#castle series stick

[saritamanyalu]

From left to right: Plisskin, Ray and Mullins ( they belong to Oscar Johansson ) as transformers!

[peppergrim]

*crying because I missed these guys a lot*

This one is how I imagine that Beecher (the guy on the right) got dishonorably discharged for disobeying General or something and the team disbanded again probably? Right after that "Castle 3 incident" while Boomer (on the left) kinda stick around the base for a bit before he left the service. Now they kinda reunited outside of work because I don't know how this started lol

This is really pain in the ass to draw because of Boomer crossing his legs and I butchered their beards that I no good at...and the foot >:(. I know they have five fingers but I feel more comfortable with four fingers becuz how cartoonish they are. They look messed but at least I had fun drawing them and very much proud of it because I miss them

I do miss Castle (the stick series), ya know stickman with a thick eyebrows. I watched this series since I was 10 lol. I've been following this and rewatching it for years before I've gone older and moving on to something else

But I still miss these guys so much, I imagine them being old men now cuz like Castle is probably a long time ago when stickman becoming a hit or something and I was into stickman fighting stuff, remember Stickpage?

Man.. Stickpage... and Castle.. I haven't heard that name for years.. 🚬

(A little bit of zoom in on them)

Boomer was always been my fave character becuz he's the only one who has hair lol, I never forget his creepy goofy smiles from one of that scene where he crawling on top of that zombies head (idk what that is but it's funny)

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Sim Jaeyun

doll!jake x fem!reader warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), subby!jake, oral (m. rec), creampie, slight throat fucking, whimpering and whining, pet names (baby doll, pup), begging, anything else lmk! wc: 7.7k synopsis: it's your first week at your new job and you make a shocking revelation that puts your world in a spin and lets you experience something you never knew was possible masterlist | sunghoon a/n: hi! this is the first part of a 4-part series! again, i need to thank the requester for this because i am having so much fun writing it <3 the plot and everything will be gradually laced within each chapter so, while they can stand alone, it's best to read them all. thank you for everything and as always, likes, reblogs, feeback is all welcome!

p.s, please read the intro it sets up the whole story so you guys know how y/n got there and who soonyeol is.

You've been inside this home for exactly 42 hours and 51 minutes and surprisingly nothing significant has happened.

The silence surrounding the mansion is unexpectedly comforting, providing a much-needed respite from the hectic city life you've despised. The constant noise - whether it's the cries of babies, the grumbles of angry men, or the blasting car horns powered by thoughtless road rage - has progressively worn on your tolerance. No one talks about how exhausting it all is.

Maybe this is why people go on holiday, you wonder. Even though you're here for work, there's a sense of relaxation in the air that leaves you feeling peaceful. 

Before Soonyeol went on her ominous business trip, she left you a binder full of strict instructions on how to mind her house. It’s packed to the brim with dos and don'ts such as; cooking exactly 4 meals for the dolls at 5.30pm, placing them around the dining table, and never entering their rooms unless transporting them to their recreational activities. 

Each doll had their own rigorous routine, with some reading, some playing the guitar, and so on. Soonyeol made it clear that sticking to these routines is a must, which included the difficult chore of physically changing the towering dolls in the morning and before bed. They weren’t exactly hollow or porcelain, they were super realistic, their skin had some form of heat to it, and they had some weight to them but not as heavy as they first appeared. You had asked Soonyeol what they were made of but she brushed your question off, leaving you even more curious, the only conclusion you could come up with was sandbags or clay.

Currently, you are in the kitchen, cooking up a meal that none of them will touch. Of course, you didn’t expect them to chow down on your homemade lasagna considering they couldn’t even move their mouths, but seeing everything laid out and untouched after you give them exactly 35 minutes to eat (a rule in that godforsaken binder), it fills you with a sense of unease.

Within the mansion's walls, time seems to grind to a halt unless you make it move, you as the sole animate presence amidst the silence. 

You bring the plated food into the dining room, placing a dish in front of each doll. Despite the absurdity of the situation, you play along dutifully, conscious of Mia's warning that the dolls may be rigged with hidden cameras. To be fair, their eyes do seem to follow you, or perhaps that was just your imagination.

“This is such a waste of food,” you scoff, placing the last plate down to the doll with freckles on his face who is labelled in the binder as Sunghoon. You can’t help but think about all the food that is being wasted when there are people still relying on food banks, it makes you bubble with anger, yet, you’re the one doing it. You could easily just not feed them and just pretend to Soonyeol you did, but again, the eyes that surround the castle could be the difference between you keeping this job and going back home with nothing.

Soonyeol could easily fire you if it got back to her you starved her precious babies while she was gone, and that £5,000 is enough money to get you by while you look for another job, so you’ll do as you’re told for now.

With a resigned sigh, you wipe your hands on your apron and offer a forced smile to the lifeless dolls, "Enjoy," you mutter sarcastically, before turning on your heel and retreating from the room, leaving them to their silent feast.

“Thank you!” 

The words catch you off guard, freezing you mid-step. Did you actually just hear that? Slowly, you spin on your heel, astonishment written over your face. There they sit, precisely as you left them, their expressions the same as before. Yet, undoubtedly, the voice came from their direction.

Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you examine them closely, your fingers poking Sunghoon’s shoulder to try and elicit any response, but one never comes. 

You could have sworn you heard a voice, a soft accent drifting into your ears. It’s not like it could have been the TV or radio, Soonyeol was lacking in the entertainment department, opting for more classic ways to entertain herself like board games and books.

"This place is making me lose my mind," you scoff, disbelief mingling with a nervous laugh. You are officially losing the plot, thinking the dolls can suddenly speak. What’s next, they’ll suddenly get up and help you with the dishes?

Maybe you just need to go for a walk around the mansion, touch some grass or whatever. Your mind needs some nature to set itself straight. With a final incredulous glance at the dolls, you shake your head, dismissing your fanciful worries. 

Stepping into the garden, you're greeted by the warmth of the summer sun kissing your skin. The sprawling lawn stretches for acres, overgrown yet hinting at hidden beauty beneath the tangled vines and moss-covered statues.

The pathway is clear, giving you a chance to wander further into the field. With some TLC and a green thumb, you ponder whether you could turn this landscape into a true garden, it’s not like there is much else to do, but would Soonyeol be okay with that? Everything else in this house is seemingly stuck in a different century; the large gold-framed portraits, the scatter of porcelain dolls that look like something straight from a horror movie, and the furnishings scream Renaissance. Maybe she prefers it that way.

You are perplexed by the mystery surrounding Soonyeol and her isolated living. A lack of information about her and this home has you grasping at straws. The mansion has no internet or even a good phone service which raises your suspicions about her more. There is only a landline phone that is set to make local calls. All you've learned from this information is why she resorted to placing a job advertisement in the newspaper.

Questions swirl in your mind. Why choose such isolation? Living alone, devoid of company or modern comforts, seems unimaginable. Two months might be tolerable, but for someone to endure years in solitude, it's perplexing. But then again, who are you to judge? She might prefer her own company and God knows there must be a lot less drama.

Lost in thought, you reach out to touch a thorn from a withered rosebush, only to recoil in pain as it pricks your index finger, "Shit!" you shout, instinctively sucking on the wound as blood wells up. Why you felt driven to touch such an obviously dangerous plant escapes you completely.

Sulking back inside the house, you walk directly to the kitchen, the sight of familiar surroundings provides some consolation as you go towards the sink, your injured finger throbbing with each step. Who knew a thorn could cause so much damage?

You reach for the basin and turn on the cold tap, hoping for a little relief. As chilled water falls over your wound, you sigh with relief, the coolness relieving the pain immensely, with a sudden sensation of peace flowing over you. 

The clock's chime breaks through the quiet, jolting you back into reality. It's 6pm so it's time to tend to the dolls again. You reach to get a plaster from the first aid kit, only to find it empty except for a single bandage and some foil blankets. Panic sets in as you examine the seriousness of your bleeding finger; it’s a neverending flow of crimson which only makes you pout, sucking on it once again.

Desperately searching the kitchen cupboards, you find bits of kitchen roll and sellotape. It's not ideal, but you have no other choice. You gently wrap the kitchen roll around your wound, securing it with sticky tape. The improvised dressing will have to suffice; the thought of spilling your blood on Soonyeol's cherished dolls sends chills down your spine. You don't want to think about what she would do.

Stepping into the dining room, you're greeted by the familiar sight: cold food arranged neatly before the four unyielding dolls. Their impassive stares seem to pierce through you, sending a chill down your spine.

With a theatrical pout and arms crossed, you address the silent company, "Didn't quite hit the mark with my culinary masterpiece, huh?" you jest, met only with the silence of inanimate figures. Chuckling to yourself, you gather the untouched plates onto the cart, contemplating a pragmatic solution, "Well, I suppose I could just freeze these and give them to you tomorrow," you quip. Soonyeol said to feed them, she didn’t say it couldn't be the same meal over and over again.

After clearing up the dining hall and putting the meals in the freezer, you make your way to retrieve the rusty wheelchair you are convinced will give you tetanus from the hallway closet. It’s the easiest way to transport the boys from A to B, and you daren’t carry them anywhere in case you drop and smash them. 

As you unfold the chair, a creak reverberates from behind you, causing your muscles to tense involuntarily. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a chill courses through your veins. While the old house has its usual symphony of creaks and groans, this sound feels different, more sinister, as if someone - or something - is lurking in the shadows.

“Hello?” you say whispering yet not daring to look behind you. If you have learned anything from the multitude of horror movies you’ve watched over the tears, it’s that as soon as you look back, all shit breaks loose.

You stand there with your heart pounding in your chest and you scold yourself inwardly for succumbing to irrational fear, "Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together," you mutter, attempting to rally your nerves. But the silence that follows your whispered reassurance only amplifies the unease settling in the pit of your stomach.

With a resigned sigh, you steel yourself for whatever may lie behind you, “Fuck, Y/N, just turn around. If you’re going to die, you might as well get it over with,” you chide yourself, voice tinged with frustration.

Thinking it’s best to just face whatever your demise is, you swiftly turn around, half-expecting to come face-to-face with some unseen terror. Yet, all that greets you is the empty hallway, bathed in the dim glow of the flickering lights. There's no sign of an intruder, no lurking threat—just the same mundane surroundings you've grown accustomed to.

You never thought you’d think this, but you’re happy to see the tiny collector dolls that line the hallway.

A mixture of relief and embarrassment floods over you as you realize the absurdity of your fears. "God, I'm losing it," you mutter, a manic laugh bubbling up from deep within. With a self-deprecating shake of your head, you lightly slap your forehead with the base of your palm, chastising yourself for letting your imagination run wild.

First, the talking dolls, now this unfounded paranoia—it's becoming increasingly clear that the isolation of this mansion is taking its toll on your sanity. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you shake off the lingering unease and embarrassment to focus on your duties. 

With a determined stride, you make your way back to the dining room, the memory of your brief bout of hysteria fading into the recesses of your mind. You push the wheelchair over to the table to retrieve one of the dolls, however, a glint of blue catches your eye.

A plaster - suddenly, inexplicably there, resting in front of the doll named Jongseong.

Your brow furrows in confusion, disbelief coursing through you. "How... was that there the whole time?" you mutter, disbelief colouring your tone as you glance between your injured finger and the God-sent plaster.

With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, you reach out to pick up the plaster, examining it closely as if searching for any sign of trickery. But it appears to be nothing more than an ordinary adhesive plaster.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," you mutter to yourself, unable to suppress a nervous chuckle. The rational part of your mind insists there must be a logical explanation for the plaster's sudden appearance, but logic seems to have taken a backseat in this peculiar mansion. 

Surely you would have noticed it on the table when you were serving the food…right?

Deciding to set aside your questions for the moment, you carefully retrieve the plaster and apply it to your injured finger, the soothing sensation providing a small measure of comfort.

As you finish tending to your wound, you cast a wary glance at the dolls, half-expecting them to spring to life and offer an explanation. But they remain as silent and motionless as ever, their enigmatic presence only adding to the mystery of this place.

With a resigned sigh, you focus once again on getting the dolls to their rooms. Maybe if they’re out of your sight, you’ll stop conjuring up these ridiculous notions that are swirling in your mind.

“C’mon Jaeyun, let’s get you to bed,” you say softly as you pick him up with a strong heave. The weight of him in your arms is a humbling realisation that you need to start going to the gym more because lifting a doll shouldn’t be this taxing.

Plonking him onto the wheelchair, you begin to make your way to his room. The corridors grow longer each time you make the journey to their respective bedrooms and with the house being the size that it is, transporting them is the equivalent of taking a quick nip to your big Tesco and back.

Finally reaching Jaeyun's room, you turn the ornate handle and push the wheelchair inside. The room is bathed in a soft, amber glow, casting a warm hue over the plush furnishings and intricate decor. With careful precision, you guide Jaeyun onto the bed, taking a moment to study his features up close.

The doll's face, once unsettling in its hyper-realistic detail, now holds a curious fascination. Despite the initial unease you felt in their presence, you can't help but admire the craftsmanship that went into their creation.

Jaeyun's eyes, a rich shade of brown, hold a mesmerising depth that seems to draw you in and they glimmer with an almost golden hue when touched by sunlight, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to his already captivating features. His lips, full and luscious and they evoke sense of envy into you, marvelling at their perfection. His nose, a graceful arc that sits harmoniously amidst his features, only adds to the beauty.

With gentle admiration, you touch his bottom lip with your thumb, amazed at its softness. If Jaeyun were a living, breathing being, you can't help but imagine how irresistible those lips would be, how you would find any excuse to steal a kiss. The feel of his lip beneath your thumb is uncannily real, its texture mirroring your own, and as you release it, it springs back into place as if alive.

Your eyes dart over his face, drinking him in as you fix his long, dark hair, “You’re so beautiful,” you whisper, the words leave your lips almost unintentionally, spoken in peaceful tones as if frightened to disrupt the calm tranquillity of the moment. 

“Thank you.”

Your entire body goes rigid as you hear the same words from the dining table, mirroring the exact accent you had heard before. The hand that had been gently brushing aside the stray strand of hair now drops to your side, your eyes fixed on Jaeyun's mouth as it forms into a bright smile.

As if gasping for air, you stare at him in disbelief, pointing a trembling finger in his direction. "Y-you just spoke!" you manage to exclaim, your words choked with bated breaths. Panic threatens to engulf you as you try to understsnd what is happening.

Your mind races, grasping for something, anything to hold onto as the world spins around you but there's nothing, and your body betrays you, collapsing to the ground in a desperate attempt to escape the surreal nightmare unfolding before you.

With wide, terrified eyes, you watch as Jaeyun moves slightly, preparing yourself for the inevitable scream that threatens to tear from your throat. But before you can utter a sound, he rushes towards you with a look of panic etched on his features.

Jaeyun's eyes are filled with concern as he gazes down at you, his hand covering your mouth to stifle any outcry. With a gentle yet urgent expression, he leans in closer, his lips forming almost silent words as he implores you to remain quiet, “Please. Shhh, I’m sorry!” he says with urgency, trying to stop you from bellowing out and causing alarm.

Your chest rises and falls with the rapid beat of your heart, your head suddenly feels faint and conflicting emotions wash over you. Fear, confusion, disbelief - all vie for dominance as you struggle to make sense of the impossible situation unfolding before you.

With wide, frightened eyes, you stare up at Jaeyun, searching his face for any sign of explanation or reassurance. But all you find is the same look of concern mirrored in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” he utters, his body now relaxing as he feels your mouth close under his palm, “If I take my hand away, please don’t scream, okay?” 

His words are filled with panic, a frantic attempt to prevent more concern. When you look into his eyes, you can sense the sincerity in his plea, a glimpse of humanity you didn't think was possible.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the air thick with tension and uncertainty on both of your parts. But then, with a shaky breath, you nod in silent acquiescence, willing yourself to trust the doll before you. 

Jaeyun’s hand slowly withdraws from your mouth but is still armed in case you fall through on your promise to stay quiet. Once he's satisfied that you won't scream, Jaeyun rises to his feet, offering you a shaky hand. You accept, noting the slight tremor in his grip, evidence that he's just as affected by this inexplicable turn of events as you are.

Standing before him, you can't shake the feeling of disbelief that washes over you. None of this makes sense - talking dolls, moving on their own accord - it's all so implausible, so surreal. And yet, here you are, faced with the undeniable reality of Jaeyun's existence.

"What are you?" you ask tentatively, withdrawing your hand from his as you study him intently, searching for any clues to unravel the mystery.

Jaeyun tilts his head in confusion, his expression mirroring your own bewilderment. "I'm a doll, you know that," he replies matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but how are you moving? How are you speaking? Are you possessed? Alive? Am I dreaming this?" you barrage him with questions, your mind racing with a million possibilities, each more absurd than the last.

“I’m Sim Jaeyun, manufactured in 2002,” Jaeyun says as though it’s so obvious, which to his defence, it is - the stamp on his back that you’ve caught sight of while changing him is proof, "I'm the model made for Australia. G'day mate!" he adds, attempting to inject some levity into the conversation with an exaggerated Australian accent. But his efforts fall flat in the face of your mounting terror and confusion.

"I don't understand," you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty, "How is this possible?"

Jaeyun's expression softens, sympathy flickering in his eyes as he meets your gaze, "I wish I had all the answers," he admits, his voice gentle yet tinged with resignation, "But the truth is, even I don't fully understand what's happening to me. I ended up here one day. The others just tell me not to ask questions.”

As Jaeyun's words sink in, a surge of disbelief sweeps over you, threatening to overwhelm you in a sea of bewilderment and despair, "Others? You mean..."

"My brothers, the ones you've been looking after for Soonyeol," Jaeyun says, his voice calm.

The realisation hits you like a tonne of bricks: all four dolls, like Jaeyun, are somehow alive. You've spent the last two days living under the same roof as these living dolls, entirely oblivious of their true selves. The idea of it sends shivers down your spine, and a dreadful feeling rises in the pit of your stomach.

Every creak in the floorboards, every echo in the halls - you had chalked them up to the ageing mansion itself. But now, you realise that they were caused by these living dolls moving about, silently watching and listening to your every move.

You contemplate the idea that you're going insane because the stress and isolation of the mansion have finally taken their toll on your sanity. But deep down, you know that this is far too real to be a figment of your imagination.

Sensing your distress, Jaeyun guides you to sit beside him on the bed, his touch gentle yet strangely disconcerting. A doll is offering you comfort while your mind is in a whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. In what world is any of this normal?

His thumb strokes the back of your hand as you sit in silence. A small smile creeps on his face and a blush somehow paints itself on the apples of his cheeks as he remembers your earlier comments.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he asks gently, drawing you back into reality from the maze of your mind.

“What?”

"You said I was beautiful," he repeats, his tone gentle yet earnest, his eyes filled with a quiet joy. Jaeyun's smile widens slightly, his body shifting to fully face you.

As you finally meet his gaze, the weight of his words settles upon you, and you see just how much your earlier compliment meant to him. The twinkle in his eye reflects a depth of emotion that mirrors that of a human, his happiness evident in the way his features soften and his eyes light up with warmth. If he was beautiful before, he is otherworldly now.

“Yeah…you are,” you confess, now reciprocating his blush.

Jaeyun's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine and you can't help but feel something blossom within you. His palm, slightly cool against your flushed skin, serves as a reminder of the surreal reality in which you find yourself.

Jaeyun's lips suddenly meet yours, enveloping you with his gentle kiss. Touching his lips earlier paled in comparison to the sensation of his soft, plump mouth moving against yours, and it sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through your veins; for a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to be swept away by the intensity of the moment.

But as reality crashes back down upon you, the weight of what you're doing comes crashing down.

This is a doll, not a real person.

You push Jaeyun away and your mind suddenly clears, “What are you doing, Jaeyun?” you ask both perplexed by his actions and a little disgruntled by yours.

His wide eyes only serve to make you feel guilty, there’s a tinge of hurt in them along with confusion. His hand removes itself from your face, leaving your cheek cold and craving his touch again.

"Soonyeol says I should kiss when I want to show my appreciation," Jaeyun explains, his voice tinged with confusion and a defeated tone that tugs at your heartstrings. It's clear that he's not accustomed to being rejected like this, his owner obviously giving him what he wants.

Now that you think about it, Soonyeol must know they’re real, meaning she has relationships with these dolls. Granted, you figured that out when you were undressing them and saw they are anatomically correct, but now this is a whole new layer. She has formed connections with them that go beyond using the dolls for her pleasure. 

"Isn't it cheating?" you ask, locking eyes with Jaeyun, ignoring your swift realisation of the risk. Those beautiful brown eyes seem to draw you in, inviting you to forget all reason and succumb to the burning need between you.

He shakes his head slowly, a tinge of hesitation in his eyes as he chews his lip, "No. Soonyeol shares us, which means I can be shared. It's how it works," he says, his words laced with desperation as he tries to defend his actions. He knows Soonyeol won’t see it that way, but he needs you for his own selfish pleasure; he can’t wait two months until his minder comes back.

However, the rational half of your mind perks up one last time, refusing to be influenced by Jaeyun's words, forcing you to express the painfully evident reality that lies between you, "You're a doll, Jaeyun," you say, the words thick with reality.

However, as if feeling your wavering resolve, Jaeyun's demeanour changes, his puppy-like appearance giving way to one of mischief and longing. With a sudden boldness, he comes in closer, your noses touching as your breath hits his lips.

"I'm a doll with everything you need," he says seductively, sending shivers down your spine as his luscious lips brush against yours with each syllable. 

Your heart races as Jaeyun's proximity overwhelms your senses. Despite the nagging voice of reason in the back of your mind, you find yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

As Jaeyun leans in for another kiss, his persistence and gentle touch send a rush of heat coursing through your body. You find yourself melting into his embrace once more, unable to resist his lips on yours. His smile against your mouth fills you with something beautiful.

His hand finds your cheek, his touch tender yet possessive as he deepens the kiss, sending your senses reeling. The surreal sensation of his tongue, colder than any other person's you’ve had the pleasure to kiss, intertwining with yours only adds to the intensity of the moment.

But as the kiss grows more passionate, you feel Jaeyun's hands begin to roam, his touch becoming more urgent and insistent. The way he impatiently tugs at the hem of your t-shirt and his hips practically humping the air through desperation, heightens your own arousal.

You draw back, taking your shirt off, giving him what he wants. Jaeyun's eyes light up in delight at the sight before him, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with hunger. Without hesitation, his hand instinctively reaches out to touch you, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your bra as he seeks to explore every inch of your body.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, as he stares up at you. You understand why he’s so used to getting his way, that face of his could start wars if he asked. 

With a soft smile, your fingers continuing to thread through his hair with a gentle touch, "Nothing in comparison to you," you confess, your words spoken with genuine admiration.

Jaeyun's response is a soft whimper, his body trembling slightly under your touch as he leans into your caress. It's clear that he thrives on the affection and validation you offer him, cherishing every compliment and sweet gesture. He isn’t going to take control of this situation, he wants you to lead him, to make him feel like he is yours.

And he looks so fuckable right now.

Feeling emboldened by the rush of desire coursing through your veins, you seize the opportunity to take control of the situation. With a newfound confidence, you gently push Jaeyun back onto the bed, straddling him as you hover above.

His eyes widen in surprise, a mix of anticipation and excitement flickering in their depths as he watches you with rapt attention. With a playful glint in your eyes, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, your hands trailing down his chest and exploring every contour of his body.

Jaeyun responds eagerly, his hands roaming over your back as he returns your kiss with equal fervour. But as the heat between you intensifies, you can sense his longing for more, his desire for you palpable in every touch and caress.

You plaster on a mischievous smile and lean back slightly, teasingly tracing your fingers along the waistband of his pants. He hitches in anticipation, his eyes darkening with desire as he silently urges you to continue.

With deliberate slowness, you begin to unbutton his pants, savouring the feeling of power that courses through you with each movement. As the fabric falls away, you're met with the sight of his cock outline, his arousal evident in the way he strains against the confines of his underwear.

You lean down to press your lips against his neck, trailing soft kisses along his jawline as you whisper in his ear, "Do you want me to look after you, baby doll?"

He mewls out and nods quickly, knowing that is the only thing he needs right now. Your touch is different to Soonyeol’s, yours is filled with a new fire that you’re discovering, while Soonyeol’s is experienced and knows of Jaeyun’s wants and needs. He can’t deny that he feels even more alive than before right now.

Trailing one finger over his clothed cock, you apply pressure as you reach his tip, causing him to whine out. You aren’t typically in charge in the bedroom but you can’t deny how easy it is when Jaeyun is underneath you, silently begging for you to claim him.

You pull down his boxers, seeing his cock in a new light. Honestly, you tried not to stare at it too long when you changed him but you knew whatever Soonyeol had ordered, she ordered it with herself in mind. He was average-sized but curved to the right, meaning he could hit places some others couldn’t; even the thought made your mouth water.

There’s a desire to know how his cock is standing to attention considering there isn’t any blood in his body, but this whole situation defies logic so what’s one more question to add to the pile? All you can really think about is how good having him inside you will feel.

Grabbing his length, you begin to pump him gently, still trying to navigate how fragile he is and how far you can take this. He isn’t made of glass but you still need to be careful. 

His reaction is immediate, his jaw slackening as you pick up the pace, your movements becoming more assured. Jaeyun’s legs kick slightly as his body involuntarily moves under your touch, desperate for more than you’re offering him.

Sensing his need, you lean in and give his cock a teasing lick before spitting on it, slickening the surface to make your motions even smoother. His breath hitches at the sensation, a low groan escaping his lips as he arches into your touch, craving more of the pleasure you're giving him.

With a hunger that matches his own, you release him from your grip and lean down, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. His gasp fills the air as you envelop him, the wet heat of your mouth sending shivers down his spine.

"Y/N..." Jaeyun's voice is barely a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and pleasure.

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a smouldering intensity before returning your focus to the task at hand. With practiced skill, you move your lips and tongue in tandem, exploring every inch of him with a fervour that leaves him trembling. 

There is an urge to look after him, with each whine and whimper he screeches out in response to your tongue flicking over his tip, you want to cherish him as your own. You carefully watch his face to make sure he is enjoying himself which clearly he is, his eyes screwed shut and chest heaving despite the lack of air.

Pushing his length further into your mouth, you feel the tip of him hit the back of your throat, piercing your tonsils as they involuntarily try to swallow around him. You switch between bobbing your mouth and enveloping his whole cock down your throat, staying there for a moment as you nuzzle your nose against his lower abdomen.

