to greet your old boss.

He responded in kind, getting up from the table to hug you. "I heard you got the job!"

"I did, yes! Thank you for letting me know about it, it's been quite an experience. Oh, and these are for you. I thought you might be running low."

He happily took the pens and ushered you to take the seat next to him with a very confused George following behind. Mrs. Weasley came out with several plates floating behind her. She swished her wand and all the ones holding food landed neatly on the table, while the empty plates set themselves in front of each occupied chair.

She encouraged everyone to fill their plates and chatter filled the air as everyone piled mounds of it onto their plate. Percy sat across from you and you exchanged a few pleasantries. You hadn't really worked with Percy, but you saw each other from time to time during your tenure within the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects at the Ministry.

He mentioned how Mafalda Hopkirk's office had once again "mysteriously" housed a blizzard and you couldn't help but laugh at the memory of her red faced tantrum she had during previous office blizzards. As you looked over to George, he gave you a questioning look.

"What?" you asked.

"I knew you worked at the Ministry, but I never realized you worked with...my family." He seemed weirded out by the thought.

"I didn't just work with them," you said.

George had a look of terror. "You didn't date Percy, did you?"

You laughed, "No, no, no. I worked for your dad until he moved back to Muggle Artifacts. He was the one who hired me."

"If it hadn't been for McLaggen, I think I would have had a fair shot, though!" Percy said defensively, pointing his fork at his brother.

You shifted slightly in your seat. "'Course you would have, but everything worked out for the best, didn't it? You and Audrey make the cutest couple. Any plans on popping the question soon?" He went into great detail about the ring he had bought and how he was planning on proposing on Christmas.

"You know, McLaggen actually came by my office the other day. Didn't seem to want anything, just kept asking about work and the family," Arthur said, interrupting Percy mid-sentence.

"Did he?" you asked politely, poking at the carrots on your plate.

"Yes, it was quite strange."

"Whad's in de box," Ron interrupted, food still crammed into his mouth and nose pointing in your direction.

"Ronald," Hermione and Mrs. Weasley scolded in union.

George had pulled out your box, which he had brought wrapped and shrunk to fit in his pocket. "This, dear brother, is what we've been working on for the past couple of weeks. A new product. Or products, I should say."

"You've made something new?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her eyes wide in shock.

He nodded proudly. "Not entirely new. Fred and I had been working on 'em, but now we've finished them and made a new collection. Or she did, really. It was all her idea. She even designed the box and named it." George looked down at you, pride gleaming in his eyes.

"Let's see it, then!" Ron said.

"Hold on, Ronikins," he tisked. "I think Mum should be the one to open it." He moved around the table to where his mum sat, placing the wrapped box in front of her.

She looked a little taken aback that he wanted her to open it, probably remembering some not so pleasant memories of the twins' products, but, as he placed a hand on her shoulder, she relaxed and unwrapped the box.

Her reaction to the box was much like George's had been, just much more tearful. She was practically sobbing as she said how much she loved it and how thoughtful it was. She practically lunged out of her seat to embrace George.

"It wasn't me, Mum. It was all her, she surprised me with it this morning."

Within the blink of an eye, Mrs. Weasley had made her way around the table and thrown her arms around your neck. "Oh it's beautiful. Thank you, dear."

Next Part

#george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george wealsey x reader #george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #the burrow #harry potter fanfiction #weasley wizard wheezes

188 notes · View notes

flowerwrites06 · 4 years ago

Text

break my mind’s eye V — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 9k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

The new routine of embedding her older brother into their lives again became somewhat casual in a fortnight. Though the presence of their ‘guest’ now created a significant rift between the new couple especially when it came to certain less than elegant activities. Not that they did not try of course.

One week into the modified living condition, Jungkook and Belle had been chatting at the bar which now mysteriously had an abnormally good stock of fruit juice compared to actual alcohol. A few instances where the drug lord would pull out a glass of cloudy apple juice creating some suspicious looks from his clients. Apparently Master Jeon was now going on a cleanse from alcohol for a while to prolong his rule over the empire.

The innocent conversation turned to absentminded touches, fingers intertwining and standing dangerously close together so Jungkook could smell her coconut shampoo. One peck turned to a deeper kiss and completely by mistake, Belle jumped on the counter with her now slightly favourite crime lord between her legs, his rough hand sneaking underneath her skirt and his lips nibbling on her neck.

Of course this was the perfect time for Taehyung to decide for a walk finding a criminal fooling around with his little sister while she giggled.

Belle practically flew off the counter almost twisting Jungkooks’ hand and simply put, the two decided to keep it more on the down low next time.

Another week passed and the cartel had been going through some brewing tension with the authorities after a new mayor was elected. Which meant Jungkook barely showed up in the bedroom to sleep and when he did come to the bedroom, it was to work more at the study table.

Belle on the other hand now sat in the designing level of Madame Saito with her large glasses, a red sweater dress to match the confusing mixture of cool and warm. Long hair tied up in a loose bun that lobbed to the side a little when she lowered her head to focus on the little details of the blue hydrangea pattern across white silk.

She approved Seokjins’ offer of becoming his designer for the Sangria House so they could conjoin the Spring Line with the angels’ attire. As much as it ignited a tiny hint of suspicion on the owners’ intentions, Saito advised that it was a powerful business decision. Being a designer of one of the biggest establishments in the city could boost her reputation as a sole businesswoman. Instead of just being Jeon Jungkooks’ fiancée or Saitos’ protégé.

Most of the Spring Line designs were already displayed on mannequins behind her, few of them approved for the runway while others still needed more detailing.

Her thumb already pricked a few times but she grew a good resistance for it at this point carefully creating gradients on the embroidered flowers. Belle quickly learned the importance of clothes in the Sangria House. Even though it was kind of ironic considering the type of establishment.

Angels wearing white fabric were meant to be the ones still in ‘training’, red meant available for entertainment both casual or carnal, lavender represented angels who were trained in more daring acts for entertainment especially ones that were erotic. Then there were the gold angels; extremely qualified in all kinds of entertainment but were already ‘taken’. They were married to someone but still had to entertain customers for a living income. If a customer wanted to spend more intimate time with this angel, it would take the price of a mansion which only one or two clients have ever really paid.

After hearing all this, Belle felt a little silly just calling it a brothel considering how much detail went into orchestrating the whole system down to their clothes.

“Belle!”

Her hand immediately stilled staring up at the figure in a vibrant yellow pantsuit walking towards the working table.

Saitos’ eyes flickered down to the sewing pattern, a smile creeping on her red lips. “I thought you said you weren’t good at embroidery.”

The younger female chuckled nervously poking the needle into the fabric. “Not as good as how you do it.”

“I was forced to sew since I was seven.” She laughed. “Don’t let my younger self being oppressed by toxic femininity stop you from believing you can’t do it now.” She joked, patting her shoulder lightly with her gaze focused on the pattern. “All you need to do is just cut out little loose threads.” Finger gently pointed towards the little threads poking out of the design. “Always make sure it’s smooth. Sometimes when a few parts are imperfect, you can add little extra pieces over top that match the shade of the embroidery design.”

Belle nodded, eyes following wherever Saitos’ finger moved.

Then the senior designer stopped herself. “Oh! Mrs. Jeon is waiting downstairs, she has some news about your engagement.” She straightened up, fixing her blazer before gesturing over to the stairs.

Her words took a moment to sink into her mind before she pulled the hair band out of her bun and tried to make it look presentable again. Glasses placed carefully on the table while the work in progress now supervised by Saito.

Almost rushing down the stairs, Belle came face to face with the woman who wore a body hugging lavender midi skirt and a matching blazer. A smile quickly stretched across her red lips as Boyoung held onto her hands excitedly.

“I’m sorry to disturb you during work but I got too excited.” She giggled, holding up her left hand to admire the ring wrapped around it as if she had never seen it before. “It’s about the wedding.”

Heart raced against her ribcages but Belle tried to keep her expressions calm. “What—what about the wedding?”

“The date, of course!” Boyoung laughed, swinging their arms again. “See we have been saving for Jungkooks’ wedding since his nineteenth birthday. Twenty one is the traditional age to marry in our family.”

Explained the constant suitors Jungkook had to tolerate. Something Belle could relate to. Her parents had been talking about her marriage since she was thirteen because it was a good way for them to gain money. Or to get rid of her. Either way she found herself having one big thing in common with the man. “That’s very nice of you.” Nice was not the proper word Belle wanted to use but Boyoung had proved to the nicest person she met in this new world. She was not going to ruin that safety.

She nodded in acknowledgement. “Since we have more than enough money saved up for the event. I wanted to tell you that we could have the wedding in a month.”

Blood chilled in her whole body struggling to keep her smile up to such a point where it was just her lips curled up while her eyes widened a little. “A month?” She chuckled nervously.

“I know it seems a little quick…” Boyoung admitted while lowering her head for a split second.

Quick was one way to describe a thousand crates dropping right on top of you while you were just working on a pretty dress.

“But it’s good to keep up with tradition.” She nodded mostly to herself, quickly giving her a bright smile like she forced it out of her after a mental pep talk. “And you two already love for each other so it shouldn’t be too hard to fathom.”

Love.

That fucking word again. Everything just came crashing back to her as the ring felt like it was suffocating her finger until it fell off. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t real… those three words swirled around in her mind as she watched the joyful smile adorn Jungkooks’ aunt. It was a game…a deal to protect her family and her own life.

Strange how the two were thinking about the same thing but one had a grey cloud and the other had sunshine.

“Of course.” Belle smiled again a little weakly but the older females’ excitement seemed to mask any suspicion. Admittedly, sparks of interest did fly between the fresh new pair but truthfully it never moved deeper than a sexual attraction. They stopped being rude to each other and grew quite successful in pretending to be a happy engaged couple. Behind closed doors, there were smiles, maybe a little flutter in her belly whenever she saw him but—love?

No.

Love was sacrificing her entire chance at a proper relationship with a happy marriage and children so she could protect Taehyung. What Belle and Jungkook had was not love itself but a consequence of loving someone far too much to lose them.

With that thought, her pounding heart hardened. This was all for the best. The deal is simple. Marry Jungkook and be the perfect wife while Taehyung is given all the resources to recover back to a better version of himself again. What was the point of worrying so much about marriage anyway? Her career showed so much potential, Belle probably would have ended up a single business woman like Saito.

To put it more accurately, this deal was perfect. No one pressured her about marriage, Taehyung was healing and her career moved smoothly.

“So we’ll do it at my mansion then, yes?”

Boyoungs’ voice breaking into the barrier of her thoughts pulled Belle back into reality and she instinctively gave the older another grin. “Yes…your mansion is beautiful, Mrs. Jeon.” She nodded. “It’s the—perfect place for a wedding.” Perfection seemed to be all she could gain at this point.

“You’ve made a desperate aunt very happy.” She joked, patting her cheek. “Now I’ve kept you away from work long enough, we’ll talk soon.”

Belle led the woman across the boutique to the exit where her car awaited, allowing the cool air to ease some of her slightly heated anxiety.

She stood politely in front of the vehicle watching Boyoung climb inside before the driver closed it gently. Though her attention flickered over to something moving on the other side of the street where the park was. Usually filled with children running around, people jogging but her focus directed more towards the bushes fencing the area.

For a quick moment a more sensible side assumed it may have been an animal of some sort merely rustling between the branches.

Though the side that was fully aware of the new gaze on her after the engagement knew better. Animals did not wear black coats neither did they hold cameras pointing right in her direction while trying to look inconspicuous in nature.

At some point Belle suspected the photographer saw her looking into the camera because she saw the figure rush to keep themselves hidden again.

Sighing, the girl gave one quick smile to Boyoung before the car drove away and she tried to fix her attention on her work again.

Coffee stained papers flipped and dropped either on the other side of the crowded table or on the floor. Phone rung at some corner constantly while not a single employee had a minute without running around somewhere leaving Namjoon s’ head spinning. On his right were a pile of cases he should be doing according to the captain who insisted that vandals and petty theft was more his specialty. Granted the man could not blame her considering his biggest undercover case went downhill with no leads whatsoever leaving him to be the runt of his precinct for the past year.

He kept a decent aura of respect however, no one really wanted to piss off someone who had been personally trained to cut off important parts in a body.

Taking a sip of his possible fifth cup of coffee, his pile of useless cases forgotten on the side while he stared at the recent pictures sent to him. A few years had already passed with this growing ambition towards finding out how to expose the mystery that was the Jeon Cartel. Apparently each associate took some kind of tight fucking oath which prevented anyone from uttering a single secret about them.

The infamous Jeon Jungkook was a master of words. The golden elite of their city. Contributed to around half of the buildings in the city and factories overseas. Donated near millions of dollars to medical and disaster care.

Namjoon had to admit he was good at what he did. That is until the first drug scandal. One of the factories that Jungkook owned was caught manufacturing cocaine and distributing it to Osaka and Hong Kong. Though quickly swept under the rug when the man had two hospitals built under the guise that it was Jungkooks’ personal apology to the city. His undercover mission which he worked on for months destroyed in two days.

Now the man was left with looking at any recent changes. Anything that so much as leaned the slightest towards suspicion caused his ears to prick up and his eyes peeled.

“You know Pornhub exists, right?” Yoongi spoke in his usual gruff tone, sipping on his espresso while watching over Namjoon s’ shoulder at the pictures he was looking at.

The younger male rolled his eyes continuing to observe the photos taken three days ago. A woman wearing a striking red dress conversing and smiling with the second most powerful lady in the city. “It’s Kim Belle.” Namjoon remembered the name on the newspaper article in front of him. “Seems Jeon Jungkook is getting engaged.” He sighed, brows furrowing slightly.

“Okay…” He nodded walking over to his desk right in front of Namjoon s’ desk. “And that’s our problem because…”

“Well it doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s marriage, it almost never makes sense.” Yoongi leaned back on his chair.

Namjoon moved in to try and keep his voice down since anyone who so much as heard him talk about Jungkook started writing out complaints to the captain. “But why now? He’s been an eligible bachelor for years and all of a sudden, an engagement?”

The older male tried to suppress rolling his eyes. “Probably an arranged marriage then.” He shrugged.

“To a fashion designer?” He winced. “What the hell is he going to gain by marrying a fashion designer?”

“Free suits for a life time?” Yoongi smirked but immediately sighed seeing the warning look on Namjoon s’ face. The man had clearly dedicated his entire livelihood to exposing Jungkook which was something he could never understand. He spent most of his days going undercover and being damn good at it too, exposing all kinds of rings. The Jeon Cartel, on the other hand was a hard ice wall to crack. “Look…you’ve been at this for a long time. At this point if you so much as mention Jungkook, the captains’ just going to let you go on the grounds of insanity.”

“But something isn’t right.” Namjoon emphasized desperately wanting anyone to see under that perfect young man façade Jungkook harbored. “You don’t just get engaged to some random girl, that’s social suicide.”

“Social suicide? This isn’t fucking high school.”

“You know what I mean.”

The two men stayed silent letting the ambient noise plunge through their personal atmosphere.

Yoongi mulled over his thoughts for a moment, watching Namjoon look down at the pictures with a defeated sigh. He understood the passion behind exposing someone who was doing a harmful thing under the guise of righteousness. So many powerful heads still needed to be exposed, unfortunately Jungkook was only a newer one. “Let me see the file.” He curled his fingers in and took the thick file onto his own desk when Namjoon handed it to him.

His gaze fixated on the picture of the woman, who looked around about Jungkooks’ age except with a softness to her as opposed to the other mans’ mischief. There were a couple of news articles that Namjoon collected with that same face plastered all over. A couple of them were positive while others were out to scandalize one way or another no matter how stupid it sounded. “So you’ve never seen her with him before?”

Namjoon shook his head. “Not until a little too recently. It’s like she just appeared out of thin air.”

Flipping through the photos, Yoongi came across one where she wore a brown-ish bodycon dress walking into an establishment. “This is a rehabilitation clinic.” His brows furrowed, interest now piqued a little too much for his own liking.

“You think she’s an addict?”

“Hard to tell. Could be anything.” He muttered, eyes on the picture as he took a sip of his now cooled down espresso. “Maybe she’s visiting.”

“There has to be something weird about this, right?” Namjoon gestured towards the file.

Crime lords taking in beautiful, young wives for no reason was not an uncommon trait but usually those leaders would have a reputation of that sort. Jungkook had been a bachelor from what they knew and rarely found himself in any kind of sex or romantic scandal. Something was going on but much like everything else with this man, it was hard to tell what exactly. “Okay don’t tell anyone I said this.” Yoongi almost whispered now leaning in. “But we have a possible drug bust…thanks to our new mayor, we’ve been getting orders left and right to fish out dens.” He stopped himself for a moment letting a trainee walk past them before speaking again. “The one we’re looking at tonight—few of us suspect that it could belong to Jeon.”

Namjoon shifted in his seat as his heart leaped right up to his throat. Finally those words were coming out of someone else’s mouth instead him saying the same thing like a broken record. More people were seeing the truth. “Where is it?”

Yoongi gave him a warning look now. “Joon…”

“Come on, I’m not gonna follow you.”

“Yeah but this is still a secret bust, alright? Even some of the seniors don’t know about it.” His eyes flickered over to the sides where the older officers were sipping coffee at their desks looking at their computer. About two of them actually reading cases while others watching porn. “The mayor wants a full clean-up.” Yoongi whispered again. “And I mean—full.”

“Meaning…” He pointed to his desk but referred to the whole precinct and Yoongi nodded.

“All our jobs are on the line.” He muttered. “Even the captain…but—this could help us be on the mayor’s good side since they’re trusting us already.”

A light hint of excitement tingled down his spine knowing there was a lead now. While Namjoon would have wanted to accompany the team, the older male had the right idea. The captain did not trust him in this mission. He needed to be subtle if he was ever going to feel the satisfaction of seeing Jeon Jungkook behind bars.

Golden rays peeked through the curtains as Belle walked to the vanity with nothing but a crème silk slip and a white robe over top.

The couple along with Taehyung were invited to the Sangria House to celebrate their new business partnership. Apparently the best angels would be readied for their entertainment in the night. Something Belle was not sure she was going to enjoy.

Either way it was always good to look as presentable as possible. The dress code stated that white, red, lavender or gold were not allowed in the establishment for obvious reasons Belle understood now. So with the thought in mind she opted for a deep green velvet dress, a slit for one of her thighs to peek through and one loose strap sleeve that hung off her shoulder smoothly.

The gorgeous dress lay neatly on the large ottoman in the center of the walk-in wardrobe while the woman curled a few undone pieces of her hair.

Deep peach lips and a simple terracotta shaded eye look, Belle briskly made her way downstairs to see how Taehyung was doing with getting ready.

Her older brother had been extremely reluctant in coming to the event but she suggested it would be good to do something other than sitting around. Maybe getting his mind off of any messiness even for a few hours. Still hesitant he silently agreed but Belle had a nagging feeling he was still napping.

Down the stairs as her curls bounced a little in the process, Nana smiled and rushed over to her.

“He’s fine, mistress.” She quickly reassured as they both stopped near the entrance archway.

Belle let out light sigh before chuckling, head lowered for a moment. “Is the suit okay?”

“Very handsome.” She nodded in acknowledgement. “You should be dressed too.”

The younger female hummed before hearing a few voices back and forth as if in argument. Brows furrowed, Belle walked to the other side of the mansion where the second living room was while Nana continued on with her work.

The area was empty but she still heard angered voices coming from the left room. The second living room led two areas. It had a similar design to the first one except instead of a bar, there was another fireplace. Past the couches in the center led to an open archway towards the kitchen on the right while the left was closed; Jungkooks’ home office.

Curiosity and slight concern seeping through her entire body, Belle walked towards the door which in mere minutes opened harshly. A clear air of smoke flowed out into the second living room touching her nostrils and making her wince.

The once angry looking men immediately stopped in their tracks for a moment before waving off the smoke and bowing. “Excuse us, mistress.” One of the older ones acknowledged as they took turns walking past her to the exit. Jongho and another guard led them properly to the door but the womans’ gaze was more on the figure sitting at the chair, rubbing his face.

Entering the office, she closed the door behind her.

His slightly reddened eyes flickered to meet her gaze before lowering his head. “Belle—” Jungkook sniffled, fingers running through messy hair. White shirt a little crumpled, almost half unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It became a usual sight for the man ever since this new election. “Sorry…I don’t usually yell.” He sighed attempting to messily fix up the papers.

Staying silent, feet padded closer to the table and gently took the paperwork in her hands, stacking them neatly with a tap on the edge before placing them back on the surface. “I know. You haven’t slept.”

“Park Chul clearly isn’t planning on sleeping.” Jungkook almost seethed just mentioning the mayors’ name.

Belle moved to stand behind him, hands on his shoulders lightly squeezed the knotted muscles. “That doesn’t mean you stop taking care of yourself.”

He let out a drawling hum, throwing his head back. “You can take care of me.” A soft smile tugged at his lips as her vanilla scented perfume graced his nostrils. For hours Jungkook had been forced to tolerate the tobacco, weed and alcohol, it felt nice to have someone pleasant around him again.

“What if I’m not here?” Another million dollar question that silenced them both for a few minutes. Even the woman grew uncomfortable at how heavy those words were. Their deal was perfect. But what about twenty years from now? Fifty years? What if Jungkook being married didn’t matter anymore?

“You’ll always be here…won’t you?” He stared up at her.

Belle stopped massaging him at this point, mind crowding with unwanted thoughts and unanswered questions. Too much to think about in such little time. “I made a promise.” She smiled. “I’m gonna keep it.” Seemed the best reply in the pile of things she truly wanted to say to him except there was no time to worry themselves over delicate details.

Jungkook chuckled a little under his breath as the vanilla scented goddess now moved to sit on the table in front of him. “Shouldn’t you be dressed by now?”

“I could ask you the same question, Mr. Jeon.” Her eyes flickered up and down his body.

Fingers accidentally pushed her robe aside to let those soft thighs peek out in display, the feeling of it under his pads allowed for a sense of relief to wash any stress down. All she had to do was sit here and Jungkook felt instantly revived. Even the scent of alcohol and tobacco faded away with her presence bringing him nothing but light bliss. “I like this outfit.” He smirked, hand tracing down her leg so it sat on the arm rest, slightly caging him in much to his pleasure.

Belle smiled placing her other leg on the left arm rest giving him a small peek of her satin black panties. “Do you want me to wear this outfit?” She purposely softened her voice.

The sweet sound tingled down his spine, head turning to kiss the inside of her thigh.

Eyes closed feeling each kiss lurking closer to the thin barrier hiding the womans’ core. Leaning back a little, she buried her fingers gently in his thick hair. Grip tightened when Jungkooks’ lips finally pressed against her panties. “We don’t have time for that.” She spoke breathlessly.

“We’ll make time.” His voice rasped.

She felt her panties being pushed to the side, exposing her core to his hot breath before his tongue licked a stripe up from her slit to her little nub. Legs jerked a little almost locking her thighs together but one of his hands kept one of them still. Tongue lapped on her throbbing clit making it hard to keep herself steady without knocking over the desktop computer behind her; light moans melted out of her like a long unsung melody. A little hesitant but she had to sing it regardless. “Dai—”

Her voice made his heart flutter immediately concealed with a light groan that vibrated against her core. Lips wrapped around the sweet bundle of sensitivity and suckled, relishing in the feeling her plump thighs pressing against his ears.

Belle almost lost her balance as she pushed the keyboard away to the side. The familiar warmth constricted around her lower belly now welcomed itself, moans fading into desperate whimpers to reach her orgasm.

Feeling her hips jerk against his mouth, Jungkook breathed out through his nose not leaving a single break as he pushed her to her release. Clit throbbing between his lips, he shook his head.

The rough pressure torturing her bud as she drowned in the warm explosion seeping through every vein, body trembled in bliss. When Belle felt his tongue still moving causing her to jump a little from the sensivity as she pushed his face away softly. “No more.” She giggled, still trying to catch her breath.

Jungkook kissed it once more with a cheeky smile before standing up.

She wiped off the glisten on his chin with the fabric of her robe and pressed a light kiss on his lips. “What about you?” Her hands pulling at his belt but he held onto them.

“It’s okay.” He whispered, giving her a reassuring smile. “I just needed a little treat.”

Belle slapped his chest softly not able to get rid of the blissful smile gracing her features. “We should get dressed now.” She muttered even though their hands were still slowly caressing each other.

“We should.” Jungkook pushed away the loose curl over her eye.

Whether it was the ecstasy still flowing through her or a genuine feeling from within, the woman found herself in complete comfort under his touch. Maybe something more than just sexual attraction. Not that it could ever be anyway, there was no real use in true feelings for something false. Despite the thought in mind Belle smiled up at her clever captor turned fiancée and felt tingles run down her spine at a mere kiss on her cheek.

Sangria House reeked of luxury from its royal purple and gold tapestries, crystal lamps with warm lighting, scent of wine mixed into vanilla while the inside adorned with colorful angels entertaining their patrons. Since the house colors were not allowed to be worn by visitors, many of them opted for the classic black which made Belles’ deep green velvet dress stand out a lot more than she expected.

Arm hooked onto Jungkooks’ while Taehyung walked with them on her left, the three were welcomed by an angel with white attire. She bowed, smile gracing her features before leading them past the main lobby of entertainment where a few angels in white played instruments on the small stage.

Upon observing, a lot of the members in the lobby only wore white while some red ones sat in a few corners.

Belle assumed the higher ranking ones would have more private sessions or maybe there were certain times where each angel arrived. So many things still left unanswered for the workings of the Sangria House but it did not change the fact, it was a quick profit hungry establishment exploiting vulnerable young people who were desperate for a living.

The young angel slid open a door to an empty private room. Table full of light snacks and three cushions for them to sit on. “Mistress Angel and Master Jimin will see you shortly.” She bowed again until her knees touched the floor waiting for them to enter the room so she could leave respectfully.

Jungkook sat in the middle while Belle and Taehyung took each side waiting patiently in a small period of silence.

“Was bringing me to a brothel really necessary?” He glared more at Jungkook even though Belle was the one who received the invitation and accepted it for the business deal.

“If it were the brothel, I would’ve been groped at least a good three times by now.” The woman replied simply knowing this establishment in particular had extremely strict rules and a different crowd of clients.

The comment silenced her brother almost instantly.

Mere minutes passed and the door slid open again bursting with bright colors. A woman with long brown hair wearing a gold georgette dress with a matching overcoat giving her the look of royalty. In a similar fashion, a grey haired male stood beside her wearing a similar design except silk lavender. Walking closer to the table, they both bowed down to their patrons adorning those award winning smiles.

Taehyung felt like something clipped his tongue when saw the angels. The ones in white were pretty but this house owner had some real gems hidden under his sleeve. Especially the lady in gold who perched herself next to him, smiling like a princess from a fairytale that the man seemed rude smile a little back.

“Welcome to the Sangria House. On behalf of Mr. Kim, we’d like to thank you for accepting this momentous partnership, Madame Belle.” She smiled at her and gave a little bow of acknowledgement. “Jimin and I will be your hosts for this evening.”

Jungkook smiled kindly and the chatting began quite smoothly since the angels were extremely talented in holding an air of entertainment. Especially these ones. Getting a lavender and a gold coated angel were not regular feats and only done if the patron was an important one to impress. The last time he saw two of these angels together in one room was when he was first anointed leader of the Cartel but it was all paid by his father and mother. Belle checked that box without any aid. He would be jealous but a jolt of pride burst through him without knowing.

“Your name is Angel?” Taehyung asked, expression softened so much he could resemble a cloud.

Angel giggled under her breath while serving his tea. “It’s a little strange.” She placed the teapot down glancing over at Jimin who was chatting along with Belle while Jungkook listened to her. “We were called faeries before but—Mr. Kim changed it after I was given the gold coat.” She gestured to her outfit.

Taehyungs’ brows furrowed looking down at her dress hoping the princess would explain why the change in her outfit was so important. Instead the criminal sitting in the middle began speaking.

“When an angel is given the gold coat, it signifies that she’s take—” Jungkook cleared his throat. “Apologies…she’s married.”

The princess nodded with a reassuring smile.

“Married.” Taehyung breathed out, feeling like a grey cloud engulfed him into a cold hug. Of all the things…of all the angels he had to melt in front of the one who was married.

Belles’ smile disappeared hearing Jungkooks’ correction. The smallest tiniest detail managed to snap a nerve that had been long hidden with her own pride and stubborn strength. He was wrong. Angel was taken. No real, true spouse would continue to let their wife be used as a sensual commodity for extra cash and this gold angel definitely brought in a lot from what she learnt. No real, true husband would manipulate someone and threaten her family just to keep up a good appearance as a married elite. This was far from being married. Marriage was something else entirely and these suited pigs would not ever understand the meaning. It was a business transaction. Her body deflated a little feeling that nudge of anxiety once again bubbling up but she quickly gave Jimin a kind smile.

Jimin knew fake smiles from a mile away but it did not take an expert to realize Mr. Jeons’ comment changed something in the gorgeous designer. Though he had to admit, she was good at holding one like she had been giving conveniently fake smiles for a while. He did not know if he should be impressed or terrified. Either way it seemed the perfect to initiate the next stage of the evening that Seokjin planned out for them. He gently touched Angels’ arm to give her the signal before speaking once everything was quiet. “Mr. Kim has private sessions booked for each of you. I will be taking Madame Belle to another room and Mr. Jeon is expected in a meeting with Mr. Kim.”

It might have sounded like Jungkook was forced to work while relaxing but he never really delved into the antics of the Sangria House. When he was a bit younger and curious, he did book a red angel occasionally but now nothing really compared to what he already had. Though something he did not like was Jimin offering his hand to Belle. “You don’t have to do that.” He muttered to the woman.

“It’s okay.” Belle spoke a little coldly, accepting Jimins’ hand as they walked out of the room.

Another angel wearing white walked into the room to escort Jungkook to wherever he needed to go but Taehyung did not really care where. All he could focus on was the fact he could now be alone with the gold princess. “Can I ask who you’re…married to?”

Angel smiled. “No one really asks. They like keeping my truth as far away from the confines of this room to make their evening more enjoyable.”

“What if I don’t want to do that?”

“Then you’d be the first.” She took a polite sip of her tea. “Is there something in particular you wanted me to do?”

“No!” Taehyung cleared his throat, cheeks heating up. “Uh—no, I—Talking is fine. I haven’t…spoken to anyone new in a long time.” He chuckled mostly to himself. Most of the friends he had left him in the dust the more he found his comfort in other things. He talked to Hoseok a lot but only when a transaction was involved, the nurses were anything but just highly paid nannies and Belle had a life of her own to lead. Sitting in this room now with the soft-spoken princess, he quickly felt how lonely he truly was.

“Am I doing a good job?” She giggled seeing the little sags under his eyes that resembled she saw in the mirror this morning.

He nodded without hesitation. Her mere presence seemed to bring a warmth in his belly, reassuring him that he was not lonely. That everything was okay even just for a moment.

The room Belle was escorted into had a similar structure to the previous one except instead of plain walls, there were cherry blossom designs giving the area a subtle pinkish hue. She walked inside and sat down on the cushion this time sitting in the middle while Jimin perched himself on the other side so they faced each other. “So…why the private session?”

Jimins’ eyes flickered up to the female while he served the tea before smiling. “Mr. Kim wanted each of you to fully enjoy the services we can provide.”

Her heart bounced a little at his words. “Ser—Services?” She breathed out a small chuckle. “What kind of services?”

The lavender adorned male could not help but giggle at her adorable reaction. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything unless you ask me to.”

“What if you don’t want to do what I ask?” Belle tilted her head. Not on her life would she ask Jimin or anyone to do anything disgusting for her own benefit but she was curious just how put together this establishment actually was.

He smiled. “It is my job to make you happy, Madame Belle.”

Clearly not that put together. “It would make me happy if you just called me Belle. ‘Madame’ is only used for senior designers.”

Jimin bowed. “Apologies—Belle. I looked at the designs you sent in for the House…you could be a senior designer if you wanted.”

Belle giggled lightly trying not to look too proud of herself since as Jimin said, it was his job to make her happy. “Thank you. Let me know if you want me to change anything.”

“That’s not really my decision but I think it’s perfect just the way it is.” He shrugged. A small moment of comfortable silence passed through them before Jimin spoke again with a careful thought. “Forgive me for asking, Belle…but–I saw you were very upset hearing Mr. Jeons’ comment.” Every word sounded so carefully calculated Belle wished she could speak like that in front of strangers. “Part of the responsibilities in Sangria House is to detect signs of…domestic disturbances. Our patrons tend be loose tongued which helps us find out if there is anyone who needs help getting away from something like that.”

“Oh—” She tried her best to hide how much her heart almost cracked her ribcages when it leaped in both fear and a strange excitement. “You don’t have to worry about all that.” Belle shook her head with a smile. Though a small lump still grew in her throat at how Jimin spoke his concerns despite barely knowing her. “Sangria House tracks domestic disturbances?”

Jimin nodded, smile softly adorning his ethereal features. “Most of our angels are from toxic environments.” He took a breath to say something as he glanced behind him. Then he leaned in with a smaller voice. “Angel…the golden lady used to be the mistress of a powerful club owner. I—I was the one who found the signs after a private session.”

Belle swallowed down the painful lump. “Who did she marry then?”

He sighed. “Since the man was so influential, he wouldn’t just let anyone marry her.” Jimin shook his head. “So—Mr. Kim offered his hand. Well…Angel trained five times as intense compared to the other angels so her status as a gold member would be valid.”

What little hope Belle had of the Sangria House being somewhere of help quickly dwindled down back to her original opinion. Angel moved from one controlling person to another. Maybe Seokjin was not an abuser of any sort but it did not change the fact she became a commodity just so she could be free from abuse. A ‘better’ life but did that make it a good life?

Though Jimin looked quite convinced that this was a righteous path for the House.

He could not exactly be miserable about it like she was since he had to actually live through all these routines and schemes.

Same way Belle couldn’t be upset about her deal with Jungkook otherwise it could make her insane with misery. Every time the small hint of reality hit her, she felt like her whole body was drowning in it all. Something so wrong damaged the entire structure of her future. If soulmates existed Belles’ would be left waiting or they would run to someone else they were not truly meant for.

“I’m sorry…I was supposed to entertain you, not make you feel awful.” Jimin chuckled nervously, shifting in his seat.

“No, no—” She shook her head smiling at him more genuinely this time. Her hand unintentionally slid closer to his as a way to comfort the angel. “Please, I—like talking about these things sometimes. It feels—real.” Her genuine smile faded into something a little sad but it still rang with truth. “I need a lot of real in my life right now.”

Jimin hummed in acknowledgement, one of his fingers lightly tapping against her hand. “Well if you ever want to visit again this House will always be open to you.”

Regardless of what she thought about this place, that was the first time anyone ever gave her words of comfort since the ‘engagement��. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“We’ve been in casual dealings for a long time now, Mr. Jeon.” Seokjin walked towards his desk after bringing out a wooden box from his shelf and placing it on the dark wooden surface. The lighting in the office had been a lot more dim with rarely any heavy decorations save for a few plants. This place clearly was only meant for business. “But I feel this new project may be able to solidify a stronger partnership between the two of our entities.” He tapped the closed box.

Jungkook sat on the chair in front of the desk, eyes fixated on the box before flickering up to the older male. “We don’t—share the same supplies, I’m afraid, Mr. Kim.” He shook his head a smirk lightly playing on his lips.

Seokjin chuckled settling down on the chair. He flicked the gold latches on the box and pushed the lid open before sliding it towards the young lord. “I believe you do share a similar interest for this kind of product.”

Giving the house owner a look of apprehension, he slowly leaned in and peeked into the box where he saw an indigo shaded stick almost resembling a cinnamon stick. On the left was a small bag of the same colored powder and then a liquid version in a vial. “What is this supposed to be?”

“There isn’t a name for it yet.” He shrugged. “But from I’ve asked a few of my white coats to try this product out and see the effects.”

Jungkook picked up the liquified version to examine it closer, little pink glitters seemed to shine through in the light making it look like some potion from the ancient times. “And? What were the results?”

“At first the usual, loss of inhibition maybe a little sense—then…we have increased sex drive, high performance and concentration ability, pain relief and for some people, a serious case of the giggles.” Seokjin rested his elbows on the table with his fingers intertwined with one another.

“Side effects?” He met the older males’ gaze, placing the vial back in the box.

“Didn’t think you were kind of man to worry about that.” He smirked.

“I didn’t get this kind of success by selling bad drugs, Seokjin.” Jungkook smiled with a slight bitter hint.

Seokjin sighed before nodding. “Of course—unfortunately, this drug is new and not exactly made by creators of your Cartels’ stature. Side effects included heavy addiction, loss of coordination, extreme mood swings, excessive coughing with blood traces, insomnia, sensitivity to light and cold and nightmares.”

“So nothing then?” He joked, raising a brow. “It’s going to take work to ensure at least lessening those side effects by half.”

“I take it that’s a yes on the partnership.” The corner of his lip twitched up a little.

Many club owners usually turned to him and his manufacturers for new and improved drugs that surpassed the traditional ones. Though in Jungkooks’ opinion, the originals always sold the most because they were effective for years. Except brothel or teahouse owners never really dabbled into the interest of his line of work. “Why the interest in this new field?”

Seokjin smiled leaning back on his chair. “I’m a businessman, Jungkook. There’s no field I don’t want to get into. It has been an interest of mine for years since many herbs and substances have yet to be discovered. Don’t you ever wonder if there was something out there in the world that could bring you more profit…more glory than your predecessor?”

Jungkook sat silent as the question lingered in the air for a few moments. Being so young and handed the cartel without his fathers’ death caused a disagreement amongst many associates. Despite the fear harbored by whoever crossed his path, the young man was always on the path to better himself in proving that he was the most capable and most influential. There was no room to be soft or complacent in this business.

“Also the lack of knowledge for this product may prevent any…mishaps from our new beloved mayor.”

Those clever words made his ears prick up quicker than he liked. A substance with similar effects to the originals but the look of none of them. If they succeed in perfecting it then maybe it would make being discreet that much easier. “I’ll talk about it with my manufacturers.” He spoke trying to be as emotionless as possible. But the prospect of his vulnerable mess of a cartel getting some security was soothing.

The sessions and a productive meeting flowed through deep into the dark night until the three were escorted back to their car.

Belle kept her eyes out on the window feeling a light emptiness gut after an angel walked into the room and told their session came to an end. Perhaps it was Jimins’ immense talent in luring his patrons. Whatever it was she had no interest in talking to the men in the car. She felt like her whole being was ripped apart, now she needed a few moments of deep silence to stitch herself back up.

Truthfully the girl did not say anything too detailed to the lavender angel but she never needed to. Somehow he had the talent of seeing her story with a few hints. That alone made her even more reluctant to uttering a single word to her brother or her makeshift fiancée.

Jungkook peeked from the rearview mirror at the woman looking out the window wondering what happened in the private session. Even as they met again in the lobby, Belle had a cold sheet over her to a point where he could feel the chill.

When they arrived to the mansion, Taehyung shyly suggested that they should visit the house more often which Belle agreed to with a slightly exhausted smile.

“You looked beautiful tonight.” Jungkook commented watching Belle take off her earrings and necklace, placing them in a black box.

“Thank you.” She replied under her breath, unpinning some parts of her hair relieving the light headache that ensued. Stop acting miserable, Belle told herself. It would only make it worse—her chest could not clench all her life. Her gaze still focused on the vanity, she pushed all her curls over her shoulder. “Could you unzip me?” Belle asked coyly. The woman had all capabilities of unzipping her own dress.

Shrugging the soft shirt off his shoulders, Jungkook padded towards the beauty and stood behind her. Eyes flickered to her reflection in the mirror watching her glow in the golden lights of the vanity. Hands carefully held onto the zip and pulled down tantalizing slow, wanting to stand this close to her as long as possible. The scent of her perfume blessed his nostrils, he had to lean down and nudge his nose against her hair.

Belle couldn’t help but close her eyes, chest rising and falling. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Why did something fake feel so good then? His slightly rough fingers sneaking through the slit of her unzipped dress tracing up her back making her shiver a little. She shrugged off the one sleeve keeping her clothing hanging, nipples now peeking out from the green velvet.

Jungkook kept his gaze on the reflection as his hand reached out to push down the fabric so her gorgeous breasts could be full display. Fingers brushed up her chest before wrapping around her neck and turning her head up, lips devouring hers. Tongue pushed through her teeth not wasting any time exploring every corner of her mouth.

She sneaked through the slit of her dress and rolled her panties down to her thighs. Sneaking her hand behind her, Belle palmed the tightening bulge in his pants feeling him groan into her mouth which only made her moan back. Nothing fake should ever feel this good.

Losing all his sense and patience, he pulled her dress to see her beautiful ass in bare display as she bent over slightly on the table. Jungkook unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down watching Belle cheekily sway that gorgeous peach. No one should be this irresistible. One little tiny move from the woman had his head floating in the clouds. Nails dug into her skin, fingers wrapping around his cock before teasing her slit.

As much as Belle loved his tongue, feeling his hardened tip had her body tingling for more. Heated arousal leaked out of her awaiting core while she pressed her ass against his member silently asking to hurry.

“Did Jimin see this?” He slapped his cock against one ass cheek making the woman hum.

She shook her head looking at him through the mirror. “Only you.” Voice came in a whisper that leaked of a little desperation.

“Only me.” Jungkook muttered, giving her an almost borderline sinister smirk. Hands grabbed at her hips as he stuffed his cock into her pussy without a single warning.

Belle lightly groaned under her breath, nails scratching against the surface of the table. Her wet core swallowed his entire member with a light ache but it quickly faded into a warm filling that she craved for too long.

“Say it again.” He demanded.

She glanced over her shoulder for a second trying to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Only you.” A harsh thrust from behind had Belle’s body trembling in the best way possible.

“Again.” His voice grew breathless, each thrust snapping with rough need.

“Only you.” Belle moaned out feeling the tip of his cock rubbing against the sweet spot. Arms around her body, chest pressing against her back making his shaft hit deeper and slower pushing through his deprived orgasm. “Only—” She gasped when she felt her sensitive spot get tortured, her legs momentarily losing balance from the sensation.

“Fuck, baby—” He cursed in a breathy mumble, face buried in her hair as his orgasm raced closer.

“Master Jeon!” A yell echoed upstairs but Jungkook merely groaned at the horrible timing.

Pushing Belle down further, he rammed into her like an animal. All the makeup and skincare products stumbled and fell over the shaking table.

“Master Jeon!”

Each time the yell echoed, his thrusts grew more vicious. Her skin burned from the friction against the table surface while her limbs lost all ability to have any control of their own. Belle still could not control the small smile on her face. The feeling of her body completely submitting to the beast fucking her from behind brought a new rush of adrenaline.

Jungkook grabbed onto a chunk of her hair relishing in her little moans being drowned out by the impact against the contents of the table.

Loud knocking on their bedroom door interrupted their heated air for a second.

“Baby, don’t stop please…” Belle whimpered feeling her release reach tipping point.

That nickname again made his thrusts sloppy as the warm heaviness in his lower belly reached its uncontrollable, quickly pulling out of her. Juice spluttered all over her ass and back making her look like a sinful piece of art.

Her legs felt like pure jelly as the jolt of overwhelming pleasure clouded every other thought ever constructed in her mind. When she almost stumbled, Jungkook held her gently.

“Master Jeon! It’s an emergency!”

Jungkook groaned under her breath.

“It’s okay, go.” She whispered patting his arm.

Reluctantly letting go of the beauty and zipping himself back up, he stomped towards the door and almost pulled it off its hinges. Much to his increased frustration one of his sweaty associates stood on the other side of the door. “What could possibly be so important that you had to disturb my private time?” He glanced back at the walk-in wardrobe to see Belle completely getting rid of her clothing.

“S-sir the—” He stammered giving Jungkook the urge to strangle him right there and then.

“Speak or I cut your throat.”

“The den, sir.” He shivered. “One of our dens...police did a raid, we lost of our twenty percent supplies��sir.”

Jungkook narrowed his gaze at the older male feeling the deep warm bliss now cut through by his harsh reality. They actually fucking did it. Ever since that scandal, not a single soul in the police force dared to take them down but now suddenly someone decided to play hero in front of this new mayor. “You’re the one who supposed to keep the den under guard.”

The male gulped down hard. “I—I had to get out of there.”

“You should’ve died with it.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sorry…” God he fucking hated that word. What did it ever solve? Jungkook nodded, rubbing the back of his neck walking over to the study table. Pulling out his gun he pointed it at the mans’ left leg and took a shot. Then another on his right leg.

He limped down screaming in agony while the drug lord merely stared him down in disgust.

“Jungkook!” Belle called out, heart jumping to her throat at the sound of gunshots. Her body now adorned a thick robe which she hugged close to herself. He looked back over his shoulder to meet her gaze, eyes reddened once again with anger and maybe a hint of distress. “Don’t…”

His entire body wanted to melt into hers for the rest of the night. Maybe it would make him forget all his problems for a while but he couldn’t. The mayor worked day and night trying to get one step ahead of him and now they were. Jungkook couldn’t let this happen. He had to send a message. A damn good one. “Go to sleep, okay? Close your ears if you have to.” He whispered.

Belle took a breath to say something but nothing came out so she sucked in her bottom lip, watching him close the door so all she could do was hear it all. The man screamed, sounds something crashing and choking. Feet backed away until her body plopped down sitting on the edge of the bed. This was his job, she knew that. But it all went back to what Jungkook was truly capable of. Why taking his deals were so important. Every sound reminded Belle of how it could be Taehyung going through the same fate. Maybe one day when the drug-lord grew tired of the same face, she would be on her knees allowing him to seal her fate just as he took control of it.

So she took his advice and pressed her hands against her ears tightly hoping to block the reality she was trying so hard to suppress.

<< PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >>

#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

298 notes · View notes

fanficimagery · 4 years ago

Text

a field of daisies

Imagine running into a group of survivors that you decide to take a chance on and bring them home with you. Your decision ends up leading to a reunion no one saw coming, not even yourself.

Words: 7.1K Author's Note: TWD AU. This particular universe has a lot of characters and making sure everyone has a line or three is tough work, so I made up my mind to only keep a select few. This will take place after the prison has fallen, but before Terminus so the group is not as harsh because of what happened there. I get why everyone turned ruthless, but damn.. Rick got scary. Haha. Also, just so you know, Y/N is a powered individual (the gif of Wanda is just to show how your powers look/work). SPOILER ALERT! This piece of work is.. slow. There's nothing much to it- it's honestly just Y/N bringing the group into the fold. I've been having a rough few weeks and it really shows in my writing. I'm sorry this sucks, but I really needed to get something out.

It was pure dumb luck that Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Carl, Judith, Glenn, Maggie and Carol ended up together after the fall of the prison. Rick and Carl had fled together, Michonne followed the blood trail Rick had unknowingly left behind, and Daryl had later caught up to them because he was with a new group that was hunting Rick which he didn't know about until it was too late. Daryl, Rick and Michonne took care of things quickly, and it was a relief to Rick that Daryl still had his back.

Glenn and Maggie came a couple days later with Judith snuggled into a makeshift pack hanging off of Glenn's back, and the group stumbled upon Carol who kept them from entering the so-called sanctuary called Terminus. Apparently she had been keeping an eye on the place from afar, and after the horrors she witnessed Rick and the others were glad they just so happened to choose the entrance she was near so that she was able to stop them.

Hershel's death still weighed heavily on everyone's mind and Maggie was sad that she didn't know what had become of her sister Beth. Lots of people's fates were unknown, but the ones that left everyone the most downtrodden were those of the children that the prison had housed.

The group has taken momentary refuge in a barn, their spirits low and dwindling even more as the days pass. Food and water were scarce, and ammunition was pretty much nonexistent. Daryl had a handful of arrows left and everyone was left to depend on blades to protect themselves.

Judith's sudden cry pierces the quiet of the barn and everyone flinches. Rick readily gets to his feet, rushing towards his daughter and lifting her from the bed of hay they designated as her bed. "Shh. I got 'ya. I got 'ya, sweetheart."

Carl joins his father, frowning at his sister's reddening face. "She's hungry, isn't she?"

"We all are," Rick grumbles.

"There's got to be something out there," the young boy sighs. "A place we haven't come across or a house that's not been picked clean."

"Everyone's tired, Carl. We're all running on fumes." Rick continues to rock his baby girl, heart breaking when her wails only get louder and more desperate. "If we go searchin', we're likely to make a mistake and someone will lose their life."

"Well we can't let her starve."

Rick glances around his exhausted group, a look of determination in each of their features. He sighs and glances down at Judith in his arms. "Tomorrow. We'll go lookin' when the sun is up."

Carl nods and brushes his finger along Judith's brow before leaving his father to settle the baby down on his own.

- - - - - - - - - -

You'd been gone for a day and half now, intent on finding some things those in your community have asked for. Unfortunately everything close by had been picked clean which led you to driving further and further out, and right into an oncoming storm.

You tried to drive right on through it, but the rain just came down so hard to the point that you could not see through the windshield. And since it was nighttime, you knew there was a high chance you could wreck. So you pull off to the side, cut the engine and lean back in your seat to wait it out.

Thunder rumbles so loud it actually shakes the truck you're in and lightning strikes a tree not even a hundred yards away. "Oh screw this," you mumble to yourself. You turn the truck back on, carefully inching your way down the road and hope that you don't hit anything. But then lightning strikes again, you swerve on instinct, but are quick to slam on the breaks. "Shit."

There's a split second of reprieve from the rain- just long enough for you to see a building off in the distance. You know it's a dumb idea to even check it out, but you rather be in a barn struck by lightning than be in the truck. So after cutting the engine once more, you reach over to the passenger seat for your pack and beanie. Shoving the gray beanie down atop your head, you brace yourself before opening the door and hopping out.

Slamming the door behind you, you rush through the rain and towards the barn doors. Pushing on said doors, they open far too easily and you rush to close them behind you. Then with your back against the doors, you hold your hands aloft at your sides should you need to protect yourself from a dead skull or three. But surprisingly there are no dead in the barn, instead a group of the living around a small fire stare at you with wide eyes.

Immediately the people are on their feet with their weapons trained on you, a baby is passed off to a preteen, and the group of adults slowly advance on you.

"Whoa," you utter. "I did not know this place was occupied. I don't mean any harm. M'just tryin' to get out of the storm."

"Are you alone?" The man that had passed off the baby asks, a long barreled gun pointed at you.

His companions spread out- a guy with a crossbow hurrying to the wall to peek through the cracks. There's a Korean guy and a woman with hair just barely touching her shoulders standing side by side, blades in hand, and a black woman with a wicked looking katana held at the ready. The last woman with shortly cropped gray hair points a glock right at you without even blinking.

"Um, yeah."

"You don't sound so sure," he grunts.

"Well you're all pointing weapons at me," you say. "It's a little intimidating."

Crossbow guy returns to his friend's side, shaking his head and muttering something too low for your ears to catch. The main guy talking nods meeting your gaze once more. "Weapons?"

"None."

"Mind if we check?"

You shrug. "Have at it."

Spreading your arms out wider, you push off the barn doors and stand with your feet a little spread out as well. The woman standing next to the Korean guy steps forward and cautiously makes her way towards you. You meet her gaze, keeping your expression neutral, but give her a nod to let her know you were good with what was going on. Her hands land on your waist then, patting you down and checking for weapons.

Her hands slide up your sides and under your arms, and you press your lips tighter together when she hits your ticklish spot. A giggle ends up breaking free and you immediately apologize when she freezes. You think you see her faintly grin before she continues on down your legs and around your ankles.

"She's clean," the woman says as she stands back up and then steps back.

"What's in the bag?"

"My snacks," you muse. "I was looking for a few things and had to travel out further than normal. I've been driving for nearly two days now."

"You got a group?"

"I have a community." They seem to blink in surprise at that.

Crossbow guy looks at who you assume is their leader. "Explains the too clean clothes," he grunts. Then looking at you, he says, "But 'ya damn stupid to be out here with no weapons. It's a goddamn miracle 'ya survived this long."

"Mister, I am the weapon." That seems to make the tense all over again, frowning, and you sigh. "Look, I'm not normal. I don't need weapons because I am literally the ultimate weapon. Now if that makes you uncomfortable, I'll stay my butt over here and just wait out the storm. Then I'll be on my way and we never have to see each other again unless we run into each other in the future. That sound good?"

No one voices a complaint against you so you walk over to one of the wooden beams supporting the barn and take a seat on the ground. You get comfortable, stripping your pack off your back and setting it next to you. The group has no idea what to make of you so they continue to stare at you until the baby in the preteen's arms starts to fuss.

Minutes pass as the baby continues to wail, her cries only getting louder. The thunder doesn't seem as loud as before, so you know if there are any dead nearby they'll be drawn towards the barn because of the baby's cries.

"When was the last time she ate?" You ask when you see them shush and rock her in order to calm her. A few of them glance at you and it's then you actually take in their appearances. They're exhausted. They're hungry. They're desperate. "Actually when was the last time any of you ate?"

Crossbow guy grumbles, but it's the preteen boy who answers. "Days. A week or so maybe."

Frowning, you pull your pack into your lap and open it up. Rummaging around the inside, your hand wraps around a small mason jar with a spoon rubber banded around it and you grin triumphantly. "I, uh, I have this if you want it," you say as you hold the jar up. "Mrs. Stevens makes a mean cinnamon applesauce." Your grin slowly falls as you take in their stares. "Or not. I won't be offended."

"No." The gray haired woman steps forward. "We'll take it, but you need to eat a spoonful yourself first."

"Uh, yeah. Sure, but I don't know why.." Your brow furrows as you free the spoon from the rubber band and untwist the top, and then it hits you on why they want you to eat it first. You gasp as you stare up at them. "First off, rude! Do I really look like I'm capable of poisoning a baby?"

No one says a word at first and then, "Well you did say 'ya were different."

You roll your eyes at the crossbow wielding guy. "Not that kind of different." Sticking the spoon into the applesauce, you pull up a spoonful and shove it into your mouth. Swallowing, you place the spoon back in the jar and hold it up. "Happy? It's just cinnamon applesauce."

The leader rushes forward and grabs the applesauce from you, sniffing it as he walks back towards his group and taking a spoonful for himself. When he deems it okay, he then feeds it to the baby girl. Almost immediately, her cries turn to whimpers before ceasing all together.

"You guys are welcome to whatever's in my pack because, no offense, but you look like you need it more than I do."

The Korean guy is the first to crack, rushing towards your pack that you let him freely rummage through. "Is this- is this jerky?"

"Yep. Mr. Mills has a knack for drying out meat and smoking fish."

As he passes out the jerky, water, and a few MRE's, he then looks at you with an astonished expression. "I'm Glenn, by the way. And this is Maggie." The woman who had patted you down gives you a terse smile.

"Michonne," the katana wielding badass says.

"Carol."

The man feeding the baby glances at you. "I'm Rick. These are my kids Carl and Judith."

You look towards the crossbow guy, but he's shoveling an MRE into his mouth and not paying you a lick of attention. "Y/N," you then introduce yourself to them.

You watch them eat for a few seconds before you avert your attention, listening to the sounds outside the barn. The storm seems like it's finally dying down, but the moans and groans of the dead seem to be getting closer and closer now. You get up and walk towards the door, peeking through the cracks and quietly exhaling at the small herd heading straight for the barn.

"You guys have something to prop against the door? We've got incoming."

A scoff comes from crossbow guy. "Thought 'ya were the ultimate weapon?"

"Daryl!" Carol admonishes.

Your eyes narrow at Daryl who shrugs under the stares of his group and you sigh. "Fine. Whatever. All I ask is that whatever you see, you ask questions before you decide to attack."

"Why- why would you say that?" Glenn asks.

"Because like I said, I'm not normal."

With that you turn around, opening the barn doors and stepping back. Staring at the small herd that's coming in, your left arm lifts up and curls around the front of your face as your right arm lifts up underneath. The only difference is that your left hand starts to glow and you swing back briefly before thrusting your left arm out and sending off a red wave of energy that rushes through the heads of the dead ones and instantly drops them in their tracks. You walk forward then and shut the doors, only to turn around and have Daryl aiming his crossbow at you.

"Seriously?" Your arms hang limp at your sides.

"What the hell are 'ya?"

"Human, as far as I know," you say. You mentally sigh as everyone shifts nervously. "Just with a little extra oomph."

"That was some sci-fi bullshit 'ya just pulled there."

"Well whatever it is, it's come in handy since the world fell apart so I'm not complaining about it anymore."