His fingers thread through your hair, a silent plea for more as you continue to lavish attention on him, each suck and swirl of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Oh god, Y/N," he groans, his voice thick with need. "I-I can't... I'm gonna..."

Can he cum? Like physically, is your mouth about to be filled with doll cum? You’re going to find out eventually.

But who says he can get everything he wants just at the bat of an eyelid?

You pull back slightly, your lips glistening with saliva as you gaze up at him with a wicked grin. "Not yet," you tease, your voice husky from the beating your throat has just taken, "I want to hear you beg for it.”

His eyes widen with anticipation, a need burning in their depths as he watches you, “But Soonyeol always lets me cum,” he pouts, the edges of his mouth drooping down.

“I’m not Soonyeol though, am I?” you retort, your hand stroking him again, “I can stop completely if you want?” 

Jaeyun doesn’t like that idea, shaking his head manically and chanting ‘no’ as he looks at you with pleading eyes. His minder is kind, always giving him the pleasure he needs when he wants it, so this is new to him, yet, he can’t help but find some pleasure in the prolonging of his orgasm.

“Come on, baby doll, beg for it,” you murmur against his tip, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you tease the tip of his cock.

His breath catches in his throat at your words, his mind a haze of desire as he struggles to find his voice, "Please, Y/N," he gasps, his voice thick with need, "Please let me cum. I need it, I need you so bad."

The desperation in his voice and his tiny weeps send a shiver down your spine, and with a satisfied smirk, you relent, taking him fully into your mouth again. 

You aren’t like this in bed but he just manages to bring out this side of you and you can’t complain about it. 

As Jaeyun's fingers tangle in your hair, a shiver of anticipation courses through you, heightened by the primal instinct driving his actions. You feel the tension building in his body, his movements becoming more urgent as he approaches the brink of release.

With a final tug at your roots, he tightens, his balls drawing up as he releases into your mouth with a guttural groan of pleasure. His hips buck uncontrollably, driving himself deeper into your throat as he rides the waves of ecstasy coursing through him.

You surrender to the moment, allowing him to take control as he thrusts into your mouth, his movements are rough yet achingly intimate. Each sensation sends sparks of pleasure racing through you, mingling with the taste of him on your tongue as he spurts his essence. It’s not exactly cum, it doesn’t taste like it, but it’s filling your mouth up, some of it dripping out onto the bed below you.

And as he finally reaches the peak of his pleasure, his body trembling with the force of his release, you swallow him down, accepting him completely. You lap up the last few drops before giving a gentle kiss on his bell, smiling slightly as you relish in your work.

Jaeyun’s face exhibits one of pure bliss, his grin wide and his eyes closed. He looks so ethereal right now, your only wish is to cater to him. Soonyeol must have her hands full if she does this with all of them, no wonder she would need two months off.

Sitting up, his hands pull at your jeans, unbuttoning them with determination but you stop him, “Jaeyun, what are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m going to fuck you, is that not okay?” Jaeyun’s eyes have that spark in them just like before but more intense, like he’s bursting to the brim with happiness.

You can see the determination in Jaeyun's eyes, the fire of desire burning bright despite the recent climax. His eagerness to please you matches your own desire to cater to him, but you can't help but feel a twinge of apprehension.

"Are you not tired, Jaeyun?" you reply gently, placing a hand on his cheek to capture his attention, “I don't want to push you too far."

Jaeyun's expression softens at your words, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity, “I’m a doll, Y/N, I don’t get tired.”

Damn, maybe you should invest in one of these unalive-alive dolls with the £5,000 you’ll get from this job.

He sees your astonishment and laughs softly, his teeth on full display, “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re confused, Y/N,” his voice is back down to a whisper, his hand enclosing yours on his cheek as he nuzzles into it. Jaeyun knows how to use his charm to get what he wants but it’s significantly easier when the person he is trying to persuade wants it just as much as he does.

You find yourself nodding in agreement, unable to resist his enticement. With a shared understanding, you move in to capture his lips in yours, sealing the moment with a delicate kiss.

His hands go back to work, pulling at your jeans to take them off of your hot body. You help him out, pulling away from his mouth to undress yourself, leaving you both naked and wanting nothing more than to be entangled in one another.

“Wow,” he utters as his eyes trail your body from head to toe. His owner is beautiful but you have something about you that is sucking him in, the curve of your hips and the stretch marks on your thighs; you’re a vision he never wants to forget.

You turn scarlet as you see him staring at you, suddenly feeling less confident than before. But he quickly eases your mind as he licks his lips and pulls you into his lap, placing you to sit right on his cock, “I think you were wrong earlier,” he mutters into your shoulder as he places kisses along your chest.

“What do you mean?” Confusion lingers in your mind as you process his words, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair as you look down at him with a mixture of surprise and affection.

“When you said you weren’t as beautiful compared to me. I think you’re so wrong,” he admits in a hushed tone, hands roaming along your waist and down to your thighs, feeling every inch of you.

Leaning down, you kiss him again except this time, you grind your hips, letting his cock slide between your folds and his tip brush against your clit teasingly. The action makes you both groan out in lust, wanting nothing more than to be tangled in one another. 

Jaeyun lightly slaps your ass to signal you to hover slightly, ready to dive into you. He hasn’t had sex with anyone other than Soonyeol so his eagerness is palpable, his mouth fighting a bright smile akin to a puppy.

Once you’re above him, he guides his cock to your hole and sharply pushes into you, causing you to fall forward onto his chest.

He enthusiastically bucks his hips up into you, ensuring that he is catering to every inch of your pleasure. Although he enjoys being looked after and cared for, he will always reciprocate; your enjoyment is as important to him as his own.

It's funny how different he is with you than with his owner; with you, he wants nothing more than to impress you, evident by the way he's focused on fucking into you, but with Soonyeol, he does whatever he wants to give her pleasure but there's no need to put in massive amounts of effort.

You feel his dick pressing deep into you, that curve that you noticed earlier is now doing wonders against your walls. Meeting his thrusts, you bounce on him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pick up your pace. 

The sound of your skin slapping against Jaeyun is like music to his ears, the smile he was trying to fight off now splitting his face, the joy of fucking you so obvious from his expression. He wants to do this forever.

Looking down, you see him lost in glee and lust as he continues to thrust up into you at a fast pace, his gaze down at where you’re pussy is sucking him in. Gently, you lift his face to look at you, his wide gleaming eyes now staring into yours.

“You’re doing so good, pup,” you assure him, kissing the tip of his nose. He feels his non-existant heart soar at your words, his face radiant with your praise. And you weren’t just saying it, he truly was sensational, probably the best you’ve had in a long time. 

Jaeyun takes your words of appraisal and uses them to fuck into you harder, his mouth now attached to your nipple and he sucks and licks at it like a man starved.

You can feel that familiar coil in your stomach that signifies you’re close to release. Snaking your hand down to your clit you begin to rub circles on it quickly, but as soon as Jaeyun notices, he nudges your hand away and takes care of it himself, rubbing and pinching it between his thumb and pointer finger.

Throwing your head back, your breathing stops momentarily as you push out your orgasm, your wetness coating your inner thighs and his cock as you cum harshly around him, “Jaeyun, fuck!” you cry, hands gripping any part of Jaeyun they can.

Jaeyun shudders as you clench around him, spilling himself into your heat along with you. He rubs his face desperately against your tits, relishing in the feeling of you against him. He has this aching need to be as close to you as possible.

Both of you are in complete and utter bliss as you hold one another, coming down from your highs.

As Jaeyun peppers open-mouthed kisses along your neck, he savours the sensation of your heartbeat, saddened slightly by his lack of. If he had one, he wished you could hear how loudly it was beating from pure satisfaction and tenderness.

"That was incredible, Y/N," he murmurs against the curve of your nape, his smile pressing warmly against your skin.

You tenderly kiss the top of his head and linger there for a moment, your fingers tracing light strokes along his back. But as the clock chimes once again, signalling the passage of time, reality intrudes upon your blissful moment.

"Fuck, I need to get the others to bed," you say regretfully, reluctantly withdrawing yourself from Jaeyun's embrace. The air feels colder now that night is settling in, and the absence of his touch leaves you longing for his warmth.

Jaeyun watches you with a mixture of understanding and longing as you get dressed, his gaze following your movements with a hint of reluctance, he wants you to stay beside him the way Soonyeol does, to look after him a little longer.

Before you part ways, Jaeyun reaches out to gently grasp your hand, "Y/N," he begins, his voice soft yet filled with urgency, "Please, don't tell the others. We aren’t supposed to tell you, and they already think I’m incapable of keeping a secret,” he says disheartened, the last sentence laced with vulnerability.

His plea catches you off guard, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. Kneeling beside the bed, you take his hand into yours and kiss it softly, “I promise, I will not tell anyone, okay?” you reassure him, punctuating your sentiment with a smile, “This stays between us.”

It’s a promise not only to him but also to yourself. At the end of the day, no matter how good it was, you fucked a doll - an alive one, but still a doll. 

With a grateful smile, Jaeyun leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, a silent gesture of gratitude for your understanding, “Thank you, Y/N. This won’t be the last time, will it?” he asks tentatively, trying to seek out how you might feel about the entirety of the situation.

You weigh up the question in your mind. On one hand, you would have someone to talk to and indulge in, but on the other, it’s risky and if Soonyeol found out, you know there would be hell to pay.

“Let’s just see how it goes, pup,” you say vaguely, kissing his forehead one more time.

This mansion is filled with secrets that you need to uncover, and you have two months to do it.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emikotakayami @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[cleastrnge]

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[captain-joongz]

On the wind of morning; Dragonheart ch.1

Pairing: OT7 dragon!BTS x knightess!reader

Genre: dragon rider AU, high fantasy, soulmate adjacent, slight enemies to lovers (if you squint), angst, fluff and humour, eventual smut

Chapter summary: The capital is as unwelcoming as ever, father as disappointed as one can be and the new unit dynamics are challenging, but you finally meet your dragon.

Word count: 22.1k

Warnings: some bad family dynamics, toxic father shenanigans, some displays of slavery, talks of slavery, there's a pov switch near the end so watch out for that, otherwise not much

Series masterlist | Next part | Lore | Dictionary

A/N: here comes the first chapter!! i hope it meets the expectations and you enjoy yourself while reading! don't be shy, tell me what you think and how you like it! <3 PS: the words that are underlined are linked to chapter notes with explanations and a dictionary ;) they're a little messy atm but i'm trying to find a way to make it easier

I disliked the royal castle. It was a dark hulking mass of stone that blocked out all the sunlight and drained all warmth from everything and everyone inside. It casted a massive shadow over its surroundings, and you were never free of the feelings of oppressiveness as soon as you were in its vicinity.

The moment you stepped in, you shivered and with every passing second you’d be colder and bitterer, sitting in a dark hallway feeling your fingers slowly freeze while the silence crushed you from all sides. The atmosphere was always sombre and tinged with the sour note of fear, you could see it in the way no one dared to speak, no one felt like smiling and all the servants were walking briskly with their heads down.

I disliked the castle, and I hated staying in it.

While of course, it was sitting on a big black rock by one of the rockiest and coldest shores in the empire, and the weather often reflected that with harsh winds and heavy rains; but the worst were the occupants, who managed to be colder and more inhospitable than the heavens themselves. They were the ones who made the structure so unwelcoming, who made you feel uncomfortable and who enjoyed belittling others until no one laughed unless it was at someone else’s expense. It was a hard world of ruthlessness and survival, but it was us who made all the beasts and the prey.

I disliked the castle, but I hated the people within even more.

You could almost taste all the blood and suffering soaked into these thick stone walls, the centuries of atrocities that took place inside looming over you and constricting your lungs, making you fight for every breath of stale joyless air.

But with my father being needed here so often, I couldn’t escape it no matter how much I wanted that. And now finally earning my acceptance between the elite ranks, I would be spending even more time here, would have to come to terms with moving onto the castle grounds, into the secluded barracks away in the farther corner of the royal training grounds.

I had grown up far away from the capital city. When I was born, it was still at the old house in the north, where there were just as many plains and meadows as there were mountains, and the summers were pleasant and warm and winters freezing and cruel.

Those were our lands and our estate, gifted to my great great-grandfather for his achievements in battles against the northern invasion, as he was considered a well respected general close to the emperor – and that’s where our family legacy began. We have always been a military family, but since then the Kang generals have always stayed as close to the royal family as possible, climbing the ranks and sticking their claws in deep.

And as fief lords, our patriarchs have never been particularly benevolent either, which might be a reason for why they got along with the nobles so well. The cruelty and coldness ran in their veins, just like all the powerful men that shared between each other the same arrogance and feelings of superiority, supporting each other in their worldviews and their own dominance.

It all was very embarrassing to witness – the pride of old men strutting around like peacocks and preening under each other’s compliments of their evildoing.

And my father was one of them.

He was one of the three generals closest to the throne, one of the right-hand men and a monster, much like the man with the crown himself.  I scoffed at the image of him in my head – the pompous ass that thought he was infallible and carried himself like he was god, ruled his fief and his family with a cruel unforgiving hand and expected infallible loyalty and subservience of his children.

All of the men that were currently sitting in the room next to me, holding a meeting and discussing war, they were all cut from the same cloth. Power hungry, back-stabbing. And they wouldn’t hesitate to devour each other alive if the opportunity rose no matter how much they pretended to be allies.

Footsteps down the hall drew my attention and I looked up from my miserable little corner by the massive dark double door to see a small group of knights walk in. They crossed the hall in several quick strides and soon were knocking on the door by my left, giving me the opportunity to observe them for a moment.

They were the kingsguard, the white tiger insignia embroidered on their black and white uniforms giving their position away. It wasn’t that unusual seeing big clumps of the soldiers running around the castle, as the emperor was extremely paranoid about his safety, but these men seemed to be escorting someone else.

In the middle of the group there stood a beautiful tall man, elegant and lean with long silvery white hair. He didn’t even have to turn towards me for me to know he was a dragon, but when he did and I saw those cold steely eyes with vertical slit pupils, centuries of wisdom and pain reflecting through them, I knew for sure he was one of the sovereign’s own.

I nodded at him solemnly in sympathy, offering him at least a little decency, but the dragon just regarded me expressionlessly before turning forward again and waiting for the order to step in. I turned back to lean into my chair to give him peace, and only listened to the creak and shuffle of the opening door and the thunder of iron clad feet. Then the door slammed shut again and I was once more left alone in the hall.

This time it didn’t take long though, only a few minutes later the door opened once more, and this time stayed opened. With a long deep breath, I stood up and made my way in. I saw other young hopefuls slowly trickle in, filling in the counsel room and finding their way to their benefactor’s sides.

While the counsel is in a meeting, no one else is allowed inside, but after they are dismissed, usually there is some socialising and many of these men take the opportunity to flaunt their children or disciples. It’s all very boring and humiliating for the younglings involved, being paraded like a piece of meat or a trained monkey, but it was all to give these men face – the only thing they really cared about. Especially when it came to their children.

“Y/N, stop with the dilly-dallying!” a thunderous voice sounded from my right. It was the kind that demanded respect and attention, and the man knew very well how to use his aura to intimidate and break people into obedience. After all, confidence was half of the trick, I thought bitterly.

Taking a second to right my uniform, I steeled myself and turned, coming face to face with my father. His face was in that grimace that I’ve already come to know meant he was very close to getting angry because he thought my behaviour to be humiliating to him. I fought the scoff off of my face and walked over with confident strides.

My brother was already standing by our father’s side, face an unreadable mask and back as straight as a rod, only his eyes shooting subtle warnings my way. Great, that meant that the general was already in a bad mood from the meeting, and I was bound to lose no matter what I did.

As soon as I made it over to them, a hand clasped onto my shoulder in an iron grip and wrangled me to father’s side, as his face melted into an aggressively polite grimace, his smile turning almost shark-like.

“Gentlemen, I believe you haven’t been introduced to my daughter officially yet,” he started towards three men of similar age as my father, “she has just entered the Academy.” I sighed internally at the way their smiles turned sharp, sensing the weak spot in my father’s impeccable armour.

You see, I was somewhat of a disappointment to him. Well, I’ve been for a really long time, but back then it was a private affair. Now he had to face the ridicule in public, as I was a little bit of a late bloomer.

“Oh?” one of the men perked up, mean smile playing on his lips as he looked me over with condescension, “Congratulations, General Kang. What unit is she with?” Sensing the game the man was playing, I felt my father’s grip tighten until it was painful, constricting the movement of my wrist.

I winced, hoping I was able to keep the hurt expression off of my face, but nobody was really watching me anyway. Everyone was focused on the general, waiting with bated breath for his answer. The sounds of chatter from the room around us flowed freely around the tense atmosphere of our little corner, making the silence sound even louder.

Then he turned to me, stormy dark eyes signalling me that this was my battle to win. I forced my face into a similar polite smile, feeling kind of rusty at pandering to men I didn’t care about and hoping people couldn’t see how much I despised being here.

“I am with the Qinglong unit,” the answer finally fell out of my lips, my voice slightly weak and scratchy after sitting in silence for such a long time and I cleared my throat, embarrassed. The several sets of eyes jumped to me for a second, before redirecting to my father again.

“Ah, the dragon riders,” a different man stated, and I couldn’t tell from his voice whether he was impressed or not, which very obviously ruffled my father’s feathers. This was one of the few things he could boast about when it came to me, he’ll be damned if others didn’t recognise that.

“Yes, she will be attending a banquet very soon,” he supplied quickly, grip still strong on my arm and keeping me in place when I started nervously fidgeting. I looked to my brother, but he stood there without a single care for the conversation, eyes trained somewhere else in the room. Before I could follow his gaze, I was pulled back.

“Well, that is incredible,” the first man spoke again, the smirk still plastered on his face, “You must be so proud, you’ll surely award your daughter well with her 22nd birthday coming this year.” There were some snickers around and I knew we were in for something. This here was the killing point.

As many young people in this empire, I entered the military with my 16th birthday, which was the earliest one could start training at a base. While for me it was inevitable with the nature of our family, many other people chose to join just for the basic reason of needing food and shelter and soldiering was one of the easiest and surest ways to earn a stable keep for yourself and your family, so the input of fresh blood into the system was never-ending. The empire fought many wars and never had enough of willing knights, so entering the military was also very enthusiastically encouraged, leaving behind generations of mourning parents and social problems.

And yes, there were many opportunities for a knight to rise in ranks without ever stepping foot off of their mother base, they could climb quite high between the regional officials. But only a few dozens ever made it to the true top – and the only way there was through the Academy, situated in the capital and each year accepting only a handful of lucky knights.

There were several elite units, amongst which were the kingsguard and dragon riders, or the shadows as they were known – spies. Those who made it into this room were only the ones that went through there.

And the earliest age you could enlist into the Academy was 22. My brother was 27, therefore he’s been training there for 5 years now, which gained him quite the recognition in these circles (enough to allow him to listen in to these council meetings to learn). He of course made in on the first try, which was enough to not absolutely embarrass our father. Something, I wasn’t able to achieve.

The Qinglong unit, or as it was colloquially known as the horns, was one of the more elite and exclusive ones, harder to enter and harder to stay, just like shadows were, but that wasn’t something our father was interested in hearing.

And I failed in enlisting. Twice. I was now slightly over 24 years old, still young and still fully capable of making a name for myself, but not good enough to make my father proud to be associated with me.

As the highest standing general and one of the closest men to the emperor himself, he couldn’t afford to have children that didn’t succeed in everything on their first try. And of course, once the other elites caught the wind of this, it became a constant point of mockery for him. The only flaw in this man’s otherwise perfect life.

Which is why he was currently shooting daggers in my directions, the hateful stare burning into the side of my face as the question of my age was brought up. Once again, he made it clear that this was my mess to clean up, so I took a deep breath and turned back to the three men.

“Well… I uh- I have actually been training at the mother base for two additional years,” I stuttered out, trying to ignore my father’s embarrassed angry face. It was the nicest way to say that I wasn’t accepted two years in a row, but it still stung his pride, especially when the others started smirking.

One of them soon after launched into a story of how his daughter was actually accepted while she was still 20 years old, because they just had to make an exception for her, which then prompted all the others to share their own stories of success and talent coming from their protégées. It was absolutely disgusting, and I felt my father fuming next to me the whole time, in my mind begging the men to stop as I will have to face the consequences of his anger once home.

The jealousy and envy ran so thick that even the slightest sight of imperfection was shamelessly mocked and inspected over and over again, as everyone latched on the one thing they could feel better at than a general that climbed far higher than they could ever hope for. That’s why my father’s embarrassed anger burned even more – I knew he blamed me for this behaviour, since if I hadn’t failed, he wouldn’t have to face these things – he’d stay at the top, untouchable.

I silently swallowed, no longer daring to speak, knowing it would make the aftermath of my official introduction into high society less heavy.

The rest of the afternoon was painful and dragged on as I was forced to stay by my father’s side and listen to the mindless chatter and the occasional bragging about my brother. The general ignored me after the initial conversation and tried his best to pretend I wasn’t there, immediately derailing any enquiries that were raised about me and changing the topic before anyone could find the opportunity to make him admit my shortcomings again.

It didn’t particularly hurt, and it wasn’t especially punishing; I was used to such reception from the man, but it was painfully awkward and I wasn’t allowed to leave.

Instead I focused on catching glimpses of the silver haired dragon and the man whose side he similarly wasn’t allowed to leave. In contrast to his companion, he was clad all in gold, his robes heavily embroidered with leaves and other floral motifs, hands clasped elegantly in front of his stomach as he conversed with the crowd that was formed around him. His hair burned with a golden glow, but that might have been partly due to the crown sitting high on his head, adorned with blood red rubies. He was young, just two or three years older than my brother, freshly appointed but just as cruel (if not more) as his recently deceased father. You could see it in the lines of his face, in the cold glint in his eyes, the arrogance written into his every gesture and the permanent slip of a smirk.

Just from seeing him I knew he wasn’t a person worth knowing. How lovely that he was the one that sat on our throne.

The dragon by his side looked on with a practiced vacant glaze over his eyes, corners of his mouth weighted down by shadows only he knew of and carried in his heart and soul. My eyes slipped to his neck where a tattoo sat. It was in a spot that would always be visible, no matter how hard you tried, it was too high up to cover by clothing comfortably, forever showcasing who you were. A branding, a mark of slavery – a black chain wrapped around the neck. Every dragon bore it, some were even born with it. It was what bound them to the royal family and enforced their loyalty, what made them nothing more than unwilling puppets.

The man shifted and I quickly averted my eyes, not wanting him to see me looking at his mark. It was incredibly sensitive for dragons, and it brought them great shame when people ogled it, knowing this was what took away their freedom and bound them unconditionally to an uncaring master.

My heart bled for him, and it brought feelings of uneasiness about my own banquet that was about to take place in a few days. There I would choose my own dragon to bond with and start my formal training, but the queasiness about putting similar shackles on another being never quite ceased to bother me, no matter how much I knew my heart. I could treat the dragon as nice as possible; it wouldn’t erase the fact that formally we were a master and a slave.

Snippets of memories of my childhood resurfaced to my mind – a brown-haired man with warm eyes and a blinding smile, little slips of magic that endlessly fascinated me and all the lessons I’d learnt with him. The first dragon I ever knew. The kindest teacher I ever knew. The moments of warmth, love and laughter in the meadows and the forests up in the north.

A hand clasping my shoulder jolted me from my daydreaming and I flinched, a gasp leaving my mouth as I turned to the source of my sudden panic – coming face to face with my brother.

“Come, sister,” he said with voice neutral and a stone mask, the perfect picture of a promising young captain, “We’ve begun moving to the dining hall for dinner. You’re not paying attention again.”

I couldn’t even find it in me to be irritated by his slight jab, so I simply tightly pursed my lips shut and gave him a curt nod. He wrestled me into position so that he was leading me on his arm, trying to prevent any more delays and potentially adding to the long list of reasons why our father’s day was going as badly as it was. Bonus points for flashing our strong camaraderie to the lords.

“Don’t push him anymore, today’s been hard for him,” the young knight whispered lightly as we joined others slowly moving through the castle corridors. That had me ruffled a little, but I swallowed any remarks and nodded. Some days you truly did need to choose your battles and today was such day. And deep down I knew my brother was trying to look out for me in his own way, but that didn’t make it sting any less whenever he chided me in favour of our father.

“Yes, brother,” came my faux demure reply before I sealed my lips shut once more. That earned me a side-eye from the dark-haired man, who knew I was the furthest one could be from a quiet obedient lady, but chose not to call me out on the obvious piss-taking. He only sighed, shoulders sagging lightly, no doubt grateful I at least agreed with him so readily.

There’s been some dramatic scenes in my past as I reached my “rebellious phase” as father put it, but quickly that fire died within me when I realised it made everything only worse. As I grew, I chose silence as the survival method – causing scenes, screaming matches and throwing tantrums only served to humiliate us both; and perhaps I did have a little piece of my father in me – I also cared about my face.

Once I entered the base, it reflected on me badly amongst peers and instructors, giving me the reputation of a spoiled little brat. No matter the emotional turmoil I had been going through at that time, I knew it was time for a change of tactic – I needed respect to survive in the military and I would get it. Not for my father, but for myself.

Upon entering the room, I looked up and immediately found the eyes of the man himself trained on me, some new vague warning reflecting in them trying to keep me quiet and not causing any problems.

I sighed and resigned myself for the worst evening in recent history.

The reflection in my mirror stared back at me as I tried to push my clothes around to look as presentable as they could, the uniform still a little foreign to me. It was black silk cheollik with silver embroidery and it was tied at the side into an elegant bow. As tradition dictated, my father had given me a gift for the successful entry into Academy and it now adorned my waist – a deep red intricately woven string with a prosperity knot and grey jade pearls at the end – they jingled lightly at every nervous shift of my body.

This was the ceremonial uniform, as I still haven’t gotten my unit’s specific one – not until I bonded with a dragon – and it was brand new, it still smelt unworn and fit strangely over me, still adapting to my physique.

I would keep this one, but wear it rarely – usually there weren’t many instances when people wouldn’t take the chance to flaunt their unit, especially if they were at the top of the food chain, but I liked it. It was simple and elegant, and while the Qinglong also wore a similar one, it wasn’t embroidered and had azure details, and I found it a little too eye-catching.

Giving myself another look, I ended up sighing deeply, hands smoothing over the cold silk for the thousandth time in a last attempt to make it look a little more natural, thoughts finding their way towards the image of my mother. My sweet mother, who if she was here would tell me everything would be alright, that it looked perfect and I would do well. I imagined the feel of her gentle hands in my hair and on my shoulders, letting the memories of her soft voice soothe me.