Rick, having passed Judith off to Carl, steps forward. "This community of yours, are there any more people like you?"

You shake your head. "Nah. I'm the only one."

"How many people are you with?" Carol asks.

"Around twenty or so. Me and this little girl I came across a while back are the youngest. Everyone else is sixty-five or above." You huff. "Kid guilt tripped me into saving a few individuals from a retirement home we came across and gave me the idea of a place safe enough to almost be normal."

"Exactly how safe is this place of yours?" Maggie then wonders as she glances at Judith and Carl.

"There's a, uh, shield of sorts around this abandoned housing community. The dead bounce off the invisible walls and the living need permission to enter which I'm smart enough not to give."

"People try gettin' in before?" Daryl asks.

"A group of three about a couple months back. I would have given thought to letting them in, but my powers kind of misfired and I was able to read their minds," you sheepishly admit. "They- they were not good people. Not by a long shot."

"What happened to 'em?"

"I put them to sleep and had a talk with everyone inside the community." You shrug. "I didn't know what to do, so I asked for everyone's advice. It was either kill them or manipulate their memories and send them on their way."

"What did you do?" Carl asks. He's the only one who has a look of awe on his face.

"I kept them asleep and drove them out in a random direction. After about two days driving, I put them up in an abandoned house and let them wake up long after I had left."

"Why are you answering all our questions?" Michonne asks. "Someone like you, it seems like you'd keep your powers a secret."

"Honestly? You're the first kind group I've seen in a long while. You saw what I could do and yet you asked questions first rather than letting Daryl put an arrow in me."

"Would my arrow have even reached 'ya?"

You smile at Daryl's grumpy expression. "Not even close." There's a challenge in his eyes and his arm twitches, but Rick shakes his head at his friend. You quietly chuckle. "If you guys wanna sit and talk, I'll answer what I can. I don't mind so long as you don't plan on attempting to put a bullet in my brain or a blade to my neck."

Everyone looks to Rick and eventually he gives a terse nod. They hesitantly go back to their fire, huddling closer together and you slowly make you way over to sit across from them. The baby seems rather content now so Rick finally takes a moment to eat something himself.

Bending your knees, you pull them in towards your chest and drop your chin on your knee. "So what do you wanna know?"

Glenn immediately leans forward. "First of all, this is something straight out of a comic book." He grins and you can't help but smile in return. Maggie snorts and shakes her head, rather fondly, at him. "So what I wanna know is if you were born like this or if you had a bad visit with the doctors?"

"I was born like this," you say. "I think it started manifesting when I was about eleven or twelve. Mom and dad were obviously terrified, but I was still their daughter and they refused to just let the government have me. It took- it took months of research before they found a legit scientist who was running tests on people like me in order to help. So they met up with him and let him poke and prod to get the answers everyone was seeking."

"Did they find anything out?" Carol asks.

You shake your head. "No. There were no abnormalities in my or my parent's blood, and every other test was coming back completely average. My powers or magic or whatever you wanna call it honestly scared me, so the scientist had concocted some pills that suppressed it. I never got to learn how to control it and only really got to see what I was capable of when the world collapsed and I ran out of suppressors."

"So what, you're just this powerhouse walking around without a care in the world?" Michonne frowns.

"I have many cares," you say, head lifting to stare directly at the woman over the fire. "I have a little girl and a handful of old geezers counting on me back home. I'm just fortunate enough to be this powerhouse, as you say, so the others don't have to come out into this shit show that has become our norm."

Judith starts to fuss again and neither her brother or father can calm her. You can see just how exhausted everyone is, so you take the initiative to help them out when you see Rick cringe after smelling the baby's bottom. Grabbing your pack, you grab the notebook in there and yank out a sheet of paper. Then letting the paper rest in the palms of your hands, you concentrate on the red wisps of energy pooling in your hands and transfigure the sheet of paper into a diaper. More sheets of paper are ripped out and you quickly transfigure those into small rags.

"There's a bucket in the back of my truck," you say as you hold out the diaper and rags. "I'm sure it's full of water by now so you can dip the rags into the water to wipe the baby down."

Rick blinks at you in surprise, walking over to you and grabbing the items. He nods. "Thank you." You flash him a faint smile in return.

He looks at Daryl and he hands over his crossbow to Carol. Taking the rags from Rick, he motions for Glenn to follow him should he run into any trouble outside.

The two men return soon enough and Rick readily starts to make his daughter comfortable once more. As she struggles against him and wildly kicks out, you chuckle and decide to let a small orb of red energy pool in your palm. Then flicking your wrist, the small red orb shoots over to hover above Judith and bob up and down. It does it's job, distracting her so her father can easily change her.

"That must come in handy back at your community," Maggie muses.

"I don't really show off like this in front of them," you sheepishly admit. "Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but they don't really ask me to do anything other than to help keep them safe and keep their houses from deteriorating." There are hums and grunts, but everyone is more interested in filling their stomachs. "Well if I'm going to be on my way come sun up, I should get some rest."

No one objects, so you get up and walk back over to the opposite side of the barn. You sit down in a corner, trying to find a comfortable enough position so you can get a bit of shut eye.

When you wake up, the sun has not fully risen yet. It's a little lighter in the barn and you can see without the small fire throwing off light, so it's easy to spot Rick keeping watch by the barn doors. You sit up, stretch, and sleepily climb to feet in order to join him.

"You guys rotated watch?" You mumble. "You should have woken me."

Rick grins. "Nah. We had it under control."

"If you say so."

His grin subtly falters and then he quietly clears his throat before glancing between you and his group. "So before you go on your way, can I have a word?"

"Sure." You yawn. "Lets just go outside so we don't wake anyone." At Rick's nod, you open the barn doors and exit as quietly as you can. He follows you outside and you glance around for any dead before crossing your arms over your chest and turning to face Rick. "What's going on?"

He stares at you, clearly trying to figure out how to voice his thoughts. It takes him a moment to gather himself and then finally he says, "I know we just met each other last night, but is there any chance- any chance you might be willin' to give us a chance? I'm supposed to be this group's leader, but I am runnin' on fumes here. We all are. We're desperate." Your heart goes out to him and you can't help but frown. You understand desperation very well and you figure it must be worse on him because of the two young children he has. "This world, as vulnerable as it is, it's not a place I want to raise my kids."

"Rick, I-" You pause, sigh and then start over. "Of course I'd be willing to give you guys a chance."

"But?" He pushes, seeing the flash of hesitance in your expression.

"No, no buts." You shake your head. "You just- if you guys want to be a part of this community, you have to actually want to be a part of the community. No drama or violence is permitted within the walls. My sole focus is making sure these people live as long as possible and I won't have anyone jeopardizing that."

Rick nods. "We're all for playing fair. All we're askin' for is a chance. A real chance at survivin'."

"Well then I guess today's your lucky day." You hold out a hand for him to shake. He holds your gaze before glancing down at your hand and hesitantly reaching forward to grasp it. "So do you want to tell them the good news or..?"

Rick huffs a laugh of disbelief as he retakes his hand. "Are- are 'ya serious?"

"Yeah. Why not." You shrug. "The community could use a good shake up, so come on. Lets go wake your people up."

You and Rick re-enter the barn, but you let him wake his family and friends on his own. You gather your pack, tossing the trash and rearranging what's left. Rick tells them the good news and you smile when you see them sag in relief. They have no belongings whatsoever, so they pick up what weapons they have and make to exit the barn.

"Um, Carl and one other person can sit up front with me. Three others can squeeze into the backseat with Judith and two can ride in the very back." There are nods of agreement all around before Daryl and Glenn climb into the bed of the truck. Meeting Daryl's gaze, you say, "You and Glenn keep watch. If you see anyone, pound on the roof. I don't want anyone following us."

He gives you a terse nod. "Got it."

"Or if you and Glenn want to switch out with someone from the inside, pound on the roof. I'm gonna drive as long as I can, but if anyone wants to stop during the night we will."

Everyone seems to agree, letting you decide whether or not you drive through the night. You'll make that decision when the time comes, so as everyone else climbs into the cab of the truck you open the driver's side door and get behind the wheel. You bite back a smirk as you grip the steering wheel in hand, red wisps of energy wrapping around the wheel before disappearing into the guts under the hood.

"So that's why we didn't hear the rumble of an engine," Rick muses. "It's runnin' on magic."

"Beats having to find and siphon gas," you say. Everyone chuckles and after making sure Daryl and Glenn are steady, you drive off.

Not even five seconds in and you hear, "What the hell kind of truck is this?"

Daryl's gruff question makes everyone inside the cab laugh, but no one bothers to fill him in.

- - - - - - - - - -

You drive well into the afternoon, only stopping when Glenn and Daryl grow too hot under the sun and switch out with Rick and Michonne. The bit of food you had left in your pack was divided up among the others again and then when the sun set you had stopped to instruct those in the bed of the truck that they could sit or lay down since they wouldn't be able to see anything come nightfall anyway.

Your constant yawning had Maggie concerned, but you assured her you'd done a drive like this numerous times. All you asked was that they talk to you, so to keep things light they told you all about their accomplishments since the world had ended. Carl mentioned being reunited with his dad after being told he was dead, Maggie mentioned finding love with Glenn on her father's farm, and Daryl mentioned finding a prison that they stayed in after clearing it out as much as they could.

You didn't bother asking what had happened to the farm or the prison because you knew full well what happened to places left out in the open. Sooner or later they got taken over, whether it be by the dead or living. So when they ran out of happy tales, you filled them in on your own. You told them all about coming across the retirement home- about how you and Daisy (the young girl you had saved) were allowed to stay with them for a bit while you went out everyday to find a more suitable living situation. You had still been experimenting with your powers, so it was a miracle you managed to fix up an entire housing community and erect walls around it.

Only about half of those in the retirement home chose to go with you and Daisy, and that was even after finding out what you were capable of. The others were grateful for the invite, but they had families they wanted to look for or were too old and didn't want to be a burden on anyone. No amount of pleading from Daisy could sway their decisions.

A new day dawns and the environment around you starts to become familiar. You perk up in your seat and drive just a little faster because after being out for so long all you want is your bed and a shower.

Only you can see the entrance to the community and you know the others can only see what everyone else without permission to enter sees- a run down housing community that was way passed being livable. So stopping right before the barrier, you gesture for everyone to get off with you after letting the truck cut off.

"What's going on?" Rick asks as he hops out of the bed. Michonne follows him.

Facing the group, you grin. "The community is just behind me," you say while gesturing over your shoulder. You see them glance behind you, frowns marring their faces. "You're just seeing what I want everyone who passes by to see- a place not worth investigating. So with your consent," you hold a hand out just at shoulder height, letting a red glow envelop it, "I just need to push a little energy through you so you can see what I see."

Everyone is caught off guard and wary now, but surprisingly it's Carl who says something. "Will it hurt?"

You glance down at him and smile. "Not at all. I promise. Everyone inside has admitted to it feeling like a cold chill running through them and then nothing. Absolutely no pain."

As you guessed, everyone looks to Rick. He takes a moment to think about it before saying, "Do it. But if there's any pain at all-"

"There's not."

"Good." He nods. "So what do we do?"

"Just stand there. I'm the one who has to do all the work." Letting your arms hang down by your sides, you shake yourself out before concentrating on letting your power pool into your hands once more. Then when it feels like you have enough energy to pass through all eight individuals, you face your palms towards them and push out. The energy leaves you and passes through them, and only a couple of them stumble back a step or gasp in surprise. When they finally take notice of what's actually behind you and their jaws drop, you chuckle. "Welcome to your new home."

"How- it looks untouched." Carol mumbles in awe.

"Well it wasn't," you say. "It took me a few days to fix up several blocks of houses. Then about a week to get the solar panels set in with the help of our retired electrician. We were just lucky a water tower was placed close by and the new water lines were set in before the world ended. It's easy to keep the tower operational and our houses supplied with running water."

"This is insane," Glenn mutters in awe. Maggie nods along with his assessment.

"When you reach the barrier, you're going to feel a little resistance. That's normal." you then explain to them. "All you have to do is keep walking through and you'll come out on the other side."

"And if we wanna leave?" Daryl asks. Everyone looks at him as if he's crazy for already thinking about leaving, but he merely huffs and explains further. "To hunt or make runs, not find shelter elsewhere."

You shrug. "Then you leave. You'll feel the resistance again, but that's just so you remember where the barrier is. Now that you've been given permission, you can come and go as you please. But please remember, once you're behind the barrier, anyone who hasn't been given permission to enter will just see you vanish into thin air. So make sure you're never followed or if you are make a beeline for the barrier and come get me. I'll get them outta here." Everyone seems to be in agreement and you smile. "Well come on. Let's go find you a house or two."

Turning around, you readily walk towards the neighborhood. The resistance of entering doesn't faze you as it once did, so you hurriedly turn around to see everyone's reactions. You see when they hesitate and you laugh as they continue on through and seem to all breathe a sigh of relief. Then once they have their wits about them, you gesture for them to follow you.

A few people are sitting out on their porches, some surprised and others (looking at you Gladys) are ecstatic.

A wolf whistle pierces the air and everyone glances in the direction it came from. "'Bout time you brought in some good lookin' fellas! I was getting tired of looking at Tom's ugly mug."

Michonne and Carol snort as Maggie and Carl giggle, and you shake your head at the white haired, seventy-eight year old woman. "Gladys, stop teasin' the men. They literally just got here!" You holler back.

"Any of them single?"

"Oh my god. Go take a cold shower, you cougar!" Gladys cackles and you groan quietly before looking over your shoulder. "Sorry about that. I should have warned you about Gladys and her tendency to hit on any man that isn't her neighbor."

"S'alright." Rick chuckles. "It'll be nice to have some normalcy back in our lives."

"What's with the bars on the doors?" Michonne then wonders.

You look at one house in particular, it's front door having another door of bars attached in front of it as well. "The houses with bars on their doors were requested by those living in the house. These people are at the age where they can easily pass away in their sleep without warning, and after an incident back at their retirement home they requested bars on the doors as a precaution. They lock in a couple of places from the inside."

They seem to agree that that was a good idea as you nod at everyone else coming out to see what Gladys was yelling about. When you spot Mary Alice, a sixty-seven year old ex-nurse, you start to walk towards her house. "Hey Mary Alice, have you seen Daisy around? I want to introduce her to some new people."

Mary Alice stands up and walks over to the top stair of her porch. "Oh. Hello." She beams. "It's nice to see some capable, new faces around here."

"Ma'am," Rick drawls.

You can practically see Mary Alice swoon and you mumble, "You're going to give every goddamn old lady heart palpitations in here," under your breath. Rick chuckles and you clap your hands to garner Mary Alice's attention once more. "Mary! Where's Daisy?"

"Oh, um." She pauses as she fluffs her hair. "Last I saw her, Dave had asked her to help him pick some fruit from the garden."

"Okay. Thanks." Turning around to face the group, you smile sheepishly. "Maybe I'll just show you to your house first. Daisy might be busy for a bit longer." You're about to motion for them to follow you when you see Daisy appear from between two houses, munching on an apple and looking as carefree as a child her age should be. She meets your gaze from across the street, but before you can draw any attention to her you notice her steps falter as the most heartbreaking expression takes over her features when she sees who's with you. For a second you think this group might not be as innocent as they seemed, but then-

"Momma?"

Time seems to slow as Carol, of all people, freezes and then turns around. She stumbles back, hand going to her mouth in shock as she chokes on a sob. "S-Sophia?"

Your eyes widen at what's unfolding before you- Daisy (apparently Sophia) dropping her apple core before sprinting across the street. Carol meets her halfway, the two colliding with one another as their cries pierce the air. The rest of Carol's group looks on in awe before they join in on the reunion and you laugh as your vision suddenly blurs with unshed tears.

You startle when an arm settles across your shoulders and you glance over at Mary Alice smiling as she watches the reunion as well. "Did you know?"

"Not a clue," you say. "This is just an insane coincidence."

As everyone else takes a turn reuniting with the young girl and introducing her to the new faces, Carol glances up at you and starts to make her way over. You smile as she nears. "My Sophia was the kid you mentioned, wasn't she? The girl you saved before you came across the retirement home."

"Yeah. I just didn't know her name was Sophia." You chuckle. "She said something about her name making her sad because it reminded her of her mom, so she chose a new one."

"Why Daisy?"

You shrug. "Because we were walking through a field of daisies and she liked the sound of it."

Carol wetly chuckles and you give a surprised oh when she yanks you into a hug. "Thank you. Thank you for keeping my baby girl safe."

"No thanks needed, Carol. Whether your daughter knows it not, Daisy- er, Sophia- saved me as well. I'm just glad I could reunite the two of you."

The two of you pull out of the hug just to see the rest of the group making their way towards you, and Sophia hurries to wrap her arms around your waist. "Thank you. Thank you for finding my family."

"Don't even mention it, kid." You ruffle her hair, chuckling. "I'm just glad you found each other again." As you look up to meet everyone's house, you say, "So about your house.."

The group chuckle and you finally lead them to a couple empty houses just down the block you currently reside on. You inform them that every house in the neighborhood was built with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. Rick tells you they'll take just the one house for now until they're acquainted with their surroundings and you let him know that that was fine, but in a few days you were taking a group out to pick out furniture and appliances for two houses.

Daryl scoffs. "Where exactly does one go shoppin' in the goddamn apocalypse?"

"In the store Y/N hid with her magic. Duh!" Sophia muses. Daryl glances down at the young girl before a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. She beams at him and he playfully reaches out to ruffle her hair.

"So, uh, yeah," you muse. "You guys can go ahead and wait here while I go round up a few sleeping bags that we can transform into mattresses," you tell them. "The water should be working, but you might want to run the faucets and showers for a minute or so to make sure all the air is out of the pipes." You start to back away down the sidewalk, heading towards your house. "I'll even knock on a few doors and see if there are any shirts and pants anyone is willing to let go of so you guys can shower. You can change into clean clothes while washing those you have on right now."

Before anything can be said, you turn around and make your way towards your house. You're not sure why all of sudden you became nervous- there is nothing to be nervous about- but you felt yourself suddenly getting anxious under all their gazes.

It doesn't take you long to find a few sleeping bags in your garage, so you take those with you while stopping by next door. You ask your neighbors for any sleeping bags or air mattresses, as well as a change of clothes, and they're all too happy to accommodate the newest residents of your sleepy little community. So by the time you make it back to the house where you had left the group, arms laden with bags that are threatening to cut off the circulation in your arms, you aren't surprised to see some of them already holding dishes of food.

"These old ladies sure do work fast." You laugh. Rick and Glenn are quick to pass off the dishes in their hands in favor of helping you bring in the stuff for them. They take the sleeping bags from you, leaving you with large shopping bags full of clothing. "So do you guys want everything set up downstairs or you do want to sleep in separate rooms already?"

"Downstairs is fine," Rick says. "At least for now."

In the living room, the sleeping bags are all rolled out and the air mattress is blown up. Rick settles Judith down on the mattress and Carl is quick to crawl on next to her. You've only enlarged one sleeping bag- the one Glenn and Maggie seemed to have gravitated to- when Rick stops you, telling you that you've done more than for him and his family. You ask him if he's sure and he nods, but you can't help just one last wiggle of your fingers to give the sleeping bags a little extra cushion.

"So I guess I'll leave you to it," you say. "In the bag with the clothes, there are plates and utensils. Everyone's offered up their laundry rooms for you to use, but if you're uncomfortable encroaching in on their houses then just get Sophia to show you to mine."

There's a round of thank yous as you leave so you wave and let them settle in. As you're walking out the front door, before you can shut it behind you, someone's gripping it and opening it wider. You're surprised to see Daryl follow you out.

"Everything good?" You ask.

"Yeah." He nods, hands finding their way into his jean's pockets. He shuffles rather sheepishly and you can't help but grin. "Yeah. All good here." You nod and turn to head down the stairs, only for his gruff voice to stop you in your tracks and make you turn back around once more. "Thanks. You didn't have to bring us in or trust us with your secret, but 'ya did. You gave my group a fightin' chance- 'ya gave those kinds in the house a fightin' chance. So thanks."

You smile at him. "You're welcome." He meets your gaze for a moment, eyes hidden behind a curtain of hair and you chuckle. "Go grab a plate of food and a shower, Daryl. You guys are safe here so relax. All of you look like you can sleep for days."

He shakes his head. "We still got people out there."

"And that sucks, I'm sure, but you need to look after yourself first," you say. "You won't be doing anyone any good if you're falling over your own two feet because you're beyond exhausted." Daryl shifts on his feet, his expression turning rather displeased. "Rest up and I promise that when you and a couple others are ready, I'll be right there with you to find your people."

Daryl holds your gaze before he relaxes a bit and he gives you a terse nod. "Fine. Until then, 'ya gotta learn not to rely on 'ya powers or whatever. Gotta keep that a secret until the last second."

Your nose wrinkles and then you sigh. "And here I thought I was done with physical education."

#the walking dead #twd gen fic x reader #the walking dead imagine #twd imagine #daryl dixon #rick grimes #carol peletier #michonne #maggie greene #glenn rhee #carl grimes #judith grimes #sophia peletier

392 notes · View notes

felassan · 4 years ago

Photo

Dragon Age II and Dragon Age: Inquisition concept art & assets from a 2016 talk/presentation by Matt Rhodes, titled “The World of Concept Art” [watch link & source]

It’s an interesting and insightful talk which I recommend watching, especially if you have an interest in concept art and related things like character design and how it fits into the overall game dev process. It’s also interesting to see a bit about how the DA team’s art direction/process has changed over time between games, and hear a bit about how they’ve been doing things going forwards for the next game.

This is Part 1. [Link to Part 2]

(Some notes on the commentary given on the images and in general in the presentation under the cut due to length.)

On image 2: DAII had a fast, hot production period where decisions were made very quickly. The devs knew that the central hub, Kirkwall, had been a center of an old slavery-based empire in the past, and wanted to have indications of this [in its art direction]. There were going to be giant statues that the PC eventually fought - on the right is the design for the statues as they originally were. In the top left, this is all they had for the location [owing to the intensive prod period]. They also had a general idea that they wanted to have tableaus that came to life, shown in the bottom left.

On image 3: Going back to the design of the giant statues, the beautiful golden clockwork version of the design doesn’t really say ‘tool of an ancient slavery-based empire’, so they took the model and tried to come up with something that had more of the kinds of shapes that get into the back of your head and say things like ‘aggressive, hard, simple’.

On image 4: So here they had started doing concepts trying to find some of the right poses, accessories etc that these things would have. One of the hearts of the internal ‘DA art [direction] codex’ is “gray and pointy”; if they give a concept like this to [then] Art Director Matthew Goldman he instinctively wants to go “Yes! Approve!”, and so has to kind of reign himself in a little bit.

On image 5: This is where they ended up getting to and how the concept art turned out in terms of the model, with some negotiation back and forth. This is an example of how their art direction process now tries to tell a story with the art (i.e. it tries to support the story through art aspects of the setting and the environment). Historically, they would have just thrown the French-looking, Baroque clockwork version of the statue into the game and gone with it. They are getting more and more intentional with this sort of thing.

On this image: This was an internal image made for internal discussion. The characters in it aren’t ones that exist or that became other characters, with the exception of the Warden, who kind of became Blackwall. In this image, they were trying to think about visual separation among members of a group at the most basic level (simple graphic design principles, like different shapes and colors). This image is part of trying to solve the design problem of having 4 different characters on-screen in the party at once in their games - as in, players of course need to be able to easily tell who is doing what and where.

A general comment: At BioWare, the concept artists nowadays involve themselves in the character design process much earlier than they used to. Historically, as in earlier games, the writers would write up a bunch of characters and then concept artists would be brought in to draw them. Through negotiation and back-and-forth they would then come up with something. Nowadays though, the concept artists are involved from Day 1. The writers now write down 2 words to describe a character and the artists do sketches based on that. The writers then will write a sentence and the artists will do more drawings based on that. Then it progresses to a paragraph and drawings based on that and so on. In this way it goes back and forth and they build it up so that the visual aspects and the writeup/content of the character are developed completely in tandem, complimentary to one another. This is their goal. They aren’t quite there yet, but this is what they’re trying to strive for in this area.

On image 6: These are Dorian concepts. His initial 2-word writeup was “rockstar mage”. They had different artists take different swings at him. The middle concept is Matt’s. The third concept is by Casper Konefal. Everyone was very excited about it and so it was then taken up to a more final stage (image 7).

On image 8: Casper is one of Matt’s favorite concept artists because he goes in and lovingly details absolutely everything - all the pieces of jewelry etc. Each ring has a story. This attention and level of detail and thought behind it adds authenticity and verisimilitude.

On image 9: In game development, there is an effect on character design that can happen during review meetings. The concept/character artist will know what they need visually from a particular character’s design in order to visually tell the story and to help the character support that. Oftentimes, people who aren’t artists don’t have the language to describe this or realize that’s what’s going on in a character’s design, and instead they just see imperfections in the presented faces. What this can lead to is that unintentionally a group review meeting can slowly trim away all the features of a character that make them interesting or distinct. This is why, for many characters across the game industry, if they were shaved and had their facial decorations etc removed, it would be kind of hard to tell many of them apart, as they have all been subjected to this sort of “council sandblasting” process. Casper figured out an idea to help with this; annotating concept drawings with artistic knowledge that artists know intuitively, as has been done here. Artists know, for instance, that certain shapes and angles can allow for certain assumptions about the character to be made (for example, think about Cassandra’s personality and then consider the angular, straight strong lines that make up her face). Annotating like this and then presenting both versions alongside one another helps these aspects of character design be recognized in the review process, and helps characters remain more distinct.

On image 10: They knew that in DAI there was going to be a character who would be with the PC for the whole game - the humble little hermit, non-intrusive, someone quite closed off who the player wouldn’t know much about. “[quote] And at the very end of the game you’d basically find out that he’s Loki himself, or the embodiment of this ancient god that had been tricking you and basically manipulating you the whole time, characterized by a wolf.” And so Nick Thornborrow hung a wolf’s jaw bone off his neck and it was just there in plain sight the whole game. Because this detail was in the drawings at an early stage, it sparked conversations with the audio department, and the audio department could add touches from their end like having wolves howling when he walked into a new area. They could then get all of these different elements and things that could be hinted at, so that when you play the game a second time it’s like ‘They weren’t even hiding it!! It was there the whole time!!’ He loves that.

A general comment: Any one of BioWare’s 3D modelled characters standing in-game talking or animating probably ends up costing them something in the 40,000 - 60,000 dollar range (they calculated this).

A general comment: For DAI, the concept artists also started to get heavily involved in the storytelling side of things at a deeper level, doing things like quick’n’dirty storyboards for the cinematic designers and spending more time with the writers talking about what emotions they were trying to convey at different points and so forth. Since starting doing this, this has become a built-in part of their process.

A comment in the context of giving advice to up-and-coming and student artists, on the subject of how concepts and ideas are naturally thrown out during the process of iterating on ideas etc: “[quote] Right now, the project that I’m working on that I can’t talk about, I have 3 versions of the story in the garbage, and it’s awesome. Because now I’m working on the fourth with our lead writer and it’s so much better than it would have been otherwise and we’re doing it so much earlier so that we can actually change things up.” Said project could be DA4 or something else. (Please remember these comments were made in November 2016. MEA came out in 2017 and DA4 has been rebooted)

[source]

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #dragon age #bioware #solas #cole #cassandra pentaghast #slavery cw #spirit boy #my lady paladin #long post #longpost #da4 tag for the insight into post-DAI era art direction/design process #& for the reference to the project which may or may not be da4 #highlights compiled in case the talk as-is isn't accessible to someone

217 notes · View notes

ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

A Favor: Part Thirteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: merry christmas

***

Nesta and Cassian agree to take separate cars to Velaris— not because they’re so afraid of being discovered together that they’ll risk global warming, but because Nesta has a preceding event and tells Cassian not to wait up for her.

After a rushed Secret Santa with the boys at Emerie’s apartment, Nesta drops by Gwyn’s place and leaves a small parcel at the doorstep. She doesn’t have time to knock and make conversation, but the gift is the least she can do after Gwyn surprised her the other day with a copy of a highly anticipated romance book weeks ahead of its official release.

“The library got early copies and I borrowed this one for you,” she said out of nowhere one afternoon, handing her the book. Nesta blinked in shock, not realizing that she and Gwyn were close enough for such acts of kindness. Even if their conversations felt like they’d been friends for much longer, they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks. It was then that she realized that’s just how Gwyn is. She does nice things because she can, not because social bonds or etiquette compels her to.

Guilt isn’t something Nesta feels often, but she was ravaged by it when she thought of not repaying Gwyn’s kindness. She couldn’t bear the idea of imbalances or debts being created in her relationships with her new friends, and spent the last two days searching everywhere for a decent gift to make up for it. She’ll have to text to make sure Gwyn got her present later tonight.

After a two hour drive (she might have taken detours to stall), Nesta is in the hallway leading to Feyre and Rhysand’s penthouse apartment. The door is cracked open enough that laughter and music float out to where she stands, and her fingers tighten on the bag carrying her sisters’ gifts. She checks her makeup in the hall mirror one final time, assuring that not a smidge of her perfect armor is out of place.

An in-and-out operation, she tells herself, flicking a lock of hair away from her face. She’s prepared for this.

Walking up to the half-open door, she’s struck down by the decision of whether to knock before going in or not. Luckily, the choice is taken away from her when the door swings open on its own, and Feyre is on the other side.

“Nesta,” her sister says in surprise, in a good or bad way Nesta doesn’t know.

Nesta blinks. “Did you know I was here?” She gestures to the door.

“Oh, no...” Feyre pokes her head past Nesta into the hallway. “Actually, I was checking to see if the pizza guy was here yet,” —she looks back at Nesta— “but this is even better!”

The slight strain in her voice makes Nesta think otherwise.

She doesn’t play along with the game. She doesn’t even comment on how they’re having pizza on Christmas Eve. Feyre adds after a moment, genuinely this time, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Nesta glances down at her dress, a skintight ruched piece that shows more chest than usual, and then back up at Feyre’s designer jumpsuit. “So do you,” she says, her voice more flat than she’d prefer it. But she means it. “Can I come in?” she gestures inside, hoping to put an end to this conversation and her nerves.

“Right, duh,” Feyre laughs, grabbing Nesta’s gift bag and waving her inside. “Elain’s in the kitchen if you want to see her. Grab a drink and make yourself comfortable.”

Nesta steps past the door cautiously, eyeing the penthouse as if it’s her first time here. The winding iron-railed staircase is to the right, leading up to the second floor which holds all the bedrooms. The living area sprawls to her left, and through a wood-paneled threshold across from her is the dining room and kitchen. If anything is different from the last time she visited, it’s that the place is now considerably more lived in: pictures, hand-picked art, and other signs of life and love decorate every inch of the apartment, to the point where it makes Nesta feel like a home invader.

She’s so busy absorbing this place she doesn’t belong in that it takes her a moment to realize the room has fallen silent.

She turns to the living area, and her eyes land on Cassian first. He went so far as to put on a suit for tonight, and he’s watching her with a stunned quietness that makes her proud of her own outfit choice.

Nesta knows there are other people in the room, but she really can’t bring herself to care. Her hands twitch at her sides, instinctively reaching for him—

“Look who finally decided to show up,” a smug voice drawls.

Nesta looks away from Cassian to find that just about everybody else is staring at her, too. The voice who spoke up is that tiny woman named Amren, and she’s watching Nesta now with a sharp glint in her gray eyes.

Slick discomfort coats Nesta’s insides at Amren’s tone, and she lets her hands fall behind her back so they can’t reveal her anxiety. “Merry Christmas, everyone,” are the first words out of her mouth.

“’Sup, Nesta,” Cassian is the only one that bothers to respond. His tone holds none of the closeness or intimacy it usually does— it’s been replaced with a removed, almost strained friendliness instead.

Remembering that seeking him out for comfort is not an option tonight, she tries to find somewhere else to look.

In the span of a second, she spies Mor’s curiosity, Rhysand’s vague distaste, and Varian’s hesitance, before finally settling on Azriel’s bland look of disinterest. His phone dangles lazily from his hand, and he looks about two seconds away from going back to it and ignoring her completely.

It’s his detachment that grounds Nesta enough to remember her words. “I’m going to…” she gestures vaguely toward the kitchen, “get some food.”

“I can help—” Feyre starts.

“No, thank you,” Nesta quips, then hightails it out of there. The conversation, along with Nesta’s heartbeat, restarts as soon as she’s out of the room.

Following the short hallway connecting the dining space to the huge kitchen, she freezes when she finds Elain standing before the dual range oven, staring intently down at her phone. She curses herself silently— how did she forget her other sister would be waiting here right after being told so?

Elain’s head snaps up at the sound of Nesta’s heels on the tile, looking flustered. She quickly tucks her phone into the pocket of her apron before she realizes who she’s looking at, and a wide smile overtakes her beautiful face. “Is that really you?” Elain marvels in her lilting southern accent.

The words hit Nesta bluntly for some inexplicable reason. She shakes it off with a blink and smiles back, far more subdued than Elain but still genuine. “Lain,” she greets kindly, like they’re two old friends picking up right where they left off.

It’s Nesta’s fault that things are like this, she knows. She hasn’t bothered holding a real conversation with her closest sister in months, and now she’s in the same room as her hoping she won’t have to face Elain’s disappointment for her distance.

“Oh, get over here, how’ve you been?” Elain crosses the sleek kitchen and waves her into a hug. Nesta awkwardly pats her back, and is held even tighter when she tries pulling away.

She only manages to detach from Elain when Elain’s apron pocket vibrates. Stepping back, she takes her phone out and silences it before tucking it away once more. “So,” she grins when her focus returns to Nesta, “how’s the lone wolf life treating you? Isn’t it great to be back at your old apartment?”

“It’s good. I’m doing good,” she nods along. Nesta hates small talk more than anything, but this is the least she owes Elain. And the least she owes herself, if she’s being honest. Even if she knows she will never truly be fit for a life of socialization.

She takes things a step further and nods to the oven, asking, “What are you cooking up?”

She knows she’s done something right when Elain’s dark eyes light up, and she starts rattling off the three-course menu she’s prepared for tonight. (“What about the pizza on the way?” Nesta asks. Elain’s face darkens. “Don’t get me started. Some of the people in that living room have the taste palate of five year olds.”)

Nesta takes a seat at the island and falls into the age-old rhythm of listening to her sister talk, her heart feeling bruised and soothed at the same time. How similar and different they are now from the people they were ten years ago. Nesta doesn’t know if this is a good thing or not.

***

“That’s the thirtieth time you’ve checked your phone since Mor started telling her dolphin story,” Cassian mutters to Azriel sitting next to him on the couch.

Az clicks his phone off and turns it facedown so Cassian can’t see the screen, his face remaining blank the entire time. “I can’t help it if I’ve heard the dolphin story a hundred times already.”

“You’ve been staring at that thing the entire night,” Cassian calls him out. “Anyone on there more interesting than us, dear brother?”

Az snorts, not bothering to look at him. “Like you’re one to talk.” He reaches for his glass of liquor on the side table.

Cassian frowns as the chatter drowns out his murmur. “What do you mean?”

Azriel takes a sip from his drink, not replying. “When do you plan on letting us back at your cabin?” he says instead.

Cassian snorts. “It’s not like I’ve been keeping you away from it.”

“You turned Rhys and me down every time we made plans about coming over.”

“Because Nesta was staying there.” He is very, very careful about the way he says her name. Even talking about her is walking a thin line.

“She moved out a while ago, though,” Azriel continues. He leans back into the couch. “Speaking of Nesta, I don’t remember her being that hot. Did you see her in that little dress tonight?”

Cassian tenses, dull anger sliding over his bones and under his skin. “We all fucking saw her,” he says tightly.

Az clicks his tongue. “Damn. A woman like that shouldn’t be wasted in a small town.” His eyes slide over to Cassian’s with a dark glint of amusement. “You mind sharing?”

In that moment, Cassian is presented with the option of punching Azriel in the face. Hard. It’s only due to a divine miracle that he doesn’t.

Even with his temper, Cassian knows when he’s being played with. “How did you know.” His voice is flat, cold.

“You have ‘Nesta’s bitch’ written all over your face.”

Goddammit. Cassian clenches his teeth, saying nothing. Can everyone see it, or only his closest brother? How long has he known?

“I had my suspicions,” Az says simply, “when you ran out of Thanksgiving dinner like your ass was on fire after she sent you that thirst trap.”

Cassian blinks. Of course; the bastard peeked at his phone the last time they were together. No reason other than that.

“It wasn’t a thirst trap,” he grits, on high defense now. “It was a perfectly appropriate photo that you never should have seen.”

Az’s lips twitch upward. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you reacted to it.”

This— this is exactly why he doesn’t want anybody to know about him and Nesta. Because even though a weight has been lifted off his chest with Azriel knowing, an even heavier weight has started to sink in his stomach.

For months, Nesta has been his alone. And the idea of opening their relationship up to others’ opinions and judgements...

“Cass?”

He breaks his death glare at Azriel to find Feyre standing over the couch. He blinks; when did she cross the room? “Yeah?”

“You okay?” She glances between him and Azriel, clear-cut concern in her eyes. “You’ve been a little out of it tonight.” These last several weeks, actually, he knows she’s thinking.

He pulls his best Nesta face, all emotion carefully hidden behind a wall so blank it’s almost dead. “I’m doing fine,” he says simply. “Don’t worry about me; worry about Rhys spending all of your money on cards tonight.”

When Feyre still looks hesitant, Cassian summons his signature smile, the one that puts everyone and their babies at ease. He knows he’s succeeded when Feyre’s shoulders sink and she smiles back, nudging him in the arm. “Alright,” she says begrudgingly. “Just don’t keep pulling that long face. It’s Christmas Eve.”

***

Nesta is still hiding out in the kitchen while Elain finishes up a roast chicken when Feyre wanders in, eager to play the doting host.

Nesta pauses in the middle of telling Elain what she got earlier today for Secret Santa, waiting for Feyre to interrupt or insert her opinion, but Feyre only leans against the kitchen entrance and waits for her to go on.

“... So I thought it was hideous, but she insisted I keep it,” Nesta finishes cautiously.

“Who insisted you keep what?” Feyre speaks up.

“My friend Emerie got me a Christmas sweater.” Nesta waves a hand. “It looks like it came out of the recycling bin of a thrift shop, but I think she legitimately expects me to wear it tomorrow.” She huffs a lighthearted laugh, remembering how she and Emerie had cackled over the tacky gift together.

She finds she doesn’t mind talking about Emerie to her sisters. Rather, it’s something that brings her pride, like how she imagines new parents talk about their babies.

“Ain’t that amazing?” Elain speaks from where she arranges the chicken onto a platter, her back turned to both sisters. “While we were worried this whole time about Nesta being holed up in her room, she’s been going out and making friends.” Her voice is tight with a forced cheerfulness that only their mother could have taught her. Nesta stiffens in her seat at the island.

“Oh,” Feyre says shortly, blinking. “I see.”

The easiness Nesta had from talking about her friends slips away, being replaced with her usual mask of steel and ice. “See what?”

“Nothing,” Feyre defends, moving to lean against the island across from her. “We barely ever speak anymore, Nesta. How are we supposed to know what goes on in your life these days?”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Nesta says coldly.

“She’s also in therapy.” Elain still hasn’t turned around from the stove. “How exciting.”

Nesta whips her head toward Elain in disbelief at the information spilled. So she is angry at Nesta for avoiding her calls.

“Therapy?” Feyre looks taken aback. “For what?”

Elain swoops in before Nesta can choose between scoffing or rolling her eyes at Feyre’s question. “Who cares what it’s for?” She finally turns around, bracing her hands on the counter. “Does it even matter?”

Nesta tastes venom on her tongue, and it wants to be spit in her sisters’ direction. “If you have something you want to say, Elain, say it. The passive-aggressive act makes you look like a fake bitch.”

Elain flinches, and Feyre looks away to hide her tired disappointment. “We still can’t have a single conversation without you going from zero to a hundred, I see.”

You haven’t even seen a hundred yet. “Tell me,” Nesta demands. “What did I do to mortally wound you this time? Is it the fact that I have a life away from your incestuous circle, or am I missing something else?”

Feyre scoffs incredulously, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s the fact, Nesta, that you have it in yourself to be good to everyone except for your sisters! When it was just me you hated, I could accept it fine, but then you left Tennessee and shut Elain out, too. With no explanation.” Hurt dances across her face. “It’s been years and it’s only gotten worse. And after months of near silence you show up here like—like you would rather be part of any family except ours.”

She keeps saying we, like her and Elain’s feelings are one and the same. Like they’ve talked about this before.

Nesta crosses her arms. “So you are mad I have friends.”

“How is that your takeaway from this?” Feyre has to struggle to keep her voice down.

Nesta’s heated eyes cut to Elain, who’s been silent during this whole exchange. “And you agree with her? Or is there something else you’d like to add?”

Elain opens her mouth to respond, but Nesta doesn’t give her the chance. “If I haven’t changed, then neither have you two,” she seethes. “You still think this is the fucking Disney channel or something, where we’re all best friends who have sisterly sleepovers and text each other good night. Wake the fuck up,” she bares her teeth. “Stop expecting things from me and just be happy I’m alive and doing well— because that’s the bare minimum that I’ve always given you!”

But no matter what Nesta says or does, they will never understand her. She will never be enough for them. The realization sinks in with a rattling finality at the resigned look on Feyre and Elain’s faces: like they didn’t hear a word she said. Nesta wonders when they stopped listening.

A throat clears behind her, and she whirls to see Feyre’s boyfriend at the doorway. His pretty-boy face is drawn tight, barely hidden rage simmering in the violet of his eyes. “Pizza’s here,” he says curtly.

Elain blinks tears out of her eyes, spinning back to the counter to pick up the platter of chicken. “Of course,” she says quickly, “the rest of the food is ready too.”

Feyre leaves the kitchen first, then Elain, then Rhysand with a final deadly glare at Nesta.

Nesta doesn’t know how long she stands there in the same spot, unmoving. Only when her phone buzzes from the island countertop does she turn.

Gwyn: did u get me a vibrator for christmas???

***

Cassian hasn’t looked at her all night.

Nesta doesn’t know what she expected when she told him they couldn’t be together in public, but it wasn’t this: him, laughing and talking with everybody at the table save for her. Like she isn’t even sitting there.

Nothing has changed. Least of all her.

She swallows around a mouthful of dry meat, feeling herself slip back into that old, familiar role: the background character. Except tonight is different, because everyone saw Elain’s watery eyes and Rhysand’s furious stare when they left the kitchen, and now Nesta is being ignored on purpose.

The buzzing in her head is louder than any conversation going on at the table anyway. Whether her sisters would believe her or not, Nesta had made plans. Plans to call more often, to make amends for the years of radio silence, to reintroduce herself to Feyre and Elain as a better sister. Not now, but one day— when she finally learned how.

Plans that were all dashed in the span of one conversation. Her knuckles turn bone white around her fork. So much for getting better.

The longer the night goes on, the more hurt and rage swells in her chest, until she fears she can’t say a word without screaming. How long will it be like this between her and her sisters, between her and the world? As if Nesta owes them all one thing or another: her time, her energy, her best smile and her affections. Why does everything have to be an exchange, and why is she always the one giving something up?

Cassian is the one person who always let her be, adjusting to her whenever she couldn’t adjust to him. But she’s having trouble remembering that fact when he won’t even spare a glance her way. When he’s sitting there laughing with Mor in a way he never laughs with her.

“And what about you, girl?”

Amren’s voice drags Nesta out of her haze, and she realizes the woman is speaking to her.

Nesta doesn’t like the way Amren speaks— with barely hidden cruelty, like she takes joy in watching people squirm.

Nesta blinks. “What?”

A slow smile creeps up Amren’s red mouth. “I said,” she repeats, “are you finding the pay for your work at Night Court sufficient?”

“Amren,” Cassian starts, but Nesta is already on her feet. The table falls silent.

“I have to...” she mumbles unintelligibly. She can’t come up with an excuse. Shaking her head, she leaves the table without finishing her sentence. Leaves the dining room and the whole damn apartment.

***

The slam of the door shutting echoes through the penthouse. No one speaks for a long moment, and Cassian finds himself filling the silence: “Was that necessary, Amren?”

Amren sneers. “What did I do?”

Because he’s counting down the seconds until it’s acceptable to go after Nesta, Cassian indulges her. “Not everyone has it in them to play Mean Girls with you whenever you feel like it.”

“Yeah, but did she have to ruin dinner over it?” Mor snorts, reaching over and plucking a roasted Brussels sprout from Nesta’s nearly untouched plate.

Feyre stands up. “I’ll go after her—”

“Don’t bother,” Cassian says, earning a raised brow from Azriel. Elain looks inclined to agree with Cassian until he adds, “I’ll check on her. You don’t need to stress, Feyre.” With a reassuring smile, he pushes out of his seat and heads for the door.

Each casual step toward Nesta lasts a million years, but he finally reaches the hallway beyond the apartment, letting his facade drop in the same breath that the door shuts behind him. Relief wracks his body when he finds Nesta waiting for the elevator, still here.

“Nes,” he calls, hurrying after her.

She punches the elevator button repeatedly, as if that’ll get it to hurry up. He catches up to her and takes hold of her hand, turning her around—

She snatches her wrist out of his grip like she’s been burned, her fingers flexing with pent up emotion. “Not tonight, Cassian.”

“I’ll go home with you, you can tell me what’s wrong—”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?” he demands. She never shuts him out like this.

Nesta stares intently at the elevator doors. “Go back to forgetting I exist.” Her voice is flat.

He scoffs in disbelief. “You’re not serious—”

She whirls on him so quickly he almost stumbles back in surprise. “You didn’t look at me once the entire night.”

Cassian stills, stunned. Is that what this is about? “How could I have?” he laughs, shaking his head. “You’re the one who doesn’t want anyone knowing about us!”

“So you pretend I’m not there at all?” Hurt flares beneath her angered words.

“I can’t do both.” He fights to keep his voice low, aware of the thin walls. “I can’t look at you and not have everyone see what I feel for you— you’re all over me.” Even Azriel sees it, for God’s sake.

“What’s the truth, then?” she hisses. “Are you a terrible actor or a great one? Because in that apartment I forgot we were even in a relationship.”

“You walked in looking like that,” he gestures wildly at the black sheer mesh hugging her body, “and I was supposed to, what? Act like we were friends?” He hasn’t spent all night nearly losing his mind trying to fulfill Nesta’s wishes, trying not to let his feelings show, to get dragged through the mud for it.

“Is that your best excuse?” Nesta sneers. “I used to be too boring to spare a glance, and now I’m too sexy?” She steps closer to him, bringing them chest to chest. “We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world. That’s why we haven’t told anybody, Cassian.”

Cassian knows a spiral when he sees one, and he’s fighting not to get dragged into Nesta’s. “I know this isn’t about me.” He closes his eyes, praying for calm. “It’s about whatever happened with Feyre and Elain tonight.”

Which is the wrong thing to say, from the way Nesta’s face reddens. “Don’t even fucking go there.”

He doesn’t realize that the elevator has dinged open until Nesta reaches out her arm to stop the doors from closing. “You know nothing about me,” she says heatedly. “You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now. You haven’t. Learned. Anything.”

Cassian almost wishes she would scream senseless things at him like she used to do whenever she was upset— because this refined wrath of hers is so much more hurtful. And it makes him angry, too.

He leans in until his nose is brushing hers. “If this is one of those things where you try to push me away by being cruel, I’m not fucking buying it.”

Like a switch is flipped, the flame in Nesta’s eyes flares out. He sees that dead nothingness and knows he’s lost. “You don’t have to buy it,” she says simply. She steps onto the waiting elevator, and he doesn’t try stopping her. She doesn’t want to be stopped.

Nesta gives him a final look before the doors shut between them. “And I wore this dress for you, asshole.”

Cassian stands there long after she’s gone. Not knowing what to do next.

A muffled laugh breaks through to him from the other side of the walls, and he realizes that everyone has moved back into the living room. Turning around, he goes back inside to his friends.

***

;)

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic

193 notes · View notes

shihalyfie · 4 years ago

Text

The difference between Taichi and Daisuke

Because Taichi and Daisuke both fit a rough model of “the brash shounen protagonist”, and because Daisuke, as Taichi’s junior, is intended to invoke him in certain ways, it’s easy to pin Daisuke as just being a slightly derivative version of Taichi in a different context. In actuality, as much as there are similarities between the two, there are other ways in which they’re actually polar opposites!

Although 02 is a sequel to Adventure, 02 is a very different kind of story, one that prioritizes being about relationships instead of Adventure’s simple self-actualization. This means that the characters that are at the center of the narrative are very different because the way each of them grow has very much to do with the story each wanted to tell -- and what each wanted to portray in their respective groups.

The most important thing to understand about both Taichi and Daisuke is that their surface demeanors are extremely misleading.

I discussed in my earlier meta about Taichi that, in fact, a lot of Taichi’s behavior comes from the fact he’s too chill about things -- he’s very easygoing and initially doesn’t seem very argumentative. That emphasis is on initially, because, nevertheless, Taichi has a tendency to try and take charge and push the group to do ambitious things, and when confronted about his ideas maybe not being so great, he starts arguing about it. Adventure episode 7 has him say something pretty condescending to Yamato in the course of it, and it’s only the first in what’s going to be a lot of these incidents. If you want to confront Taichi, he will fight you back.

While it leads to a certain degree of conflict (especially with Yamato) in the earlier parts of the series, it also means that, from the very get-go, Taichi is someone who has no problem making decisions on the fly and getting everyone to go forward with him. It’s also especially important in light of the Adventure group having been a bunch of kids from separate circles tossed together thanks to the circumstances; his ability to make quick and firm decisions helps them come together when they otherwise wouldn’t be able to do things cohesively.

On the other hand, Daisuke, despite having an abrasive surface demeanor, is extremely deferential, and, well, kind of spends the early parts of 02 rather lacking in a spine (I say this with affection, I promise). Unlike Taichi, who often sometimes tried to push forward with whatever he wanted to do even if it was a bit on the dangerous side, Daisuke is so deferential to other people that, during these early episodes, he actually gets carried around by other people more than he can be said to pull others forward. It really doesn’t take much for everyone to override his opinions as long as they’re assertive enough.

Certainly, part of it is because Daisuke’s dealing with his seniors -- Daisuke is an extremely deferential person who’s craving validation, and so he looks up to his seniors and is constantly deferring to their judgment. But even the nine-year-old Iori is capable of getting Daisuke to shut down, just because Iori’s a very assertive person, and Daisuke shrinks so easily. Daisuke’s early-series tendency to lash out at others is largely very defensive, mainly because he’s lacking in validation and plays very poorly with how easily he feels threatened or how much he can’t tell whether he’s being made fun of. (Rather like an overly on-edge puppy, basically.)

But in any case, the important part is that as far as important decisions go, for this part of the series, Daisuke is not the one making them.

Still, what Taichi does have as a leader, he’s somewhat lacking in a certain other area: emotional sensitivity. A lot of his friction with others in the early parts of Adventure involves him stepping on someone’s toes (such as accidentally insulting someone with a well-intentioned but insensitive joke, or being callous with Koushirou’s computer), and when he’s confronted about it (usually by Yamato), actually gets defensive and starts fighting back about it, which leads to things like escalated conflicts with Taichi and Yamato violently punching each other out.

Even by the time of Our War Game!, Taichi is indicated to still have somewhat of a problem accepting responsibility for when he’s offended someone else or doing something wrong, and it’s pretty clearly a big reason he and Sora are still in a very bad fight during the events of the movie. Most of the time (at least during Adventure and Our War Game!), by the time Taichi’s realized he’s messed up, he’s already deep in hot water.

In comparison, initially brash as Daisuke can be, when things really come down to it, even the early episodes indicate that not only is he much more non-confrontational, he’s actually significantly more emotionally sensitive. In 02 episode 7 (one that’s still pretty high up in his phase of being rather too shallow when it comes to issues about Hikari), he does what even Our War Game! had indicated Taichi at being really bad at doing: immediately apologizes to Iori on the spot and takes back his statements that went over the line with Takeru. Even this early part of the series still has clear indications he’s more attuned to considering his friends’ feelings without being prompted to do so (in 02 episode 10, he immediately catches on that Miyako’s not feeling well, with nobody else having to point it out).

On top of that, as much as he has an occasional tendency to lash out angrily at people, unlike Taichi, Daisuke almost never resorts to ad hominem (insulting the other person directly); abrasive and argumentative as he may sometimes be, he isn’t the type to call people names or be condescending. This is a really important distinction that’s often overlooked (not only with fictional characters, but also often in real life in general); it’s the difference between “you’re stupid” (ad hominem) and “what you’re doing is stupid”. Daisuke very often does the latter because he’s defensive and quick to criticize, but it’s vanishingly rare he will ever go as far as to try invalidating a person, nor does he ever really look down on anyone; it’s an important key to understanding how he’s actually the type to support and respect others even despite his tendency to get argumentative.

Daisuke having the Digimentals of Courage and Friendship points him towards Taichi and Yamato, and it’s important to not neglect that latter part -- as much as Daisuke’s surface traits and character design beg you to think more of Taichi, Daisuke’s tendency to be more emotionally sensitive and constantly consider the feelings of his friends is much like Yamato’s, especially since Yamato also had a tendency to have a somewhat abrasive exterior but actually be emotionally passionate about those he cared about. As a result, Daisuke never, ever gets in a fight with anyone to remotely the same violent and anger-filled degree Taichi and Yamato would get in back in Adventure, because even when he gets kind of close in 02 episode 11, he ultimately ends up sidetracked by thinking seriously about what his seniors have to say about friendship and trying to figure out what Takeru’s feelings are that it defuses very quickly. In the end, Daisuke’s just too conscientious about other people’s feelings to let it get that far.

The first time Taichi is properly recognized as the Adventure group’s “leader” is in Adventure episode 28, and the word is used directly. Taichi even initially denies it, before everyone brings proof in the form of pointing out that he was the one capable of bringing them all together when they’d split apart, and Taichi later demonstrates his abilities as a leader himself when he properly delegates Koushirou as the one to solve the card puzzle. Everyone states that they trust him as the leader, and defer to his judgment in this situation; for the rest of the series, the group continues to acknowledge him as someone who eventually calls the shots and makes the major decisions over what the group will do next.

No equivalent to this scene exists in 02. In fact, Daisuke is not the leader of the 02 group in the same way Taichi is the leader of the Adventure group, and, to push it further, I would even go as far as saying that the 02 group does not have a leader at all.

Understanding why the 02 group doesn’t have a leader, or, more accurately, doesn’t really need one, has to do with the fact that the 02 group has a very different relationship with each other than the Adventure group does. Taichi was responsible for holding the entire Adventure group together and organizing them because they were liable to fall apart without someone as the lynchpin, but the 02 group started off as a social circle before they were a fighting group, and therefore will stick together as friends even if nobody’s holding them together per se. This leads to 02 episode 19 featuring them deciding to work independently to the point Daisuke gets left behind -- compare the equivalent episode in Adventure and how Taichi is treated, and it’s pretty clear Daisuke doesn’t actually have a very commanding role in the group. (You can think of it as an inverted version of the Adventure group’s relationship with socialization vs. fighting coordination; the Adventure group figured out how to fight together fairly quickly but fell apart as soon as Taichi was gone, whereas the 02 group is predisposed to hang out together as friends but takes much longer to learn to coordinate from a fighting perspective.)

Even after Daisuke starts to become more assertive, however, he still doesn’t always take an active role in terms of coordinating or calling the shots -- the most prominent example being the Giga House incident in 02 episodes 28-29, in which he doesn’t mind deferring to the others as they all strategize. It’s a huge contrast against the Adventure group (which was rather big and in need of someone to organize such disparate people) deferring to Taichi to make the final calls and to lay down the goals for them to follow, whereas Daisuke can make decisions or suggestions, but is much more liable to defer to his friends’ ideas or what they want to do if they happen to have any better suggestions. Daisuke doesn’t have the bird’s-eye tactician abilities Taichi has nor his natural charisma, but he shows all signs of being well aware of this; when the 02 group makes a major decision, it’s always one they make together, and although Daisuke eventually does gain a certain sense of independent will, he still puts extremely high value into what his friends think about the situation before going forward with it. As much as Daisuke was certainly the most influential in getting the group to reach out to Ken, it's ultimately the rest of the group that chooses to find their own way to reach out to him, each on their own terms -- Miyako in 02 episode 25, Hikari in 02 episode 32, Takeru in 02 episode 37, and Iori in 02 episode 38 -- and while Daisuke did originally have a clear intention to reach out to Ken regardless of what the others thought, he still very much did actively bid and hope for the others to get along with him in their own ways (see: 02 episode 30).