The train of thought pierced my heart with pain that always manifested itself when I fell down this rabbit hole, my eyes naturally sliding towards the table which held all of her kind-hearted words in the form of letters she’s send over the years I haven’t seen her. But as always, everything I ever felt left a little aftertaste of rage towards my father, so I quickly abandoned this line of thought as well. Syphoning all the emotions out of me, I turned back into my numbed self that always surfaced around the family home.

Picking up the ceremonial dagger I finally set out, swiftly moving through the house in hopes of not bumping into the man himself. What rotten luck I had, as always.

The moment I stepped foot into the inner yard, there he was, sitting on the terrace by his study, sipping tea and watching me with his critical eyes. I could feel them sliding over me, making sure everything was in place. I said nothing, steadily returning his gaze while I wordlessly worked on the dagger strap, fashioning it under the red string.

“Remember what I told you last week, Y/N,” the general spoke, his face impassive even though there was fire underneath it all, and I could feel it all too well, “You are to make good impressions. I expect you to excel in this unit. Your brother is already being considered for corporal, do not stain this for him. Your unit has higher ranks too. One of them better be of my blood.”

I kept my mouth shut, just bowing to him in lieu of answer, but I was sure he could see the cocktail of anger and resentment brewing in my eyes. Choosing not to address that, he waved me off as if I was waiting for his permission to leave. Without a second glance I bowed again and promptly walked out the main gate.

If tonight went well, this was potentially one of the last times I walked out this specific house – our residence while we stayed in the capital city of Wuyun, close to the castle and royal grounds with the Academy in tow. If tonight went well, soon I’d find myself in the barracks, and I dreaded that day.

Unfortunately, family legacy tended to follow us all, no matter where we went and what we did. Children often went in their parents’ footsteps, making the Academy the breeding ground of resentment and generation long slights and fights. And there was a lot accumulated against the Kangs.

Back when my brother first joined, before he turned into the man he is today – while he still talked to me, he told me how disliked he was for the simple association. No matter what he did, he couldn’t escape his father’s shadow. I was next.

I would be able to walk over the distance from our house towards the main entrance of the castle blind-folded, and it passed quicker than I was ready for, suddenly finding myself standing at the foot of the entrance hall. Just at the end was the entryway towards the throne room, where the emperor accepted hearings, and I made sure to avoid it at the off chance that the man was present there currently.

It took me little time to arrive at the Eastern Grand Hall, but I found that most have already gathered there. It was a flurry of black and blue robes with the occasional splash of colour from other present lords, the hum of chatter and clinking of cutlery on metal plates that were typically used for military events, as if we were a bunch of animals that couldn’t be trusted with porcelain. I couldn’t spot anyone else wearing the plain Academy robes and I had no idea how many were accepted this year, so I slowly inserted myself into the frenzy hoping to blend in.

Turns out, it’s hard to do that when everyone either knows you’re the newbie or even realises which family you belong to, and I was getting a lot of looks as I leisurely walked along the table laid out with foods and drinks pretending not to notice. Some were mocking, some were apprehensive, and some were calculative, either way I had no interest in socialising.

It felt like ages have passed while I quietly ate by the end of the main table, gaze trained on a painting on the opposite wall, high above everybody’s head, but it wasn’t even time to officially begin the banquet yet. I was already feeling tired by all this, hoping this would be over with quickly so I could leave.

“I see that you’re getting some attention as well,” a cheery voice from my left shook me out of my reverie as I traced the golden lines of the knight portraiture for the thousandth time, and I turned somewhat dramatically, eyes open wide.

A woman stood there, it was hard to gauge her age, but she wore the same black and silver uniform, signalling she was also a first-year. Her pretty face was split by a friendly smile, eyes crinkling at the corners and her chestnut brown hair was shoved into a messy bun, clearly without a care for propriety. Her joy was quite disarming and before I even realised what I was doing, I was shaking her outstretched hand, still in shock. Her grip was strong, hands sure and decisive.

“Im Hwa-young, nice to meet you,” she said confidently, and I gaped at her slightly. Im was a disgraced surname, and no one who still had the curse of bearing it said it out loud anymore for fear of being recognised as a part of the Im clan after its fall and near annihilation. Whispers about treason and God’s punishment still followed those who survived, and many of the family disappeared from the public, hoping to escape the burden.

“I know, in the flesh,” Hwa-young continued with good spirits, obviously used to people’s reactions, “he was my uncle, before you ask.” I saw a flash of annoyance in her, something maybe like disappointment crossing her face as she began to withdraw her hand. In a split-second decision I grabbed it again, just as hard as she did before.

“Kang Y/N,” I gave her my name, making sure to look into her eyes, “and I wasn’t about to ask.” Hwa-young beamed at me, relief seeping into her as she sidled over to me almost as if we’ve known each other for years.

“Good to know I won’t be suffering here alone,” she remarked with a conspiratorial lilt, “I was afraid I’d be the only outcast in this unit.” I scoffed at her words, bringing a biscuit to my lips to mask my amusement from the others who were watching us with rapt interest.

“I never disappoint when it comes to disappointment,” there was something bitter creeping into my voice, tainting the joke with a smudge of reality, but Hwa-young was a good sport. She laughed lightly, head tilting back, looking so care-free it was helping me wind down.

Just as my shoulders begun to untense, a gong sounded through the Hall, tearing me away from the budding conversation. We both jolted and looked towards the head of the table where a greying man stood, his stance proud and strong. Light stubble decorated his wearied face, but it didn’t hide the handsomeness of an experienced warrior. I could feel the authority and respect radiating off of him, as everyone in the room turned to give him their undivided attention without needing a single word.

“Welcome novices,” he said simply, his voice was a little rough, but it held stead-fast and strong, booming through the silent hall, “to your first mating banquet. May your hunt be successful.” Clearly a man of few words, he quickly raised his glass and drank it in one go, a thunderous clap tearing through the space before the hungry faces turned to those who were the main interest of the evening.

I quickly scanned through the room, almost breaking my neck with how much I strained to see everywhere, hoping to catch a glimpse of other first-years. There was a young man standing alone by one of the entrances, and another group of two guardedly conversing closer to the head of the table, where the silver-haired man sat now completely uninterested in anything except for his food. To his right sat a dragoness, watching him with amusement and playing with her bright red hair, lips moving in what seemed to be teasing manner.

I watched their interaction for a moment longer, before Hwa-young turned my attention back to her, hand lightly grabbing onto my forearm as the woman leaned in closer to whisper: “The dragons have arrived.”

Snapping my head back towards the crowd, truly I could see newcomers – men and women with strong stances and shackles around their necks, faces either very carefully neutral or openly scowling at being paraded so openly. They mingled through the crowd, not really entertaining any looks or conversations.

“How many of us do you think there is?” I asked her, no longer being able to see the three students I discovered before. Hwa-young hummed, but ultimately shrugged her shoulders – I could feel the motion of them against my side more than I saw her.

“We should probably split up,” she whispered in the end, leaning away once more and slowly taking a step back, sending a cheeky smile my way, “See you around, fellow outcast.” With that she disappeared into the crowd so quickly I was actually concerned for several seconds before snapping out of it.

Left alone again, I had no other choice but to face the most challenging part of this event – socialising with my peers. All around me, people were conversing freely, some dragons even joining in their circles (most probably with their own bondeds) and the mood started rising again; though I could see some still watching me like vultures, curious who I’d choose to talk to.

For the moment, the most suitable strategy seemed to step back and observe, so I quickly manoeuvred myself through the throngs of people until I was leaning against a back wall. Right across me, across the whole hall, was the high-table where people tended to congregate more.

A flash of black and silver uniform alerted me to a novice that was conversing with a group of older students, but I couldn’t recognise whether it was one of the few I saw before or not. Slumping against the cold stone, I started searching through the crowds for someone that would be easy to approach.

I had no idea how much time I spent standing there, but at some point I started feeling the soreness and pain in my legs and feet crying for me to sit down. Shuffling slowly by the wall to the side towards chairs, my plan was suddenly thwarted by two men who made short of the distance with quick long strides, situating themselves into the corner.

Lucky bastards, the lot of them.

I stayed where I was, sighing tiredly and still undecided, when their conversation started up again.

“I hate that they call it a mating banquet,” the bigger of the two grumbled with a pout, “that’s clearly not what this is.” His head was shrouded in a very messy black bob haircut and small dark horns were protruding from his forehead, standing proudly with some strands tangled up around them and sticking out in weird angles. I held back a chuckle, bringing a glass with some sweet drink I’d managed to grab from the table to my lips quickly.

The other man sat more angled towards me and when he looked up, I had the best view in the entire room at his otherworldly beautiful face. I couldn’t hold back the gasp when I laid my eyes on him, the elegance and beauty he was exuding was truly almost too much for a mere mortal to handle. At first it seemed like his face actually glimmered, a slight shimmering catching my eyes constantly, before I realised his cheekbones and temples were covered in silvery blue scales. They blended into his skin perfectly and I found myself fighting a blush without him even having to look my way, that kind of effect he had on his surroundings.

Time to get it together, I told myself, slowly shuffling away and reprimanding myself internally for being a weirdo. And then he spoke.

“Bonding banquet doesn’t have such a ring to it, I suppose,” a melodic voice piped up, fading into a slight giggle at the end, “Though, something tells me if you were to show them what mating looks like, they wouldn’t be very entertained.” The horned dragon grumbled some more, clearly over this whole thing already.

“I wish Yoongi hyung came,” his voice sounded really pouty and whiney, making me silently snicker to myself again, “I bet he would have found a way to leave already. Or he’d terrify people enough to leave us alone.” At least we clearly were in the same boat, cheers to that.

Before I realised what was happening, because I was not so discreetly watching the two interact with a slight smile on my face like a dummy, there were quick heavy footsteps heading my way. I quickly snapped out of it as soon as I clocked that the person was aiming at me, and cursed under my breath when I saw Lord Kim with his fake predatory grin.

“The Kang youngling, what a surprise to see you here finally,” the man spoke loudly enough to have everyone in our vicinity snapping their heads to him and pushing all the attention to me. I pressed myself harder into the wall, the polite smile somewhat malfunctioning when he barrelled all the way into my personal space.

“Baron Kim, to what do I owe the pleasure?” came out through gritted teeth, the man clearly not understanding the meaning of boundaries. With every step away I took, he came closer, leaving us in an awkward shuffling match.

“Well, of course I have to welcome General Kang’s daughter to our unit, he wouldn’t want it any other way," the elderly man said sleazily, a disgusting grin plastered on his ugly mug. I had to fight not to laugh at his words – our unit? He’s never been a part of Qinglong, but he always wished for it – so instead he bought his way in. As a benefactor he was always invited and properly talked up with sweet, honeyed words, he even managed to wheedle a dragon out of them (though from what I understand, he didn’t ride as he was afraid of hights). I could only imagine what that poor man went through with this lowlife as his master.

“I’m sure my father would be happy to know I’m in such good hands,” I punched out of myself, the lie almost causing me physical pain. With most people who tried to gain the Kangs’ favour, it was hard to tell whether they really admired my father so much they turned insane or whether they secretly hated him and hated that they had to simper up to him; and that much could be said about Lord Kim as well.

Who knows where that old man’s loyalty lied and what his goals were, but the truth was that my father despised him and thought him to be an idiot.

While he started poetically voicing his well wishes and praises of the unit, I had a goal. Just a few metres away from me was an arch with glass doors open wide. As the second part of this event would take place outside, the garden there was already prepared and all I had to do was slip out and disappear quietly.

But between me and the open door sat the two dragons I had been listening to earlier, both of which had shut up now and watched my plight with varying degrees of interest and amusement, much like many others around us. When I glanced at the door again and happened to see the dark-haired dragon badly covering a cheeky smirk, clearly laughing at my expense, my eyes narrowed at him in faux anger.

The man had whole three seconds to realise I had seen him and take in my expression, before I side-stepped with the brightest smile I could muster and gestured towards the duo. Both of them froze like I just caught them stealing my grandma’s jewellery, wide eyes regarding me.

“Well, I was just about to come speak with these gentlemen, would you mind introducing me?” the overly sugary tone of my voice made the dragon’s eyes narrow at me in turn and when Lord Kim wasn’t watching I turned to him with a shit-eating grin. Truly, the baron was a curse that had to be shared, who was I to deny them the pleasure of his company?

The old man was clearly surprised with me jumping into his monologuing, eyes hopping between the three of us with his mouth hanging open slightly before he recovered and put on another polite smile.

“But of course!” he took it in stride, immediately sliding to the horned dragon’s side and clapping him on the shoulder lightly, which made the young man straighten. The obvious strength of his muscles and the wideness of his shoulders stood out even more like that, and it looked almost comical next to the stuttering Lord. He looked mildly afraid, but soldiered on, like a cursed auctioneer.

“Only the best for the general’s daughter, I see,” the flattery slipped out of his mouth with practiced ease before he once again gestured to the two young men, “these are two of the members of the Bangtan thunder.” Now it was my turn to freeze as those words poured over me.

Everything screeched to a halt and my eyes involuntarily jumped to the dragons who looked significantly more smug, sending cheeky teasing grins my way at having the rug pulled from under me like that. I could only imagine what kind of shock displayed on my face, but they seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it.

After the emperor’s personal thunder of dragons, which wasn’t a true thunder due to the fact that he was the one who collected them instead of them bonding naturally, Bangtan was the second most known. They’ve been mated for as long as anyone currently alive (and many generations before that) could remember and hosted seven of some of the most powerful dragons known to be currently existing. And while they’ve had riders before, everyone was aware that the sovereign himself didn’t like to see when people bonded them due to their strength and unbreakable pack loyalty.

Thus some of the dragons from the thunder were known as their own entities, based on their powers and achievements, turning into a sort of living legends that walked among humans but could rarely be seen or touched. Really, I should have known the second one of them mentioned Yoongi, but I didn’t even realise that was the name uttered.

Everybody who was interested in dragons knew of these seven, even if the chances of seeing them were low.

“This one here is Jungkook,” Lord Kim continued completely unperturbed, clapping the bigger dragon on his back again, although much more hesitantly, and then he pointed at the ethereally beautiful man, “and that one is Jimin.”

The blush was back under the intense scrutiny of the silver-scaled man, and all I could think of while I put the face to the name was that it made perfect sense. Of course he was someone this unreal, with all the stories about his charms and seductions that were being told by people who encountered the thunder.

He seemed to be satisfied with flustering me, a small smile setting onto his lips in victory.

Now that I thought about it, it was true that people naturally avoided these two, and there was a circle of empty space around the armchairs as even now people hesitated to move closer and join in the conversation. Everyone seemed to be aware of their identity.

I mentally face-palmed myself. I was supposed to be a knight, perception was supposed to be one of my strong suits.

“Come on boys,” Lord Kim drawled out again, “Greet the young Kang.” Silence followed, stretching between us awkwardly while the elderly man became more wooden with each second passing, red setting into his face in embarrassment and indignation at being ignored so blatantly. Then, both of them nodded slightly.

I bowed to them fully, bending at the waist in a (hopefully) perfect 90 degrees angle, hands clasped in front of my chest in a gesture of respect.

“It is an honour to meet you, sir Jimin and sir Jungkook,” it’s obvious my politeness shocked them, as the moment I come back up their eyes are wide and staring at me. Lord Kim started grumbling something about ungrateful dragons, feeling ashamed at such a lukewarm welcome from the boys, and the moment he wasn’t looking, I flashed them a teasing smirk.

Thankfully Lord Kim got interrupted once again in the middle of his tearful tirade and with many apologies he rushed off, the relief visible as his shoulders sagged the moment he wasn’t anywhere near the Bangtan dragons.

The three of us watched him for a moment before our eyes redirected back to each other, a strange but not unpleasant atmosphere hanging over us. Before I could start feeling the silence turn awkward, Jimin’s eyes narrowed at me, but there was still a slight upwards curl to his lips.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice,” he drawled out in his melodic hypnotic voice, eyes dark and stormy. I flushed from head to toe, thoughts stuttering, still not used to being perceived by someone like him, and it still served to amuse him greatly as he leaned back into the armchair.

Jungkook over at his chair watched me with a mischievous expression, his big dark eyes making him seem so innocent if it wasn’t for the cheeky curl to his lips. I realised there were several piercings all over his face and ears, strangely fitting his persona quite well, and as he squirmed in his seat, I could see tattoos peeking out of his robe’s sleeves. His tongue peeked out a little as he smirked at me, preparing to speak as well.

“You were laughing at me,” I beat him to it, batting my eyelashes in faux sweetness, “Of course I had to repay you for that.” The two dragons scoffed, making themselves more comfortable and I could see the exact moment the apprehension bled out of them, and I wasn’t deemed a threat anymore.

“Well, welcome to the unit newling,” Jungkook said, and it hit me that even though he looked very young for a dragon, he was still most likely hundreds of years old, and I choked a little on the smart retort. The man must have realised that’s what happened, because he was smirking up a storm like a little shit.

To my surprise, I also found myself relaxing in their presence, the ease with which we interacted never really came to me this readily. I was mostly stiff and nervous and dancing around topics and words in fear of offending or giving people excuses to spread rumours and mock my father. Not that I particularly cared about his image, but because I knew I would be the one to reap the consequences if something uncouth started making its way through the high society. I didn’t feel such pressure with these two, who watched me with curious but frank eyes.

“That is most definitely a nicer welcome than Lord Kim,” I muttered absent-mindedly, half-way lost in thought, wracking my brain for the last time I talked with someone with this much elation. Jimin giggled at that, drawing my attention back to him with a little bit of a leftover fluster from before.

“Don’t worry, everyone in this room shares that opinion,” he said leisurely, laid back in his chair elegantly, “He tends to annoy everyone he speaks to. Especially our kin.” Jungkook nodded at that, something dark and solemn creeping into his eyes.

“He doesn’t know the meaning of manners,” the horned dragon supplied darkly, face hard and unfriendly as he caught sight of the older human man again. I nodded in sympathy, knowing very well how the man could get.

“Lord Kim is one of those people who never leave you alone once they realise they can benefit from you,” I added to the conversation, moving a little closer to the armchairs so that I could lower my voice and make sure none of the nosey onlookers caught onto our conversation. The man might be generally disliked, but I still wouldn’t be taking any chances while gossiping like this.

“He’s been trying to get into my father’s favour for years, but he absolutely despises him,” I shared with them, the open secret not really something that had to be kept hush even though no one normally said it out loud, “Father thinks he’s a right dunce.”

The boys grinned. “Well, he’s right about that. I’ve known the man for decades and he hasn’t changed a single bit,” Jimin added his two cents, once again reminding me that I was speaking to nigh immortal beings that have been around for far longer than I was able to comprehend, “He’s a snake. A rat.” I hummed and nodded again, the conversation dying down after that.

I looked through the room from my new vantage point, finally far enough to observe as no one really wanted to approach the corner with the two Bangtan dragons.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just about them being powerful and dangerous, but the emperor’s habit to control who rode them in fear of losing his power over them generally scared people away from interacting. Therefore, the only ones that were bonded to them were either recruited by the ruler himself or found themselves under his intense scrutiny. Because of that, riders tended to stray away from the Bangtan thunder, too afraid to bring unto themselves the sovereign’s ire.

My eyes were caught on a flash of black and silver, messy bun now somehow even more messed up as Hwa-young cheerfully conversed with another woman. The power was radiating off of her powerful stance and proud straight shoulders, dark charcoal hair falling freely over them and sometimes giving off dark green flashes when the light reflected off of them just right. Their stance was relaxed, and it seemed that their chat was going well and amicably.

“Your friend is conversing with Yong,” Jimin intercepted my shameless staring, and I realised both of the dragons were watching me raptly, “She is a righteous dragoness. A good one, strong and brave, even though a little hard-headed.” Jungkook snickered at that, hiding his smile behind his hand as the dragoness threw the subtlest little amused look their way, and I realised she must have heard them all across the room with her enhanced senses.

“The old ones always are,” the tattooed man added with a teasing lilt to his voice and both dragons watched giggling as the one called Yong discreetly flipped them off while pretending to dust off her shoulder. Hwa-young at this point seemed to catch on, I saw her confused face as she turned around and immediately brightened up the moment she noticed me, waving her hand enthusiastically. I returned it, just as amused as my companions.

“Are you not interested in ‘the hunt’?” Jimin asked me suddenly, something bitter creeping into his expression as he signalled air quotes around the word. I gazed at him for a few quiet moments, taking in the abrupt tenseness in his posture.

“I was trying to observe and find someone easy to approach,” I answered truthfully, “but then Lord Kim found me. I never got around to walking up to someone.” All three of us focused back onto the place swarming with people, the boys now amusing themselves by pointing out dragons that weren’t talking to anyone and had “good potential”.

“Are you trying to get rid of me right now?” I asked laughing, jumping into Jungkook’s long monologue about a young fire dragon standing alone in a corner few metres away from us. He halted in the middle of a word, giving me a cheeky glance and I already started recognising the mischievous glint in his smile.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from finding your dragon,” he drawled out in a playful manner, looking like he was two seconds away from batting his eyelashes at me, “and since you didn’t officially declare your intent to try a bond with us, I assume you must be wanting to be on your way to meet another one.” That took all the wind from my sails, the witty retort dying on my tongue as the dragons both looked at me with mischievous eyes.

“I honestly didn’t know that was an option,” came out a little scratchy and quiet, immediately making my cheeks burst into flames as the two dragons regarded me with teasing eyes.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Jungkook proclaimed cheerily and stood up abruptly. Suddenly he was towering good two heads over me, his wide sturdy shoulders almost casting a shadow over my form. I gulped, seeing him now in his full glory, it suddenly made sense as to why people thought him to be intimidating. Even though he seemed to be a little goof.

Jungkook then did something that shocked not only me and Jimin, but also everyone standing around keeping an eye on the interaction – he offered me his hand, free of gloves that dragons always wore. Stunned speechless I eyed the outstretched appendage for a few tense moments, out of the corner of my eye noting Jimin’s mouth hanging open, face wearing an expression of such open surprise it was almost comical. There were some gasps and whisperings from behind us, Jungkook’s gaze ever so often jumping over my shoulder and levelling someone with a glare.

The reason for such reaction was a quite simple one – this plain action was the whole purpose of this banquet. Well, at least partly.

I for once wasn’t expecting to get a handshake this easily, usually dragons guarded themselves and needed a lot more persuading before they even considered taking such a step with the potential riders, but here we were – Jungkook’s hand awkwardly hanging in the air between us as he grew exponentially more nervous with every second I didn’t take it.

The easiest way to describe the link between a dragon and its rider would be to call it a magical bond, one very similar to that of mated pairs and thunders. Bonds like these linked the two beings together closer than most humans could imagine. It was very important to cultivate the bond and grow it strong, to intertwine the two hearts and support the care and trust that needed to exist between the two, otherwise even strong bonds could easily deteriorate or the connection wouldn’t reach its full potential.

It also allowed the human part of the bond to benefit from the dragon’s magic (while vast majority of humans weren’t magic, we were pretty compatible with it if borrowed) – it enhanced the rider’s senses and strength, established a mind link and enabled telepathic communication, which was sorely needed while on dragonback (believe it or not, it was hard to talk to someone while flying at high velocity sitting on their back).

And a bond like this, like any other, required a certain compatibility. Dragons, as the higher level magical beings of the two, were mostly the ones who felt the potential someone carried to successfully establish a bond, but the easiest way to find out was physical contact. Once you touched, the potential would most definitely be felt (according to what I heard, it felt a little like an electric hum passing through the place of contact) – or not, based on the situation.

That’s why they usually wore their hands covered, to avoid accidental connections and half-way there bonds.

A dragon could have several potential bondeds, it wasn’t exclusive until one was chosen to take the next step, but once this compatibility was discovered, it was crucial to try and learn the person to aid in the process of decision making. It was slightly similar to the process of courting.

Due to these reasons, it was quite rare for a dragon to offer someone the opportunity to touch them – and find out whether they were potentially compatible.

This banquet, even though it was called the mating banquet (as the boys pointed out it should be more of a bonding banquet as mating happened exclusively between couples and thunders), this banquet was more of a getting to meet your options kind of deal. Rarely someone offered you their hand after only a few exchanged sentences.

Thus, the stunned silence stretched between the three of us and an expectant kind of hunger reflected in eyes of those around us. Had I been more in the headspace to take notice of my surroundings, I’d have realised the hum of conversation somewhat lulled as people noted the situation and kept one eye on us while they pretended to keep the chatter up.

Jimin sat frozen in his chair, his face mortified, as if Jungkook committed some cardinal faux-pas (which he probably did to be honest, dragon etiquette was a little bit different than the human one), and I would almost take offence to it if I wasn’t completely stupefied myself.

The cheeky dragon in question though seemed completely unperturbed, even as nervousness started tugging at his handsome smile, but he valiantly tried to withstand it, keeping the hand hanging and his face a picture of mischief.

And I found that I quite liked the total disregard of rules he presented.

Finally gathering my bearings, I felt my own face stretch into a sassy grin and without a moment more of hesitation I grabbed his hand and squeezed it firmly in a sure handshake. And the rumours were in fact true, though the extent was sorely understated – our energies merging in a single burst of raw potential felt like a shock of electricity running from the tips of my fingers all the way up to my shoulder, the aftershocks buzzing through me like I got hit by lightning.

I gasped, a little too loud, and instinctively went to rip my hand away from the grip, but Jungkook didn’t let me. His eyes were trained on me, subtly glowing with a dark purple haze, grin turning a little sharper. But it didn’t put me on edge, quite the opposite – it felt like I won something.

Then our hands let go and the spell was broken, the remnants of a shimmering haze setting into my mind and bones. I could still feel the phantom tingles in my fingers, and they flexed almost subconsciously, trying to chase away the foreign sensation.

“Wow,” came a quiet breathless exclamation from Jimin, the smaller man still sitting in his place but now looking at our hands with wonder and disbelief, “that was strong.” The flush immediately flooded my cheeks once more (truly, it was starting to be embarrassing, I’d never been like this around anyone, though it could have something to do with the fact that I generally liked dragons a little more than I did humans) and I took a tiny step back, fighting my lungs to expand and take in more breath, my whole body feeling like I had to manually haul it back into working order.

Though one look at my now potential bonded showed me that he was similarly blushing, cheeks a healthy pink colour, lips pursed in a shy smile and eyes watching me full of emotion that was entirely too fragile and tender.