(This also has the side effect that, as much as Daisuke’s surface demeanor might suggest that everything would be a reckless disaster with him around, the fact that he takes his friends’ stances on the situation so heavily in regard means that he’s actually less likely to do something catastrophically stupid in a major situation, as long as his friends are sufficiently able to keep him in check.)

In the course of Adventure, the skill that Taichi begins to hone is “becoming a leader” in every sense of it -- organizing others, bringing them together, and learning to be ever so slightly less impulsive by thinking through his decisions a bit more instead of leaning on the first thing that comes to his head. The Adventure group, twice on the verge of falling apart, is ultimately brought back together under his lead, and it’s his charisma that allows all of them to trust him and what he wants to do.

It’s not hard to see why; he has qualities for it that come to him naturally, in that he treats people equally and without prejudice, and is a soccer captain-like tactician who is capable of taking a bird’s eye view of the situation and organizing things around them. As demonstrated in Adventure episodes 16 and 28, he’s good at delegating roles when people need suitable guidance.

Daisuke, on the other hand, has a very different specialty: emotional positivity and support. Once he starts shedding the defensive abrasiveness he’d had a tendency to fall into during the first half of the series, his true capacity for being a very pure-hearted, emotionally sensitive person who puts the well-being of his friends first and foremost before anything else comes through. This means he’s the member of the group who’s the most brimming with “positivity” and “the will to push forward”, especially over the course of the second half of 02 in which things are taking a larger and larger psychological toll on the group. Again, the 02 group doesn’t actually have a true “leader”, and many of those traits Taichi has that Daisuke lacks ultimately have to be substituted by some of the other members in the group, but Daisuke’s main skill is in “leading the charge” with emotional support -- and that’s why he ends up often being the one most proactively pulling them forward (and, on a meta level, is why he’s the main protagonist even if the story is arguably more about Ken).

Of course, Taichi and Daisuke do end up having traces of the others’ strengths -- Taichi ultimately comes around to being more emotionally sensitive and handling others maturely (especially in 02), while Daisuke receiving a proper support group and validation from his friends allows himself to show the assertiveness he’d struggled to show in the first half. But ultimately, their strengths are their own, and tailored very well to the dynamics of the particular groups they’re affiliated with.

Once eight years have passed since 02, we can now see this disparity in personality to the point it’s started having major differences in their future paths. Taichi’s in the middle of an existential crisis, drifting away from a lot of his friends and not sure what to do with his life, whereas not only is Daisuke cheerfully hanging out with his friends like 02 was only yesterday, he’s very clearly aware of what he wants to do with his life (after all, he’s had that very clear goal since he was in elementary school).

In regards to why Daisuke’s not having nearly as many problems with his career path: it’s because Daisuke’s satisfied with the low hanging fruit.

Daisuke has always admired Taichi ever since they were both tiny kids, and it’s easy to see why, given Daisuke’s deficiencies prior to the start of 02 -- being a natural leader, charismatic, and extremely assertive, Taichi very easily presented an ideal image of an idol for Daisuke to aspire to. Kizuna makes it clear that Daisuke is just as senior-adoring and Taichi-adoring as he was back in 02; he has a lot of faith in his seniors to be able to pull amazing and great things off.

Daisuke himself, meanwhile, is happy with only the idea of running a ramen shop, and is practically playing the whole thing by ear without thinking of it too hard. While Taichi hasn’t really said anything about the matter, it’s pretty easy to believe that there is no way in hell Taichi would be satisfied with something like that as a career; he’s always been the ambitious type who wants to do big things, and the fact he’s taking political science and economics at a major university (if it’s anything like the real uni, it’s not easy to get into!) indicates that, even if he doesn’t know exactly what, he certainly would rather do something bigger and more influential with his life.

But the drama CD provides a lot of insight into Daisuke’s current attitude regarding the whole ramen shop thing, and he’s rather grounded about it all, admitting that he doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing and being very quick to admit his own faults. I mentioned earlier that Daisuke is actually good at taking responsibility for his own failings, and it’s likely his lack of ambition stems from the fact that he simply doesn’t consider himself cut out for huge, amazing things to begin with. But that doesn’t matter to him, because he’s happy with simple things, and, more importantly, he’s happy as long as he can continue to support his friends -- and receive support from them in return. Said drama CD includes him relating a long narrative about how, after initially being unsure of what to do, he took all of the little pieces of information and suggestions he got from his friends extremely seriously, even when they didn’t think much of what they were doing or saying at the time -- in short, Daisuke’s life really does involve appreciating and loving his friends.

This is important to consider in light of the fact that the 02 group is cut out for a very different future from their seniors’ -- again, look at the difference between Taichi’s eventual future of “history-making diplomat” and Daisuke’s of “ramen shop owner”. Even when you take into account the whole success story of his shop becoming a chain (which, knowing him, may well have been by accident), as far as world-shattering impact goes, the most influence Daisuke is ever going to have with that career is in regards to food. But this ties into the fact that Daisuke really is that kind of person, someone who’s more community-oriented and sensitive about bringing happiness to the people around him more than he’s capable of aiming for the abstract, whereas Taichi is the kind of person who is much more ambitious and able to enact larger impact over more usually disparate groups of people, even if it means not necessarily having the same type of support group Daisuke has.

And, on a larger scale, it ties into the reason why 02 group is so easily tied at the hip despite their seniors so clearly drifting apart -- it’s baked into the difference between their dynamic and their seniors’ dynamic. The Adventure group is comprised of the kind of people who shoot for individual achievement and self-affirmation over all else, but the 02 group is somewhat dependent on each other for support. As I’ve said before in the relevant meta, this isn’t fundamentally a bad thing -- it ties more into how they choose to live and what they want to prioritize, and as far as the 02 group goes, Daisuke’s priority of mutually supporting his friends ties into the overall group’s priority of valuing their relationships to each other over necessarily shooting for high individual achievement, and finding their own happiness that way.

It’s also interesting to think about why Taichi has his goggles back by the beginning of the movie, meaning that, at some point, Daisuke gave them back to him and started wearing the orange sunglasses we see him with for its duration. Of course, Taichi having the goggles is for meta reasons, since there’s a lot of symbolism associated with Adventure itself and Taichi’s past association with it, as well as its own connection to his past...

But it’s also interesting to consider the fact that even as early as 2003, Daisuke was considering passing the goggles on to someone else. (They’ll eventually end up owned by his own son, but you can imagine the trail of who passed it to whom at what time for yourself.) The same drama CD track implies heavily that Daisuke initially wore his own pair of goggles specifically for the sake of emulating Taichi as “the person who had the power to protect everyone”. Taichi passing his own pair onto him was proof that Daisuke was now worthy of accepting that power and becoming capable of his own courage.

Yet by 2003, Daisuke already considered himself confident enough in said abilities to be willing to pass them onto someone else. You can imagine the circumstances of why he decided to give them back to Taichi for the time being (perhaps he noticed Taichi slipping into an existential crisis?), but the point is that while the goggles still have symbolic meaning, Daisuke’s capable of carving his own path and figuring out what he wants to do without needing to use the exact same thing Taichi did. Instead of chasing after someone else for it, he managed to find his own strengths within himself, and thus, ends up finding happiness in a very different way than Taichi does.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #kizuna spoilers #yagami taichi #motomiya daisuke #taichi yagami #daisuke motomiya #shihameta

176 notes · View notes

aeempress · 3 years ago

Text

Apritello Express Evidences, part 1

Greetings, Apritello enthusiasts and attention! Here comes a loong post is written by totally nerd. You've been warned. Here we go.

The thing is that Apritello is a double-edged sword. The series shows us established friendship of these two, give us a lot of content with them. We can see development of relationship through interaction between the characters, their reaction about the situations they are put in. We can sense their synergy and bound through the show.

Donnie and April have incredible chemistry, and both options, brotp and otp seems fine to me.

But let me tell you why I ship them.

Apritello is the kind of pairings, which consists of small details, hints, that's hidden, but if you're sharp and attentive one, you will notice that. Apritello has a strong foundation: the best friends trope.

And from the very beginning, it works as planned.

When I start watching show, I could say that April and Donnie are best friends. It is worth noting that April is like an older sister to the other brothers, more of a sisterly figure than a friend, but with Donnie she behaves somewhat differently, namely, as best friend. Obviously, she sets him apart from his brothers, although girl tries to pay attention to all of them equally. And Donnie behaves as well.

Dee's battle shell designs for April needs as well as his. His shell transform into comfy spot for taking ride for April. Special and only for her. Because his bros are not supposed to use it (at least, he carries no one on his back), Donnie carries them by his techno-bó or his limbs.

This tiny detail shows his special treatment to her. April is a very, very special occasion to D. Don does care about her comfort, he accept the way she is. Donatello does not try to prevent her from participating in their affairs because he respects her decisions and is pleased that April can be shoulder to shoulder with him.

D is glad to be at her service.

Yeah, Dee's still playing cool, he has image to perform as tough and coolheaded guy. So Don doesn't show his intentions, interest and feeling to other people (he's tryin', but fails). Because his actions matter. They are always small, hidden, but meaningful.

April, in return, trusts Dee and depends on his tech, even knowing what his inventions are the opposite of success (usually).

Go on. Look at Donnie's facial expressions and body language when April is near.

Donnie seems more relaxed when she's around, happier. His emotional response is always different from his brothers ones.

Oh, and look, he wanted to be first to give her a high three.

They worry about each other. Look at Don. He does worry about her way more than his brothers. Yeah, they all want to protect her, but Donnie is more expressive.

Mayham has no particular sympathy for the brothers: he is afraid of Raph and behaves aggressively, he is indifferent to Leo and Mikey. Mayham immediately takes a liking to April. And then the details come back: he let Donnie touch his neck. The most vulnerable place for any living creation, for a second. Let him to study an important vial without any hesitation. Mayham depends on April trust for Donnie. When everything goes wrong for Don, the little doggie comes to his rescue, just as April would have done. Is the hint transparent enough?

We can see links with "A mystic library", wherе Donnie begins to look for solutions to save April's pet. Yes, this may seem like his next leap, "sit down, I'm smart, and now I'll solve all the problems, watch and learn," but Don says one phrase that opens up the veil of the second plan, what happens behind the scenes. "My illiteral colleagues and I was conducting a mustic research, with a life of the beloved pet, hanging in a bounce".

Strange wording, Donatello. Beloved pet? Not yours, as we can see. I can say, that everything in this sentence is true, but Donnie and Mayham has something more.

Continue. Next episode "Origami tsunami". Interactions are kept to a minimum, as April herself appears for a maximum of 5 minutes in the series itself. But devil is always in the details, dear friends.

When April was attacked and hung up, the only one who excitedly called out to her was Donny. Raph is furious that the thieves have escaped, Leo is frustrated that their plan has failed, and Mikey is worried about the salami.

Yeah, we didn't see his worries about her when she fell, because Donnie is on the mission and must be coolheaded turtle, and second, he's calm because now April life is safe and sound, out of the danger.

Dear passangers, Apritello Express arrives to the next station - episode "War and Pizza".

Bare facts:

1. April has Donnie's number on an emergency call.

2. "Anything for you"

3. Donnie is the reason why Alberto knows April's name.

No one calles April by her name (except for Donnie, while phone call, but Alberto wasn't nearby) it was "Captain O'Neil" by her chief, her badge seems blank. And yeah, you can say, that's just economy of budget, but I assure you: in the first episode we were shown the name of the delivery guy. The animators were not lazy bones and wrore "Stewart" on his badge. So if something isn't there, then it either shouldn't be there, or it really isn't, that's how this show works.

So, the reason explained in the episode. When Al has short circuit, parts of its new code flashed through its mind.

Info about April was in its memory, in its code. Alberto was a lame animatronic, and it seems somewhat outdated. I do really doubt about Alberto is being something smartass machine with complicated AI like Freddy's Pizza's ones. Quite questionable. Donatello fix Al's brain and wrote code, synchronize with his remote control. He put information about Cap O'Neil into animatronic's head. All this pictures are kind of massage: "You was created for birthday celebrations. You are machine, and there concepts of "life" and "birth". Do great party for this birthday kid and April won't be like this". Or, something like that.

So Alberto did - do a memorable party. And he do what his creator programmed him to do, but in his way.

4. In other words, Alberto was a tool to impress April. Don flaunts himself in front of her, stating how he did the upgrade while doing the upgrade, even though April is fully aware of his tech wizard. And his abilities supposed to help Cap O'Neil to finish the birthday party, so she will stay at her job, not fired. All thanks to Donnie and his upgrade Alberto. (Or not)

By the way, Donnie was the last to leave April in ruined "Alberto's". And it's not an isolated case, it is a pattern.

5. They understand each other without words.

First, Donny came at her at the speed of light. Second, she hadn't even finished speaking before Dee was taking Al apart. Third, their chaotic, well-coordinated work? Donnie was a distraction (although he wanted to just take a break from the battle or let Alberto's guard down, while April just knocked him out). Donnie and April are great team, and sometimes the DonniexApril team is much more precise, coordinated, and interdependent than the DonniexBrothers one.

D&A feel each other and anticipate each other's actions, their skills complement each other, creating an incredible synergy of their interaction. They act as a whole, while it's not always possible with his brothers, even though they're family and know each other the way more Donnie know April. And Dee hasn't trained with cap O'Neil.

Donatello didn't show his crush for April. No puppy, loving eyes, no lovey-dovey speeches, no planning schemes (at least, the audience don't see one) . He just want her attention, but stays cool and hidden. D is already her BFF, but still.

The same thing is claimed in 5B episode - Mascot Melee. Donnie has no problems with interaction with idol of his childhood - Atomic Lass. She'd put Leo in a stupor, but Donnie? He playfully challenges her to a dance duel. Yes, he adores this character, who may have become his measure of the attractiveness of others to Donatello, determined his type. But still, he's playing all cool and confident guy, he's really smooth with girls, so you will never see a puppy loving eyes from him. Only two things can betray him at this point: his voice and his body language. Remember, how's soft his voice became for Atomic Lass? Now I want you to remember the scene before, in turtle tank, when April sent guys a meme.

D is the first to respond to the message, despite the fact that Mikey is sitting closest to the screen. And the responding is a little too emotional for this situation, don't you think?

And this face of his. And he comments it. He likes her sense of humour.

The only difference between April and Atomic Lass is that the first one is a real girl who is a friend of their family, practically a member of it; and the other one is just a fictional character. It is easier to say about love for a fictional character, because it brings less problems for a teenager, especially when he is living with three brothers and a father who likes to tease as well. Donatello needs to be careful and outline the area of emotions he could show, so that he does not get hurt.

Now, dear passangers, we are returning to the previous episode, shall we?

Donnie presents to his brothers his precious Turtle tank, but she's gone, and it's really necessary to find out, who has taken her. And the first person to suspect is April.

Something is odd, don't you think? Yeah, Raphael has taken tyre for their "Midnight special", Leo claimed that Donnie's stuff is common, but they are D's beothers. It's natural for family to borrow(stole) stuff of each other. But this trend was not observed in April. She would never steal anything from Donnie, much less steal anything from him.

Actually, there is a good, logical and solid explanation here. April was number 1 in Donatello' suspect list, because he simply told her about Turtle tank. His brothers didn't know he were working at Moon buggy, except Mikey (Orange helps Dee get the vehicle from Repomantis), but they didn't know what exactly Donnie was working for. They didn't know he build the Turtle tank, he kept it a secret, to surprise his brothers. But April knew.

- Alright you! Where's our turtle tank?

- Hi, DONNIE. You have 9 seconds to say, why are you just broke my door.

- Someone's stole Donnie's turtle tank.

- Haha-ow, I see. As your best friend, you naturally suspect me.

- She gets it!

- Oh-ho, don't give me that! You're the only one could taken it!

The only one, because she knew about it.

As Splints said in this episode - "April is not a snitch"

Donatello does trust April and share with her both, sorrows and joys. But we are not shown this directly. We do not see the action itself, we do not see their calls and conversations on the phone late at night, we only see the consequence. We have no choice and take it as a given.

And the way she cooled him down? Fast, efficient, and Donnie seems to used to it. Moreover, she slapped everyone, but still, she throw Don out of window the last. However, why such a large time delay between him, being slapped and him, was throwing out of the window?

And my favourite scene. It was obvious that Donnie had taken the hardest hit (judging by his scream and the way he was putting his knuckles back in place). Don then claims that their inner circle is secure, Mikey tries to make amends for everyone, and April agrees, blowing them a kiss and closing the window. Cute and mean, isn't it? (You're cute! but mean! why do I always go for your type?! - ep. War and Pizza)

Nota bene: Donnie wouldn't apologize to April. Tough, not caring badass boy image, remember? Even to best friends. It's hard to him to express his feelings by using words, he cannot do it in proper way. But he has Mikey, who is so alike inner him. Michelangelo apologizes not only for himself, but for D mostly, because D starts suspected April.

Let's continue: the episode 8B: Hypno Part Deux

• Donnie put "Donnie's blocker" at April's phone to protect her.

It's common thing that your friend install some programs or apps on your device. But you will always ask your friend to do such a favour, and you will always know about what, when and where were installed on your phone.

And April didn't know Donnie had done something with her phone. It was a real surprise for her, to see blocker with "Donnie says no-no-no".

And you know, the interface of his app. The way he tell this current phrase. Donnie could put a huge banner "THE APP YOU WANT DOWNLOAD TO IS A REAL PIECE OF GARBAGE", as usual antiviruses do. But no, voice interface. It makes the app more personal and thoughtful. Because when Don made gifts for his brother, the program was voiced by a computer-generated female voice. Yes, the tank's interface is voiced by Donatello himself, but his voice sounds more like Google than the real Don. And, we talking about HIS BABEY, for a second. Bit still, the point remains.

• Also, Dale.

Dale is nerdy boy in purple, wow, how convenient for making a parallel with certain purple turtle.

But thing is, April doesn't like Dale. He's clingy, remora guy, who has a little obsession with April, even he's not harmful, still, such behaviour freaks girls (and not them only) out. Her classmate is usually tell her what April O'Neil is "his favourite person" and he loves her. There is little that is attractive about this behavior.

So, there is nothing new and unpredictable here that Dale was rejected. Because April didn't, doesn't and won't like him because of his lame personality and strange behaviour. Our girl in yellow do right thing: she clearly sets personal boundaries and does not allow any dubious personalities to invade them. So that's the reason she refuses to go on a date with him at the end. He's weird, obsessed, and she doesn't like him.

Donatello, as far as I concerned from different versions of TMNT, was always a little obsessive with some things. And, you know, putting a blocker inside your best friend's phone seems a little weird, because it's, in simple words, violation of privacy and personal space. And there are people who may regard this as stalking or sorta.

Yeah, for the most part, he gets away with it, not only because April's focus is in a different area, but also because their bond is stronger than April's with anyone else at school.

She has known him for years. Donnie is her best friend. I can't say that it's fine to her when Dee violates her personal space - her phone, but April can accept Donatello's personality in general.

And he does really have good intentions. Donnie installed this blocker, developed by himself only for one reason: to protect personal space April from fishy apps from nowhere, from being hacked and etc. Don knew her too well, how much she depends on stupid apps that will distract her. He also knew well, that he can't be with her 24/7 to fix problems with April's phone, so Dee put a part of himself to prevent any harm in the future.

And again, "Donnie's gifts"'s vibes. Donatello genuinely cared about April, because he wrote, coded, developed, designed, and dubbed it, turned on the database, and installed it all on April's phone. 'cause, you know, writing programs in general is a bit of a hassle, but writing an antivirus is much more difficult, because viruses are changing, and questionable applications are finding ways to bypass. Do you feel how much effort Dee put in for her?

But Donatello didn't mean to fix April, as he tried to do with his brothers. Purple turtle accepts this girl the way she is, and tries his best to play smoothly with April, by adjusting, not being passive aggressive jerk. It's his outstanding way to show his caring nature, soft side.

Remember, small but meaningful actions.

Maybe, Donnie also can foresee that April may be forced to download some suspicious program, but still, it work: he managed to prevent April being hypnotized, even if couldn't be physically with April at the this moment - Dee was working for Repo Mantis, building dog's paradise for Todd. That's why, by the way, Leo and Raph were dragged into this whole situation. Mayham would teleported literally anyone to help his hostess. Donnie just wasn't at the Lair at the moment.

And on this note, we'll take a break for now. Stay tuned, expect parsing of the series, there's a lot to discuss.

Part 2

Part 3

#rottmnt #rise of tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja #rise donnie #rise donatello #rottmnt donatello #hamato donatello #april o'neil #rise april #rottmnt april #aprilxdonnie #rottmnt apritello #apritello #lonnnnnnnng post #sorry not sorry #zero regrets #apritello express

145 notes · View notes

maddiwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Gut Feeling

Pairing: John B Routledge x Routledge!Reader (Sibling Dynamic)

Summary: (Requested) As your older brother, John B tends to decide what he thinks is best for the two of you. Disregarding your concerns about Ward Cameron, John B decides it would be best for the two of you to accept Ward’s offer to be your guardian. Later, John B learns that he should he really trust his sister’s instincts.

Note: I linked the request in the summary. I’ll be honest I don’t think I did your request justice but I tried really hard to put my head where yours was at! Hopefully you like it! Let me know!!

Word Count: 3.8k

You and you brother are closer than most siblings. You think it’s because of how you were raised. Your mom abandoned you at a young age and your dad was inevitably neglectful from working back and forth between two jobs and spending most of his free time researching the Royal Merchant. That left you and John B to mostly fend for yourselves. With John B being a year older, you looked up to him as your best friend and protector.

Due to the spike in conflict between you, the Pogues, and the Kooks, and now the square groupers coming for blood because of your dad’s compass, you’re constantly seeking comfort in your brother’s side, feeling unsafe whenever you’re not around him. It wasn’t always this way. But now that you know your dad most likely didn’t disappear on his own, and people are looking for you and your brother for the compass, you felt scared and alone. The police won’t help because they think you’re nothing but a couple of trouble makers living on the Cut. Now you’re spending the summer fearing every day for you life.

It didn’t help that John B found himself in a scuffle with Topper and his girlfriend. Fighting with a couple of teenage Kooks should be the least of your problems, yet here you are, sitting on the edge of John B’s hospital bed.

Sarah’s here too and you wonder how deep her connection is with your brother. From what you know, they’ve only started hanging out a couple of days ago. And she’s still in a relationship with Topper, the kid who almost killed your brother.

“John B,” You say sheepishly, feeling weird and shy with Sarah being in the room. Like you feel forgotten. “We should go before DCS finds us here.”

John B nods. “Okay, grab my stuff in the closet over there.”

You nod and turn to grab his clothes that the nurses stuffed in a transparent plastic bag.

“Wait, maybe you should...” Sarah tries stopping John B out of concern for his well being. He was just diagnosed with a severe concussion and a broken wrist. She didn’t know how well he would do on his feet.

“Hold on there, sport,” Ward Cameron walks in with his hands tucked into his pocket and a smirk on his lips.

“Mr. Cameron...” John B says apprehensively and glances between him and Sarah. “What are you doing here?”

Ward explains that Sarah told him everything - how John B landed in the hospital because he was defending Sarah. How he was wrong for firing John B when he was honest with him from the get-go.

“I’d like to make up for it if you let me,” Ward says, peaking your interest. “I talked to Sheriff Peterkin...and I’ve offered to be your legal guardian if you’ll have me.”

You swallow nervously and turn to John B for some insight as to what he was thinking. Something unsettling rolled in the pit of your stomach. Your instinct has always been to never trust a Kook. They only look out for themselves. It’s just how it goes on this island. Therefore, you can’t help but question Ward’s intention. Why would he take in two more kids when he already had three.

John B looks between Sarah and Ward, but not you, and smiles at the offer. “Yeah, sure. Uh, sounds good.”

“John -”

“Okay,” Ward claps and cuts you off. “Then it’s settled. Welcome to the family.”

Sarah smiles excitedly down at your brother who offers the same grin. You feel Ward’s eyes on the side of your head as you look at the ground, suddenly feeling anxious about your new situation. Something didn’t feel right. You had a gut feeling. And usually, your gut is never wrong.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ward sets the two of you up in a room on the first floor. Until his second guest room is ready, you were asked to share a room with John B for the time being. Of course, you had no problem doing this. In fact, you wanted this, afraid of what might happen if you and John B were ever separated. You already felt a wall slipping in between you two. And that wall was Sarah Cameron. You didn’t want to thicken that separation even further.

It sounds crazy, but that’s just how scared you were.

“I don’t know about this, John B,” You say softly as the two of you unpack most of what you were able to bring from the Chateau.

“Why? It’s a roof over our head, in Figure Eight, no less. The guy may be an arrogant douche, but he’s not evil,” John B says. He didn’t understand why you were so hesitant to move in when the other alternative is to keep running from DCS.

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling...” You trail off when you come across a picture of you, John B, and your dad in a frame you tucked into your luggage. You focus on your dad’s smile and wonder what he would think of this - living on Figure Eight, pretending to be a Kook. “Just don’t leave me alone with him.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Little did you know, Ward was eavesdropping right outside the room. He was about to check up on the both of you when he heard you talking.

He clenches his teeth together and curses to himself. He didn’t like that you were apprehensive about his intentions - wondering just how far you were willing to divulge into your gut feeling.

He pulls out his phone and texts the people working for him that are responsible for getting your room together, asking them to speed up the process for a bigger pay. Getting the two of you apart would be better for him, thinks.

After he sends the message, he walks into the room and greets the two fo you. He notices your small side step closer to John B, hiding half your body behind his back. You were shy, he notes, which makes him feel a little better about the situation. But how long until you convince John B or your other friends about him?

“Good news,” Ward says, looking at you. “Just got word from the interior designers. They think they can have your room ready by the weekend.”

“Oh,” You say and glance up at your brother. “That’s okay. I don’t mind staying in here.”

“Oh come on. What teenager doesn’t want their own room?” Ward says. When you open your mouth to defend yourself, he cuts you off, deciding to use the guilty trip instead. “I think you’ll like it. These people spend a lot of time and effort into making it perfect. Rose and Sarah even helped.”

Of course that did it for you. You didn’t want to come off as ungrateful or rude by saying you still didn’t want the room. After all, so many people were involved in getting it perfect for you. And it’s probably going to be the best room you’ve ever had.

“Okay...” You say quietly.

“Great,” Ward claps his hands, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. The quicker he can keep you two apart, the better. “I’ll leave you two to unpacking. Dinner should be ready soon.”

When he walks out of the room, John B turns to look at you and says, “See? Harmless.”

Ward hears this and smirks to himself as he walks down the hallway.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

First night in your new room and it’s exactly how you expected it to be. Huge, beautiful, and filled with an abundance of new clothes and high tech furniture. In any other home, you’d be basking in the new luxuries presented to you, but right now, it felt like you were laying on a stack of needles.

You couldn’t sleep, constantly feeling like you were being watched. You kept looking at the ceiling, checking every corner for cameras or microphones. You flinch with each creak in the hardwood floor, even though it was probably only Sarah and Wheezie walking down the hall to use the bathroom.

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you began to sweat. Something didn’t feel right. You didn’t care if anyone in this house called you crazy. You knew something was wrong.

So you pick up your pillow and quietly open your door. You check the dark hallway for any sign of late night stragglers, then quickly tip toe downstairs to your brother’s room.

You tap on the door almost silently before opening it a crack. John B picks his head up, squinting at the light peaking into his room.

“Johnny...” You whisper.

“What?” His voice is groggy with sleep.

“I can’t sleep.”

John B grunts and rolls over to the opposite side of the bed and pats his hand on the open mattress next to him. “Get in.”

You quickly close the door behind you and hide yourself under his covers. A shy blush rushes up to your cheeks in embarrassment, hating how dependent you felt on your brother. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t hog all the covers this time,” John B smirks in his pillow, making you kick him playfully in the thigh. “Ow!”

“Shh!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later that week, you, the Pogues, and Sarah found the gold in a hidden well tucked under the Crain house. Excitement and glee overwhelmed you. You finally felt like you were getting somewhere and finishing what your dad started.