Before I could blurt out something that could potentially either embarrass or straight hurt the man, Jimin immediately jumped in, probably sensing his mate’s emotional state.

“Sorry about that,” he told me, gently looking over his lover, “Bonds of this strength can sometimes put us into a strange mindset. He’ll be back to himself in a few moments.” The silvery dragon’s mouth opened and closed a few times, the man deliberating whether he should speak more or not, but ultimately he only gave me a tight smile and started manhandling Jungkook back into the chair.

I felt that there was something crucial that wasn’t shared to me, but if Jimin thought it too personal to say, I didn’t want to push him. I myself still felt the little bursts of our energies merging, the aura around my hand suddenly feeling cold and empty, as if it was missing a significant piece.

Leave it to me to be the one person that even has a clingy aura. I glared at the offending appendage as if scolding it, quickly folding both my arms behind my back and trying to make is as natural as possible. Even my hair felt singed with the potential bond manifesting, and I swore I could smell something burnt, only hoping it either wasn’t something visible or my mind was just playing tricks on me.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” a hushed whisper made it to me and I was torn away from my own musings, attention now back to the two men who seemed to be locked in a very private exchange, both leaned towards each other and whispering so that nothing but a hum could be heard.

Realising the words weren’t meant for me, I cleared my throat and took another step back, the singed hand quickly thrown in the direction of the buffet table in a last hail mary attempt to find an appropriate escape. “I am going to…” I started, voice still a little breathless, “I want something to drink, would you also like something?”

I could see on Jimin’s face before he even opened his mouth to speak that he was going to decline, but Jungkook quickly jumped in, his volume rising a little more than he was anticipating.

“I’ll have water!” the horned dragon seemed a little embarrassed by the outburst too, but when Jimin stared at him incredulously he seemed quite unapologetic. I nodded slowly, taking another step, then nodded again like the words just registered in my mind.

“Sure.” With that I woodenly walked over to the main table that dominated the Grand Hall.

I felt the looks, some curious, some envious and some outright raging, but I ignored them all. This, for now, still meant nothing. Even though the power of it shocked us both (all three if counted Jimin), it meant nothing. I was still one of many that could vie for the young dragon’s attention.

The thought left a bad aftertaste in my mouth, a strange uncomfortable feeling setting in my stomach at the prospect of someone else trying to be Jungkook’s bonded, and I quickly pushed those feelings away, grumbling to myself.

I thought I knew what to expect, but no one told me a bond felt like this. No one warned me it would mess with my head and with my mind, send my heart racing when I faced the image of losing the chance to bring this to a successful end. I only knew the man for barely an hour, for fuck’s sake! He didn’t even express an intention to pursue this!

I slowly begun to understand why it was generally more accepted to wait to know the person a little bit more, if this was how the link manifested.

Giving myself a metaphorical slap I swiftly wrangled the reigns safely back into my logical side’s hands and fully focused on finding a cup and water.

I more felt than saw a presence at my right, someone sidling up to me closer than necessary with how much space this table took up. Still a little emotionally charged, when I turned to confront this person, I was already irritated.

What greeted me was a sleazy smile on a middle-aged face, a greying stubble and a mop of dark slowly silvering hair. The man was human, that much was obvious, and there was a woman with a judgemental look on her face hanging off of his arm, most probably his wife. I gave them both a once-over, trying to take in as many details as possible to clue me in to the man’s identity, but he would no doubt introduce himself.

My eyes promptly caught on an insignia with a burning rising sun, meaning he was one of the councilmen – he must have been very well acquainted with my family, though his name continued to escape me. I sighed, shoulders slumping and then I forced on a polite smile.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” despite the words, my voice didn’t speak of pleasure nor joy, instead the annoyance bled in quite heavily, almost to a point of being rude. The duo didn’t seem phased, the man’s smile maybe even brightening at my words and the woman’s face still in the same grimace as before.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced yet,” he started immediately, ignoring my words and tone completely, “Please, call me Lord Lee.” He offered me his hand and I had a very brief but a very intense flashback to Jungkook’s, before I shook it off and very reluctantly took it.

“Are you perhaps the Duke of Western territories?” I enquired, forcing my attention back to the table to show him I wasn’t interested in him and his words, trying to sound as bored as possible.

A chuckle came from him, the woman still completely silent, before he shuffled even closer.

“The one and only,” there was a showman lilt to his intonation, and I felt a wave of distaste towards this man so strong I almost visibly shuddered. He thought he was so charismatic, the poor sod. I only hummed, hands now moving onto one of the few untouched platters of small desserts and quickly plating some.

A moment of silence, then more shuffling – this time thankfully not closer to me as that would entail him brushing my side, though I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t do that even in the middle of a room full of armed knights.

“I just felt that congratulations were in order,” he said finally, a lot more bite to his words now that I’ve managed to offend him, “We all saw you with that dragon.” My hands paused minutely before resuming their actions. The disrespectful address to Jungkook didn’t escape me neither.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lord Lee,” I answered sweetly, “It was just an introduction. It can still go in a very different direction. Nothing is set in stone. Yet.”

It seemed that the man didn’t come over to suck my father’s dick as my sass was very much not appreciated by him and I could see his face turn into an unfriendly scowl.

“Well, of course that the Kang family cannot disappoint by not aiming straight at Bangtan,” the hostility in his stance suddenly doubled as he spit this out, forcing me to take a step back from the unfiltered fury, “Only the best for the general’s daughter.” He was mocking me, but the anger made it hard to decipher it as anything else than pure envy.

I tried to keep my face neutral, even as my own anger and resentment resurfaced. Father made many enemies, and thanks to his attitude we as his children often caught the brunt of resentful disgruntled councilmen and their offspring trying to cope with their bruised egos by punishing us instead of the untouchable man.

And we were expected to just go with it, lest our behaviour reflects badly on him.

I stared at the duke for a moment longer, trying to look as unimpressed as humanly possible, until the fire died down within him a little and he started shuffling on his spot. “Lord Lee,” I started, channelling the disappointed teacher energy that my father often had whenever we displeased him, “as I said, and you should know this, anyone can come up to them and strike up a connection. I might not be the only person this year compatible to them.”

The man pursed his lips and didn’t speak any further, though the unspoken rebuttal hung in the air between us. And I knew that the words stuck in his throat were true, but he couldn’t say them for they were too daring.

Anyone couldn’t, I did because the emperor approved of my father. I would be allowed near Bangtan thanks to my father’s position.

I raised my eyebrow at the suddenly silent man, challenging him to speak his mind, but he knew if he said those words, it would be speaking out against the crown just as much as against my father. And that could cost him his life.

“Let’s hope the most suitable person wins this race, then,” he settled on finally, and without even looking for my reaction he turned on his heel and walked away, dragging the still quiet woman with him. I scoffed loudly, not bothering to hide it as everyone saw our interaction anyway, and finally was able to leave the table.

People moved out of my way cautiously as I walked through the room, trying to pretend that they weren’t paying attention to me and still making sure to clear the spot as soon as I neared them like I had some terrible contagious disease. It was quite ridiculous, and it left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

My feet carried me across the room without any clear goal in my mind, not quite ready to return to the two dragons, especially since everyone saw the scene now. Them two no doubt also heard it with their strong hearing, and it would be too awkward to speak to them now.

The moment I spotted a slender figure talking to a green-haired dragon, I immediately swerved to go talk to them for a moment, hoping to escape the situation for a moment longer.

Somewhat clumsily crashing into their conversation, balancing two glasses and a plate of sweets, that most definitely got their attention, Hwa-young turning to grin at me while the dragoness kept her face a carefully sculpted mask of aloof interest.

“Cake?” I blurted out abruptly, raising the plate between us like an offering, instantly feeling the heat in my cheeks in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, please,” my schoolmate groaned in joy, hand already reaching for one of the small chocolate treats. The dragoness, Yong as I learnt, was watching us, face impassive, but I could see a glint of something soft in her eyes when her gaze fell onto the cheerful petite woman currently stuffing her face next to us.

Even though I met Hwa-young maybe an hour ago, I was glad Yong seemed to be interested in the young woman’s well-being.

But then her eyes suddenly jumped back to me, boring deep into my soul.

“Bangtan are honourable dragons,” she said finally, her voice a little lower than I anticipated, but smooth as velvet, “They strive for good, maybe more than most.” Her words brought a little smile to my face, reminiscent of the earlier conversation that went basically along the same lines.

My eyes flitted over to the corner where the two men sat hoping to catch their reaction to her words, only to find it empty and the dragons nowhere to be found. I frowned instinctively, hands tightening over the glass of water that Jungkook asked for with heart squeezing, but quickly tampered those thoughts down.

The connection must have been really messing with my head.

I ended up trailing after Hwa-young and her dragoness after that, like a lost puppy, until the greying man stood up once more and announced it was time to move outside. With a deep heaving sigh I abandoned the glass and plates and steeled myself for the true pinnacle of the afternoon.

Hwa-young, once she noticed my uneasiness, gave me an empathetic smile, hand patting me a few times on my shoulder, before she confidently walked up to the glass door and out to the patio, followed by Yong with her curious eyes trained on the knightess.

While the first part of the banquet was mostly for introductions and fraternising, the second part moved outside – that’s why the perfect weather was needed for the day of the event and the court seers and astronomers worked hard to pick an auspicious date to ensure that.

Now the attention from the dragons, a novelty to some and a delicious masquerade to others, the spotlight would shift purely on the novices as we were to partake in several “friendly” competitions to show off our skills.

It was all also a part of the bond creating process, as the show was mostly for the dragons to see their prospective riders and help them choose who’d they like to approach – basically a talent show under the guise of some silly little sportsmanship.

It was also the part I was, surprisingly, even more nervous about than the talking.

When I got outside, most people were already sitting around on the prepared benches, leisurely chatting with the poise only the bored and the filthy rich could have. Five people were already standing in the designated area, fiddling with bows and quivers full of arrows. Quickly, I made my way towards Hwa-young, grabbing my own weapons on the way.

So there was six of us this year. I tried to steal glances at the others to see if maybe I recognised someone, but all of their faces were escaping me. I might have seen them somewhere, but I couldn’t put any names to them, nor their factions or alliances or families.

One man stood all the way in the other corner by himself, air of pompousness and arrogance so thick around him I could sense it all across the field. It bled into every single one of his movements, into the expression on his pale elegant face, even into the way he flicked his long straight black hair out of his face.

Two others stood a little away from him, closer to each other but not interacting in any way. Their faces were carefully sculpted cold expressionless masks as they held the bows in their hands ready for the contest, not talking, not looking out into crowd, nothing.

The last man stood the closest to us, all by himself but with his shoulders relaxed and a positive aura surrounding him. His hands were casually drumming a rhythm into the wood of the bow, foot tapping happily into the dense dirt compacted by thousands upon thousands of armoured shoes walking over it every day. When he noticed me looking his way, he suddenly brightened and gave me a happy smile.

That was enough to shock me into turning back to my own bow and I ignored the cheery man, not that he seemed very offended by that. Instead he immediately changed targets to Hwa-young standing next to me and the two fell into a hushed conversation after a few smiles exchanged.

The bow in my hand was worn, it wouldn’t be impossible to use it, but it was obvious they were some old weapons taken from some forgotten unloved storage. The royal palace insisted that we would use the military’s tools to ensure fairness, but I truly wasn’t expecting them to pull out bows that were probably older than half the men standing around the edges of the training area. And there were dragons present.

Speaking of which, on my next cursory look over the gathered crowd I was able to spot the two Bangtan boys (men?) standing on one side a little bit away from everyone else, eyes already trained on me.

In a split second I noticed and realised three things – Jimin’s hair was actually a really deep dark blue, he was looking at me with a much unfriendlier look than before and Jungkook sent me a shit-eating grin before waving cheekily. I scoffed, kind of amused by his attitude, but also significantly weirded out by the change in vibe in his companion.

While yes, it was very unusual to be dishing out handshakes left right front and centre, but I just kind of assumed Jungkook was one of those who didn’t really care about propriety all too much. He had a vibe of a man that loved to see the world burn, and I had to deeply respect that. His whole aura screamed of youth and mischief, so I chalked up his unusual behaviour up to that. But it seemed that Jimin wasn’t exactly impressed with him, as he eyed me with mistrust like I brainwashed his mate into bonding with me.

Loud clinking brought my attention away from those two and my eyes slowly drifted back to the greying man and who I presumed was his dragoness. That was another mystery to me – it was obvious he was in some sort of position of power, but I’ve never met him nor seen him before – I knew he wasn’t in charge of the unit, and he wasn’t even between the teachers that we met during the trials – and I went through them a few times, as we previously established.

He stood up, the same detached expression on his face, and cleared his throat. “Let the games begin,” he proclaimed simply, “We will start with a shooting competition.” Then he shuffled a little under all that attention before sitting back down. I hid my smile behind my palm while watching his bonded laugh at him. You had to love the way he didn’t want to be here as much as everyone else.

The mirth quickly drained out of me though when I realised with our positioning I would end up going first. I cursed under my breath, my hands growing clammy and shaking, desperately gripping the bow and attempting to look as collected as possible. If we at least started with sword fighting, but we had to jump straight into shooting.

This was exactly what I was afraid of, the mounting shame of what was about to come already drowning me and pulling me under the sea of emotions, leaving me helplessly gasping for air. My lungs painfully constricted, but I got into position nonetheless.

There was a reason for why I struggled to enter this unit in particular, even when I was hell-bent on joining the horns. Growing up with a general for a father, I had been trained from small age – I knew how to properly hold a sword before I learned to use the toilet on my own, but my father was a master of heavy weaponry. He was known for his massive bagua-dao swords, occasionally reaching for scimitars or sabres – not too much for his marksmanship. He was still an incredibly efficient archer, but he preferred not to be stuck with a bow and arrows where there could be blood spilt.

Therefore I somewhat gravitated towards those weapons as well – and well, I wasn’t as sufficient with long-range attacks. I’d always achieve a ‘just close enough’, but I rarely hit the mark precisely. But on dragonback, you had no choice but to aid your troops with ranged attacks.

As one of the trainers back during my first trial put it – ‘A dragon rider that can’t shoot a bow and arrow is like a whore without a pussy’. Truly, what a charming man.

I’d improved a lot, enough to manage to weasel my way into the elite unit, but still my shooting wasn’t perfect. And when you wore a name like Kang, that was a social suicide.

My ears all out of nowhere picked up how the crowd quieted, through the roaring blood and the anxious thoughts, and I realised they all hungrily anticipated my performance. Taking a few stabilising breaths, I tried to reinforce my hands and stop their shaking.

Through the bundle of nerves lodged into my throat and the stones slowly setting into my stomach, I fought to empty myself – my heart, my head – to bring about that one-track focus to the centre of the target that stood off to the distance.

Time slowed down, my heart pumped wildly and my head spun and I let go. The arrow elegantly swished through the air, faster than many were able to see, and embedded itself deep into the straw target, just shy of the red circle dominating it.

Even anticipating those results, my heart still sank knowing that everyone saw. Murmurs rose and the pit of humiliation threatened to swallow me. I hated how I was already berating myself for not doing better, how I was already fearing what would my father say once I got home, how I was too scared to turn around and face their mocking eyes and sneers.

I hated the castle, and I knew that I was on the precipice of getting devoured whole by it.

With shaky sweaty hands I stood there and watched all the other novices hit perfect mark, the waves of polite ovations reaching my ears through the cotton of my inner turmoil.

The second round came, all the eyes turned to me again, and I knew the moment I released the bowstring that the nerves won over me, barrelled through my psyche and I was lost to the chant of insecurities going through my head.

The arrow hit a little to the left of the first one, a tiny bit further from the centre than before.

The weight on my shoulders was pulling them down and I was tenser, more uncomfortable, but I kept my composure. It was crucial that I showed no weakness now, that would be inviting even more trouble. I felt bile rising through my pharynx but swallowed it down and instead forced myself to stand tall with head held high.

I didn’t gather the courage to turn around until the last arrow was released.

I let myself be ushered towards a different area prepared for us while the target practice was moved around and prepared for the final spectacle of the afternoon. In the meanwhile, we were to fight with swords. That was more of a stable ground for me.

Perfectly there was just the right amount of us to compete in twos and I was already hoping that I wouldn’t end up with the snotty kid from the end of the line lest I might try to kill him for sure. Trying to avoid any polite chatter between us and also pointedly not look towards the crowd, I started perusing the weapons offered, thinking of what the best strategy would be to take.

A shortsword was a classic, but nothing too impressive. A longsword a similar case. Though if I had to choose, I’d preferred the two-handed longsword, I had a tendency to get a little too swingy with one-handed weapons. There was a scimitar, which was a solid option even though more suited for horseback – but once again, I’d prefer two-handed weapons.

All the way at the end of the prepared rack (it didn’t escape my attention there was only one for all of us) sat a dadao and bagua-dao right next to each other, glinting in the sun like cruel smiles. As far as I was aware, no one here would actually reach for those – they weren’t standard weapons people were taught to operate.

They were there for me. For family legacy.

That was enough for me to make my choice.

While the others just made it over to the rack and started paying it more attention, I grabbed the plain longsword and moved towards the area fenced off for a duel. I sensed the confused, surprised and mocking gazes rolling off of my back, but I didn’t let their disappointment muddle my already arguably shitty day any more.

I wasn’t here to give them a show. I was here to bond with a dragon.

When everyone had chosen their weapons (I was right, no one went for the dao swords), we all stood there for a moment, too nervous to actually say anything. The arrogant prick was acting like we were all beneath him, but the rest of us eyed the others apprehensively, trying to gauge with who we’d like to end up in a duel.

The puppy boy was now hanging about Hwa-young, the two of them seemed to make fast friends, and honestly, I understood that. I was also drawn into her aura quite quickly, though my current stress prevented me from relaxing around anyone at the moment.

Taking notice of the weapons others chose, I started realising that something didn’t add up. There was only one of each, and it would be impossible to have a proper duel if one person has a longsword and the other a scimitar. It wasn’t that unusual for the battlefield, but in duelling it wasn’t done.

Looking around, there was another rack of weapons on the other side of the fenced area – where we wouldn’t be able to go at the moment due to the fences. It all started clicking in my mind just as Lord Kim of all people stepped up on a little platform and gestured to get the attention of the slowly quieting crowd.

“As was tradition for the second discipline,” he started pompously, chest puffed up and face painted with a sleazy smile, “the novices would duel each other. This year we chose to make a little change for the entertainment of those watching.” I could see a few of us looking confused or slightly uncomfortable, and my own heart tightened for a moment.

Lord Kim gestured somewhere behind him and six people walked up to the rack of weapons on the other side. Three men and three women, all looking coldly towards the baron, standing side by side and anxiously awaiting the order to grab their weapons. It wasn’t that hard to deduce they were all dragons.

Silence fell over us while the crowd clapped happily, the vile joy reflected in their gazes, while we exchanged worried glances. Hwa-young’s face was drawn into a tight serious expression, a stark difference to how she was just a few minutes ago, while the guy by her side shuffled from foot to foot wordlessly.

The only one that didn’t seem to be bothered by the revelation was the smug bastard who stood a little away from us, serenely holding a sabre in his hand and looking straight at a man with flaming red spiky hair, who steadily ignored his attention.

How curious.

I watched as Kim gave the order with a flick of his wrist and the selected six moved with a purpose straight to their chosen weapons. The redhead without hesitation reached for the sabre, eyes glued to the ground and trying to blend in as much as possible, not stand out at all.

I felt a simmer of rage bubble up inside my chest and turned to stare daggers at the newbie only to see that he was already looking at me with a stupid smirk on his face.

So he already knew. He must have been close to someone high up in the unit then – that would make things difficult.

Swearing to myself to find out who was his patron, I made my distaste known on my face all for him to see and then turned back to our chosen opponents, searching for the one with a longsword. Eyes jumping from one to other, I finally found the weapon in the hands of a tall dragoness, her curly ginger hair falling down her back all the way to her tailbone. She as well was already watching me, but her eyes were unreadable, her lips a thin straight line.

The baron’s chuckle had our tense eyes drawing back to him. He stood there, with an awful sharp grin on his face, arms thrown out in a grand gesture, gaze jumping around our faces.

“Well, let the second discipline begin,” Lord Kim announced, “Happy fighting!” He laughed loudly, gestures dramatic and over the top, and then leisurely made his way back to sit next to… Duke Lee. What was it… birds of a feather?

I scoffed at the two men sitting there and acting like old chaps, all chummy and cozy next to each other. Baron Kim was really getting better at dick sucking, look at him, making his way all the way to the duke. Talent had to be recognised.

“Young mistress Kang!” the exclamation of my name startled me into stumbling to turn around, suddenly aware that everyone was looking at me. The dragoness was standing in the middle of the fighting arena, sword hanging from her hands limply. There was a touch of annoyance displayed on her face, but it was obvious she was trying to tamper it down as to not get into trouble.

I flushed lightly but diligently moved into the arena without any more stalling. Of course I’d go first again, we were probably going to keep the order from the first discipline. My nerves were skyrocketing, and I held the sword in my clammy hands.

Fighting in a duel against a same-aged human wasn’t something that brought too much stress to me, it was actually the one discipline of the three I was very confident in and looked forward to. General Kang never went easy on anyone, including his small children even during the first years of our training and I knew I could probably take on half the people from the military and be fine.

Duelling against a centuries old dragon with so much more strength and sharper senses though, that was a completely different story. Defeating a dragon, even in a sword fight, was virtually impossible. It took a lot of training, mostly with specific dragons, and most people resorted to underhanded tactics to gain an upper hand.

So the desired effect of this duel was most likely to present well with tactics, endurance and skill, not to actually aim to win. It was hard entering a ring knowing you will lose the fight, hard to muster up the courage to the absolute most to win when you know it’s a done deal from before you even stepped in, but this, like many other things, was mostly about appearances.

With a sigh I took my position and gestured to my opponent that I was ready. She did the same immediately and in a second a whistle sounded through the air, letting us know the match had started.

Nobody made a move at first, both of us holding our stance and slowly circling the arena, gauging the other and calculating the best approach.

I admittedly wasn’t the type to jump in headfirst into offensive, it usually took me a while to attack. Sometimes it was to psych the other out, sometimes I just wanted to see what they would do first and adapt to their strategy accordingly. But she seemed to be doing the same thing, so for a few long moments silence enveloped the crowd as they watched us with bated breaths.

I held the sword in a front guard, tip pointing right at her neck, and I just had a split second to register the tightening of her hands on the grip before she was suddenly lunging forward with a straight strike, aiming for my abdomen.

The habit kicked in and I cockstepped to the side, sword immediately flying in a circle guard to parry her attack before I retreated again. There was determination in her face, and she didn’t seem to be terribly appalled by my stance, so I counted that as a win.

This went on for a long while, one of us suddenly lunging forward in an attack to surprise the other, then parry, counter-attack and then retreat, circling around the edges of the arena. I couldn’t hear anything from outside those fences, I had no idea if people were entertained or not, if they watched or not, if they even said anything at all. All my attention was poured into the form of my opponent, watching her every single move.

Longsword was about agility, being quick on your feet and keeping your contender appropriately far to be able to land a hit but not close enough for them to land it back, and I used my small stature and quickness to my advantage a lot when fighting, but even though I was able to stand my ground, I felt the disparity in our strengths.

She was taking it easy on me, I was aware of that. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to parry that easily against a blow with full dragon power behind it, and while she was able to keep her composure, I already felt my body faltering. There was sweat streaming down my face, I felt it soaking through the uniform and making my grip sloppy. My legs were starting to get tired, and I stumbled a few times while side-stepping away from her attacks.

Her movements stayed effortless and fluid, her sword steady and sharp. I started to slip up.

As our patience ran out, the number of attacks increased and finally we were giving the audience what it wanted – an offensive after an offensive, barely giving the other time to counter. She must have tested my strength, because suddenly her blows became much more heavy-handed – she aimed to end this match soon.

She almost overpowered me with a diagonal cut, and my ankle twisted as I turned. Pain burst through me, face turning into a grimace. Her face reflected sure victory, sword already aiming for abdominal horizontal cut.

Last minute I turned my sword into downward guard, turned around it and swung for her right side. There was a split second of surprise on her features, the edge just a hair away from her clothes when she managed to jump away, and I gambled.

Turning my legs into a stable stance I lunged forward, ignoring the throbbing in my ankle. The dull tip aimed straight at the side of her lower abdomen, sword flying through the air. The element of surprise did a lot for me, but she managed to evade.

I cursed, sweat slipping into my eyes and making it hard to see. I didn’t even have the moment to wipe it away. The dragoness disappeared from my field of vision, and I fought my own body to turn quickly, but it wasn’t enough.

When I turned, sword already in position to take upwards diagonal cut at her, there was a tip aimed at my neck. I felt it prick the skin when I stumbled with the momentum, eyes trained on her hands on the handle.

Everything froze for a few seconds, few long seconds during which I only heard my own heaving breath and the roaring hum of blood in my veins. The heat started catching up with me and I shivered under the sudden wave of hotness over my whole body.

Then a thunder of clapping broke through the trance, and I looked up to see her eyes. They weren’t as cold anymore, but I wouldn’t dare to guess what she was feeling. She gave me a curt nod and stepped away, swiftly lowering her sword. Almost involuntarily I let go of my own and my glove went with it, hands too wet to stick to them.

I was still trying to catch my breath, the heavy intakes jerking my whole body and all I wished to do was to tear this stupid uniform off and jump into a cold creek, but I was suddenly grabbed by Lord Kim who materialised on stage and dragged me closer to the expectant crowd.

On instinct I started bowing, dragoness in tow even though there wasn’t even an ounce of the usual winner’s joy in her being, and then we were both sent away.

I stumbled over to our side again, wondering if I could maybe be suffering from heatstroke, when two small but very strong hands pulled me into a hug. Hwa-young squealed right into my ear, but I was too sluggish to actually recoil from the sound.

Before I even fully clocked in the situation, she was already pulling away with a huge grin, hand now patting me on the shoulder.

“That was amazing!” she exclaimed, visibly vibrating in excitement, “It felt like nobody was breathing for the entire time you two fought, the tension was insane!” A single syllable laugh fell out of my tired mouth, a somewhat slanted smile pulling at my lips, before I gestured back inside.

“I need water,” was all that came out of me, very eloquently might I add, and then I steered my shaky knees in the right direction and walked off. With every step I retained a little bit of my previous strength, my body finally acclimatising and slowly pumping the brakes on the excitement and pain.

As I was stepping in, the strangely happy guy from before was just stepping into the ring with his shortsword firmly clutched in his hands and a face full of determination.

Thankfully, no one bothered me while I was inside replenishing my strength, and I re-emerged a few minutes later in a much better shape. The fact that there was one more discipline left already drained me in advance. If I could at least take one layer off, that would make it much better, but it would be improper.

I must have been inside for longer than I thought, because it seemed that two matches have happened in the meantime, with the third now already in motion. The only ones still waiting for theirs was Hwa-young and the peacock with a sabre, both standing next to each other but ostentatiously ignoring the other.

Sitting down in the shade, I watched on. During Hwa-young’s turn I appreciated her form a lot. She was a great fighter, and it was obvious she put her absolute best into the match. Her opponent seemed to be a measured laid-back fighter, and he balanced her energetic offensive very well. When she lost, it was after a good fight and she went down honourably. The dragon even accepted her offered handshake (gloves on, of course, to prevent any skin-to-skin contact and accidentally establish a potential bond) and then they both moved to their respective sides.

The last man stepped in, flaming red hair reflecting the sun and making him almost shine in the middle of the summer garden. Peacock walked up to him and immediately took his stance. Once the whistle was blowed, he flew into an attack within split second, and the match from then on was a wild mess of heavy offensive.

While the dragon seemed to be surprised, like the others he didn’t have much trouble standing his ground and matched the energy given well. As much as I disliked people who valued offensive over anything and expected to win fights just by endlessly swinging their swords around without rhyme or reason, the display of power between the two fighters was quite fascinating to watch.

Their forms were beautiful, and their sabres met with loud clinks, almost hard enough to see sparks flying about. It was a wild flurry of movement, of red and silver flashes and fast footwork that would be hard on even experienced knights.

And that was exactly what got him in the end. The peacock was extremely confident in the first few minutes of the match, but as it dragged on, the dragon refusing to concede and dealing back just as much power, the toll it was taking on the human to keep up started to be visible.

I watched his legs increasingly more stumble and react slower to the attacks and for a brief moment I wondered whether I looked the same when I started losing the fight.

But then he suddenly threw himself at the redhead, sword pushing his to the side and body slamming into him full force. There were a few gasps around in the audience as confusion set in. Aside the fact that this was a sword duel, he definitely couldn’t win against him in a fistfight. And once they got this close, the dragon could really knock him out with a single blow. It was pure insanity.

And I could see the redheaded man preparing to do just that, hand dropping his sabre and body twisting in preparation to take a full swing, when the bastard shot his hand out and grasped around the dragon’s neck.

I was on my feet faster than I could comprehend doing that, dread making my heart stop beating and my stomach to drop all the way down to the ground. His hand was bare, he must have shucked the glove off somewhere during the lunge.

The poor dragon froze under the touch, body going into panic. He tried to twist out of his grasp, and I saw the hand visibly squeeze the flesh tattooed with shackles.

“Kneel!” the human’s booming voice carried over the shocked crowd without a problem, loud enough to even scare off some birds off of the nearby trees.

The redhead locked into place, eyes glazing over and shame seeping out of the very pores of his skin. Then he slowly kneeled, mechanically like he was fighting against his body every step of the way. Once he was on the ground his head hung low, whether it be in humiliation or obedience, and it was a terrible heart-wrenching sight.

The boy let go and then victoriously turned to the audience, smug grin wide on his face, leaving the dragon sitting in the dirt. Then there was an abrupt wave of cheering and clapping, a thunderous sound that swept through the whole garden and Lord Kim was running towards the arena, screaming praises for the only one of us who managed to defeat their dragon.

Shock, disgust and dread kept me frozen in my place, heart squeezing painfully in my chest and lungs constricted. I felt like I was going to be sick, like all that was going to come out of me would be black poisonous sludge from the display we bore witness to.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the lone being shamefully kneeled there, unable to stand up until another command came. A wave of emotions swept through me – rage, compassion, pain – and tears almost sprung into my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away.

When my eyes swept through the crowd, there wasn’t enough horror in people for this to have taken place. Most were sitting around, pleased and happy and talking about the champion. The dragons looked uncomfortable, eyes avoidant and their postures tense. Hard and frozen.

I saw Hwa-young, her face serious and troubled, lips a thin line as she stared at the man who was happily conversing with a bunch of good-for-nothing lords.

It was hard to compute he did something like that. And even harder to compute that it was allowed, in a friendly duel, against a dragon that wasn’t even his bonded.

Even though people liked to pretend that dragons were here all on the accord of their own free will, pretend like they weren’t forced and enslaved, pretend like they wouldn’t get punished if they didn’t go along with their whims, the shackles still remained a stark reminder of their status.

And while the only person who could directly command them was the emperor, or the dragon’s bonded, anyone could really force the dragon into obedience by grabbing their neck. The shackle was a ‘mark of magic’ (among others) – it showcased the place where the dragon was touched with a curse.

And this curse forced them into obedience to humankind. They couldn’t fight against a human and wish him serious harm, they couldn’t go against the emperor or anyone in the position of power, and they couldn’t not obey direct commands coming to them. The magic in their blood enforced their behaviour and there was nothing they could do about it.

So if you wanted to command a dragon and have him be coerced into listening to you, all you had to do was grab their neck where their shackle was, thus activating the curse.

That redhead wouldn’t be able to stand up until he was similarly commanded to do so, because he couldn’t break the order to kneel. It was absolutely disgusting and barbaric.

The conversation really seemed to have moved on, no one paying attention to him. Peacock left with Lord Kim, along with some other novices. Hwa-young and puppy boy stood frozen by the fence for a moment before they guiltily avoided their eyes and moved towards the fray of festivities too. Not that I could blame them.

I didn’t know anything about his background, but Hwa-young certainly couldn’t make a scene about a dragon given the precarious situation she was in.

At least one thing my stupid fucking surname was good for. Sometimes I could get away with being untouchable (sans the consequences my father would give when I got home, but that was a private affair – what they don’t know… can’t hurt me).

Not being able to take it anymore, I steeled myself and made my way towards the arena displaying much more confidence than I actually felt. Presentation was key, I endlessly told myself, in a voice that suspiciously sounded like my father. Subtly checking my surroundings, it seemed that no one was really paying attention to me yet. Which was good, but it would change quickly.

When I got to him, his shoulders were slumped, head still down and refusing to look up. The dragon probably assumed I’d come to mock him, and it broke my heart a little. Once more looking around to make sure nobody cared what I was doing, I kneeled in front him too.

I heard his little gasp of surprise, but he didn’t move in the slightest.

People considered it to be humiliating to kneel in front of a slave, which is why he probably didn’t see often people drop down to his level instead of commanding him to look up. I cleared my throat somewhat awkwardly.

“Pardon the intrusion,” I mumbled softly, making sure he was the only one who heard me, “Don’t panic, I’m going to touch your neck in a moment, okay?” For a few silent moments I waited for him to nod, and he finally realised that as well when no touch came after my words.

After his confirmation I brough my hand to his shackle gently, trying to be as unintrusive as possible, but no matter how much I tried this would always be a violation of them. I felt the magic come alive under my fingertips, thrumming violently through my blood. It was an ugly kind of magic and it made me sick when it filled my being with its aura.

Swallowing the noise of protest at the sensation, I didn’t want to stress him more, I quickly said: “You can stand, and you’re free of commands.” I saw his shoulders relaxing, and he shivered lightly. I quickly tore my hand away from his skin and stood up again, knees protesting at the swift movement.

I offered him my hand, but he ignored it as he himself stood up. His knees must have been in even worse shape after sitting on the rough ground like that, but he carried himself gracefully, shame persistently seeping in at the edges. When our eyes met, he curtly nodded my way and then swiftly walked off, leaving the gathering behind him.

I couldn’t blame him.

A good half an hour went by before I heard Lord Kim’s voice exclaim: “Oh no! Where did our dragon disappear to?” By then I had already moved closer to the shooting range and watched servants bring out and prepare the six horses that would be involved in the next discipline.

There were some general gasps, people looking around with disappointment painting their faces, but no one spoke out against me. No one looked at me, or even cared that I still sat by the side, leading me to assume that my actions haven’t been noticed, thankfully.

As the commotion slowly quietened, I willed my heart to calm down, body sagging lightly against the stone bench.

While I was looking forward to the last discipline, horseback shooting at moving targets, the atmosphere hung heavy over us after the last match, and it was hard to have any enjoyment from anything taking place. Peacock of course was in great spirits and the two expressionless guys that haven’t said a single word as far as I was concerned didn’t seem to care at all, but we the remaining three all showed different signs of uneasiness, the good mood sapped out of us in the blink of an eye.

We stood in a hushed group, still processing everything, while the others were already claiming horses and preparing their bows.

“I was kind of expecting it and it still caught me off guard that he’d just… go there,” finally Hwa-young broke the silence, looking at me solemnly. I gave her a confused look, tilting my head slightly.

“What do you mean ‘expecting it’?” the question fell out my lips and it drew the attention of the boy.

“The blond one tried to reach for the neck, but got quickly overpowered,” he jumped in to explain, “I thought it was more like a tactic to scare her or psych her out, at the moment it didn’t look like he’d really go for it.” His gaze was pointing to one of those silent two, a tall blond with cold blue eyes.

“Oh!” he suddenly exclaimed, hand flying to me in an offered handshake, “I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Choi Siwoo, of the southeast clan.” I only hesitated for a split second before I took it, attempting a small smile even with my heart still heavy.

I was kind of already beginning to like Hwa, her story and attitude made me trust in her good side a little more, and this guy seemed to be just a ball of sunshine. She evidently got along with him and for the moment I’ve decided to tentatively trust her judgement.

God knows I’d need as many allies on my side as possible and I trusted that Hwa-young of all people wouldn’t have a problem with me based on my clan. Plus both of them most probably had the same opinion as me about the violating display peacock put on.

It was quite sad, but once you found people who actually believed dragons to be real beings with real rights, you’d better hand onto them and not let them go. I myself was painfully aware of how meagre the numbers of those were.

Siwoo’s face brightened with a toothy grin, hand briefly squeezing mine before he pulled back. There was a little bit of relief on his face and I wondered whether he was worried I’d reject his friendship offer. He and Hwa exchanged a short happy look, she nodded a little, and then turned to beam at me. A little snicker escaped my lips at their shenanigans, but I didn’t stick around to see their faces split with wide smiles.

Instead I finally started making my way towards one of the still available horses, choosing a white one with black and brown spots, absentmindedly picking up the bow and quiver with arrows. Once we were all on horseback and ready, Lord Kim once again climbed up to a little platform and with a few pompous words blew the whistle.

I was miles away in my mind, just going with the flow of the horse’s movement. I’ve always loved horses since little, and anytime I found myself on one I usually relaxed very quickly, which combined with my troubled heart and mind had me escaping away from this awful little banquet, my mind carrying me to the green pastures and meadows of our fief.

Thus I ended up missing my first shot, just breezing past the target without even pulling out my bow. A quick shout of my name later I was confusedly looking around only to see Hwa-young’s worried face. She gestured to her bow and I immediately realised I must have not even seen where I was supposed to be shooting.

The discipline went on, and after a few circle arounds I even managed to hit a bullseye, more or less on accident. The crowd gave me some polite applause, but I found myself as shocked as half the people sitting there on that garden.

By the time they finally called us back, I was already prepared to disappear home the next second I could. I was over all this, mentally and physically drained and I hated the audience watching our every move, my skin crawling with every curious or hateful glance.

Of course, we were meant to be socialising more, but I planned to slink off the moment people stopped paying attention to me. Having led the horse back to the stables, I was back in the crowd, slowly making my way inside to grab some more refreshments. I ignored the hum of murmurs around me, mocking my score or whispering about my father.

When someone threw a glare at me, I returned it with a polite smile, the tiredness pulling the attitude back onto the surface. Today had quite enough of diplomatic and courteous encounters, now I was done.

Making it over to the almost empty buffet table, a scowl was already pulling down at my lips, making me look even more unfriendly than usual. When somebody’s presence suddenly made itself known behind me, I was ready to snark at them until they left. They couldn’t even let me eat in peace.

For a few moments I continued to ignore the person, even though I knew they were messing around with something on the table, hoping they weren’t here for me after all, but all those hopes got shattered the moment they walked up straight to me and tapped my shoulder.

I started turning around, a smart retort already about to slip off of my tongue when I came face to face with a broad chest and shoulders, tattoos peeking from his tunic and pierced lips, and it promptly withered and died in my throat. He had tattoos there as well? How did I miss that?

Lightly flustered I quickly snapped my head up, searching for the dragon’s eyes. Jungkook was grinning at me from up above, gaze sparkling just like before. I stumbled a step or two back, putting some more space between us to make the height gap less blaringly obvious. He snickered at me, but stayed put, leisurely leaning with his hip on the table.

“Looked like you were booking it, so I wanted to catch you before you disappear,” the dragon explained with a knowing smile, “just to set some things straight.” A soft questioning noise left my mouth, a mixture of anxiety and confusion hitting me. Sudden fear that he’d come here to let me down gently gripped me and I desperately tried to temper it down, not even recognising myself and the strange behaviour I’d been exhibiting since I accepted his handshake.

Jungkook seemed blissfully oblivious though and kept cooly leaning on the table, completely relaxed in his stance and expression. My calculative gaze slid from his head to his toes, trying to gauge what he’d feel the need to tell me this urgently. Preparing myself for the worst, I invited him to speak with a gesture of my arm.

“I want to reserve your noon three days from now,” the dragon told me, body language still quite laid-back, lulling me into believing that maybe this wasn’t bad news after all, “A personal training, after that we’ll talk.”

Even though I tried to keep my expression in check, I couldn’t eliminate the chance that he heard my heart happily jump in my chest and skip a few beats. The expression on his face was earnest when I lost to myself and checked it just to be sure, but I also noticed a light dusting of a blush over his cheekbones while his fingers tried to detangle his bangs from the little horns coming out of his forehead. With a start I realised that his hair actually wasn’t black, but there was a deep purple metallic sheen to it that gave off little coloured flashes when it was hit by the light right.

He cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly, and started shuffling. Immediately I realised I haven’t actually answered to him and instead just stood there staring at him. I couldn’t help the rush of colour to my cheeks and briefly I wondered whether his blush meant he was feeling similar effects of the established connection.

I’d have to research bonds a little, I’d never known it could influence you like this. Wistfully I thought back to the memory of my teacher, the desperate desire to know where he was or that he’d be still here with me manifesting again. He’d tell me everything, answer all of my questions without hesitation.

But before I could get too off track in my thoughts and leave Jungkook even more hanging, I cleared my throat as well. “Does- Does that mean you are interested in pursuing the connection?” I squeaked out, throat a little dry and my flustered state making it hard to speak seriously.

The dragon grinned at me, boyish and free with a hint of mischief, and it did make me thaw a little in face of such a display. It made him look young and on top of the world, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from briefly jumping to his shackled neck with a painful pang to my heart.

“Of course!” he exclaimed loudly, “You seem pretty cool.” I raised my eyebrow at him, but ultimately chose to not answer to that. Taking another step back I let food be food and returned an impish grin of my own.

“Sure then, see you in three days.” Jungkook seemed very satisfied by that answer and without further ado turned around to leave.

I watched him go with my heart quivering in both hope and nerves as I found myself so close to the edge of something great. Of something meaningful. I couldn’t mess it up now.

Of course my father would be beyond overjoyed that I’d managed to catch the attention of Bangtan, as it would catapult me straight to the top. It would cement me as something special from the very beginning, and that was all he ever wanted of us. The emperor would surely allow me to ride him, because I was a Kang and that was all that mattered. I’d finally make myself useful and aide my father in his power-hungry ways.

But that wasn’t what I wanted.

No. I wanted to change the world. Change would always have to start at the top.

And I would bring this empire down, once and for all.

With a true genuine smile I also turned on my heel, in a completely different direction, and swiftly left the banquet behind me. It was time to learn how to impress a dragon.

Jungkook was slowly getting fed up with Jimin’s disconcerted looks thrown his way, the older dragon making it well known for the several past hours just how upset he was with the youngest.

“Okay, god, I get it, can you stop staring at me like that?” he grumbled out, flinching at his mate’s disbelieving expression. The smaller man had basically smoke rising from his head with how angry he seemed to be, and that was a feat considering he was a water dragon.

“Excuse me?!” he exclaimed wildly, “So dare you explain to me what the hell was that?!” Something strange and tense settled between them the moment Jungkook offered the Kang girl his hand, and he knew this was long time coming, the blue-haired man very obviously just looking for an opportunity to have a private chat with him.

Jungkook shrugged, and in hindsight, that wasn’t the best reaction judging by the frustrated noise he got from Jimin in answer, but he himself didn’t really know. Honestly, he was just as confused as everyone else, but something just… compelled him?

“I- I don’t know,” he quickly remedied, not wanting to provoke the other dragon even more, “it just felt like the thing to do.” That earned him a frown. Jimin stopped in his tracks, turning to look at his youngest mate with something slightly alarming making itself home in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asked quietly, gaze imploring and looking for answers, “Jungkook, this wasn’t just ‘something to do’, you could have made a huge fool out of yourself. Not to mention that you don’t just go around offering handshakes to riders! You skipped several steps of a whole process that’s there for a reason!”

Jungkook shrunk under the barrage of Jimin’s upset words, the inkling need to start defending himself and get upset back wiggling into his bones, but on a rational level he knew his mate was more worried than anything.

“Bonds are fickle things, you don’t simply jump headfirst into it with a complete stranger!” the water dragon continued, determined to let it all out now that they were gone from public and had space to hash it out, “It could have made you sick, it could have felt awful, it could have connected you to a terrible person. It’s not as simple as introducing yourself, bonds are strong and deep and they can influence you. You don’t go around doing that with everyone, you wait until you meet a person that feels right to offer it to!” That was Jungkook’s opening.

“But didn’t you feel it too, hyung?” he whispered, knowing he succeeded in worming some doubt into his hyung’s mind, “It was there even before we touched. That’s what I meant when I said it just felt… right to do. I can’t explain it, I just knew it was meant to happen somehow. And you know how gullible I am to instincts!” He threw in a good pout as well, grabbing onto Jimin’s sleeve and selling the cuteness to the max.

Jimin gave him a chastising look, but it was obvious his resolve was breaking and he was fighting his own smile at the cute display.

“I saw how you reacted, hyung,” Jungkook whispered again, hand sliding down to lock their fingers together, “I know you felt something.”

Both dragons were very well aware that something about this bond was strange, but neither knew how to explain to the other the sensations and feelings that ran through them in that moment they touched. Jimin pursed his lips, not finding the right words and feeling in way over his head.

“Let’s get home, I want to talk to hyungs about it,” he simply murmured and started dragging the other with him through the silent dark streets of the capital city. This part was always dead quiet in the middle of the night, the proximity of the royal palace scaring all nightly activities away into more shady parts. The shadow of the empire just always hung over this district, turning its atmosphere into something rotten and heavy.

It wasn’t far to their town house, the building that they reluctantly used whenever they needed to stay over in the capital as opposed to flying two hours back to their den, and both quickly found themselves enveloped in a much warmer aura of their combined scents. Even this deep into the night there was a hum of activity heard, signalling that the whole thunder was still awake and most likely waiting for their return.

Tae was sitting with Hoseok outside in the tiny yard, but they immediately moved inside the moment they heard the two sets of footsteps. The rest of the mates were all already sitting by the dining table, small refreshments waiting for them while Yoongi peacefully read something, and Namjoon was intensely staring at a couple of glowing rocks.

Seokjin’s head suddenly popped into the room from the adjacent study, warm smile already in place.

“How was Jungkook’s first choosing?” he asked eagerly, quickly padding over to the table and sitting down along with a very interested Tae and a smiling Hoseok. And as shaken as Jungkook and Jimin were from the whole afternoon, they noticed a small strain in their thunder’s expressions as well, deepening the concerned feelings already swirling through their own chests.

“We have to talk,” jumped Jimin straight in without a preamble, choosing the least comforting words anyone could ever say. The other dragons in the room didn’t seem to be very surprised though, only indication of the statement being heard was Jin’s soft sigh and the soft thud of Yoongi closing his book and putting it away.

Five sets of eyes trained on them, waiting for the explanation, and Jungkook helplessly looked towards his hyung to start.

“Jungkook found a potential rider,” Jimin started, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s face, his own troubled when he finally turned to the others.

“Isn’t that sort of a happy occasion?” Namjoon tested out, but as they all noticed before, the hyungs already seemed to be aware of something happening during the afternoon.

“Well, he just stuck his hand out to her within ten minutes of meeting her,” Jimin suddenly snitched petulantly, leaving Jungkook standing there with his mouth hanging wide open at the betrayal.

“Hyung!” he whined out at the same time as Jin’s horrified “Jungkook!” floated through the room.

“It felt right!” he shouted frustrated, feeling like he’s been endlessly repeating himself forever now and everyone just ignored that and focused on the more blaring fact of him completely disregarding age-old rules and making his potential bond into a public spectacle.

But despite his expectations, Jimin didn’t protest, or even got into a needless fight with him about it. Instead, he looked towards the older dragons, unsure and nervous. All of them were suddenly shifting in their seats, drawn closer by Jimin’s obvious distress and ready to jump in and comfort him at the drop of the hat.

“That’s the thing,” the water dragon whispered, “it did. I felt it too.” Silence set over the room. The rug’s been suddenly pulled from under his feet as he thought back to the moment, to the lighting of pure energy zapping through his entire being, feeling as if his fingers were about to burst into flames. To the moment he finally tore his eyes from Y/N and saw his hyung’s horror and shock, immediately pulling him close to whisper if he was okay as Jungkook just stared and tried to comprehend what happened.

It explained a lot.

“What?” was what came out of his mouth though, “You felt the bond through me?” The man in question silently nodded, opening his mouth and considering whether he should speak more. In the end he sighed and resigned himself to this conversation fully.

“Yeah, I felt it through our bond,” Jimin explained closely, “It was strong enough that even I felt the power of it. It’s never happened to me before. I’d never felt any of your bondings, let alone the first contact.” The troubled expression on the faces of the other dragons doubled and the two finally noticed it.

“Do you know what that means?” the question was aimed towards Yoongi and Namjoon who had arguably the most knowledge on most things, and if they didn’t know it currently, they definitely had a book detailing it, but everyone at the table shifted uncomfortably. Jungkook started having the sense of what must have happened.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” he whispered, the disbelief creeping into his tired voice. There was a beat of silence, a slight hesitation and then Yoongi nodded.

“Yes, but it wasn’t anywhere near as strong as what you said,” the black-haired man explained, voice soothing to attempt and calm the rising emotions, “it was more like an echo of what you two were experiencing.”

For a moment they all just let that information sink in, exchanging nervous glances. Hoseok released a long deep breath, drawing the attention to himself.

“So Jungkookie felt a pull towards someone, immediately went ahead and established a connection and everyone felt an amount of an echo of it through the bond,” he summarised, gesturing towards the two solemn bookworms sitting at the head of the table, “and I’m assuming you’ve also never heard of anything like that happening.”

Both of them shook their head at the same time, and their synchronisation would have been adorable if it wasn’t for the heavy atmosphere in the room.

“What do we do then?” Tae broke the silence tentatively, looking around everyone with his deep soothing eyes.

“Well,” Seokjin sighed again, slapping one hand on the table and startling poor Yoongi that was up to that point lost in thought sitting next to him, “We keep an eye on the bond. Jungkook, you just go about it as normally as possible. Jimin, you tag along with him and observe. Yoongi, Namjoon, please tell me you know where to dig up information about this?” Namjoon hummed thoughtfully, golden eyes glazing over in the same way they always did when he started mentally going through the never-ending catalogue of books they’ve managed amass in their hoard over the centuries.

“I’m certain we have a whole section of the library about bonds, it is a very researched subject, but I don’t remember ever encountering a mention of this,” he said finally, determination setting into his shoulders along with excitement to tackle something that was potentially unknown to them. Even though he’d prefer if this completely new phenomenon happened to someone else and not to his own packmate so he could study it in peace and not worry about them all the time.

Yoongi suddenly stood up, back cracking from being slouched over the table for god knows how long, and he started slowly making his way for his usual travel backpack.

“We have to go back to the den to go through all that though, are you all going to be okay here?” he said, face turning a little softer when he threw a look at his thunder. He was always worrying about them, and they all threw him fond looks back, bringing a slight reddish tint to the top of his ears.

“Of course, the universe won’t fall apart if you’re not here all the time, Yoongi,” Jin sassed him back, but making sure to throw him a little wink in teasing. The black-haired dragon smirked. “You don’t know that,” he rumbled back and then he was swiftly walking out onto the street, leaving Namjoon to scramble out behind him, shouting some apologetic goodbyes as he ran after his hyung.

As the situation settled a little bit and the remaining five sat around the table and played with the prepared food, there was still tension hanging over them. Jungkook especially was lost in thought, wondering about what this meant for him and his fate, and the fate of his mates.

He’d never had a bonded before, he was so far out of his zone here, and it made him nervous that his all-powerful, all-knowing hyungs seemed to be just as surprised by the situation.

His thoughts inevitably carried him to the image of his potential bond, to the expressive eyes screaming out even through the carefully crafted mask of indifference, to the memory of her fighting in the ring. To her kneeling for a dragon and whispering to him softly to make him more comfortable.

He knew Jimin didn’t catch that, too busy being lost in thought and upset about Jungkook’s blunder, and it felt wrong bringing something like that up, but it helped him feel that this person was right to bond with. Jungkook has always been close to his instincts, and currently they were telling him this was where they were supposed to be.

His thunder would disagree, they would scold him and call him too naïve, but against the better judgement of his hyungs, he already felt the beginnings of trust establishing between him and who he hoped would be his rider by the end of the week.

He knew he would go along with this, he only had to persuade the others to believe in him and his instincts too.

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[writingforstraykids]

Okiee,

Hear me out. Need more dad skz series. I loved the Felix one so much 🤗🤗 Maybe Hyun or Minho as single dad series 🥹

🧚‍♀️ Anon

I don't know why but Minho with a toddler sent our thoughts spiraling and @galaxycatdrawz and I came up with enough for a proper series. I hope you enjoy it dear🤭🖤

Always back to you

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 7716

Summary: Balancing his career and personal life as a single dad of a toddler isn't exactly always easy for Min. Luckily he has you, his assistant and the only person his son lets close enough. Minho couldn't be more grateful for your presence in their life.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst

PART TWO

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

The summer air is heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine as Minho walks hand in hand with his son Minjun through the bustling streets of their quiet neighborhood. The day is fading into a warm, golden evening, casting long shadows on the sidewalk as they make their way to the local park.