On your way home - home being Figure Eight - Ward walks out to greet the three of you after overhearing some of your conversation. Immediately the three you stop talking and pretend like you didn’t just make the biggest discovery of your life.

“Hey,” Ward greets them. “Where have you guys been?” He didn’t expect you guys to tell him, but he wanted to see just how far he was able to push you. The plan was to get you to trust him, well, maybe not you. He figured you were too far confident in your decision not to trust him. John B’s visions, however, may be a little clouded still.

He listened to Sarah and John B lie about spending the day on the beach and visiting Kie at the Wreck. He observed the way you wouldn’t make eye contact with him and how you hid yourself behind Sarah and John B. You still didn’t trust him. And that put him on edge.

“You know, I was thinking about taking the boat out early tomorrow morning. Why don’t you join me? My buddy brought home a thirty pound striper just the other day.”

“Tomorrow?” John B scratches his head awkwardly. Tomorrow, the six of you were supposed to pull out the rest of the gold. “I don't know...”

“Oh come on. What else you have going on?” Ward smirks. “I’m sure Sarah and Y/N can survive a couple hours without you.”

“Um...” You say quietly. You don’t know how your feel about Ward taking John B out with nothing but open water surrounding them.

“We’ll celebrate your freedom from DCS,” Ward says, again using the guilt trip, reminding John B of what Ward did for them.

John B sighs, knowing he did owe Ward everything. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay. It’s settled then,” Ward smiles, feeling a sense of accomplishment that his neck plan was in motion. “I won’t hold you up any longer. Go on and do whatever you kids do.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning, you wake up to John B’s alarm on the nightstand.The clock reads 3:15 A.M. and you heart immediately races with anxiety. You squeeze the covers around you in your fists and sit up as soon as John B does.

“Johnny -”

“You’ll be fine, Y/N,” John B sighs. You don’t know if he sounds tired or annoyed, but it makes you cower into yourself.

“What if I came with you?” You whisper.

“He didn’t ask you. He asked me,” John B says, somewhat enjoying the idea of being alone with Ward. It would give him a chance to really bond with his girlfriend’s father. To be more than just an employee to him. “Why are you so afraid of him?”

“There’s just something about him...” You trail off. “I don’t trust him. And I don’t like that we’re going to be apart.”

“You’re going to have to learn to live without me by your side 24/7 eventually. I can’t baby you all the time.”

“Baby me?” You repeat with a glare. The pit in your stomach grows with swirling nausea.

“Yeah. I get that I’m your older brother and all and I’m supposed to protect you, but you have to learn to take of yourself too.”

“I can take care of myself,” You say, but you don’t know who you’re trying to convince. Him or you.

“Then you should be fine without me today,” John B says before walking out the door to use the bathroom. “Now, go back to sleep. I’ll catch up with you guys later. If anything happens, just call me or the Pogues.”

You drop your head onto your pillow and let out a big huff of disappointment. Nonetheless, you shut your eyes and try to get a few more hours of sleep knowing you need to be well rested before pulling up hundred pounds of gold later tonight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When you woke up, Sarah was gone. She had to take Wheezie to her surfing lesson because Rose had a couple of her friends over for brunch served with expensive champagne and fruit cocktails.

You hid yourself away in your room for most of the day, only letting yourself out when your stomach began to grumble and the sound of gossip disintegrated into nothing as the ladies left one by one.

You were constantly checking your phone, making sure John B never tried to call you with horrible news. You tried taking deep breaths throughout the day, telling yourself there was nothing to worry about. If John B felt safe, you should too, right?

Around 1 P.M., Rose walked into the kitchen after taking what sounded like a long phone call upstairs. You could tell something was wrong. She looked stressed, but you figured it was due to a lost pearl earring or dinner plans getting canceled.

When you met her gaze, you offered a smile and quietly continued to bite on your toast. She grinned back, although her’s felt force. You didn’t want to pry, only for the sole fact that you didn’t think you could feign interest in whatever the hell was bothering her today.

“Everything okay?” You eventually ask her.

“Yes,” She says. “That was Sarah. Her sister forgot a towel for her lessons. Do you mind going upstairs to grab one for me while I find my keys? They’re in the closet. Last door at the end of the hallway.”

You nod, not wanting to set the already high strung lady off even more.

You follow her directions to the end of the hall to the linen closet that was bigger than your regular closet back at the Chateau. You look around for the beach towels next to the bath towels, but seem to come up empty. No way Rose would let one of her white stainless fluffy towels out in the sunlight.

“Which towels were you -” You freeze when the door behind you shuts and you hear the sound of a lock being turned. You swivel on your heels and twist on the door knob but it barely moves. Your heart races in your chest and you bang your fists against the wooden door. “Hey! Hey!”

“Sorry, dear,” You hear Rose say on the other side. She doesn’t sound as tense, more like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

“What are you doing? Let me out!”

“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” Rose says. “You and your brother have left us with no other choice.”

Your blood turns to ice from your head down to your toes, going numb with all thoughts and movements, thinking about John B still alone with Ward somewhere out in the middle of the ocean.

“What are you talking about?” Your voice isn’t as loud, lost somewhere in the shock and disbelief. “Where’s John B?”

“You’ll see him soon. Probably with your father too I suppose.”

You brows furrow together in confusion as you listen to her six inch heels trail off down the hall and stairs. Your disbelief turns into fear and ice turns into boiling blood. You pound you fists against the door, twist and pull at the door knob, and scream at the top of your lungs for her to let you out.

You think about her words. John B and your dad. Could it be your dad has been alive all this time? Or did she mean something so completely opposite that it threatened both you and your brother?

You slap the door one last time, feeling exhausted and burned out. You fall against one of the shelves and cry into your hands, barely able to come up for another breath as sobs wrack through your entire body.

You don’t know how long you sit there. Without a window or your phone for that matter - you think you left it back downstairs - you can’t tell the time of day. For all you know, it’s about midnight and John B is dead alongside your father.

Your head falls back with a heavy sigh. That’s when you look up and see a square cut out in the ceiling. An attic.

You move quickly, pushing all the towels and bed sheets off the shelves. Heaving yourself up, using the shelves and the wall, you move the square ceiling tile to the side and use the open edges to pull yourself up.

The attic is about twenty degrees hotter and thick with humid. You hike over the luxurious items they consider “storage” to get to the single window. The sun is still up but slowly moving closer to the water.

The window is stuck with paint and takes a couple tries to push it up. The fresh breeze hits your face immediately, sending goosebumps up your arms and neck. You push your head out the window. About 8 feet below is a balcony outside the master bedroom. Its a big jump with a high chance you’ll break your ankle, but anything is better than waiting to see what Ward and Rose plan to do to you.

You pull yourself over the window sill and dangle by your arms. Taking a deep breath, you drop to the balcony with a thump that sends a shock up your legs from your ankle.

“Shit,” You curse to yourself.

“What was that?” You hear Ward’s voice from the other side of the french doors that lead to his bedroom.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” You mumble, already pulling yourself over the balcony, the only way to get away.

You look down before letting go of the ledge, falling straight down on the lawn, this time rolling your right ankle at an awkward angle.

“Motherfu-”

“Y/N?” Ward looks down from the balcony with wide eyes when he sees you curled into yourself on the ground below him.

With big eyes, you run far away from the house as fast as you can. A small limp in your foot slows you down, but you refuse to look back and see if anyone is following you.

You don’t know where you’re going, only that you need to find John B wherever he might be.

You run through the woodsy area, hoping to use the trees as camouflage. Fallen branches scratch at your legs, your ankle is aching, and your muscles are on fire. You can barely see your through your teary eyes. You’re crying but you don’t know why - was it the wind? Anxiety? Fear? Grief?

You know you’re getting closer to the Cut when Ms. Lana’s street comes to view on your right. You think about running up to her front door, asking for help. She’s always looked out for you and you have a sick thought that she might know more about this because of her husband.

Lost in your own thoughts, you don’t realize someone’s coming up behind you until two hands grab at your shoulders to turn you around.

A straggled scream rips through your throat and you immediately claw at the hands that touch you. Your first thought is that it’s Ward and he’s caught up to you. You don't know what his plans are for you, but Rose didn’t make them sound promising.

“Hey, Y/N, hey. It’s me! It’s me!”

You look up at the voice you know so well that instantly helps you calm down. John B, damp and smelling like the marsh, is arms length from you, watching you with big eyes and a heaving chest as he tries catching his own breath.

“John B?” You say.

“Yeah. It’s me. You’re okay. It’s me.” When John B sees you physically relax, he pulls you in to a tight hug and you can hear his heart thumping against his ribcage.

The second he learned what Ward did to your father, he tried getting away. And when he did, he immediately thought of you. What was going to happen to you - what if Ward gets to you first? He was on his way to Figure Eight when he saw you.

When you physically calm down, John B pulls away and says, “You were right. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. Ward - he killed Dad. He’s gone. I’m sorry.”

You cry harder for your dad, for John B, for your future. Just when you thought life was looking better, it came crumbling down.

“I’m gonna fix this. I swear to you. I’m not going to let him get away with this,” John B says, bending down to look you in the eyes. “And I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again. Okay? Look at me.” You force yourself to look at him and notice he’s on the verge of tears himself. “I’m going to take care of this.”

“How?” Your voice cracks.

John B has an idea in his head, but he knows you’ll never allow him to go through with it if you knew. “Do you trust me?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and reluctantly nod. “Yeah.”

“Good. We’re gonna go back to the Chateau, okay? Are you hurt? Are you able to walk there with me?” You nod. “Good,” He says. “Okay.”

“John B are you sure about this?” You ask apprehensively.

“I failed as your older brother once. I’m not going to do it again. Okay?”

You reluctantly nod. “Okay.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

#john b #john b routledge imagine #john b routledge #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks #obx #obx fic #obx imagine

109 notes · View notes

siriushxney · 3 years ago

Text

: ̗̀➛ searing light | chapter two

— pairing ; darkling!dream x sun summoner!reader

— au ; shadow & bone

— wordcount ; 2.6k

— warnings ; fire, reader gets pushed around, rude soldiers/commanders

— note ; welcome to chapter two of searing light! I actually really enjoyed writing this part and coming up with how to twist the original story in my own little way — I hope you enjoy!

previous | next

when the moon was high and the sound around you was minimal, thoughts flowed easier — flowed into the streams of what if’s and premature regret and mourning. whatever happened the next day would either be a successful day — one to be celebrated with a feast unlike any other, or it would be another tick carved into the wood, next to the dozens of them that already were scratched in. you were sure that even those numbers were off, for when a certain number was reached without success, people started to lose faith.

this skiff however was designed for greatness — made by the hands of the second army, reinforced with grisha steel and said to be lighter — faster.

something wasn’t right.

if there is one thing that you had learned through your tough life growing up in ravka, it was that when your gut told you something — you trusted it. if your gut told you to avoid someone, you avoided them; if it told you to take a different path, you took the next path over; if it told you that no matter what anyone said, something was going to happen — you had to do something to stop it.

if not for yourself, for wilbur.

—

when the sun rose, and your boots were laced tightly — you made your way to the tent full of maps, careful to make sure your superiors were nowhere to be seen. the lot of them were seated in the food tent as they discussed today's trip and how long they thought it would last in the fold.

they had no shame when it came to talking about the failure of the second army when it came to this, and had even less shame when talking about the lives of their own people being lost. if ravka didn’t lose the war from the raging countries surrounding it, the fold was guaranteed to do the job for them.

walking into the tent that looked the exact same as it always did, despite being situated in a different part of ravka that you were used to. there were maps of different sizes displayed and thrown about, a rough and stained carpet laid on the grass and uncomfortable benches that you had known all too well pushed underneath tables.

quick feet brought you to stand in front of a cabinet which held map’s upon map’s — some of this part of ravka, and some of the ravka on the other side of the fold. the ravka that people on that side referred to as west ravka.

free from the royal blood on ravka’s soil that sat stuck behind the black barrier, west ravka sought out to become their own standing country — a hope that the fold would vanish, no longer clouded their minds. only the thought of independence and selfishness flowed through them.

“where are you…?” your tongue poked slightly out of the side of your mouth as you sited through the heap of yellow tinted paper, hoping to find anything and everything you could on what laid on the other side of the black wall.

beyond the fold - ravka

“aha,” the text at the top of the map caught your eyes. sifting through the numerous ones below it, you confirmed that you had found what you had come looking for. taking the maps in hand, making sure each was rolled up tightly so you could fit as many as you could into the small space, you rushed over to the trash bin in the corner.

with a look around the tent, and several peaks over your shoulders, you pulled out the box that weighed heavily in your pocket, despite weighing nothing compared to what you were used to carrying around.

what you were about to do would either get you a one way ticket to see the generals or aboard the skiff — either or, you could end up dead as a result.

a sharp flick of your wrist, a spark, and a light flowed from the tip of the match — the wood below it becoming charred as the flame ate at the wood with every second it burned bright. with one last look at the fully pieced together maps, and your ticket onto the skiff — you let the match fall — turning your back to it immediately, and not wasting any time as you fled the scene.

the sight of smoke wafting from the top of the tent, group’s of gasps and hurried feet rushing to it sounding from behind you.

blue eyes watching as you paced away hurriedly.

—

“well I don’t know what we're going to do.”

“we have to do something!”

“you think I don’t know that?!”

“we need to re-draw all those maps or the general will have our heads-“

“excuse me?” heads snapped in your direction, all your superiors looking at you with harsh eyes and deep frowns.

“what?”

you held back the scowl that wanted to cross your face at the women's tone, but for the sake of winning them over, you held yourself back. “If I may, I volunteer to go through the fold,” they looked at you with wide eyes. “i’ll re-draw everything-“

“you’re merely one mapmaker with thousands of miles to cover — we need more than one cartographer,” the woman shook her head as she looked down, her words directed at her fellow generals.

the other general thought, his eyes darting between you and the woman. “you’ll board the skiff shortly — alongside the rest of your squadron,” you fought to keep the look of shock off your face. “alert your tent of the decision immediately, you are dismissed.”

“sir, with all due respect-“

“you are dismissed soldier, that is an order.”

you couldn't fight orders — with a small nod and downcasted eyes, you shuffled your way back to your tent full of guilt and mind racing with second thoughts. all you wanted to do was get onto the skiff alongside wilbur, just you and youself alone — but in the process of doing so and with a selfish decision on your part, you had just put people who you had spent the last few years with in jeopardy.

it wasn't your intention at all.

lifting the flap of material that acted as a makeshift door to the tent, you walked in quietly, unsure of when to break the news or even how to start.

carey, a boy that you had gotten to know well over the years and someone who you considered to be one of your only friends alongside wilbur, stood at your arrival. his smile was bright and large.

“hey Y/N, do you wanna go for a walk? maybe watch the send-off together-”

“we have to board the skiff.”

heads around the tent shot up at your words, some eyes of questioning and confusion, others full of fear or anger.

luna shot up and paced to you hastily, giving you no time to react or prepare yourself as she grabbed you by the lapels of your uniform and swung you around so your backside was against the table.

with the force that she had shoved you into the hard wood, utensils and paper had gone flying — and your hands found purchase on the rough and spilled wood as you tried to steady yourself — jagged and pointed pieces pricking your skin.

“what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything-” you tried to pry her hands off of your uniform, but the sheer power she had was nothing you could fight with.

she was like a mouse who could kick a cats ass.

“luna let them go-”

“can it carey! they aren't into you so why don’t you just mind your own business and find someone else to fawn over,” it was no secret the boy had a crush on you — but in the heat of war and the constant fear for your life, there was no room for him or anyone else.

her fists still gripped your jacket harshly — your body jerking with every movement she made. “now, tell me what you did to get us all on that death trap, or saints help me-”

“whats going on here?” luna’s head had snapped over immediately, her hair whipping behind, and her hands disappearing just as fast as she turned.

tilting your head to the side, the first thing you noticed was the colour that stuck out like a sore thumb in the tent — bright purple. eyes trailing up the figure, you next noted the blonde hair that was draped over their shoulders. and lastly, the blue eyes that could hypnotize anybody they were simply batted at.

it was the grisha that you had made eye contact with a few days prior.

“nothing-” the grisha sent one look to luna and the girl immediately quieted.

“are you okay?” the grisha questioned you suddenly — the harsh look that once covered her face now melted into something more sincere — more concerned.

you pushed yourself up from your uncomfortable position that luna had managed to bend you in over the table, carey’s hands helping you in any way he could despite being brushed off. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern,” you stepped away from luna hesitantly — unsure of what the girl would do with her eyes still holding a deadly intent.

“I was sent here to lead you to the skiff — the group of you are running behind,” the girl mainly spoke to you, her eyes wandering as she spoke however. “I’d advise you to get your materials and get to the skiff immediately — anybody found at the camp who should be on the skiff will be punished.”

carey rushed to collect his things as soon as the words were muttered, luna trailing behind stubbornly, only leaving behind a glare directed at you, before her back was fully turned.

with the bag on your hip containing everything that you had needed, you made a move to exit the tent — the grisha following behind you immediately.

“you know I do have to ask — what were you thinking?” she asked as soon as the two of you had exited the tent.

“excuse me?”

“you exited a tent that had smoke pouring out of it, and didn't bat an eye when panic washed over everyone — I wanna know what you were thinking setting whatever was in there on fire-” you hand gripped her kefta quickly, your eyes wide and mouth opened in shock.

“be quiet would you?! I’ll explain everything if you just keep your voice down,” her eyes didn't meet your own, only observing your hand that wrinkled the tough purple fabric on her arm. you released it immediately with a short and quiet apology.

the blue eyed grisha looked up to you, to the skiff, and back to you — her eyes holding a glimmer of amusement. “I know you did it, and I have a feeling I know why you did it too — your lover boy is on the skiff.”

lover boy?

looking at the skiff, you could see wilbur, plain as day, looking at the two of you with confusion — or more to say confusion towards the grisha stood by your side, and anger towards you and your appearance.

“I don’t have a lover boy.”

“the tall curly haired one — it’s not hard to tell.”

you grimaced at that. you and wilbur were nothing more than friends, siblings to say the least — raised at the hip with minds so alike it was scary.

“that so-called ‘lover boy’ you speak of is wilbur, and I can guarantee there's nothing going on there.”

the grisha hummed quietly, her eyes bouncing between the two of you before finally sighing. “If you say so,” she offered you her hand. “I’m niki.”

as you went to introduce yourself, the harsh call of your name interrupted you — wilbur yelled your name as he dodged and squirmed his way through the crowd of people who made a move to board the skiff. you turned back to niki with a bashful smile.

“why am I being told that you're crossing the fold?” wilbur distanced himself from niki — unsure and untrusting of anyone who was gifted in the small science.

“because I am?”

“no you’re not.”

“yes they are.”

you knew wilbur wanted to snap back at the girl with a ‘I wasn't talking to you’ card, but the coat that adorned her body stopped him in his tracks. he had told you once before when the two of you passed a group of grisha women at your old camp that “grisha women were scarier then grisha themselves.”

wilbur was scared of the grisha in front of you.

“yes I am, and you can’t do anything about it,” you tried to bring the atmosphere to somewhere different — wilburs eyes coming back to you instead of the offput stare he was once giving niki.

“all aboard! skiff is leaving in t-minus two minutes!”

“well, that's our que,” niki gripped both your sleeve, and wilbur’s and dragged you to the bridge that led up onto the skiff. bodies rushing up, and some attempting to rush down — hands dragged them back on.

some people were in a frenzy to get off the skiff, while some stood stiffly looking out into what they were about to enter — eyes holding nothing more than fear and questioning.

questioning if they would return.

“you have nothing to fear, I promise — the new skiff was built by my colleagues and me. it was built to go faster,” niki spoke, her hand laying gently on your shoulder as she guided you and wilbur to stand on the side of the deck. “all you need to remember is to stay quiet, don’t light any lanterns, and most importantly — keep your head down.”

the squeak of the bridge’s hinges echoed throughout the skiff — the wood and steel alike being pulled up to close the entry and exit point. there was no way off unless you made a jump.

in less than a moment after the bang sounded from the bridge closing entirely, your body was jerked into niki’s — her hand coming to steady you, much like she did with wilbur as he swayed slightly.

every second you inched closer and closer to the fold, the unwelcoming and crip air nipped at your nose, ears, and cheeks — the sound of screeching and echoing howls the monstrosities that lived within let out, made your knee’s feel as if they would give out any minute.

being on the outside had been scary enough — but going in, head first was unimaginably more horrific. no nightmare or intrusive thought could have prepared you for what you were about to enter.

what you were about to experience.

the grisha and first army soldiers alike that stood near the front of the skiff disappeared into the black smoke when the skiff had finally breached the darkness, and second by second, that darkness had grown closer to you.

with her hands on your shoulder blades, and your wrist held tightly by wilbur — you took a deep breath.

the light disappeared and the air grew thick — breathing needing more forces, and your head beginning to pound due to the pressure drop.

you were in the fold, and there was no turning back.

—

crowds of soldiers and grisha gathered on the dock, watching as the skiff was engulfed by the black smoke — whispers of worry, reassurance, and mourning echoed about. they would wait for the news of the skiff not returning, or they would wait for a skiff full of allies and friends to return — goods in hand and smiles on their faces.

but he didn’t pay mind to any of them.

he stood tall against the harsh wind — the black cloak and kefta flowing with it, and hair blowing wildly. his eyes never leaving where the skiff had entered.

“general, the first army’s headman would like to speak with you before you leave for the little palace.”

“of course, tell him to meet me in my tent,” the grisha hummed in response and turned to relay the message to the leader of the first army. “oh and sapnap?”

“yes general?”

“tell george to keep his eye on the fold — I have a good feeling about this trip.”

if only he knew what would unfold inside of the darkness only miles ahead of him.

— authors note ; I didn’t want to put this at the start as to not spoil the meeting of a character, but I wanted to clarify that niki and wilbur are not love interests. strictly platonic. the dynamic will remain there however!

— taglist ; open

@dreamslittlebitch //

#🖇.dreamwastaken #searing light #sirius.request #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dream smp fanfiction #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #dream imagine

71 notes · View notes

seungminotes · 4 years ago

Text

Broken Noses and Potted Plants (pt.1)

w.c. ~2k

warnings. some cursing I believe, gender neutral (please notify me if anything suggests otherwise!)

desc. high school au, love triangle w/ student body president! seungmin and reckless and lazy! jisung

a.n. hello! I am getting back into writing! this will be part of a series updated weekly, for now please enjoy part 1 and tell me if you're liking it? any and all feedback appreciated.

For someone as lonesome and timid as you, Kim Seungmin was what you'd call your savior.

Him being Class President and the longest standing place holder of the first rank of your grade, you would think he was the solitary and studious type of person. No one would think such a straightforward and driven student was so popular and well-liked as he was.

You being only second to him, knew it was difficult enough to balance academics with a few simple extracurriculars, imagine having a social life on top of that, it made your head spin.

And yet, somehow Seungmin managed to do it all. He was class president, captain of the baseball team, and on the officer committees of at least five clubs and honor societies. On top of all that, he was one of the most popular and well-known students in your year.

Sure, Seungmin had lots of friends and acquaintances, but some he would consider a lot closer than others. You weren't really one of those, let’s face it. You knew that much.

In fact, you and Seungmin were mostly just "friends" for the academic benefit of it all. You'd sat near him all year long, were his vice class president, and were also in numerous of the same honor societies. It just made sense that you'd be at least academically close, a lot more would get done that way.

For instance, you two would often study together at the school’s library after classes, specifically on Fridays, when no extracurriculars were occurring to keep you busy. Lunch time was strictly student government briefing for you two. And in the time between lessons, you’d regularly check each other’s classwork and homework for each other, catching any errors either of you made before it was time to submit, not that Seungmin made many errors anyway. To say that you two spent a lot of time together would be a bit of an understatement.

Despite all this time though, you could hardly say you really knew Seungmin, at least not on a personal level. You knew he always preferred chicken at lunch, and how math was undoubtedly his best subject, whereas he struggles a bit more with language. You knew he was an amazing leader and how his decisions were always very well rounded and well-received amongst the student body. You knew he was an exceptional baseball player.

But that was about it really. Yet you somehow still managed to develop some huge crush on this guy. This boy who would never feel the same towards you surely, because you two were merely classmates with similar goals and no intentions of building upon this acquaintance-like friendship.

Knowing this, you still sometimes tried to get closer to Seungmin, you really did, out of the sheer possibility that one day he may notice and you’d have an implicit agreement of friendship at the very least.

One of these attempts was made with the founding of the club you’ve always wanted the school to have, but were sure hardly anyone would join unless prompted to do so.

The morning you had asked Seungmin to take into consideration a new club proposal, he had initially rejected it quite harshly.

“Who would join this?” he smiled. To be quite honest he had found the idea of a gardening club maintaining potted flowers and vegetables on the school’s old rundown rooftop greenhouse to be pretty wholesome, but did not think it held quite the right formality to be taken as seriously as other clubs if presented to the rest of the student government. Everyone was way too stressed and busy with exams to waste time playing with dirt.

He eyed the proposal form meticulously, looking for the student’s name, but to no avail.

“Who submitted this?” he asked, looking up from the table for the first time since lunch began.

“I just thought it’d be a nice stress reliever for everyone,” you replied, now feeling a lot less confident than when you had slid the piece of paper in front of him.

Your shy look told Seungmin he had probably hurt your pride just now, something that he would never mean to do on purpose of course, and now he felt the remorse creeping up on him. Perhaps the club wouldn’t be such a bad thing, he thought over. Maybe tweaking the name just a bit would make it sound more worthwhile to students.

He sighed.

“Put your name on it and change the name to an Environmental Awareness Club, something along those lines at least. We can present the idea at today's meeting.”

Headstrong and confident as always, Seungmin brought a smile to your face as you reached over into your bag to fish out a pen and correct the form.

Seungmin had always been this closed off and serious, never speaking informally to you, and never wasting his words, he was the most concise and careful speaker you had ever met. And for some reason this only drew you in. His big brain energy was just that attractive.

On the other side of the table, Seungmin took notice of your surge in mood and smiled to himself, relieved to have boosted your spirit.

The board hardly agreed to the proposal until Seungmin cut in and beautifully explained the benefits of gardening and plants on stress relief and the ideologies of being environmentally conscious at your age.

After that everyone was pretty much sold on the idea with just one condition. Miroh High’s new Environmental Awareness Club would have to be established in time for the annual club fair in two weeks. Meaning, recruitment of leading members, supplies and set up on the rooftop would have to be set by at least next week to be considered for the school’s extensive list of beneficial extracurricular activities for students.

The condition was enough to falter even Seungmin’s confidence. He was unsure if you’d manage to do all that on your own in just a week, especially with your rather quiet tendencies, he doubted you could recruit many students in such a small amount of time.

He looked over at you, almost as if asking for your approval, to which he caught your lingering gaze on him, a look he had never seen coming from you. You slightly nodded your head once in agreement to the ruling and Seungmin politely shook his head towards the rest of the government board members, bowing as he took his seat once again.

Seungmin had made your dream gardening club a hopeful reality, you just needed more people now, that was the only problem. Still, you imagined having Seungmin join and coming along to your gardening club, gently taking care of a flower. No, a vegetable, you decided. Seungmin would prefer a vegetable, it’d be more practical of him.

The day following your ‘environmental awareness club” approval was a Friday. Your designated study session with Seungmin was as always to take place in the library after classes had ended, only today he had opted to stay behind a bit and insisted you meet there in thirty minutes instead.

“I’m helping Han with cleaning duty today, so I’ll meet you there,” he explained, before he stood up from his seat making way for the desk behind you.

Behind you, a certain Han Jisung had sat for the last 3 years of school in which somehow you two were always assigned the same classroom and the same seating order, you in front, him right behind you.

Today Jisung was dead asleep, as he usually was after a math lesson. The sight made you smile, Seungmin lightly shaking his friend awake as a very disoriented Jisung began to stretch and groan from his interruption.

Jisung was actually a very close friend of Seungmin’s. Very unexpected given their contrasting qualities. Sometimes opposites just attract huh. Seungmin could never sleep in class, for instance, while Jisung might as well have brought a pillow on the daily.

You knew Jisung wasn’t exactly the most driven student either, but his rank had miraculously never sunk below 10, he was just naturally smart that way. He also never bothered with extracurriculars much, claiming music was all he cared enough for to ever sign up for. Overall, Jisung was an unexpectedly exceptional student with lazy tendencies and not much academic ambition, a striking polar to Seungmin.

After watching the scene unfold, you stood up yourself and made your way towards the vending machine to pass the time waiting for Seungmin before heading to the library. You decided on a small bag of chips and two cookies. You also decided to save one for Seungmin, even though you weren’t supposed to eat in the library, you figured he could save it for afterwards or something.

Unbeknownst to you, Seungmin would later take this small offering in a different light.

Because you see, Seungmin had experienced a fair amount of admirers in his time and had been used to the small gifts given to him by more brazen ones before. In combination with the lingering gazes he felt you giving him both yesterday and now today, he was worried the same was occurring once again. Only this time he didn’t know to go about it. Usually he would simply refuse their gestures with a polite apology and it’d be enough to kindly reject them. But he was unsure this time. Not because he felt anything of the sort towards you, no, Seungmin was much too busy for romantic gestures and feelings to eat up his time, but rather because you were simply so close to him. Not in the personal sense, but in the academic proximity sense of closeness. If he were to “kindly reject you”, would you avoid him like his other past admirers often decide to do? That would make a lot of student government stuff difficult. He suddenly wondered if he could have led you on at all, had he been too kind towards you lately? His racing thoughts spiralling into a mess of ‘what ifs’ were fortunately cut short.

“Are you alright Seungmin? You haven’t finished the problem set yet.” you inquired. Seungmin was usually the one to finish long before you, especially if it was math.

He’d looked over at the fully scribbled page of your workbook, realizing his distraction.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No problem,” you replied, glancing towards our watch briefly. It was just nearing the time the school’s library closed and you had planned to leave a bit earlier to make a quick trip to the plant nursery just a few minutes off your route home, you had thought your study session would have ended by now.

“Do you need to go,” Seungmin voiced, noticing a slight impatience in the bounce of your knee.

You thanked Seungmin’s impeccable attention, you couldn’t find it in you to excuse yourself when he still hadn’t finished.

“I’m heading to the nursery today for some supplies for the club,” you unconsciously checked the time once again.

“We can look over the answers Monday if you like? I got a little distracted today…” Seungmin trailed off.

It was unusual for Seungmin to trail off his sentences and get distracted and for a second you worried for him and wanted to ask if anything was bothering him.

Only, you stopped yourself. You didn’t know Seungmin like that. It would be inappropriate and insensitive to ask him something like that, right? You decided it was best to let it go, everyone has off days after all. Even the amazing Seungmin isn’t immune to them.

“I’ll leave first then,” you offered, bidding him a polite bow of the head before slinging your bag over our shoulder and making your way out of the library.

Seungmin watched you walk towards the door, unconsciously biting his inner cheek, he felt... worried, that was the best fitting word, he would say, only he wasn’t completely sure that was what the heavy weight in the pit of his stomach really was.

When you had disappeared down the hall, Seungmin slumped his head down onto the table heaving a deep sigh.

#stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #skz angst #han jisung imagines #han jisung #kim seungmin #seungmin imagines #jisung imagines #skz scenarios #jisung drabbles #jisung fluff #seungmin fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines

69 notes · View notes

thebountyfucker · 3 years ago

Text

The Royal Affair - Cad

Don't read this without reading the first part!!

Part 1

18+ ONLY - NSFW

Cad Bane x AFAB!Reader (gender-neutral, though reader does wear a skirt.) Tags/CW: power imbalance, claiming, dirty talk, sex as payment, collaring, everything is consensual but Cad is a bit forceful

Here's a link to my masterpost Want to be tagged in upcoming fics like this? Here's the link to my taglist application!

Your gaze followed Prince Cad for most of the rest of the night. He wandered around the venue, making small talk with Lady Sing or Lord Jango. He seemed less inclined to stay with his family unit than some, you noted, and appeared to be most comfortable when conversing with others. He nursed a few glasses of whiskey, but never pushed too far into drunkenness. Though you were sure he’d deny it, he was a royal, and as such, he had appearances to maintain.

Your gazes met many times during the night; at first, his gaze was strictly chaste, but as the night continued on, his gaze became more and more licentious, as if he couldn’t wait to get you alone. A chill ran down your spine, and you couldn’t quite tell if you were nervous or aroused by the prospect.

Toward the end of your shift, you made your way toward him; Cad was leaned against the wall, joking with Lord Jango about something. His gaze met yours and a wide, fanged grin spread across his face.

“Well, well, well… look who it is.” He pushed off the wall to stand straight. “Made up yer mind?”

“Yeah… I want to come with you.” You answered, and he hooked his thumbs into the pockets on his suit coat.

“Good choice. Ya would’ve regretted goin’ wit’ Em.” He replied, glancing up toward the departing Kyuzan clan. Prince Embo offered you a small nod, as if honoring the decision you made. You turned back toward Cad, who had fished around in his coat pocket for a cig. “Come wit’ me.”

There were no other pleasantries as he led you out of the meeting hall toward the adjacent Azvergin Hotel; the hotel, which catered exclusively to billionaires and royalty, was largely a mystery to you. You either had to be staff to said clientele, or a member of these groups in order to be let inside. Rumor had it that one could rent an entire floor, long term, for fifty million credits! You’d never see that kind of money in your life, but you supposed that it was like spare change to the Prince at your side.

He led you inside, through the rigorous security detail which awaited you. The guards hardly regarded you, and you figured that this may be a common occurrence with the Prince. They took your fingerprints and ran a background check - when it came up clean, they allowed you through. Then, Cad led you into the lift and up 15 floors to what you assumed was his family’s floor.

The entire ride was silent, but he kept looking at you, as if he couldn’t figure out what he was going to do with you. This made you a bit nervous, only because you weren’t entirely sure if he was to be trusted. Some girls from your work told you that the Prince would lay claim to his favorite servants and mark them with collars. You briefly wondered if this would be your future too.

Cad offered you a smirk as the doors parted and he led you out into the hallway. The walls were white, with intricate gold crown mouldings; doors lined the hallway, each with carved tags denoting who stayed where. Two guards stood at attention at each door, and servants - mostly women, of varying species - bustled about. Each and every person you passed bowed for their prince, and Cad ate it up. He gripped the chin of one of the servant girls, and leaned down to kiss her straight on the lips. She swooned.

Cad turned back toward you, and gestured toward a nearby door with his head. “Dis is my room. You can stay wit’ me. Dat is, unless you want to sleep in de servants’ quarters.”

“I suppose I can stay with you… if that’s alright.”

“Sure, sure.” He nodded, and the guards pushed open the door for you both; Cad stepped in first, and you followed closely behind.

The room was cavernous - larger than your entire apartment, you wagered - and designed with royalty in mind. The walls were pristine white with gold filigree, and spanned higher than you thought possible. He had chairs gathered in one corner, near a small bookcase. Not far from that was a fireplace, which had seemed to burn real wood, which was hard to find on Coruscant.

On the other side of the door was a wardrobe - it was a modest size for a prince, which was about twice as large as your own closet. And near that was his bed. It was massive, with bedposts at each corner and silver silk sheets. His comforter was pulled back, and you swore you could see restraints bolted to the frame.

Perhaps the rumors about him weren’t exaggerated…

“Should I… leave and get my stuff?” You inquired, standing in the middle of the room awkwardly. Cad glanced over at you as he pulled his suit coat off.

“Whaddya need?”

“Clothes, toiletries.. You know, the basics.” You watched as he tossed the coat on the floor haphazardly, before he went about unbuttoning his black shirt.

“I’ll call de servants fer ya. Dey’ll fetch your things.” He replied, nonchalant. He tossed his shirt atop his suit coat, and sat on the edge of his bed to pull off his shoes. He glanced over at you. “You got a starin’ problem?”

“N-no!” You replied, casting your glance to the floor. He chuckled and sauntered over to where you stood. He took a step toward you, pushing up against you; you took a step back, not sure if this was intentional. He took another step toward you, and then another, until you were trapped up against the wall. He reached out, cupping your chin and tilting it up so you could look him in the eyes.

“Dere ain’t no need to be shy, doll. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“How can I be so sure?” You replied, your voice shaking. Heat pooled in your core, and his ravenous gaze only intensified the sensation.

“If I wanted t’ hurt ya… I would have done it already.” He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, and it trembled in response. His gaze trailed toward your tantalizing tits. “I think I found yer ‘price’.”

“Oh?” You squeaked, surprised by how easily he could sway you.

“Why don’ we getchu out of dese clothes, and you can show me why it was worth it t’ take ya in?”

“I-.” Your body screamed ‘yes’, but your sensibilities told you that this all seemed to be happening so quickly. But you weren’t sure he’d care if you told him this. He was a Prince, after all. You were sure he was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted. “S-something tells me you really weren’t trying to save me from the King.”

“Yer a smart one.” He drawled, a dark, hungry look in his eyes. You could smell the whiskey and tabac on his breath as he pressed closer to you. “How else would I get you to come with me?”

That tracked, you noted with a frown. Your life was ostensibly in danger, and this spoiled, entitled Prince used that to get you in his bed. You pushed him off and walked away, but he was not so easily deterred.

“Yer safe, ain’tcha?” He wasn’t wrong. Being with him meant you were safe from the King… but were you safe with Prince Cad? You crossed your arms over your chest and sat down in one of the chairs in the room. Cad followed you over to the chair, but he did not sit beside you. “Don’t be a brat.”

“I’ll be what I want.” You replied, your pussy pulsing to remind you that you were still aroused. You cursed under your breath, but figured that maybe you could make a game of this. You were scorned, sure, but you wouldn’t pass up a chance to sleep with the Prince.

“Is dat so? Do ya need to be tamed? Is dat it?” He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked a browridge. “I’ve dealth wit’ many brats. Ya ain’t special.”

“I don’t like being lied to.” You explained to him, and his expression soured. “If you just wanted to fuck me, you could have told me that.”

“Yeah. Like dat would’ve worked.” He rolled his eyes.

“It would have! I was having a shit day and I would have loved to let off some steam!” You told him, and Cad sat on the arm of the chair next to yours. A small smirk grew on your face as you held his gaze. “You want to fuck me? Hm? You can start by telling me you’re sorry.”

He pursed his lips and turned his head. “Ain’t happenin’.”

“That’s a shame. I guess this cunt of mine is off-limits.” You pointedly closed your legs, and anger flashed in his eyes. You could practically see him trying to work his way out of this and still get what he wanted. But you wouldn’t budge and you could tell that he knew this. It took him twenty minutes before he was able to form the words.

“I… I’m sorry.” He growled through gritted teeth.

“Good. You should be.”

There was silence for a moment, and you figured Cad was sulking because of the apology. Before you could react, he got up and thrust his knee between your legs. You gasped softly as he pressed his thigh to your aching cunt.

“Now listen here… I don’ like dat attitude of yers. Yer in my home - ya don’t get to order me around. Got it?” He leaned forward, boxing you in against the chair. You tried to fight it, but you found yourself grinding your cunt against his leg. He hissed in response. “No sass now? Nexxu got yer tongue?”

“I got… I got what I wanted already.” You told him.

“Words are cheap, doll. You know I didn’t mean it.” He grabbed your chin and tipped your head back, before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It was forceful and needy, and you had to fight against pushing him away and digging in deeper. Your cunt throbbed again, and wetness seeped into your panties. You whimpered, and Cad chuckled. “Yer a little whore, ain’t ya? Despite all yer whining, ya still want me.”

He eased away, moving to finish undressing. “Get up and get naked. I wanna see dis cunt of yers.”

“M-make me.” You replied, your voice wavering with lust. He cocked a browridge and pulled you up to stand; he ripped your shirt off, and rucked the skirt down over your ass. You were nearly bare in front of him, and his ravenous gaze on your body made warmth well in your belly. He pulled down your panties, watching with interest as webs of slick stretched between your cunt and the cloth.

“Yer droolin’ fer me, doll. Filthy whore. Do ya want my cock?” He inquired, and you slowly nodded at this. He dragged you to his bed and tossed you onto it. “Show me yer cunt, doll.”

He took a step back, watching as you casually spread your legs open and then parted your labia with your fingers; Cad watched, his hungry gaze scouring over your soaked cunt. He drew in close, his knobby finger slipping inside of you. “Yer wet fer me, ain’tcha? Mmm… so wet and tight.”

You moaned, your head lolling back onto his impossibly soft comforter; your legs spread wider of their own accord, as if anticipating that he would insert his body between them sooner rather than later. You rocked your hips, aiming to drive his finger deeper within. He chuckled.

“Yer just beggin’ fer my cock at dis point… all I need is t’ hear it. Beg fer me.” “Oh Prince…. Oh Prince!” You whined, gripping his sheets tightly. He retracted his finger and drew aimlessly on your stomach with your slick. “Please, I need your cock! Please!”

“I wanna hear my name on yer lips. You know it, don’tcha?”

“Cad… Please….” You begged, lifting your hips to present your cunt to him, trying to tell him that you so desperately needed him to fill the void. He smirked at this presentation, and drew two fingers between your folds.

“Yer cute… I’ll give ya dat.” His fingers danced up and down the slit of your cunt teasingly. You whimpered, wriggling your hips closer. First, he was bitching at you about not giving in, and now he was the one dragging his feet? Entitled prick! “Most of my lays would offer t’ sell me deir families at dis point… just to get my cock.”

“Stupid.” You muttered, and he pressed a thumb to your clit.

“My favorites get special treatment. T’ dem, it’s a good trade.” He smirked as he slowly rubbed circles on your clit. Your body tensed, and your vision went spotty. “Besides, what use is a family t’ dem if dey’re here with me?”

Your toes curled as he dipped his finger into your cunt, only going in to the first knuckle. He rubbed around the entrance as he played with your clit. Stupid, entitled Prince! Fuck, you wanted him so bad...

“Now… what would you offer t’ me t’ get my cock? Hm?” He inquired as he eased his finger in a little further. “Do ya even have anythin’ of worth? You peasants usually don’t.”

“Hey!” You squeaked as he shoved the rest of his finger into you. Another slipped in soon after, and your whole body began to shake.

“Tell me, doll… what would you give to have my cock?”

“Nothing.” You replied as he thrust his fingers in and out of you. You whimpered, grinding your hips against his hand. The heat in your belly threatened to spill over, and your cunt tightened around his fingers. He was quick to remove his fingers from you.

“Ya don’t get t’ cum until ya tell me what you’d give me.”

You panicked, trying to find something, anything, of worth to give him. He wasn’t wrong about you not having much of worth; you worked a mediocre job making decent pay. You didn’t have much in the way of family, and even if you did, you would never offer them to him. This was ridiculous but you were also desperate. In the moment, all you could say was:

“Me! You can have me!”

Cad paused, quirking a browridge at this; a slow, devious smirk spread across his face and he leaned down.

“Is dat so?” He was mere inches away as his slick-covered hand slid down your stomach. “You want to be mine?”

“If - if that means you’ll fuck me… yes!” You cried out, aching and yearning. Satisfied with your answer, he angled his hips and pressed his cock into your cunt. His cock was searingly hot inside you, and filled you up sufficiently; every inch he plunged into you drove you closer and closer to an orgasm. The moment he bottomed out, you came, your body shaking as sparks of electric pleasure shot through you. Your back arched toward him, and Cad wrapped an arm around you, holding you to his chest.

He slowly rocked into your spasming pussy, moaning at the way you desperately milked him for his cum. He would not give so easily, however. He picked up his pace, a high-pitched whine escaping your lips; the ridges of his cock massaged all the sensitive parts of your cunt, and you had to stop yourself from begging for more.

“Ya feel good, doll.” Cad grunted as he thrusted harder into you. You could only whimper in response, your hands gripping your breasts tightly. “My cock feels good, don’t it?”

“Yessss.” You cried out, your toes curling as your orgasm loomed once more. You laid your head back on his bed, closing your eyes to bask in the sensations. He raked his fingers up and down your thighs, which quivered at the touch. There was only so much more you could take before the building tension snapped and you came again.

“Say my name.”

“Cad!”

“Say it louder! Let de whole place know who ya belong t’!” He roared, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs to the point where you were certain they would bruise. A wail rose from deep in your chest.

“CAD!” You yelled out, arching your back and thrashing about as the sensations became unbearable. You were so close! So close! Your cunt tightened around Cad’s cock and he let out a groan at the sensation.

“Ya gonna cum fer me again? Ya gonna cum, lil’ slut?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cried, bucking your hips up against his, grasping at any additional pleasure you could get. Cad’s pace was growing erratic, and you knew that he wouldn’t be too far behind you.

“Cum fer me! Cum!” Cad commanded, pressing his thumb to your clit. Your vision went dark as your body when stiff; fluids shot out of you, soaking Cad, as waves of euphoria washed over your body. Through the haze of pleasure, you could feel Cad biting down on your shoulder, puncturing your skin, as he shot his cum deep inside you. Your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

When you came back to your head, Cad was lapping at the blood which leaked from your wound. He pulled out when he realized that you had come to, and went to find a rag so you could clean up. He returned with a towel, and gestured to your throbbing cunt.

“Go on.”

You cleaned up, as you were directed, while Cad strutted around his room. He returned to you with a collar in hand, and you quirked a brow. “For me?”

“Yeah. Ya did give yerself t’ me.” He reminded you.

“I did, didn’t I?” You managed a smile and leaned forward, presenting your neck to him. He clasped the collar around it, and stroked your cheek.

“Dere you are. All pretty.”

23 notes · View notes

my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

Note

Please ignore this if you've gotten sick of this particular prompt, but may we please get another set of the Oxygen Deprivation scenarios, but this time with Ratchet and Megatron?? Regardless of if you do it or not, thank you for your hard work, I love everything you've written so far!

Thankfully I never tire of drama! I did the prompt for Megatron back in part three, but I've absolutely got some grumpy/caring medic for you! Thank you for taking the time to read my stuff and send in a request, it always makes my day!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: You're Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Ratchet

·You're in Swerve's with him for a nice evening off, something he enjoys a little more frequently than he used to thanks to the multitude of medics on board, but he appreciates every minute the two of you get to enjoy together regardless. There's hardly a lack of things to discuss, and you often find yourself listening to his stories until the bar closes and he has to carry you to berth. It's a little embarrassing for you, especially with every bot that knows thinking it's the cutest thing they've ever seen, but you admittedly enjoy being with Ratchet too much to care about how it looks. It doesn't hurt that he quite obviously enjoys it as well, especially when he's usually around those who only seek him out if they're sick, and he enjoys that he finally has an enthusiastic audience.

·The two of you are amongst the last of the patrons but still going strong one slow evening, with you perched atop a table whilst the older mech tells a story about a long ago incident in a medical lab where, upon being short staffed due to an ongoing battle, a patient had helpfully assisted with his own surgery. Though you're tired due to the hour, you're more than invested enough to keep your eyes open and listen along in fascination. It's not often he gets to go on like this, after all, and he looks absolutely adorable when he does.

·There's an unexpected flickering of the lights that stops everyone in their place, but it ends just quickly enough for the atmosphere to return to calm and for some bot to crack a joke about Swerve not paying his electric bill. You barely have time to chuckle before the whole ship is rocked like a boat on the open ocean, sending engex flying and glass shattering as everything not nailed down is tossed without a care, yourself included. Only the quick hands of an experienced medic save you from experiencing a not so gentle crash into the floor. Looking up once the dust settles to see Ratchet has you cupped safely in his palms, the two of you can't help but exchange a quick smile before the various bots around you start asking questions.

·Ratchet is quick to answer, keeping you in his hands to avoid the sea of broken glass as he stands. Any bot with decent battle experience on a ship like this recognizes what they all just felt, but being a bot who's seen more than his fair share of combat in space, he's able to explain that the size of the tremor indicates that they've been trapped by an enemy ship of smaller but not insignificant build. He gives them about five minutes before they're boarded, and instructs those gathered to head for emergency battle stations, as commands for defense will no doubt be incoming.

·Announcing his own intent to get to his post in the medical bay, the mech is quick to get going despite appearing outwardly calm, even promising Swerve he'll settle his tab when they get all this sorted. Holding you tight in one hand, he pulls up his communicator and tries to reach the bridge for specific instructions. To his frustration nothing comes through, and you find the same results when you make an attempt to establish communication with any top bot on your own communicator, prompting a few muttered swears from your partner. As usual, he's quick to get right to planning.

·Thankfully his designated task for any kind of emergency is exactly the same no matter the crisis; he heads to the medical bay and starts repairing the inevitable wounded. While you can't help with surgery, being that you're not much bigger than most of their tools, he posits that it makes sense for you to come with him. There's nothing more fortified than the medical bay, after all, so you can at least be somewhere safe. Though you're tempted to tease him about how obvious it is he wants you somewhere he can keep an optic on you, for now you decide to just settle in his hand and focus on what's ahead.

·Having been on many ships before this one, he's able to navigate with hardly a second thought, giving him a chance to keep his focus on you whilst he tries to keep figuring out the extent of the ship's difficulty. You can see him frown as he tries unsuccessfully to get his communicator working, and though you want to be stealthy for the sake of safety, you do want a better understanding of what's going on. Thankfully a human voice doesn't travel far through the hallways when spoken at conversational volume. Trying not to betray your anxiety, you ask if he can tell you anything about what to expect.

·Holding your tiny form a little closer, he hides the fact that he can see your apprehension clear as day, quite familiar with the brave face bots and humans alike will put on when in danger. Still, he certainly respects you enough to be honest. He explains that one ship latching on to another for an ambush these days is typically a pirate tactic, as they're more interested in selling the vessel afterwards or scrapping it for tech, unlike warring factions who will typically just blow each other up. There's probably already enemy forces on the ship, and they've certainly come well armed if they feel confident enough to take on Cybertronians.

·Your eyes dart around a little faster at that thought. Securing your hand against one of his digits, you remember they're sensitive enough to pick your heartbeat from just a touch, and the recollection stirs your affection whilst also making you think. If Cybertronians are so advanced, how can there be nothing working on this ship right now? Were there really no back up systems that could at least give you the basics? With the whole structure being the size of Manhattan, it'd be very nice to at least know if some areas might be safe, but then again bots tended to build things in a strange way. Nevertheless, your curiosity is so great you can't help asking a question.

·Ratchet pauses even as he keeps walking, his expression going distant in a way that initially makes you worry your query was taken with offense. But thankfully he speaks a second afterwards, looking inspired as he recalls a station of terminals not too far out of your path. It's more vulnerable, sure, but it also has physical connections to every part of the craft. He'd at least be able to conduct a system wide scan from there, and after that he'd have a much better idea of what they're up against. But he has to ask you first; are you comfortable with him taking the risk? Of course he'll always protect you, but there's a greater chance he'll need to do that if this path is chosen.

·You're smart enough to know exactly what he means. But there's a risk you'll bump into an enemy anyway, so wouldn't having a chance to get information like this be worth it? Oddly enough you seem more on board than he is with the plan, his friendly blue optics dimming with worry before you lay a comforting hand on his chest, smiling as you do so. This big mech cares so deeply for everyone, but you have a very special place in his loving spark, no matter how much he tries to pretend he's a grump. Your sentimental move seems to snap him back to hiding behind his mask, and he mutters something about feeling your heartbeat against his palm and how it's obvious you're nervous but if you say you're ready then he'll give this plan a try...

·For the sake of stealth he remains in bipedal mode, but he absolutely keeps you securely held to his chest, and you can't help but wish the circumstances were better because his spark humming beside you is impossibly soothing. Being held protectively by a Cybertronian is undoubtedly one of the most secure feelings in the world, you believe. Just being held by him in general though is enough to make you realize you're actually quite tired, enough so that you could absolutely fall asleep... Until he detects your slowing heartbeat and encourages you to stay awake.

·The terminal is in sight without a spot of trouble when Ratchet has to gently coax you awake for a second time, using a light nudge of his digit to encourage you to open your eyes once more. Though he knows the hour is late, your sudden sluggishness concerns him as a medic, enough so that he's now more intent than ever on getting some answers. Even without proof and a wealth of far more simple explanations, he's got a feeling something is wrong. A small part of his concentration is divided to keep a constant watch on your vitals.

·You're still alert enough to hear the incoming trouble just as he does; gunfire, shouts and general sounds of skirmish approaching rapidly down the hallway. Hearing him curse this unfortunate luck, you try to ascertain how long the two of you have until company arrives, but the noise is much too chaotic for you to gauge. Knowing Autobots will be amongst the fray is somehow far from comforting. Holding on tight to the hands cradling you so protectively, you look straight up just as the quick thinking doctor looks down at you, absolute trust in your eyes as you meet his optics. Whatever he decides to do next, you trust him with your life.

·The decision he makes isn't a spontaneous one, but it certainly feels like it as he barrels towards the terminals, holding his tiny partner to his chest as he runs. Knowing what's happening may well be the key to undoing any damage before it's too late. He can feel the heat of a few errant shots of blaster fire just as he gets his one spare hand on the keyboard, typing with speed he typically reserves for surgery as the world around him grows gradually more chaotic. Fortunately he only needs to hit a few buttons to bring up all the information he's looking for. Sharp optics start scanning whilst he uses his multitasking skills to keep track of everything else, listening for the threat and holding your little body close while he registers your pulse.

·The world around you feels like it's moving through water that thickens with every passing second, and neither the crackle of energy weapons nor the clanging of blades does anything to reverse the process. Even a shout from an Autobot warning Ratchet to move seems a million miles away. You know he told you to stay awake, but would he really mind if you got a quick nap in? After all, it's so late, and you're so tired, and you feel so safe in his sheltered grip... There isn't even a bit of worry in your mind regarding the fray. How could you be worried, here with the bot who would protect you always?

·Everything makes a terrifying amount of sense far too quickly. Ratchet is accustomed to the rapid responses his occupation requires of him, but for this singular instant he's frozen, optics locking on the atmosphere readout and hoping that he's simply misread it. A glancing but molten blow past his back forces him to accept what won't change, and he manages a combat roll just as the terminal is blasted by errant fire, the battle now within arms length as the same Autobot keeps encouraging him to move. He obliges only after sinking a fist into the face of an alien who wanders too close. After that, he's on the move without reservation, keeping you shielded with his entire frame as he runs.

·Your world spins without end even when the movement of everything beyond stabilizes, and you cling to the bot holding you for something to steady it all. God, what you wouldn't give to lie down and sleep... Ratchet is talking to you though, holding you so that you can see his face as he explains something about oxygen and taking deep breaths while focusing on him. It makes tragically little sense to you. Still, you feel bad as your eyelids grow heavy and your body turns to limp weight in his grip. Even your efforts to breathe as instructed feel like a failure. Of all the beings in the galaxy he's the one you want to dissapoint least, but his warm palms beneath you are so comfortable, and his spark humming in your ear is so soothing... You only hope he can forgive you for submitting to sleep.

·Ratchet knows he's powerless to wake you again, but that hardly keeps the agony from tearing at his spark. Seeing you go limp in his grasp, feeling your pulse weaken and grow irregular, hearing your breath stall... How long has it been since any medical emergency has reduced him to near panic like this? He's so invested in his task that his arrival to the medical bay only comes with orders. You're the human equivalent of a Fader, and so much of what he needs to save you isn't even ready to go! He needs to have a mask, a saline solution for dehydration, and oxygen of the exact content percentage you need to survive just to start... For the first time in eons he's terrified, even as it all comes together and he sees your vitals stabilize before his very optics, as all he can think of is how very close this came to ending tragically. As you're left recovering he quickly gets to work on other patients, throwing himself into the task so as not to worry, though his optics betray him on the regular with glances towards the berth supporting your tiny body.

·Wakefulness comes with a familiar digit resting in your palm, reading your vitals as you put together blurry pieces of a not so happy story. To your delight, a brightly colored chevron is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, and it's impossible not to smile when you roll your head over to look at the owner. Ratchet somehow looks more exhausted than you've ever seen him as he smiles back. He relays everything that happened in a way that paints him as an unimportant figure, up until you move your hand to rest atop his, your eyes filled with that same trust and admiration you'd given before he'd gone for the terminal. You want to communicate that you know how much you owe him. This brave, selfless medic who'd risked so much to give you his best and deserved the full credit for saving your life... Humility doesn't allow him to agree in full, but you're certain you can see peace in his optics, the kind he only seems to feel with you.