Minho, usually surrounded by stage lights and the constant hum of a lively crowd, cherished these moments of normalcy. His career often pulled him into whirlwinds of tours and interviews, making these quiet, uninterrupted days with Minjun so much more important and special.

As they approach the park, Minjun’s grip tightens with excitement, his little legs speeding towards the familiar rusty swings and the slightly chipped slide he claims as his castle. Minho watches, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as Minjun throws himself into the simple joy of play. His son's laughter rings clear, blending seamlessly with the distant sounds of other children.

“Daddy, come!” Minjun calls out, tugging at Minho’s jeans, pulling him towards the sandbox.

Minho sits down beside Minjun, rolling up his sleeves and helping him dig and mold the damp sand. They work together, Minho guiding Minjun’s small hands to shape the walls and towers. He listens intently as Minjun explains the details of each tower and the imagined dragons that would guard them.

“Daddy, dragons need names!” Minjun declares, his brow furrowed in the serious concentration of a three-year-old.

“How about Flame and Spark?” Minho suggests, watching as Minjun’s face lights up with approval.

“Yes!” Minjun beams, his hands moving with purpose as he places tiny sticks to represent the fearsome dragons.

As they played, Minho felt the weight of his other world—the stage, the lights, the music—melt away. Here, in the sandbox, none of that existed. There were no cameras, no managers, no fans. Just him and Minjun, building a sand fortress strong enough to withstand any siege, imaginary or otherwise.

After their castle was deemed sufficiently dragon-guarded, Minjun tugs at Minho’s hand, leading him to the ice cream stand nestled at the corner of the park. The line is short, and soon Minjun is proudly holding a cone much too big for him, dripping chocolate down his arm.

“Look, Daddy! It’s melting!” Minjun giggles, licking his arm in an attempt to catch the runaway ice cream.

Minho pulls out some napkins, cleaning up the sticky mess with a practiced hand. He watches Minjun attack the cone with a grin, chocolate smearing over his cheeks and nose.

“Is it good?” Minho asks, giggling, his heart swelling at the sight of such simple happiness.

“So good!” Minjun announces, offering Minho a taste. The ice cream is sweet, and the rich chocolate flavor is a perfect end to their day out.

They find a bench nearby. Minho listens as Minjun rambles on about the adventures of Flame and Spark, his imagination running wild. The park begins to empty as families head home for dinner, the sky painted in strokes of orange and pink. “Dumpling?” Minho asks softly, and his son looks up at him with big, brown eyes. “Daddy needs to work tomorrow again.”

“Daddy, why?” Minjun’s question comes softly, almost lost in the breeze.

Minho’s heart clenches. It is a question he dreads, knowing his answers might never fully satisfy the curiosity of a three-year-old. He pulls Minjun closer, holding him in a gentle embrace. “You know how Daddy dances and sings for many people?” Minho starts, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. Minjun nods, his eyes wide. “Well, sometimes Daddy has to go places so all those people can see him perform. But I always come back. Do you know why?” Minjun shakes his head, his eyes searching Minho’s. “Because you are my most important audience. And I promise, no matter where I go, I will always come back to you,” Minho says, his words heavy with the truth of his emotions.

Minjun seems to try and comprehend this for a moment, then smiles, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Promise?” he holds up his pinky.

“Promise,” Minho links his pinky with Minjun’s, sealing the vow. “Let's go home?”

“Home,” he nods satisfied.

Minho would've never had a child this young in this industry if he would've known what would happen. He and his wife got married rather young as well, soon deciding they'd like to have a kid. Mainly because she didn't want to be alone so much with him gone for work often. Everything seemed fine until it turned out they'd be having a boy and not a girl. His wife had wished for a girl dearly and seemed disappointed. Maybe he ignored how much because once their little wonder was there, his wife soon distanced herself from both of them. They were already in the process of getting a divorce when Minho had accidentally listened in to a phone call from her saying she'd probably give up their son for adoption.

Minho knew he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't risk his sweet baby ending up in a family that maybe wouldn't treat him well, so he had long talks with his friends, who promised to support him. Chan made sure to back him when they talked to their boss, making sure that Minjun could stay at the company or on tour. They all knew Minho would be able to focus on his work more, knowing he was within reach when his little boy needed him. The only issue at hand was how much Minjun dreaded being separated from Minho, barely trusting his friends to take care of him for a while.

That was until you came along. Somehow, you found a way to the little boy's heart that made him trust you. You were the only one besides Minho who could calm him down and keep him occupied. Initially, you've simply been Minho's assistant, helping him keep track of his schedule and everything. But being with Minho meant being with Minjun.

Through this, you grew rather close with all of them, becoming a vital part of their group. Minho was thankful to have you around, and you two worked well together. You love taking care of the little one and you would've never expected to get so close to them, especially Minho, seeing him during his rawest moments.

-

Minho is up early, as usual, feeling the quiet anticipation that always comes with a new day. Today, he'd take Minjun with him to dance practice.

The morning was a rush of activity. Minho prepared a quick breakfast, all the while keeping one eye on Minjun, who seemed happy about accompanying him to work.

"Are you ready, baby?" Minho asked, slipping on Minjun's small backpack filled with snacks, a change of clothes, and, of course, his favorite bunny plushie. Jisung had bought it for Minjun's second birthday and he hasn't left the house without it ever since.

"Yes, Daddy!" Minjun chirps, practically bouncing on his toes. His enthusiasm is infectious, and Minho can't help but laugh as he scoops up his son and heads out the door.

The drive to the studio is filled with Minjun's questions about everything he saw. Each question is punctuated with wide-eyed wonder, making Minho smile. He explains as much as he can, from the tallest buildings brushing the sky to the bustling morning crowds. Upon arriving at the studio, Minho sets Minjun down, taking his hand as they walk inside. The building was already buzzing with activity, music faintly echoing from the practice rooms.

"Guys, look who I brought!" Minho announces as they enter the main dance studio. The music stops abruptly, and the boys turn around, their faces lighting up at the sight of Minjun.

"Minjunnie!" Chan exclaims, his voice full of warmth. He crouches down to Minjun's level, greeting him with a gentle high-five. "Look how much you've grown already again!"

The other members crowd around, each taking turns to say hello. Felix shows Minjun a quick magic trick, pulling a coin from behind his ear, which delighted Minjun to no end. Hyunjin hands him a small package of his favorite gummy bears, and Innie helps open it.

“Y/nnie should be here soon,” Jisung tells them, glancing up from his phone.

Minjun peeks up at the sound of your name, bouncing excitedly. “Y/nnie?” he asks with wide eyes, turning to Minho.

“Yeah, Y/nnie will play with you,” he laughs at his son’s excitement.

“Gosh, he really loves him,” Seungmin laughs.

“As he should, Y/n is taking such good care of him,” Changbin chuckles, and Minho hums agreeingly.

Minho sets up a small, cozy corner for Minjun with some toys and a soft blanket. "You can play here while Daddy practices, okay? I'll check on you all the time."

Minjun nods, already distracted by the toys, but his eyes keep straying to the center of the room where the dance practice will take place.

You join them soon after, greeting them all with a wave. “Hi, buddy,” you greet Minjun cheerfully and sit down on his blanket next to him.

“Hi,” he smiles at you happily, handing you his fire truck. “Play?”

As the practice kicks off, Minho joins the rest of the group in the center. The music pounds through the speakers, a rhythmic base that fills the room with vibrant energy. Minho was in his element, his body moving with precision and grace, a testimony to years of practice and passion.

Minjun watches, wide-eyed, from his corner. The sight of his dad and the others dancing seemed to fascinate him. His little feet tap along to the beat, and it isn't long before he stands up, mimicking the moves in his own adorable way. He stumbles and lands on his butt, giggling at himself as you help him back up again.

“You're okay, dear?” you chuckle, and he nods.

Seeing this from the corner of his eye, Minho felt a surge of pride. During a brief water break, he walks over to you. "Do you want to try dancing with us for a bit?" he asks.

Minjun's enthusiastic "Yes!" was all the answer Minho needed. He leads Minjun to the center of the room, the members clearing some space for them. Minho shows him a simple move, a gentle sway combined with a clap. Minjun follows eagerly, his small body moving in sync with Minho's.

The room is soon filled with cheers and claps from the other members and you, encouraging Minjun, who beams under the attention. Chan turns down the music and suggests, "Let's do a little dance circle. Minjun can start!"

What followed was Minjun at the center, trying his best to keep up, his movements more enthusiastic than rhythmic. Each member joined in, adding their own moves, making it a fun, chaotic dance party that had Minjun laughing uncontrollably. You laugh watching them, seeing how much fun they have with the little boy.

After the dance circle wound down, Minho takes Minjun back to his corner, both panting slightly from the exertion. "You're amazing," Minho praises him softly.

“Takes after his Daddy as it seems,” you chuckle, and Minho smirks.

“My little dancer,” he smiles fondly, poking his son's cheek. Minjun's proud little smile is worth more than any applause Minho had ever received on stage.

You hand him the juice box Minho packed for him and help him with the straw. “Drink something,” you tell him gently, and Minjun does eagerly. You bite back a laugh at him, kicking his feet happily.

As the practice resumes, Minjun's energy eventually fades. He plays with you quietly with his toys, occasionally glancing up to watch his dad. The day passes in a blur of music, laughter, and dance. By the time practice wrapped up, Minjun was dozing off in his little corner, exhausted by the day's adventures. His head resting on your leg, breathing peacefully amidst the chaos. Minho carefully picks him up, his heart full as he feels Minjun's steady breath against his neck. “Thank you,” he smiles at you as you pack up everything for him and hand him the backpack.

“Of course,” you mirror his smile. “Tomorrow, we'll meet at the studio.”

“Yeah,” Minho nods. “When was it again?”

“At ten,” you tell him. “Do you need me to keep an eye on Minjun?”

“That would be great,” he nods gently.

“Okay, I'll be there,” you assure him, grabbing your jacket.

“Thank you,” he nods quickly.

“Mr. Lee - Minho,” you quickly correct yourself, sometimes still falling back into old habits. “You don't have to thank me all the time. It's fine.”

“Still,” Minho shakes his head. “It's a lot easier thanks to you…Do you need a ride home?”

“I'll be fine, thank you,” you assure him kindly. “You should get the little superstar to bed,” you say fondly, making Minho chuckle. You exchange your goodbyes before you both leave.

"Did you have fun today?" Minho whispers as he carries Minjun to the car.

"Mhm... best day," Minjun mumbles sleepily, his words slurring together.

Minho smiles, his eyes soft as he settles Minjun into the car seat. "Me too, buddy. Me too."

-

Minho's day starts early again, but this time there's a tangible buzz of excitement that courses through him. Today isn't just about dance practice; he's scheduled to record a new track with Chan, and he's bringing Minjun along to the studio once more. As they prepare to leave, Minho checks that he has everything Minjun might need—snacks, toys, and a little book of stories, just in case the session stretches longer than expected.

Minjun, now familiar with their routine, waddles around excitedly, chattering about seeing “uncle Channie” and the "music room."

The drive to the studio is filled with Minjun's usual observations, his voice a constant, cheerful hum in the background. Minho answers each question with patience, his mind simultaneously running through the lyrics and melodies he'll soon be recording.

Upon arrival, the studio feels like a second home. The familiar faces of the staff greet them warmly, and the scent of coffee mingles with the underlying electrical buzz of equipment. Chan is already there, headphones on, nodding along to some beat only he can hear. He lifts his head as Minho and Minjun enter, his face breaking into a wide grin.

"Look who's here! Hey, Minjun, high five!" Chan calls out, and Minjun rushes over, slapping his palm against Chan's outstretched hand. “How's my little Jiho?” he asks fondly and Minho smiles at the nickname Hyunjin had come up with, which stuck.

“Good,” the little boy nods happily.

Minho sets up Minjun's little corner, not far from the recording booth, where you're already waiting, having arrived a few minutes earlier. You have brought a new set of coloring pencils for Minjun, and he dives right into them with delight.

"Ready for a big day, Minjun?" you ask, helping him spread out his coloring sheets.

"Yes! Daddy sings, I draw!" Minjun declares, his focus intense as he selects a green pencil and starts scribbling. You chuckle softly, busying yourself as well by planning Minho's upcoming week.

Minho and Chan discuss the session with the producer, going over the song's structure and the tone they aim to capture.

As they start recording, Minho slips into the booth, the microphone in front of him a familiar friend. Outside the booth, you keep Minjun engaged, but his eyes often drift to his father, watching through the glass as Minho sings.

During playback, Minho steps out to listen, standing beside you and Minjun. He watches for Minjun's reaction, hoping to see a sign of approval. Minjun looks up, his eyes wide, and claps his small hands together.

"Daddy's song!" he exclaims, and Minho laughs, bending down to ruffle his hair.

"That's right, dumpling. Did you like it?" Minho asks.

"Love it, Daddy! You and uncle Channie sing nice!" Minjun responds, and Chan, overhearing, chuckles, giving Minho a pat on the back.

"It's a hit then, we have our toughest critic's approval," Chan jokes, making you all giggle.

The session continues, with Minho going back into the booth several times to refine his parts. Between takes, he checks on Minjun, always making sure he's happy and occupied. You seamlessly take care of Minjun, ensuring he's entertained but also quiet whenever the recording light is on.

As the afternoon goes on, the final parts of the track are recorded. With the professional part of his day winding down, Minho's attention fully returns to Minjun, who by now has created an impressive array of colorful drawings. "What do you say we show these to uncle Channie, huh?" Minho suggests, and Minjun nods enthusiastically, gathering his artwork.

Chan admires each drawing, making a big deal out of Minjun's artistic skills, which makes Minjun beam with pride. "We've got a future artist on our hands, Minho," Chan says, ruffling Minjun's hair.

"Maybe, but no matter what, I just want him to be happy," Minho replies, his voice soft, filled with love.

As the day comes to an end, you help pack up Minjun's things while Minho prepares to leave. He thanks you again, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Really, Y/n, I don't know what I'd do without your help," he admits.

"It's always a pleasure, Minho. Plus, I get to spend the day with this little guy," you say, tickling Minjun gently, pulling a giggle from him.

"Did you have fun today, Minjun?" he asks his son fondly.

"Yes, Daddy! Sing with uncle Channie again?" Minjun asks, his voice sleepy but happy.

"Absolutely, buddy. We'll come back soon," Minho promises, a smile crossing his face as he focuses back on the road.

One month later

Minho sits on the edge of the sofa, his tour outfit half-on, the rest laid out meticulously across the sofa. Minjun, sitting cross-legged with his blanket clutched tightly to his chest, watches his father with large, worried eyes. The tension between wanting to be there for his fans and needing to comfort his son gnaws at Minho, creating a knot of anxiety that settles heavily in his stomach.

“Buddy, you know Daddy has to go sing for all the people who came to see us tonight, right?” Minho’s voice is soft but carries an underlying note of apology. The stage was calling him, but his heart was anchored right there.

Minjun’s lips quiver as he shakes his head vehemently. “No, Daddy! Stay, please. Don’t go!” His voice breaks as he begins to sob, tears streaming down his cheeks. The sight tears through Minho’s heart like a dagger.

Kneeling in front of his son, Minho wipes away the tears with a gentle thumb, his own eyes misting over. “Oh, my little boy, I wish I could stay... But remember how we talked about Daddy’s job? How there are so many people waiting to hear our songs?” He tries to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice, hoping to sway his son’s mood.

But Minjun was unyielding. His small body trembles with sobs, each cry slicing through Minho’s resolve. “I want Daddy... no songs... stay... please…” His words are punctuated by hiccupping sobs, each plea making Minho’s heart sink more firmly to the ground.

“Minjun, I need you to be strong for Daddy now, yeah?” he asks, but his son shakes his head with a weak sound. Minho quickly finishes dressing, he could hear the distant echo of the others warming up. The show was imminent, his cue to leave fast approaching. He merely has an hour left.

“You'll join us for a last talk?” Jeongin asks, and Minho nods, scooping Minjun up and following him outside.

Chan talks them through the process once more, glancing at Minho, who's rocking his crying son in his arms. He can tell Minho is starting to get worried and stressed out by his son's discomfort. Which is bad because they need him tonight. It's the final concert of their tour, and this is important.

Minjun wails pathetically in his arms, and Minho closes his eyes in defeat for a moment, shaking his head. “Sorry, you guys keep talking,” he says, quickly leaving the room, not wanting to disturb them any longer.

Jisung watches them worriedly and glances at Chan. “You think Jiho will be okay before we start?” he asks.

“I doubt it. Min said he's having a rough day,” he shakes his head.

“Shit,” Seungmin breathes out. “We need him tonight, Channie hyung.”

“I know,” Chan nods. “We can't help much, we know how needy his baby boy gets sometimes. We can only make sure we're all ready.”

-

Minho paces through the room, gently rocking his little boy in his arms as he talks soothingly to him. His son seemed to have realized he wouldn't see him for the next two hours, which must've caused the sudden mood swings. Minho is starting to feel stressed, glancing at the clock up at the wall and realizing he'd have to be on stage in ten minutes. He should be preparing himself mentally right now, getting a moment of peace before their intense evening. But he isn't relaxed or calm at all. The sound of his son wailing in his arms is cutting through him like knives, knowing he'd have to leave him here in a bit. He knows his friends loved their little boy, but not when he was fussing around before a show, which is why he left their room a while ago. “Shh, dumpling, please,” he tries, soothingly rubbing his back. “It's okay, yeah?”

Minjun responds with another sob, his little hand clinging to his shirt. Minho's sure his stage outfit will be stained with drool and tears later, and he feels his throat tighten as his exhaustion and frustration take over for a moment. His body will be exhausted before performing after pacing for almost an hour, carrying his son, who's only growing heavier. “Please,” he whines, knowing his own distress isn't exactly calming his baby boy.

The door opens, and Changbin shoots him an apologizing look. “Min, we should leave.”

“I know, I'll be right there,” he tells him, flashing him a stressed, weak smile.

“Two minutes,” he reminds him and leaves again.

“Please stop crying, Minjun, please,” he begs, feeling tears burn in his eyes.

The two minutes are over way too soon, and Chan opens the door this time. “Min, I'm sorry. We should go,” he tells him.

“I know, okay?!” he snaps at him, his emotions getting the better of him. “I didn't choose this, Chan, but I can't just leave him here either! I can't leave him at the hotel for that long, he's too young!”

Chan lifts his hands in an attempt to show him he's not here to pick a fight. “Min, I know, I know it's shit,” he tells him soothingly. “We can start five minutes later, but you need to get ready,” he says gently, stepping closer. “Let me take him for a moment, yeah? You should change your shirt and let someone fix your hair real quick. Come here, Jiho, hm?” Minho reluctantly lets go of him and flinches heavily as the cries of his son grow louder. He looks at Chan with tears in his eyes, who gently rocks the little one in his arms. “It's okay, Minnie, go on,” he tells him kindly. “He'll be okay.”

Minho fights with himself for a moment before leaving the room. His friends look at him compassionately as he passes them, and Felix follows him into their dressing room. He takes over for their stylist, helping Minho change his shirt and gently smoothing out his hair. “Take a deep breath, yeah?” he says gently, and Minho nods, doing as he's told. “Y/n will be here in a few minutes.”

Minho frowns at him. “No, Yongbokie, it's his day off,” he shakes his head.

“He's the only one your son accepts besides you. Chan called him a bit ago,” Felix tells him and soothingly rubs his shoulders.

Chan joins them with an apologizing look and a screaming Minjun. “He started kicking,” he tells him, and Minho closes his eyes in defeat, taking him again.

“I'm sorry,” Minho says, voice quivering as it all gets a little too much to handle. “I'm so sorry. I didn't want this, not like that.”

“We know,” Chan assures him kindly. “But we also know why you decided to pull through with this.”

Minho fights back tears, shakily rubbing his temple with one hand. He's starting to get a headache, and honestly, he just wants to go back home. “But-I know it's all getting too much,” he says shakily. “He's so clingy I can't go anywhere, and he's crying as soon as I'm gone. I know how annoying it is for you all, even if you try to hide it,” he says.

“That's your own worries speaking, hyung,” Felix assures him. “We love him, and yes, days like today are rough, but we know why you do it, and we promised to support you with it.”

“It's okay, I promise,” Chan adds gently.

You rip the door open, a little out of breath from rushing up the stairs. “I'm here, sorry, there was so much traffic!” you apologize and quickly make your way over. “You guys should go,” you urge them and gently ease Minjun out of Minho's arms. “Hiii, baby,” you say softly, smiling as the little one tiredly buries his face in your neck, hiccuping your name between broken little cries. You soothingly sway from side to side, rubbing his back and talking to him calmly. Your own calm demeanor does wonders for the little boy who grows still in your arms, little hand gripping your sweater as his body's shaking. You look up and notice Chan and Felix have left, but Minho's still here, staring at the two of you in wonder. You can spot the tears in his eyes and flash him an encouraging smile. “Go on, I got him.”

“Are you sure?” he asks nervously. “I know it's your day off.”

“I like taking care of him, it doesn't feel like work,” you assure him before glancing down at the sniffling boy in your arms. “We'll have so much fun, yeah? Your daddy has to work now, but I'm here,” you tell him and gently pat his back. “You want your plushie?” you ask and earn a weak little nod. “Go,” you whisper toward Minho, who gives himself a push. “Oh, look, here it is,” you say, handing Minjun his favorite plushie.

The boy pulls the fluffy bunny to his chest and cuddles into you. As the stage door clicks shut behind Minho, leaving the bustling sounds of the backstage crew prepping for the night's performance, the room he exits from fades to a quieter atmosphere.

The walk to the stage is the longest walk of his life. Each step echoes with Minjun’s sobs, and each beat of his heart synchronizes with the distant thumps of the bass drum from the stage. Behind the curtains, the crowd's roar is deafening, a stark contrast to the quiet, tearful goodbye he had just endured. Minho takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to gather his thoughts. Jisung gently takes his hand, Chan squeezes his shoulder, and Felix straightens his jacket. Minho's eyes flutter back open as the music starts, and he tries to push everything else away. He needs to focus.

You hold Minjun closer, feeling his little heart beating against your own. His sobs begin to subside, his breath evening out as he clutches his bunny tightly. The stuffed toy seems to offer him the comfort he seeks, his tiny fingers threading through its soft fur.

You rock gently, humming a tune that you've noticed often calms him down. The melody is simple yet soothing, and as you continue, Minjun's grip relaxes. His eyes, puffy and red from crying, start to close. It’s moments like these, where the world slows down, that remind you why you cherish your role so much—not just as a caregiver but as a steady presence in this little one's life. You would've never thought you'd enjoy looking after a kid this much.

Around you, the room is scattered with signs of Minho and his friends' hurried exit. Costumes hang on racks, makeup kits are left open, and a few sheets of music flutter slightly from a nearby air vent. It's a world of glamour and chaos mixed with those quiet moments you share with Minjun.

Minho’s life, a blend of public performances and private moments like these, paints a vivid picture of the sacrifices and joys of his career. As you adjust Minjun in your arms, preparing to sit down with him until he falls asleep, you think about the pressure Minho faces. It's not just about being a performer but also being a father and a friend—balancing each role under the watchful eyes of the public and his friends.

Outside, you hear the faint sound of the crowd, a rumbling wave of excitement for the show about to start. It's a sound you've grown accustomed to, down to the lights, music, and energy that Minho will soon be enveloped in. Yet here, in the quiet room with Minjun finally drifting to sleep, the noise seems worlds away.

Your thoughts drift to Minho and the stress practically dripping off his body. You understand his dilemma. Being a parent is challenging enough without the added pressures of a demanding career. Minho's struggle to maintain a semblance of normalcy for Minjun while meeting the expectations of his career is a tightrope walk that few can comprehend fully.

As Minjun's breaths deepen, indicating he's fallen asleep, you carefully adjust him on your chest. You ensure his favorite bunny is tucked beside him and gently pull a small blanket over his little body to keep him warm.

This tranquility is what you hope to provide for Minho as well—a sense of peace amidst the storm of his responsibilities. As the caregiver, your role extends beyond just watching over Minjun. It's about offering both father and son the assurance that they are not alone in this journey, and you can tell Minho needs it more with every passing day.

With Minjun settled, you step out of the room to catch a glimpse of the show on a monitor in the hallway. Minho is on stage now, his presence magnetic, pulling the audience into his performance. The contrast between the father you saw earlier and the performer now captivating the crowd is stark. Yet, it's this duality that defines him.

As you watch, you feel a sense of pride in Minho’s resilience and determination. It reinforces your commitment to support him in any way you can. When the show ends, you know he'll return, exhausted but fulfilled, eager to hear that Minjun was fine, that in his absence, everything was okay.

This is your world as much as it is theirs—a world of late nights and lullabies, of cheers and tears. It's a delicate balance. As the crowd’s applause echoes down the hallway, blending with the soft sounds of Minjun's peaceful sleep, you smile to yourself, ready for when Minho returns, ready to reassure him that everything is indeed fine.

Minho is the first one to return, a relieved smile covering his lips as he sees his son peacefully asleep on your chest. “You're an angel,” he breathes out, collapsing on the sofa next to you and gently fondling his son’s hair. “He didn't stop crying for an hour, I was about not to perform tonight.”

“All he needed was some peace and his favorite plushie,” you chuckle softly. “Also, he was very tired from all the crying, so that probably did the trick.”

Minho laughs weakly and shakes his head. “You handle him so much better than I do.”

“It's basically my job now,” you tell him. “Also, you were stressed and freaking out. He can sense that and it probably didn't help him calm down,” you say softly. “Not that it's your fault, everyone would have been.”

Minho hums gently and studies your face for a moment. He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to express how much it means to him to be able to trust someone with his little boy. “You know what he calls his favorite plushie?”

“He didn't tell me yet,” you shake your head, frowning at him curiously.

“He calls him Y/nnie,” he says with a tired smile, watching your expression change to one of surprise and joy. “You mean a lot to him, so I'm glad you don't mind taking care of him.”

“Oh,” you nod in surprise. “That's sweet.”

“I thought you'd like to know that,” Minho hums before pushing himself up. “I should go and take a shower. I'll come get him after.”

“No rush,” you assure him kindly.

The others are quiet whenever they have to get something in the room and leave quickly. Chan quietly thanks you for getting here on such short notice and saving the day, which you wave off with a gentle smile.