#transformers #maccadam #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #idw #tf #transformers headcanon #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #ratchet #ratchet x reader #self insert #human reader

251 notes · View notes

sanstropfremir · 3 years ago

Text

by request, the first post-kingdom stage roundup! this one is a best to worst by group!

some introductory notes:

i’m not going to be ranking the 100sec stages in here because they are too different of a scale. but i will be talking about them as a part of the process. i’m not going to be including the team stages here either, since i talked about them in my episode seven and eight reviews and i do think they stand separately from the individual group stages, because we don’t know who the creative teams were behind them. this is not meant to be an overall best of all the performances, i’m intending this more to be a look each of the groups’ stages overall; seeing how they adapted and improved and how effective the trajectory of their journey as a whole was. also, a very important definition to make right at the start so i don't have to explain it every time: by ‘worst’ i do not mean the stage was actually bad. by ‘worst’ i literally mean ‘not the best.’ if i break it down, i’m ranking these by ‘most amount of successful components’ to ‘least amount of successful components.’ there were no stages that were actually bad or unwatchable; they were all successful in one way or another, but some of them more so. i’m ordering these in my own personal ranking of reverse who did the best overall, which obviously is not how the actual show rankings went down, but we all know my thoughts on the official rankings.

in case you want to catch up and read my more in depth thoughts, here’s all of my episode reviews: one, two (with added tbz costume breakdown), three, four, five, seven, eight, nine, ten! oh and also here’s my very first review of the dance solo performance film, since i’m also going to be referencing this a bit.

tbz

monster - the least involved with their overarching story concept and it’s stylistically the most interesting because it’s a departure from the glittery royalty concept we have primarily seen them in. it also helps that it’s a great song that they did a relatively good cover of.

kingdom come - the solidity of the choreo is the thing that puts this stage up here, because it’s some of their best. and it’s not as explicitly reliant on the game of thrones theme as their other stages.

o sole mio - this has real potential as a good small concept vaudeville themed stage; it starts off really strong and then they blow it by shoehorning in the unnecessary lore.

no air - they tried to start off with a big conceptual bang in the first round with a semi-explicit narrative, but it relies entirely too much on the viewers knowing the references for it to make any sense.

to be honest, i’m not that surprised about how tbz constructed their stages and how they turned out. i know a lot of people have been disappointed with how lackluster their stages have felt in comparison to their rtk ones, and i think that’s fair because i agree, i don’t think they ever captured the same energy they did for danger or for shangri-la. if you’ve been following along (or have just read all my reviews now) than you know most of my complaints about how tbz have been working with their lore and concepts, so i won’t rehash them here. but i do think it’s warranted to point out that theoretically, being first in rtk would logistically put you at the bottom of the initial ranking for kingdom. i know they’re not technically the youngest group, but in the execution of their stages in comparison, it does make sense to me that they come out looking as the most inexperienced group. even though they were intending to have a similar overarching story like they did on rtk, it was not at all very fleshed out and there wasn’t a strong enough connection between that story, the themes of their stages, and the narrative shapes of those stages. which is a shame because they are not unskilled performers, and they have the most members of all of the groups on the show, so they had a lot of opportunity to be doing interesting choreo and blocking work that never seemed to materialize. i also think they never truly got used to the size of the stage in comparison to the rtk stage, and they were always struggling to fill it in an intentional way. they tried valiantly to recoup their ground and bring everything together in a full circle for their last stage, and even though they somehow came in second, i think by the finale they had been worn down and lost a lot of their steam. it also doesn’t help that they lost a member to injury right near the end, which can be very demotivating, especially for a young group.

skz

god’s ddu du ddu du - the most stylistically different and interesting of the bunch, with a lot of interesting elements and well designed movement, even if the overall arc was half baked and lackluster

i’ll be your man - this was an actual attempt at a departure from their normal bluster and even though it never makes it all the way there and they don’t do that great of a cover, it’s different enough.

wolfgang - although watchable for hilarity and/or cringe value, nothing about this stage demonstrates a significant amount of growth from the first one. it fact it just feels like they injected a load more money and time into the premise of their 100sec stage, without any of the reflection that this kind of circular final stage concept should have. it’s exactly the stage of a group that’s been propelled to first in every round through an artificially inflated system.

god’s menu/side effects - the most scattered of all their stages. there’s not quite enough material to tie everything together and it feels underformed.

we all knew what the outcome of the show was going to be the moment that very first round of fan voting came in. now i don’t actually care about final outcome of the show, because the most valuable experience of a show like this is learning from what your competitors around you are doing and how to improve your work for further rounds. if the ranking system had been solely expert + judges based, all of the weekly rankings would have looked a lot different and skz would have actually had a chance to grow from this experience. but because they have the biggest and most aggressive fandom, their stages constantly ended up in first place and they never actually had the opportunity to sit back and reflect on their performances to figure out how they can do better. because the truth of the matter is that they did not have the best performances on the show. they consistently made stylistically stagnant stages and never managed to correct any of the issues that have been plaguing them since the 100sec round. the closest they got was god’s ddu du ddu du, which was aesthetically the most different and had the most interesting subversions of the stage format, even if it ultimately fell flat because they still missed the mark on managing the shape of the narrative. if you watch all their stages back to back you’ll see that there’s an overreliance on the same types of stylistic decisions and thematic elements, including in the sound and feel of the work. this is a bit hard to explain, but even though the stages all look different, they don’t convey any nuanced emotion or intention other than ‘stray kids world domination.’ now nuanced intention is not necessary for a kpop song performance, but skz took it upon themselves to try and tackle some fairly complex thematic ideas, which is commendable, but they fall flat because the members themselves don’t know how to act. and acting is supremely important when you are doing themed stages. i talked about this same principle in this response about orange caramel and wjsn chocome, but most newer idols don’t approach performing as a character, they approach performing as themselves, and skz are big victims of this. that’s why even i’ll be your man, where they do actually attempt to be a bit more nuanced in their delivery, still comes off like all their other stages. they don’t ever push themselves beyond their performance boundaries (physically yes, obviously. i mean mentally) and so every stage has a little checklist of skz-specific personality traits that round out in the bigger picture to the same general feel. this kind of strategy works great for music shows and for general promotion because it’s super marketable, but in this particular setting, where we spend an extended amount of time with all the groups, it doesn’t facilitate the same amount of growth that letting those of personas go would.

ikon

at ease - really clear cumulation of their performance, group colour, and design elements over the entire show.

classy savage - well designed and decorated with an interesting concept, but has a few flaws that keep it from being their best work.

inception - again, very well designed; the set is so inventive and features a lot of carefully blocked movement, plus the colour palette is tight and used effectively, it just doesn’t reach the same scale as the latter two stages.

love scenario/killing me - it’s the first stage and it clearly suffers from a bit of underd evelopment as they were getting used to the format of the show. it’s still an interesting and well performed stage with the start of elements that we can see them develop further in the next rounds.

ikon had the most lackadaisical attitude toward the whole show, which i think was the best way to approach it, but also they didn’t really push much beyond their boundaries as performers. i’m not faulting them for not wanting to, they’re a very well established group and honestly don’t really need improve on anything. they did however, do a really great job of improving on their design quality and intergration after the first round, which is the one thing that this program definitely facilitates for. they’re also the only group where their finale stage was demonstrably their best stage, so they really did nail that slow improvement progression. they got what they wanted out of the show, which was new friends and a chance to make some fun stages that they wouldn’t have otherwise been able to. like i think i’ve said in every other review, there’s not that much to say about them as a whole because they just put their noses to the grindstone and did the work while maintaining a chill and fun demeanour, and those efforts paid off even if they didn’t end up ranking very high.

sf9

the stealer - great integration of theme into narrative and design, small scale concept with big impact.

believer - smart use of camera work and choreography in conjunction with the design elements. although not very narrative focused, it’s a clear and thoughtful elaboration on their intro stage that’s very well executed.

move - a risky choice that pays off fairly well for them, even if it doesn’t capture all the depth that it could have.

jealous - it’s their first stage of the competition and the first time they had worked on something of this scale before, so it only makes sense that it’s the weakest of their run. despite that, it shows a strong understanding of an unusual concept and it still holds up.

sf9 were the clear underdogs of everyone and the rankings pretty clearly reflected that. but as a group they really put in the work to improve their skills and i think they showed the most dramatic improvement of everyone, especially between the first and second rounds. they repeatedly made comments about how they were focused on creating good stages and it paid off. their stages were all conceptually and visually interesting without relying on much external lore or overly dense themes, even if some of them were more effective than others. they had a lot of strong emphasis on costume in particular and they were very well styled. their finale stage was a very clear synthesis of all of the experience and knowledge they gained over the course of the show and it wraps a neat aesthetic and thematic bow on their journey. they absolutely did not deserve last place; they were the ones hardest hit by the fan voting system and i hope that the group doesn’t internalize the official outcome too much, because they did a lot of good work that they should be proud of and deserves a higher due than it was given.

ateez

rhythm ta - simple concept with a clear narrative that uses a lot of visual referencing as exposition without being cluttered and too reliant on the source material. impeccable use of limited design elements to create atmosphere and it’s a strong reinvention of the song.

wonderland - an absolute banger of a first stage that does all the same things as rhythm ta just to a slightly less polished scale.

ode to joy - both stylistically and tonally a departure, this stage relies a lot on group lore but also has a very clear message that was surprising for its maturity and temerity.

the real - purposefully pulled back in scale and ambition as a pointed critique of the competition as a whole. looser in design aesthetic synthesis but has more freedom for the members to show more dynamism in the group’s abilities and colour.

the youngest of the six groups, i don’t think anyone was expecting ateez to come out swinging in the way that they did. oh, we were all expecting them to put up a fight, but i know that i wasn’t expecting much beyond the capabilities of what we’d seen from skz and tbz, since they all share the dubious honour of being similar aesthetic performance based fourth gen groups. but oh baby did they prove us all wrong. the fact that they have incredible performance abilities and stage presence is what carried them half of the way, but they also proved to have a top notch creative team working behind them that knew how to visually craft a great performance. wonderland and rhythm ta are two of the smartest designed stages, and i’d put rhythm ta as the best designed stage, because it does so much in such a small amount of time. this ranking was tough because all of their stages intentionally prove a point and i dont think there are any that are demonstrably weaker. wonderland and rhythm ta served to prove that they had the capacity to keep up with their seniors, and that they were ambitious and hungry and had a solid team foundation. both stages ranked them first in non-fan judging and once they saw how the fan judging skews the final results, they smartly and ambitiously made a choice in the round BEFORE the finale to make a stage that rebuffs the laurels of the competition show they were at the pinnacle of, specifically for their fans. there is so much care and thought put into the ode to joy stage that it feels wrong to rank it as their third best, especially when it also contains one of the greatest 40 seconds of acting i’ve ever seen on a kpop stage. just the dichotomy of the stage’s melancholy feel with the choice of song is so compelling, and in its context as a part of the whole now the show is over.... i’m out of words. the brain on the person who came up with this, i would LOVE to talk to them. and having the real as a followup stage? where they have the freedom to have fun and be stylistically themselves while thumbing their noses at the show? a perfect follow up and rounding out of the expression of their abilities.

btob

back door - perfect. simple concept and simple narrative extremely well executed. excellent attention to detail and atmosphere.

show and prove - perfect reflection of their journey on the show as a whole.

blue moon - same as back door, just with a slightly larger scale.

missing you - only last because it doesn’t have the same strength of narrative and design concept as the other three stages. it’s still a better stage than 80% of the stages on the show.

we all know this, but btob are the real kings. all of their stages were phenomenal and they all hit my personal top ten, so this ranking is more of a ‘which stage was the best of the best.’ they did an incredible job of playing to their strengths and they knew exactly what they needed to do in order to craft the best performance. this was actually very difficult for me to decide because they never fucking missed. watching missing you for the first time in like two months smacked me right upside the head because that stage is beautiful. the intro in the forest with changsub and eunkwang is fucking gorgeous; the lighting and atmospherics are so effective and the trees do an incredible job of obscuring the stage architecture. and their costumes. this stage screams elegance in a way that no other stage managed to capture and this was the first round. and i’m putting last on this list, which should be telling about the quality of their work. and honestly it only goes up from here. they took that one maybe valid expert critique that they got of utilizing more narrative and they RAN with it. i put back door as first because it juuuuust inches out blue moon and show and prove for smart camera work, but honestly all three of these stages could take top spot, they’re of equal rank.

btob came into this show at a pretty distinct disadvantage: they’re old, and there’s only four of them. and as we know, thanks to rtk and the fourth gen groups, this show has a reputation for big acrobatic blowout spectacles, which is just not something they can do. but they also had a distinct advantage: they’re old and there’s only four of them. they very smartly foresaw that they wouldn’t be able to compete with the fourth gen groups in athletic ability, so they specifically chose to highlight the areas they were the strongest in, which you can see right from the start. their intro stage specifically highlights their vocals, and even in minhyuk’s dance solo the design is music show themed, as a gentle reminder that they know how to work a stage. and as the show progressed they started to solidify that assumption. they used narrative extremely well to give their stages an element of emotional investment that kept the audience engaged without banking on individual idols’ popularity to keep them afloat, and spent their time on the show being gracious and generous competitors, intent on being as watchable offstage as they were on. and it worked. by the time the finale rolled around, we knew who these men were and we had seen them be individuals, so they were able to cast off the need to play to narrative and to character and instead they were able to loop back around to that very first stage; simple, clean, emphasis on vocals, with a very important addition of uniformity. the current trend in kpop costuming is to have group members dressed similarly, but not exactly the same, partially in order to be able to everyone apart, but also because the ‘sameness’ of the boy band model has fallen by the wayside. btob took all their previous stages where they had clearly been individuals and as the culmination of their journey they chose to look exactly the same, to clearly send a message that they are a singular unit and they are proud of that. and they absolutely stuck the landing. this was a perfect run for btob, they should be really fucking proud of the work they did.

#kingdom #kingdom review #btob #ateez #sf9 #ikon #the boyz #stray kids #why yes i am peddling the alexander moment again thank you for asking #ranking the btob stages was SO HARD #actually ranking a lot of these was really difficult because most of them are really good #this was a really interesting exercise and i would actually recommend going and watching all the stages back to back if you have time #because you can really see the development in some of the groups #this is only 3.5k so its on the shorter side #tomorrow is the my personal favourites roundup!#kpop analysis #text #very happy to keep talking about things if people have their own post-show thoughts they want to share!

25 notes · View notes

5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years ago

Text

Dee Little Snake

Series Summary - Janus uses age regression as a way to destress but has little control over it whenever he grows upset. Trying to keep a secret like that can be hard when you're only four years old, and thus family bonding ensues in a way nobody expected, least of all Deceit.

Chapter 1 - A Little Upset

Chapter Summary - Still not over the events of the last video, Roman "accidentally" breaks something very important to Janus. Upset and stressed with seemingly no one to turn to, Janus' age regresses to that of a four year old, locking himself away in his room to wait it out. The last side he expected to care finds him and helps make it better.

Warning: Blood and Injury

Patton smiled encouragingly as Janus took a seat at the table, turning back around quickly to poke at the pancakes intent on not burning them this time. He took his hat off slowly, wanting to be respectful, and fidgeted with the thermos he had brought from the other kitchen. It was a translucent pale yellow with little snakes with bowties patterned all over the surface of the plastic. Virgil and Remus had worked on it together some years ago as a gift for Christmas and dispite their now rocky relationship he was hoping that seeing the old gift would make Virgil...tolerate him? Maybe start a conversation? Sighing he got up to look for a drink from the fridge just as Roman walked into the kitchen.

He and Janus froze as they caught sight of each other and the air immediately turned tense. He saw Patton's shoulders rise slightly and guiltily looked away, offering Roman a hesitant nod while he unscrewed the thermos and set it on the table as he continued towards the fridge. He didn't expect Roman to not be upset with him; he understood completely that he had taken it too far but then again so had Roman. He knew the creative side had laughed at Virgil's name as well and that had honestly made it even harder for him to even consider making himself that vulnerable, but it had been the only thing he had known to do to establish some level of trust between him and the others. Plus, he glanced back over to Patton, it was worth it for pancakes.

He turned around holding a jug of milk that was thankfully not expired just as Roman brushed past him, purposefully bumping his hip against the table as he did. The thermos wobbled and Janus was not nearly quick enough this early in the morning to prevent it from falling. Time felt like it slowed as it smashed onto the ground and a piece from the bottom broke off from the spidering cracks. Distantly he heard Patton gasp and plates clanking together as Roman hummed a simple tune but for all the distractions he couldn't bring himself to look up yet. He slowly leaned down to pick up the peices, tearing up as he realized he wouldn't be able to fix it like how it was before. His powers didn't fix things, they disguised things. Virgil and Remus had worked hard on making this together and now...

"How childish can you be?" He growled out, effectively cutting off the semi-cheerful humming.

Roman scoffed, not sparing him a glance as he set the table - with only four plates he noticed - and crossed the floor again to get glasses. "It's only a cup, just conjure a new one."

Janus stood up angrily and clutched the ruined peices to his chest. "I can't conjure things like that and you know it! I don't even have the capabilities to fix this and you think nothing of ruining the one thing I brought up with me? Your immaturity is-"

"Is what?" Roman whirled around. "As bad as Remus'? Worse? You think just because you're out here with us that means everything is somehow fine?!"

"Roman." Patton was looking at the creative side with a mix of concern and...anger? The pan was thankfully empty as it seemed to be forgotten for the time being.

Hearing the warning in his voice, Roman deflated a bit before turning away. "Whatever."

Patton shot Roman a hard look before looking over at the man still clutching the broken thermos to his chest. "Janus-"

He quickly turned away from Patton's gentle tone, sinking down into his room without a second glance.

Tears threatened to spill over as he tried in vain to blink them back, cursing as he collapsed in his bed and pulled the covers over himself completely. Roman was right, this was completely childish. Crying over something as small as a broken cup. He curled around it protectively even as the jagged edge cut into his palm. But Virgil and Remus had worked so hard on this. Virgil keeping Remus' more suggestive designs off of the gift and Remus reigning in his creativity enough to make something they knew Janus would actually like. Even if they had put the snakes on it as a joke he still loved it, they even managed to get it his favorite shade of yellow.

But now it was broken. The one thing he had from before their unit became tense, when they had been like a little family of their own. Now he couldn't use it and so he had no reason to bring it out again, which meant Virgil would never see it and that meant there would be no conversation starter other than 'what are you doing here?'; no neutral ice breaker to start them thinking about how things used to be and to start them talking about how things could be again. It would just be him and his unwanted presence and stupid dishwashing yellow gloves and cape he wore because he couldn't have his blanket weight around his shoulders and hat to hide his curly hair that none of the others had so he didn't understand why he did and...and...

In his frazzled thoughts he barely noticed the bed becoming larger around him, the hill of blankets becoming a small mountain while he curled further into himself. He only noticed his drastically reduced size when he cracked his eyes open and realized just how difficult it was to hold the thermos when his hands were so much smaller than they had been.

A sob escaped his throat as he realized what had happened, the stress of the situation bearing down on a mind that was ill equipped to deal with it. Not only did everyone hate him for trying to help in the only way he knew how to get their attention but now he was small and his hand hurt where the broken plastic still dug into his palm and he couldn't stop crying. He wanted comfort but there was no one outside his room that would be willing to give it to him, especially since no one knew this happened when he got upset enough. No one except...

He cried harder, clutching the cup closer to him and burying his face onto the suffocating blankets further to try and drown out the sound, resigned to being trapped in his room for the foreseeable future.

------

Virgil stepped into the warm kitchen carefully, having heard yelling just an hour earlier and wanting to be sure the air was relatively clear before following the smell of pancakes. Patton was still at the table picking at his stack with an uncharacteristic frown on his face, Logan sat across from him with his usual coffee and phone while Roman stabbed angrily at his plate as if it had personally attacked him. Debating whether or not to stay the rumbling in his stomach made the decision for him, making him sigh with hunched shoulders before fully revealing himself to grab the stack set aside for him.

"Morning kiddo." Patton mumbled, the usual cheerfulness gone from his voice.

Raising an eyebrow and looking at each of them in turn he grabbed the syrup to drown the unsuspecting pancakes in front of him. "Morning, Patton. What's uh....is everything good?"

His eyebrow raised higher as Roman huffed loudly. "I broke a cup by accident and hurt Deciet's feelings and now he won't come out of his room even though I already tried apologizing through the door."

"Janus. And Roman, you really upset him-"

"It was just a cup, Patton!"

"To you!" Patton raised his voice slightly, Dad Mode fully activated as he tried to drive his point home. "You don't know what kind of significance that might have held for him and if him crying was any indication it must have been important! He has every right not to forgive you right away-"

"He was crying?" Virgil cut in, worry curling in his gut despite the tension that had been present between them since Janus revealed his name.

Roman's cheeks burned with what Virgil hoped was shame as he quickly left the room, Patton turning back to his plate with a sigh. "Yes, he was. He was very upset and still is if his door being locked is anything to go by."

Virgil nodded, standing up with his pancakes to leave. "Thanks for the breakfast, I think I'll eat in my room."

He didn't hear Pattons response as he sunk out.

-----

Trying to pick a lock while balancing pancakes on your lap was not as easy as it sounded, but Virgil was determined to get in the room. Anxiety burned through his veins as the lock finally clicked, hoping his worry was unwarranted.

Opening the door and looking immediately towards the tiny lump on the bed confirmed his worries. He closed and locked the door behind him before making his way quickly to the bed, setting the plate on the nightstand and crouching down carefully.

"Janus?" He said softly, wincing as the quiet sobbed cut off abruptly as the shaking stilled underneath the blankets. Virgil hadn't seen the other side like this in a long time, not since he left to join the "light sides" years ago. He still remembered to be gentle however as he tugged on the covers, pulling them down slowly when he didn't hear any protest.

"Dee?"

A red faced four year old curled up further into himself, tears still running down his face and snot smearing grossly across his cheek. His hat was gone allowing for tangled curls to splay across the pillow. Virgil gave him a hesitant smile as he held out a hand.

"I heard a little about what happened, do you wanna talk about it?"

The toddler hiccupped loudly and buried his face into the pillow, mumbling something that he couldn't catch.

"I can't hear you if you hide your face." Deciding to risk it he laid a careful hand on the others shaking shoulder, rubbing it softly when he wasn't pushed away. As he lowered his gaze to try and see what the other was holding he caught sight of something red staining the bedsheets underneath his hands.

His heart leapt in his throat. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Swallowing when all he recieved as an answer was another mumble he carefully slipped his other arm underneath the child, guiding him upright to try and find what was wrong. Janus, well Dee he supposed since at the moment he was little, was clutching what looked like a thermos to his heaving chest, sobs still suppressed as he gazed at Virgil fearfully. His heart broke at the expression, feeling horrible for making the child feel as if he had stopped caring. Looking closer he recognized the thermos; it was one he and Remus had made for him for Christmas years ago and suddenly everything clicked into place. Dee had most likely brought this to breakfast as a sort of peace offering and Roman had ruined what Dee had probably considered his only way of starting a conversation with Virgil. And he had been in here for an hour, upset and crying and afraid to seek help because he didn't think he could.

Virgil felt tears welling in his own eyes as he brushed them from Dee's, holding out his other hand in offering.

"I'm sorry if you felt like you couldn't come to me. Will you let me help you?"

Dee sniffed and looked down, slowly unclenching his fingers and leaning closer which Virgil took as consent. He slowly stood up and leaned down, scooping him up quickly and heading for the door. Unlocking and opening it with practiced ease he glanced out to make sure no one was around before heading quickly to the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind him.

Plunking Dee down on the sink he gently took the thermos from his hands, glancing up quickly as he winced. The poor kid must have been gripping it for the entire hour he had been curled up, cramping his hands in the process. He smiled with sympathy and took the tiny hands in his own, flipping them while massaging slowly as he inspected the cut he assumed had come from the broken plastic. It had cut through the glove and pierced his palm though thankfully it didn't look very deep. Retrieving the first aid kit from under the sink he slipped off both gloves and set them aside, grabbing out antiseptic wipes and bandaids.

"This will sting a little." He warned before gently wiping up all the blood away from the wound, grimacing as the cleaning revealed several small cuts and punctures rather than one singular cut he had assumed to be there. Once it was clean he grabbed a roll of gauze instead, wrapping the hand securely and taping up the loose end. Smiling at his work he put everything away and stood back up.

"Better?" He asked.

The toddler pouted slightly. "Still hurts."

Taking the hand again Virgil threw away all of his scraped up dignity and brought the palm to his lips, blowing an extremely gentle raspberry and grinning as Dee snatched his hand away giggling. Humming soothingly Virgil wet a washcloth and brought it to his face, wiping up the accumulated snot and tears thoroughly before throwing it aside.

Dee looked back down and hesitated for a second before tears gathered in his eyes again and he thrusted out his arms, making frantic grabby hands at the older side.

"Hey, hey it's okay." Virgil quickly scooped him back up and bounced slightly, continuing to croon as he made his way back to the bedroom while his shoulder became more and more wet. "I got you, Dee, I promise."

He sat on the bed and continued to rock the small side while rubbing his heaving back to try and calm him down. "Would talking about it help?"

He began to panic as Dee only sobbed harder, cursing himself for becoming so bad at this.

"I was mean t-to Ro-Roman so he- *hic* he broke my fav- my favorite cup and I- I can't fix *hic* I can't fix it and it's the o-only th-thing I have left from when- from when you liked me and now it8s gone!"

Virgil's arms tightened around Dee as he wailed, regret stabbing through his stomach painfully. "Dee, I still like you-"

"No you don't! You n-never want me ar-around since you *hic* since you left!"

"Dee, sweetheart, I promise I still like you. Things are just...complicated right now because everything's still trying to smooth out." Virgil pulled him away slightly so he could look at him properly, reaching forward to wipe at his cheeks. "This is something we need to discuss more when you're big again, but for right now, I'm not lying Dee. I still love and care about you very much. What Roman did was wrong no matter the circumstances and you are completely within your right to be upset."

Dee calmed slightly, still looking unsure but thankfully he had stopped crying. Virgil smiled and gently booped his nose earning a small giggle in response.

"If you want, I can ask Remus about fixing your cup for you and maybe making it so it won't break?" Dee nodded frantically, twisting his fingers in his shirt as his tears stopped completely.

"Then that's what we'll do, but later okay? For right now I brought you some pancakes." He gestured over to the bedside table before stopping and making a face, almost mirroring the disgusted way Dee's nose scrunched up at the prospect of eating the now cold and mushy pile of breakfast.

"Gross." Virgil laughed at Dee's declaration, agreeing completely.

"Should of thought that through I guess. I can make you another stack if you want? We can even make shapes!"

Dee glanced over at him, dubious expression completely out of place on his young face. "Not hungry. And you only do blobs."

"Maybe I've gotten better!" He countered indignantly, grinning at the raised eyebrow his statement earned him. "Alright well we'll try that later then. Let's get you changed into something more comfortable for right now, yeah?"

He lifted the child up and over to sit on the bed rather than his lap and walked over to the dresser where he knew Dee still had his favorite pajamas. He looked exhausted and Virgil had no doubt that as soon as he was comfortable he'd be nodding off.

Digging through various articles of clothing he hummed in triumph as he found what he was looking for. He laughed at the look on Dee's face as he presented the article of clothing, quickly helping him change.

A few minutes later he was tucking the yellow snake onesie clad four year old snugly into his blankets, biting his lip to keep from squealing as Dee's tongue blepped out happily. He made a mental note that if Patton was ever trusted enough to care for Janus when he was like this to make sure all of them were wearing ear plugs.

He was just turning to grab the thermos, intending to get Remus to help him fix it when Dee called out to him quietly.

"Vee?"

Virgil turned and smiled gently. "What is it, Dee?"

"Will you stay?"

His heart melted at the small vulnerable face, his vocal chords unable to form "no" even if he had wanted them to.

"Of course I will."

Much later, when Janus woke up from his impromptu nap definitely feeling better than he had in a while, he startled at the feeling of another's arm wrapped around him, twisting to see Virgil still fast asleep behind him. And if all he did was smile and lay back down, closing his eyes contentedly to soak in the feeling of being warm and safe, no one had to know.

He knew they would be talking later, but knowing Virgil of all sides still cared about him enough to care for him at his most vulnerable made him a lot less nervous about his future.

This work is also available on AO3!

#false writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #dee little snake #my writing #tw blood

112 notes · View notes