Minho shuffles back inside a little later, wearing a comfy sweater and matching sweatpants. His fluffy hair falls freely around his face. He grabs his bag from a chair and fumbles for his phone to call one of their drivers.

“I can take you back, I'm driving there anyway,” you tell him, and he drops his phone back into the bag with a thankful smile. “You got everything?” you ask, and Minho nods, grabbing his glasses from the table. He puts them on, running his hand through his hair tiredly, and makes his way back over to you.

Minho reaches for Minjun, craving to hold his little boy again, and gently lifts him up. Minjun stirs in his sleep, and Minho quickly nestles him against his chest, soothingly fondling his hair.

“Daddy,” he mumbles drowsily, little hand curling up against his neck.

“I'm here, baby,” he says softly and kisses his head. “Go back to sleep.”

The sight of Minho like this, looking so soft and vulnerable with his sweet boy resting against his chest stirs something in you you can't really explain. A sudden urge to take care of both of them overwhelms you, and your eyes trace Minho's features. You know he's pretty, he's a visual for a reason and still, you're stunned by how beautiful he gets in moments like these.

The door opens, and Minho turns a little, meeting Chan's caring expression with a tired smile. “Everything alright?” he checks in, making sure Minho is okay after this rough night.

“Yeah,” Minho assures him gently. “We're okay.”

“You did well today, Min,” Chan tells him warmly and gently squeezes his shoulder.

“Thanks, hyung,” he says genuinely.

“Thank you again, Y/n, I wouldn't have called if there had been another way,” Chan apologizes again.

“I know,” you assure him. “I didn't mind, if you need me, I'm here,” you tell them and get up.

“You should get some rest. Do you need a driver?” Chan asks, and Minho gently shakes his head.

“Y/nnie said he'd take us,” he tells him, and Chan hums agreeingly.

“Alright then,” Chan nods before grabbing his own things and waving goodbye.

Minho exhales softly and shifts on his feet, feeling the intensity of the concert creeping up on him. His legs hurt, and his arms are tired, but he doesn't want to let go of him yet. If someone asked him to go to sleep right here he could without a second thought. He carefully tilts his head and his neck cracks at the movement. For a second, pain tints his features, and you frown at him.

“You're okay?” you ask gently, already grabbing your stuff and his bag.

“Mhm,” he hums, gently swaying from side to side to keep Minjun asleep. “Just exhausted…and everything hurts.”

“You definitely need some rest,” you respond gently, adjusting his bag on your shoulder. “Let’s get you both home.”

Minho nods gratefully, his gaze lingering on Minjun’s peaceful face as they follow you out of the room. The walk to the car is quiet, with only the occasional whisper of wind and the distant sound of the city at night. Once Minho settles Minjun into the car seat, he collapses into the passenger seat with a sigh of relief.

The drive is smooth and uneventful. You keep the radio off, allowing the silence to settle comfortably around you, broken only by Minjun's gentle breathing in the backseat. Minho’s head leans against the window, eyes closed, but you can tell he isn’t really asleep; he is just resting, processing the day.

“Y/nnie,” Minho finally speaks, his voice quiet in the dark car. “I really can’t thank you enough. Not just for tonight, but for everything. You’ve become… a lot more than just an assistant to us.”

Your heart warms at his words, and you glance at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “I’m glad to be here, Minho. You and Minjun mean a lot to me, too.”

A small smile tugs at Minho’s lips. “I'm lucky to have you,” he murmurs, his voice laced with fatigue. You can't help the warmth spreading through you at his words. If there's one thing you've learned in the years of working for him, then it's that he’s completely honest when he's tired.

As you reach the hotel, you help him gather everything and support him as he carefully lifts Minjun, who mumbles sleepily but doesn’t wake. Minho leans against the wall of the elevator, eyes closed as he fights falling asleep on the spot. He readjusts his grip around Minjun, burying his nose in his hair, and breathes calmly.

You search for Minho's keycard for the room and gently guide him down the hallway, opening the door for him. You stop there, and Minho turns around inside, flashing you a tired smile. “Come in for a moment?” he asks gently.

“It's fine, really,” you assure him.

“Let me at least make you some tea, please?” he asks, and you can tell he's trying to give you something back for today. You can't deny him that.

“Okay,” you nod and step inside, pulling the door closed. You follow Minho inside, and he tells you to drop his bag somewhere next to the bed.

Minho carefully puts Minjun down, tucking him in. He smooths his hair back and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight, baby,” he whispers.

Minho quickly makes you both some tea and hands you a cup. “You should get some sleep too,” you suggest as you walk towards the small living room area, where Minho has slumped onto the couch.

“Just a few minutes,” Minho says, his eyes already closing. “I’m too tired to move.”

You sit down next to him and gently ease the cup from his hands, not wanting him to burn himself by accident. “Min,” you say gently as he tilts to the side, body growing heavy against you. “You should really get some sleep.”

“Thanks for tonight, Y/nnie,” Minho whispers as you give up the fight and let him rest his head on your shoulder.

“It’s no problem, really,” you reassure him. You pause, considering your next words. “Minho, you’re doing an amazing job with him. I hope you know that.”

Minho smiles weakly. “I’m trying. It’s hard to know if I’m doing enough, you know?”

“You are. More than enough,” you tell him kindly.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation... or maybe it’s more of an apology for tonight,” Minho mumbles sleepily.

“There's no need, I promise,” you tell him, but Minho shakes his head.

“I hate that my work pulls me away from Minjun,” he starts, his voice tinged with frustration. “And nights like tonight make it all feel ten times heavier. I worry about the effect it’s having on him.”

“You’re doing the best you can,” you reassure him. “And it’s clear to everyone, especially Minjun, how much you love him. He knows, Minho, how much you care.”

Minho nods, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Y/nnie. I... sometimes I just need to hear that. It gets a bit overwhelming trying to balance everything. And tonight, seeing him so upset, I felt like I was failing him.”

“You’re not failing him,” you say firmly. “Every single time he looks at you, he does so with so much love. That’s not failure.”

Minho pulls back his head and looks at you drowsily, a sincere smile breaking through his exhaustion. “I’m really glad you’re here. Not just for Minjun, but for me too.”

“I told you the first day we met I'm here to make your life easier,” you tell him gently. “It doesn't matter if that's by planning your week or taking care of the little one.”

“He really loves you, I hope you know that,” he tells you and swallows at the joy in your eyes. “I… never mind,” he shakes his head and rubs his face tiredly, taking off his glasses. “I should get some sleep before I keep on rambling and keep you up.”

“You should,” you giggle. “I'll let myself out.”

“Goodnight, Y/nnie,” he says softly.

“Goodnight, Minho,” you say and decide it's your time to leave.

Minho drags himself to bed, crawling under the covers and joining his baby. He smiles as Minjun wakes up and crawls on his chest, getting comfortable there.

“Missed you, daddy,” he says softly.

“Missed you too, dumpling,” he says fondly and kisses his head. “Let's sleep now, yeah?” he asks, already drifting off to sleep.

“Y/nnie?” he asks.

“Y/nnie's in his room,” Minho answers and squints at him as his son shuffles off him and searches the bed. “Minjunnie,” he groans softly and turns onto his side.

His son makes a succeeding noise and shoves his little bunny into Minho's face. “Y/nnie!”

“Oh, I should've known that,” he laughs at himself before pulling him into a hug. “Come here now, yeah? Daddy's tired, baby.”

“Story?” he asks and Minho closes his eyes in defeat at the soft, tiny voice of his son.

“There once was a little boy. He was really tired, and his daddy was also very tired. They went to bed. The little boy fell asleep. The end,” he says and Minjun makes a protesting little noise.

“Stupid, daddy,” he laughs.

“Yeah, stupid,” he giggles and plants a few kisses all over his son's adorable little face.

“Story, please?” he giggles, scrunching his little nose at his father's sudden love attack.

Minho smiles, his exhaustion seeping away slightly in the joy of the moment. "Alright, my love, one story, but then it's really time to sleep," he says, adjusting himself so Minjun is comfortably nestled against his side, their heads sharing a pillow.

"Okay, daddy," Minjun agrees eagerly, his eyes wide with the anticipation of a bedtime story.

"Once upon a time," Minho begins, his voice soft and melodious, perfect for a bedtime tale, "in a faraway land, there was a brave little knight named Minjun."

"Like me!" Minjun interrupts with a giggle, his small fingers playing with Minho's hand.

"Yes, just like you," Minho confirms with a grin. "Minjun was the bravest knight in all the lands, and he had a magical friend, a dragon named Sparky."

"Dragon!" Minjun exclaims, delighted. "Does he breathe fire?"

"He does," Minho nods, "but Sparky only breathes fire when he needs to protect the kingdom. Most of the time, he's very gentle and loves to play."

Minjun listens intently, his imagination painting the scenes as his father describes them. "One day," Minho continues, "the kingdom faced great danger. A mysterious fog covered the land, making everyone feel very sleepy and lazy."

“What's fog, daddy?” he asks, his voice sounding a little sleepy by now.

“You know when it's cold, or it rains, and the air is all gray and heavy?” he asks, and Minjun nods.

“Fog is stupid,” he declares, making Minho bite back a laugh.

"So no one wanted to play or work," Minho adds, noticing Minjun's concerned frown. "Minjun and Sparky had to find the cause of the fog and save the kingdom."

"How did they do it?" Minjun asks, his voice filled with worry for the characters.

"Well," Minho says, drawing out the suspense, "they went on a grand adventure. They traveled through the Enchanted Forest, across the Silver Mountains, and finally to Crystal Lake, where the fog was thickest. They found out that the fog came from a sleeping spell by a lonely wizard who just wanted some friends," Minho explains. "Minjun offered to be the wizard's friend if he would lift the spell."

"Did he do it?" Minjun's eyes are hopeful, his small body tense with excitement.

"Yes, he did," Minho smiles. "The wizard was so happy to have a friend that he not only lifted the spell but also promised to use his magic for good. Together, they returned to the kingdom, heroes who had saved the day."

Minjun yawns, snuggling closer to his father, his eyelids heavy. "I like Minjun. He's nice," he mumbles sleepily.

"He is," Minho agrees, his voice a whisper now. "Just like you, my brave little boy."

As Minjun's breaths even out into the steady rhythm of sleep, Minho continues to hold him close. The story's end morphs into a quiet night. He lies there in the darkness, feeling the weight of his son's trust and love, anchoring him more firmly than anything else could.

In the silence of the room, with Minjun's soft snores as the only sound, Minho reflects on the day. The responsibilities of his career, the bright lights of the stage, and the cheers of the crowd—all of it fades into the background when contrasted with the peaceful, sleeping form of his son. Here, in the dim glow of the nightlight, Minho finds his truest joy.

He whispers a promise into the darkness, a vow to always return to this, to Minjun, no matter where his life takes him. "Always back to you," he murmurs, gently kissing Minjun's forehead. With that promise cradling his heart, Minho allows himself to drift off to sleep.

PART TWO

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @zehina @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @kevcanwait @queer-possum

[joifee]

Here are both my pieces for the @bdubszine !!!!! Such a great opportunity to run with it and just have fun with detail work.

I am in love with sungod bdubs and very proud of this piece with the improv class^^

Down below is some in depth talk for the first piece with bdubs and all his clocks :D

The one on his chest is a regular minecraft clock - he always carries one in his offhand. In the background his his big tower from his "building with bdubs" series. He is wearing his moss cloak. On his wirst: A clock with a horse: he loves horses. also it actually is inspired by the horse-mountain he build in season 9 of hermitcraft A purple clock with ears: a purple panda clock. He joined one mcc (minecraft championship) and one it first try on the team called purple pandas) A tnt block-clock: Season 7 of hermitcraft he had, alongside impulse and tango, a company called "the boomers" who would explode stuff with tnt for diamonds - bdubs stick was he would die in every blow up they do (there are compilations)

in his jacket: The clock looking like a ring: reference to double life. He was soul-bonded to impulse and they lowkey roleplayed as a married couple and impulse gifted him a clock as a sign or marriage. therefore it looks like a ring. it also has "i" pointers because impulse always puts "i"s on his stuff A regular alarm clock: Basically that - maybe a reference for him always sleeping through the night. The red glasses clock: reference to season 8. He, tango and keralis based together and called themself "big eyes crew" and they all wore red glasses Emerald shaped clock: season 9 as the right hand to king rendog (theres also a crown inside the shape) emeralds because rendog and bdubs wanted to change currency to royal emeralds which started a war on the server and led to rendogs execution. bdubs stayed loyal till the end "hep" clock: Season 7. He plays right hand man to mayor scar. There was a turfwar between two groups - one wanted their main island to be mycelium the other wanted it to be grass. HEP was the group who wanted grassblocks so its a grassblocked shaped clock. they lost the war clock with a snake: 3rd life reference. Inside the clock theres a castle "the crastle" which was his and cleos base in 3rd life. The snake stands for cleo. the heart is part of the logo for the traffic series (same btw count for the heart in the impulse ring) sundial: reference to the hermitcraftxempires smp crossover. bdubs came to empires smp and announced himself as "the sungod" and basically became a god and gem, oli, fwhip and sausage were his followers for the short time. the shape is after a build sausage made in his name the "B" sign: reference to last life. He was part of team B.E.S.T. and they had shields with their initials aka Bdubs, Etho, Skizzlman and Tango. The four hearts are the lifes he was given at the start of the series half tnt clock: reference to ethoslab who is his best friend on hermitcraft and they are just unnormal about each other messed up steam punk clock: reference to the create series he did with keralis, tango, scar and zedaph who unfortunatly was short lived mcc coin: the coin he got for winning mcc broken heart monitor clock: limited life. there's a heart monitor and digital clock. the clock is broken because bdubs didnt uploaded his view for limited life (at the time of drawing this piece) so we never new how much time he had left (we know now) small pocket watch with snake and wings: also limited life. he teamed up with scar (the wings) and cleo (the snake) tree clock: the tree of whimsey. one of his first builds of season 9. he crowned tango as parkour king, cub as royal magican/dragonslayer and ren as king under it

rest of the smaller clocks are filler

[beforeimdeceased]

ENTANGLED IN YOU— WHEN WILL MY LIFE BEGIN?

ways to help, daily click, do not support neil

ellie williams x reader

a/n: this actually isn’t the best but i’ll post it now and edit it later :D let me know what you think

tags: @astralnymphh

masterlist

…

once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived a castle…

okay maybe it was an abandoned apartment complex, and maybe she wasn’t a princess, but that isn’t the point of our story. our story focuses on how fate is inescapable.

“flower! let me up.” the doctor calls. you look outside of your broken bedroom window and quickly rush to the main room where there is a lever. you then, twist it with all your might. this triggers a series of reactions going downward which opens a space in the wall for the doctor to walk up.

this was a daily routine. doctor would go out and forage for supplies and food while you tidied up your “tower” as you called it. it wasn’t much but it was home and helped protect you from the outside world.

many years ago an outbreak occurred causing a sickness in the people of the world. doctor says it was terrifying to see. disfigured faces as a parasitic virus took over their minds.

but you were special.

you were born a few years later in a hospital doctor had been working in at the time. your mother had been seeing doctor for months and she was finally ready to deliver you. then suddenly, there was a break in. the infected monsters stormed through and bit your mother as you were being born. in a panic, doctor wrapped you up, ran as fast as she could until she found this abandoned building, and promised to always keep you safe.

she waited to see if the affects of the bite were passed onto you, and gratefully reveled in the fact that they did not. she still continued to watch you carefully. just in case. then, one day while cleaning up, she turned her head for a moment and you’d been scratched by an infected that had found its way inside the building.

you wailed and so did she before she realized that you were not turning. days began to pass and you still hadn’t turned. you were completely fine other than a small scratch on the back of your neck.

doctor rapidly got to work. after running various tests she used your blood to create a cure. it’s temporary against the infection, but it helps keep it from doing extensive damage. it gave those who were previously hopeless a reason to be hopeful.

she was excited about the results and prepared to share them with the world.

once she’d gotten in touch with the others in her field, they said in order to make a viable cure for everyone you would have to die, which she did not agree with.

so she rushed back to the tower, closed the doors, and swore to never let you leave out of fear that others would hurt you. even after you’d grown older. even after a cure had been fashioned years later from a mystery flower. even after the apocalypse had been declared over and it was semi safe to leave again. you would never leave. and she was confident that you’d never try to, until…

“are you excited for you birthday tomorrow, flower?” doctor asks as she walks into the lounge area. you were sat in the corner knitting a scarf out of yarn you’d fashioned from leaves. “i am actually. i’m more excited about the possibility of-“

“leaving to see the festival?” she finishes your sentence. you huff. “doctor, please. i look outside of my window and i see people laughing and lights shining just down the mountain. i know that a settlement is out there. have you still not checked it out?”

“no i haven’t checked it out and i’m not going to. i told you it’s probably fires started to control a large population of infected.” her tone is stern. she has checked already, it is a settlement.

you slump down in a chair next to her, hands clasped together. bottom lip sticking out. “please. please! atleast promise you’ll check on your next trip.”

she looks over at your face and smiles. “fine. we’re running out of supplies anyway. i’ll check on my trip tommorow, would that make you happy?”

“very.” you respond, smiling.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

a loud clanking is heard from underneath the tower followed by a string of curses. “doctor?” you call out. your heart begins to race. what if she’s hurt again and she needs help? or more of the cure? you quickly turn the knob and listen as her footsteps get closer.

then you hear her speak and it is definitely not doctor. you hide behind the entrance, a frying pan in hand as it was the closest thing to you. you watch as the woman steps up and looks around. breathing heavily with dirt all over her. before she can turn around, you knock her hard on her head.

[thevillainswhore]

Read Between The Lines

Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Summary: There shouldn’t have been anything unusual about your routine visit to the local bookstore. Your life was simple and mundane, even if you were a daydreamer at heart. But you were pleasantly surprised when this time you met a handsome stranger between the shelves.

Warnings: Pure fluff, meet cute, meddling bookstore owners, lets also pretend that walking someone home after you’ve only just met is fine 😅🤣

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne 💜 hope you enjoy your gift my love 🥰

It was an early morning in Brooklyn as you walked down the cobblestone path — a light dusting of wind had you wrapping your coat tighter around you while a chill tingled your cheeks. 

Finally, a free day marked out in your calendar meant you had the opportunity to spend some time to yourself and of course, that had to include the cutesy, tucked away bookshop — fittingly named Hidden Treasures — found in an unplanned outing; a true secret gem you held dear to your heart. 

Weekly stops to your new bookstore soon became routine in your life. A daydreamer at heart, you were always on the hunt for a new fairytale or fantasy to delve into; best friends to lovers, soulmates bound to fall in love, a bump in with a handsome stranger — a girl could dream. 

Modern dating had proven disastrous for you when plenty of first dates arranged online had turned sour fast. That embarrassment was enough to have you swear off real romance for life. 

So, you had always kept your head in your books. Yes, your days might have been a little stale. And yes, you could have used a little more excitement in your life. But, you were more than happy to stick to your safety net of fictional men — they would never disappoint you.

The chime from the store bell rang as soon as you opened the door and stepped inside. Shimmying your coat and scarf off, you hung them on the rack and sighed happily. By the counter as always was Teddy; the sweet, old man who had greeted you with a beaming smile and an enthusiastic wave since your first visit. “Morning, darlin’!”

“Good morning, Ted.” It was impossible to contain your wide grin as you stomped the dirt off your boots onto the mat, happy to see the bookstore owner and your now good friend. “I’ll catch you when I’m finished, okay?” 

As usual, Teddy gave you the go ahead with a nudge of his head to get on with your weekly haul, already expecting you to jump into your adventure of fiction and find him after. 

The feeling of being transported into another world each time never disappeared. The floor to ceiling oak bookshelves wrapped in green vines, towered over you like castles and the bumps and ridges of variously sized books you ran your hands over reminded you of their stone walls. Fairy lights were strung between the exposed wooden beams of the roof and streams of daylight casted in through the window that brightened the shop.

All your responsibilities vanished for the time being and a blissful peace clouded the stress and anxiety of the week. It was magical.

Endless coves and hideouts hid around the shop — the amount of times you had gotten lost, even in such a small space, never failed to amuse Teddy. You would always find your way back to the counter, a stack of books overflowing in your arms with a sheepish expression. You were still finding secrets to this very day. 

After idly walking around the cozy bookshop for a while with no real goal, you eventually decided to stroll towards the romance section. You were on a mission to find the next installment of the series you were currently reading, browsing from A-Z and trailing the tip of your finger along the coffee stained, worned spines.

The rustic smell you could only find between the pages of written stories were deeply breathed in as you hummed along to the calm jazz song that played from the speakers. You scoured through the endless selection until you reached exactly what you were looking for. Finger coming to a stop, you were about to carefully pluck the book from the shelf. 

Now, you believed you were a cautious person — a healthy amount of awareness of your surroundings never hurt to keep you safe. However, instinct seemed to fail you when a figure brushed your back. They were directly behind you, light on their feet and quiet. 

The tiny hairs on your arms stood up, alert with the presence close by and before you could have spun around, a thick arm stretched over the top of your head and into your vision.  

The feel of ringed fingers gently brushed against yours as they landed on the book you planned to take. You looked at both of your hands, transfixed at the difference in size between you. The staccato of your heart was sent into overdrive, thumping wildly against your chest. 

You watched in real time as the cold silver against your warm skin thrummed all the way through your body, a bolt of electricity tingling your nerves — never had you felt more alive.   

Following a path from the stranger's hands all the way up his arms, the pattern of colourful tattoos screamed out at you. Beautiful, intricate designs with immaculate detailing bursted over his olive skin and decorated his frame perfectly. 

There was no doubt this stranger heard the small gasp you let loose. But you couldn’t have helped it. Those arms taunted you — the devil on your shoulder poked its sharp tail against you and whispered delightful sins into your ear. 

Down girl. You didn't even know him yet.

“Oh!” The stranger exclaimed. “My apologies, Doll. Looks like we were reaching for the same book.” The deep voice that rumbled above caused a shiver to run down your spine — pure heaven in your ears. 

You gained the courage to turn around and look up at his face, and you were utterly mesmerised at the ocean blues staring straight into your soul, reaching into the deep valleys of guarded secrets you kept close to your heart. Everything you wanted to keep hidden started to unravel in one look. You were unsure whether you loved it or hated it.  

Your mouth fell agape as this tattooed stranger with a dreamy gaze smirked, watching you take his appearance in. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you racked your head for something to say as your eyes darted over his features — desperate to take in his beauty. 

However, you failed to realise this man had also been basking in your beauty too, obsessing over every detail of your face. You watched him slowly lick his lips, flitting his eyes up and down your figure before he summarised, “Huh — I guess you do look the type for a good romance.” 

As much as you tried to remain composed, your mind apparently had decided that was the time to throw your filter out the window. “I can’t say the same for you.” 

Your mouth instantly fell open in shock, mortified at your audacity. The embarrassment of your own awkward nature forced you to slap your hand over your mouth. 

Quick to want to rectify your mistake, you stuttered, falling over your own words as you attempted to say your apologies. “Oh my god. I didn’t— I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! Just— just with the tattoos and— and the— the um…” your words trailed off as you gawked at his nose ring in awe.

You were too busy lost in this man’s invisible spell to notice the laugh he tried to keep in. All you paid attention to was his teeth biting into his plump bottom lip. 

However, it was the sudden realisation of the position the two of you hadn’t moved from that shook you out of your haze — now hyper aware of the proximity against each of your chests. The way this walking, tatted sin on legs, plucked straight from your dreams held eye contact astounded you. Your legs were almost forced to cross over each other, to stop the flutter between them as his breath tickled your neck and the scent of mint and leather permeated your senses. 

Outwardly shaking your head to snap out of your brain fog, you stepped back to lean against the bookshelf, out of this unusual hold of a stranger so you could actually think properly. 

You undoubtedly expected him to bid you farewell, for him to take offense to your quip (rightfully so)  and never see him again — your chance flushed down the drain already due to your own inability to socialise like a human being. 

The world would be that cruel to you, you figured. To dangle the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in front of you only to rip him away because of your lack of grace. Why not after your so called luck with dating? 

So it was to your pleasant surprise that instead, this stranger wasn’t repelled by you and in fact took a step closer towards you, eyes homed onto yours intensely with a glint of mischief. “While my looks may be deceiving,” he rested his hand on the shelf beside you and leaned down to your height. “I sure don’t mind the element of surprise if it captures the attention of a pretty girl.”

The charm and the charisma that seeped from his pores had you releasing a giggle. And the delight of being the cause of that twinkle in his cerulean eyes was unlike anything else.

Testing the waters, you teased him, praying you didnt mess up the second chance you had been graciously gifted. “Do you normally pick up girls in bookstores?”

The bewitching stranger didn’t let up on his allure though. “This is actually my first time, is it obvious how bad I am at this?”

“You’re not doing so bad.” You shrugged, a smile edging its way into your face. 

“Well, thank god for that.” He dramatically clasped his hand to his heart, blowing out a breath. “I was hoping that would work because I had no more pick up lines to win you over.”

Your laughter filled the aisle. His endearing nature — just the right balance of wit and appeal — attracted you even more. 

A calm broke over the two of you as your joint amusement naturally settled. You both continued to gaze at the other before your companion introduced himself. “I’m Bucky.”

Bucky. You finally had the stranger’s name and it suited him, you figured. Hearing it gave you a warm feeling in your chest and an itch to test it on your tongue. 

“Can I have the pleasure of knowing your name too?” he asked smoothly.

The subtle cock of his head and that damned sparkle in his eye, finished off with a tongue in cheek smile almost had you giving in. Bucky was patient as the tension brewed in the air and he looked at you as though all of his problems would have been answered if he knew what to call you. 

However, a sudden defiant nature within you wanted to test him. Make him work for something so personal. “I think I’ll stick with keeping it to myself for now,” you granted him instead.

Bucky was visibly surprised with your comeback, eyes widening the slightest as he stood tall and slid his hands into his jean pockets, but the glint in his eyes told you he liked your sass — a mystery stood in front of him that he was desperate to unravel. 

“Elusive, I like it.” He cocked his hip and grinned, giving you an appreciative once over before he declared, “Doll it is then, sweetheart.” 

Your heart swooped. Like you were on a rollercoaster, about to drop from the highest point. The rush you experienced from one small interaction was addictive and you wanted more. 

“So,” Bucky said. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut and winced as a flush crept up his neck. 

Discreetly, you covered your mouth with your hand to hide the laughter lodged in your throat. You actually thought his dorkiness was adorable, but you wanted to let him suffer for a little longer. “Is that really what you’re going with?” You sniggered. “I knew you said you were out of pick up lines, big guy, but you’re scraping the barrel with that one.”  

Bucky squinted his eyes open and sighed. “I know — I know — that one was awful.” Surprisingly, he managed to pull you back in with his dreamy smile. “I swear I got better game than that.” 

“Oh really?” You challenged, crossing your arms over each other. “I don’t believe it.”

But as quick as a whistle, he retorted. “Go out with me and you’ll soon know how I could win you over.”

It was your turn to stifle the heat rising to your cheeks. There was a hopefulness in his gaze, desperately pulling you in. The hopeless romantic in you could have fallen in love with him right there and then, but you knew that wasn’t at all reasonable or realistic. 

“Okay, I’ll give you that one,” you laughed. Turning on your heels to pluck the very book that had been the cause of your bump in with your beautiful stranger, you waved the book over your shoulder, “But I think I better go pay for this.” 

“Ah, you beat me to it, Doll.” He clicked his tongue, a bout of sadness to his tone. “Would you mind if I walked with you? I’ve already got everything I hoped for.” Bucky’s eyes never left yours as he reached over the top of your head, once again trapping you, and taking a book from the shelf. 

Had your mind been any less fuzzy, you would have noticed he hadn’t even looked at which book he was reaching for, picking one at random to gently wave in the air between you, too.

You cleared your throat. “Y—yeah, of course! Not a problem whatsoever.” 

After Bucky had stepped back, he gestured for you to go first and the two of you silently walked over to the counter. You tried to discreetly glance over your shoulder, unable to resist looking at him. But your cheeks heated up when he met your gaze and winked. 

Once you reached the counter, you offered a bright smile to Teddy, who was already grinning back at you. Placing your chosen book on the wood between you for him to scan, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Just the one for you today, little one?” 

“Just the one this time, Ted.” You confirmed. 

“That’s unlike you.” Teddy hummed in thought. “Didn’t find anything else you like back there?” 

You mumbled under your breath, quiet enough that Teddy struggled to hear, “You could say that.”

Aware that Bucky was literally right behind you, you swiftly changed the subject. “How’s that husband of yours getting on anyway?”

George, said husband of Teddy, had been away for a trip overseas to collect rare editions of books on his wish list (along with a few surprise items for Teddy that you knew of) and as much as Teddy loved to keep up his beloved, bubbly personality alive in the shop, you knew he missed him deep down. The pair of them were two peas in a pod — incomplete without the other. 

So, you were shocked to see a grin crawl on his face as he scanned your book. “You can ask him yourself.”

You were confused until another figure popped their head around the doorway of the back room with a flourish. You gasped and ran towards him, throwing your arms around his neck for a hug. “George! I wasn’t expecting you back so soon!”

George rocked you side to side with a big squeeze before he held you at arms length with fondness to check you over. Your face scrunched up when he booped the tip of your nose. “Yeah well, you can’t keep me away for too long, sweetheart.” Playfully side eyeing Teddy, he brought you closer and whispered loud enough for his husband to hear him say, “Besides, someone has to keep this troublemaker in check, don’t they?” 

“Haven't got the slightest idea what you could mean, Georgie.” Teddy overheard and put on his most innocent face. You giggled into George, amused by his husband’s antics. “I’m an angel.”

Their love encompassed everything you wanted from a life partner. You longed for their banter and their care and the passionate fire that was still raging all these years later between them. 

Looking over to Bucky, you were caught off guard to find him gazing at you already, a smile on his face that slightly scrunched up his nose. 

You stepped back to the counter, heated under the spotlight just as Teddy rang you up with a price. Though, you didn’t miss the seemingly casual glance he made behind you. “Mornin’, Buck. Got any nice plans for today?” 

You frowned, surprised that they were familiar with each other. Bucky cleared his throat before he spoke from behind you, “Just a small visit here today I’m afraid, Ted.”

Teddy still continued to speak over your shoulder as he took a suspiciously long time to bag up your book. “Right,” he murmured. “No plans for the rest of the day then?” 

“Nah.” Bucky's voice rumbled at your back, as if he had taken a step closer to you. “Nothing else, unfortunately. Can’t go anywhere without a pretty date now, can I, Teds?”

Almost immediately, Teddy looked at you, a glint in his eye of excitement before he innocently offered, “I may know someone.” 

You choked, causing all three men to look at you; Teddy had a shit eating grin on his face, while George tried to hide his laughter in his hand — unsuccessfully. You could even feel Bucky’s stare locked in on you from behind. 

“Don’t you dare,” you muttered under your breath to Teddy. 

But you knew by his wicked smile your threat wouldn’t stop him from meddling. “Why don’t you walk little one home after this? Get to know each other,” he said to Bucky. 

Amazed by the man’s audacity, you scolded him. “Teddy!”

“Nonsense, girl,” Teddy rounded the counter to you and slid his arm around your shoulders, turning you towards Bucky before he continued. “Besides, you heard the boy. He needs some company and I know for a fact you’ve got no plans apart from locking yourself at home.” Teddy looked proud of himself as he shrugged. “Problem solved.” 

He wasn’t lying. Although you were a little embarrassed he would out you like that, you in fact did not have any other plans. Traitor. 

“As lovely as Bucky seems, I don’t know him, Ted.” Quickly you glanced at Bucky and shyly uttered, “I mean no offense by that.”

“Don’t worry, dollface,” he said and you just knew by the grin on his face he was about to tease you. “I think I’m used to it by now.” 

Bucky snorted at your mouth falling open in shock.  Cheeky bastard. 

“Oh, dating back in my day was so easy.” Teddy sighed. “You liked the look of someone? You speak to them. You want to get to know them? Great! Ask them out.”

You shook your head in exasperation. The complexities of modern dating weren't as simple as Teddy’s reasoning. Respectful, charming men didn’t just fall from the sky, unfortunately, and fairytales didn’t just happen. 

Looking at Bucky, you gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about him.” You threw a lighthearted glare at Teddy while you admonished him. “Someone doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut.”

Bucky waited until you looked at him and shrugged with a lopsided smile. “Eh, I don’t mind the old man so much.” Scratching the back of his head, he admitted, “Especially when he sets me up with pretty girls in bookstores.” 

Okay, maybe a few charming men fell from the sky. 

You clasped your hands together tightly, repressing the urge to squeak from giddiness.

Bucky stepped forward and placed his single book onto the counter before he offered his arm to you. “What do you say, Doll? Fancy humoring me?” 

While Bucky was still technically a stranger, Teddy knew him and one thing you were sure of was that he would never let any harm or danger come to you — you would be safe. 

Sighing lightheartedly, you stepped out of Teddy’s hold and stood before Bucky. You observed the slight bob of his Adam’s apple, taking pleasure in the small victory of his nerves and decided to put him out of his misery. “I guess you wouldn’t be the worst company on my way home.” 

Hooking your arm through Bucky’s, the glee that overtook his adorable face was worth your decision alone. He looked over to Teddy and gave him a single nod. “I'll take good care of her, Ted.”

“You better boy, because now I’m in trouble.” 

You grabbed your book from Teddy, already bagged and paid for. “Me and you will talk next time,” you warned. 

Teddy tightened his lips, hiding his laughter as he saluted you. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Rolling your eyes, you looked to Bucky, “You’re sure you don’t mind? Please don’t feel as though you have to do this.” 

But he just smiled earnestly, subtly pulling you closer towards him. “Believe me when I say I absolutely want to do this.”

Your cheeks warmed, flustered beyond belief. You were relieved as he started to usher you towards the coat rack, helping you pull your coat over your shoulders and wrapping your scarf around you.  

With a departing wave, you said goodbye to both George and Teddy as you began to exit the store. Teddy’s shout of, “Have fun kids, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” was the last thing you both heard before the door closed.

George rounded the counter, having witnessed the whole exchange and curled up to his husbands side. He squinted his eyes in suspicion. “What are you up to, mister?”

Teddy continued to watch the two of you walk into the distance out the window, both jittery, arm in arm and a joint hidden excitement to be together. He just smiled as he shrugged. “Oh, nothing much, dear.”

“Little one, huh? Very cute.”

“Oh, god,” you groaned, ducking your head in embarrassment.  

Bucky wasn’t deterred by your timidness, however as he gently nudged your shoulder and playfully whispered, “Almost suits you as much as Doll, sweetheart.” 

Your huff of breath froze over in the cold air and you looked up at him with a shy smirk before shaking your head. “You’re good, you know. The women must love this — you stealing them from their daily life and whisking them away on dates.”

Bucky just laughed before he brought you closer to him, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he said, “Oh, so you're admitting this is a date, Doll?” 

You couldn’t help gazing into his stormy blue eyes that lit up in the sunrise above you. He was carved by angels, you swore by it. 

Walking forward, you detached yourself from Bucky’s hold, letting his arm drop, and spoke over your shoulder, “Play your cards right, handsome and we’ll see what this is by the end of the walk.”

You caught the redness creeping up Bucky’s face before you turned your head forward, though you did miss his goofy fist pump in the air. 

The thud of his heavy footsteps neared as he caught up to you and you decided to play dumb when he sneakily snaked his arm through yours. 

“So, Bucky,” you began. “Since we’re still practically strangers, let’s get to know each other.” 

He quickly recovered and nodded in agreement, “Great idea, Doll. What do you wanna know?”

“Tell me what you do for work,” you said. 

Bucky cheekily smiled before asking, “Any guesses before I tell you? No offense will be taken.” 

“Wow,” you laughed. “You’re really making me work for forgiveness aren’t you?” You hummed in thought before saying aloud, “Okay, I have something.” 

He raised his eyebrow. “Hit me with it, Doll.” 

You hesitated a second before you muttered, “A drummer.”

“What?!” Bucky laughed in shock and stared at you, eyes wide. “A drummer?”

Giggling, you held your defense. “Oh, come on! You can’t blame me with the tattoos and the jewelry.” You gestured to his form before shrugging. “You just have this classic rockstar look to you — nothing wrong with that of course.” 

Bucky held his free bare hand out, red from the cold and decorated with black ink. With a smirk, he leaned over to whisper in your ear, “The tattoos doin’ it for ya, Doll?” 

His Brooklyn drawl caused a shiver to run down your spine and you lightly gasped. He chuckled, overly satisfied to have made you flustered while you attempted to keep your dignity in tact. 

You bumped his hip with yours, ignoring his laughter. Brushing his flirtations off to try and keep your composure, you asked, “What is it you do then?”

A proud smile on his face, he answered, “I’m the owner of a vintage bike shop.” 

You turned to look at him, taking in his appearance for the umpteenth time and cocked your head. “Hm… I can see that actually. You got the whole biker aesthetic going for you.” 

You were pleased to see a small dust of red coat his cheeks. “Thanks, Dolly. Got anything else for me?” he asked, squeezing your hand. 

“Do you have any family?” you asked tentatively, worried it may be a sensitive topic. 

But Bucky’s face lit up at the mention and he turned to you, resembling an excited puppy. “I have the best family, Doll. My mom—Winnie, she raised me and my sister, Becca. They’re both amazing women and—“ 

As he went on, you stared at him and admired the way he spoke about the two most important women in his life — so full of love and awe for them that you felt like you knew them yourself. Your own mother had always taught you to take notice of a way a man speaks about other women in order for you to know how he would treat you. You were happy that Bucky did not disappoint. 

Along your walk, you had learnt how Bucky had a secret passion for pottery, something that allowed him to create beauty and art from his calloused and worn hands that years of oil and mechanical work had damaged. You were also over the moon to hear he was an avid reader. Of course you knew he must have a knack for reading if you met him at a bookstore. But, his detailing of certain stories he enjoyed and quotes that had stuck with him from authors he loved had your heart melting even more. 

The two of you continued to ask questions back and forth, learning more about the other as you walked together.  

“So,” Bucky started. “Hypothetically speaking of course, since this isn’t our first date, what would your perfect one look like?” 

You looked at him from the corner of your eye, watching as his eyes suspiciously darted around — whether he was digging for key information or not was a mystery to you. But you decided to answer the question anyway. 

“I think,” you began. “I think I’d enjoy an active date — maybe like a trip to Coney Island? You know the one with the—“

“The cyclone!” Bucky said enthusiastically. “Oh man, I haven’t been there since me and Stevie were kids.” 

“A good friend I take it?” You smiled, secretly enthralled by the way his eyes lit up. 

“The best,” he nodded. “Sorry, Doll. I got a little carried away there.” Sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that was free. “Carry on.” 

“Don’t worry about it, it was cute.” you assured, before quickly clearing your throat once he started to smirk. “Anyway —  after a couple of rides and games where my date wins me a stuffed bear, a romantic little trip on the ferris wheel would be next and he would pay to stop at the top so we can see the whole of Brooklyn.” 

You feel Bucky’s stare on you as he said, “And then?” 

“Then he would walk me home and kiss me goodnight.” You finished quietly. 

“Interesting,” he mumbled. You didn’t miss the tone of his voice, one that made you skeptical of his antics. “So, kinda like I’m doing now?” 

Smartass, you thought internally. 

“Don’t be getting any ideas, Bucky,” you scolded lightheartedly. “This isn’t a first date, remember? You’re just walking me home.” 

He thinned his lips, trying to contain his smirk. “Of course, of course.” A moment passed in peaceful silence before he muttered, “There’s still time though, right?” 

Bucky ran away and out of your reach before you could land a playful whack to his arm. 

“Come on, Doll — I’m a dateless man!” he shouted. “Are you really gonna leave a poor man high and dry?” 

You scoffed, unable to contain the growing smile on your lips. “In your dreams, Bucky!” 

In hindsight, you should have known his retort wasn’t going to be anything other than cheeky — especially, with his sinful grin that made butterflies flutter in your stomach. “That you will be, Doll.” 

Beams of light from the sun, breaking through the clouds of the cold day, casted down over Bucky, creating the most heavenly glow over his features. Those ocean blue eyes that starstruck you from the very first look shone bright as ever and his piercings and rings that glistened had you entranced, wondering how they would feel against your body. 

The walk home, while not long, had given you a fair insight to this man you had met not only an hour ago. Bucky was unlike anyone you had met before — sweet but mischievous and the biggest flirt you had ever known. 

Not that you were complaining. 

The two of you were shortening the distance to your apartment. Admittedly, you felt a small ache in your chest, disappointed that the walk had to end so soon. However, the steps to your apartment that you reached signified the end of your time with him. 

Your hands twitched in anticipation. Was it inappropriate to want to see him again? Would you look desperate if you asked for a real date with him? An array of thoughts rushed through your mind until Bucky spoke over the scrambled mess in your head. “Okay. I have a confession to make.” 

You looked up, frowning to witness him twirling the rings around his fingers, dare you say looking as nervous as you felt.  

He had been making you stumble over yourself since your first bump in with his shameless flirtations and smooth moves. But now he was reduced to a man on edge. 

Intrigued, you wished for him to keep talking, curious to know the cause of his unease. “Go on,” you urged, softly.

Bucky nodded and took a deep breath. “I may have seen you. In that same bookstore. A couple of weeks ago.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing at his inability to formulate his sentences coherently. “I um—found it after wandering around one day. I was in the far corner when I saw you walk in for the first time.” 

Your mouth fell agape, and your eyes widened while you listened intently. Though the shock of his confession rendered you speechless, you were rooted to the spot, hanging onto every word he said. 

Then, he gazed straight into your eyes, stepping closer and you gulped. “I swear I had never seen someone so beautiful in my life. I couldn’t take my eyes off you, Doll.” He shook his head and laughed earnestly. “You’ve had me in a chokehold for the longest time.” 

“But— But earlier?” You tried to get the words out to explain your confusion regarding the way he acted as though you met for the first time. 

Bucky closed the distance between you, tentatively closing his hands over yours. “I’ve seen you every week, walking into that store with your bright eyes, taking in everything like it’s the first time all over again. And every week I found myself in that far corner, obsessing over you and falling for you a little more each time.” He sighed before finishing, “I’d been building up the courage to come up to you until I finally did — Today.”

You could only imagine how you must have looked — a deer in headlights most likely, about to run away. Honestly, you were floored and you weren’t quite sure your mind had caught up yet. 

Attempting to settle your nerves, you cleared your throat. “You’re telling me,” you paused. “You’re telling me you planned on reaching for the same book as me? How did you even know which one I was going for?”

Bucky looked ultimately relieved that you hadn’t slapped him across the face just yet. His fingers twitched against yours while he laughed apprehensively. “Actually, I may have had a tiny bit of help with that one.” 

The cogs turned in your head and after a while the realisation struck you from his suspicious antics this morning. “Teddy!” you gasped. 

“Guilty as charged.” Bucky sheepishly smiled. “I asked him if he thought I had a chance with you the first time I saw you and he gave me some pointers.” 

You couldn’t help the huff of laughter that spilled from your lips. The whole situation was incredulous, something that would never happen to you. 

The tension slipped from Bucky’s shoulders, but his eyes still held on to some hope. Easing his worries, you grinned. “That was brave of you.”

Confidence visibly returned to him as he cockily shrugged, lips curving into his familiar smirk. “It was a risky move to take.”

Placing your hands on his chest, over his black leather jacket, you gave Bucky a run for his money as you caught his shudder with your eagle eye and decided to play him at his own game. “Some might even say creepy.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky licked his lips and smoothed his hands over your hips. “Is that why you’re grinning like you’ve just found your future husband, Doll?”

This man, you thought to yourself. “You’re cheeky,” you replied aloud while you gripped his jacket. 

“And you like it.” He squeezed your hips.

There was hardly any distance between you; eyes glued to the others like neither of you could bear to look away. 

His eyes hooded as he joked playfully, “You gonna invite me up?” 

You smacked his chest, watching the crows feet by his eyes crinkle with amusement in the sweetest way. “I don’t put out on the first date,” you batted back. 

You weren’t prepared for the sudden shiver that rippled down your spine as he whispered, “Clever girl.” 

The charged air heightened your senses, you could feel every minute movement his fingers made, the way his thumb rubbed back and forth over your waist. 

“Can I have your name now?” Bucky disrupted the silence between you as his gaze flicked between your eyes. 

The rebellious nature from earlier had only come back tenfold. Coming within a hair's breadth away from his lips, you daringly muttered, “I’ll give it to you on our next date.”

His eyes lit up, like a kid on Christmas. “Next date?”

Pushing him away with a smirk, you held your hand out while he dazed at you longingly. “Phone,” you said confidently. 

You held in your laughter as Bucky quickly fumbled over himself, patting each of his pockets to find his mobile. Once located, he quickly slid it out of his leather jacket and into the palm of your hand. 

The glow of his screen lit up your face while Bucky tried sneaking a peek. But you shoo’d him away and carried on typing into his phone. 

Finally, you were finished and handed the phone back to him. With eagerness he grabbed it and instantly smiled with joy once he saw the screen. “Your number?” 

“Use it wisely, handsome,” you purred. Leaving him staring at you in his own haze, you walked up the steps to your apartment, a sway to your hips. You couldn’t be completely sure whether you heard Bucky stifle a choke from behind you, but you ignored it for the sake of his ego. 

Reaching the door to the lobby, you spun around on your feet and raised an eyebrow in question. “See you soon?” 

Bucky grinned from ear to ear. “Absolutely, Doll.” 

With that, you waved him goodbye and swung the door open, missing his besotted stare following you until you were out of sight. 

You raced up the stairs, holding in your excitement while you entered your apartment. As soon as your apartment door was shut behind you, you released the squeal that had been trapped in your throat while you danced on the spot. 

And at midnight, as you laid in bed thinking about Bucky, your phone chimed and you instantly grabbed with haste. The bright screen stung your eyes but once you saw who had texted you, they shot open — a thrill causing you to bite your lip and squeak.

Unknown Number: I was supposed to be asleep by 12 but you’re still on my mind. 

A few weeks later…

Teddy and his husband, George were readying the shop to open again after closing because of maintenance. The early morning was quiet yet peaceful; the only thing to be heard were the birds singing their song as the sun rose and shone into the shop windows. 

George leaned his elbow on the counter and sighed with nostalgia as he reminisced back to the beginning of their relationship. “Do you remember our first date, honey?”

Teddy spun around from his task of shelving the newly released books and smiled lovingly. “How could I forget?” 

The two gazed over the space between them, lost in their own bubble of harmony when the chime of the bell above the door snapped them out of their reverie. They both knew it was the usual time you would visit the shop, precise to a fault. 

With bright smiles, the pair looked towards the door, ready to greet you as was routine. But George gasped loudly when they found something a little extra glued to your side. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Teddy, however, kept quiet — no vocal response to be heard, only the visible large grin on his face once he caught you looking at him with a sheepish smile. 

“Well, good mornin’, little one,” he said teasingly.

You hid behind the tall frame next to you, embarrassed from being the center of attention. “Hi, Teds. Hi George,” your mousy voice spoke up. 

Easing the attention of you, Teddy glanced to your side and raised his eyebrow with a smirk. “Bucky.”

Your new boyfriend smiled and nodded his head in greeting to both men. “Good to see you, fellas.” Gently, Bucky grabbed your hand and pulled you with him as he began to lead you away. “Catch up with you shortly.”

Giggles and laughter echoed through the shop as you followed him down the closest aisle of books and away from prying eyes. 

George rounded the counter and came to his husband’s side, looking at him with a sneaking suspicion. “You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that would you, honey?”

Teddy thinned his lips, hiding his smile as he glimpsed at the two of you disappearing from his sight before getting back to shelving the books in his hand. He spoke over his shoulder, with all the innocence he could muster. “Me? Not at all, George — That’s nothing but a little bit of magic from Cupid.”

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐬, 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬 ♡

Day 31 : Trick Or Teat

【Synopsis】 : The dead of night, creatures hide. In the light of a fire, those same creatures can become more.

『Word count』 :  7.01k

-> Genre: Supernatural. Smut. Angst. Fluff.

Paring: Yungi x Reader | Seonghwa x Reader [Eventual ot8 x Reader] 

[Warnings] : Self hatred. Abusive family. toxic family. Cult-like religon. Myths and supernatural concepts. The reader is giving off Genderfluid in some parts [not me projecting whoops]. hints of sexual abuse. Blood. Gore. Dark themes. Blood drinking. Kissing. Swearing. All the boys have a corruption kink cause why not. Fingering. Seonghw has a bit of a superiority complex. Details of torture and killing people. Unprotected sex. Yunho and Mingi are little shits. Eheh

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Surprise!! This is the very first chapter and introduction to my new mini series I'll be writing. I know a lot of you have been wanting Vampire Ateez ot8x reader for a while, and I've been trying to find a good story, and i finally got one, hehe. Also, I wanted to make this fic extra long as well to say thank you for 4k followers. I still want to do an event, but I'm taking a little break first, so I hope this is okay for now.

I LOVE YOU ALL ♡♡♡

Check out the mini series masterlist -> [Here]

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List | Part Two

The Destiny Castle was filled with darkness and death. Guard dogs, the size of cows and strange beastly noises echoing in the forest surrounding. And warnings to anyone that enters the ground will never be seen again. Well, that's what the priest of your village says over time and time again. Blabbering about how god left the family that lived in the castle many centuries ago when they invited night-crawling creatures inside. Ones that drink blood and care little for the human race.

Vampires.

You sighed under your breath for the fifth or sixth time this evening as the sermon read on the large dusted book in front of him. Your hands were beginning to ache from having them clasped together for so long. Why were you even praying? It's not like you believe any of this bullshit. Yes, granted, some of it might sound true, and you had doubts on multiple occasions whether this man in the sky was, in fact, real or not. But did you really want to stick around and find out? When you die and you go to hell, so be it. You weren't scared of where you ended up. You were more scared of wasting your life away. Not finding the adventure you so desperately craved. But your picture-perfect parents with their picture-perfect kids shall have no such dreams. No such idea of living other than to tend to the market stall and be married to yet another picture-perfect family.

You felt your mother's god-awful stare as she clearly heard you sigh yet again. You hated her the most. Always finding new and improved ways to punish you for "your sins." Like rolling your eyes or talking back to a man. Or worse, not showing any signs of being a good future housewife so when she's finally ready to sell you off—oh I'm sorry, give you away—to some rich Christian suitor to be your husband. You could be the perfect version of yourself for her.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

You hated that fucking word. A loud bell chime caught your attention, signalling that Sept was finished with his blabberings for the evening. So you stood up straight, your annoyingly over-layered dress before turning on your heels to leave.

"Oh wait, Dove. Come here, please." Your mother's overfaked and sugary sweet tone rattled in your ears. The use of the nickname Dove also annoyed you. Dove, meaning white pure bird that is trapped in a golden cage. Everyone had called you that since you were born, most people in the village not even knowing your real name, only know this nickname.

Why, you may ask?

Simple, your mother hated your name. You were named after your father's mother, who she hated. But it was tradition to name your firstborn after the father's mother, so here you were. Not only were you a disappointment to your mother, but you also bore a name that resembles hatred. Lucky you.

"This is Lucas Wheeler. He's Mary and Robert's Eldest son." Your mother's voice buttered up the introduction, leaning in with an absolutely disturbingly fake smile that everyone seemed to fall for. You turned your lip slightly, making a poor attempt to smile, which your mother did not approve of. "Luca, darling, this is my daughter."

His grin was wide and overexaggerated. His tunic was buttoned all the way up to his Adams apple, looking as if it was constricting his airflow. And his hair was perfectly brushed back. He was the definition of a good pure religious boy. A book nerd. You couldn't hide your disgust as he licked his lips, eyeing you like some piece of flesh. You knew what he was hiding. That filthy lust that men seemed to only be forgiven for. He has probably dreamed about shoving his cock in every woman that passes him and he was definitely only thinking about his needs while staring at you. Not marriage, not husband duty. No, the sole idea of finally getting his little dick wet was driving him crazy. And it made you want to chuck your guts up all over his clean shoes.

"You seem to have such a um, polite daughter here, Christine. She seems shy?" Lucas's mother, Mary spoke up trying to take a look at you but you kept your face pointed to the ground. You didn’t want to be there and you weren't about to fake a smile for a family you did not need to know. you wanted nothing more than to slip away and become invisible like you always did in these types of situations. But turning twenty has now made you in the public eye. Twenty and without a husband was rare. Normally women in your village were betrothed at sixteen and married at eighteen. But you have managed to wheezle your way out of it from your parents being too worried about your younger sisters. But you’ll be twenty-one soon and your mother, Christine was becoming impatient.

“She is a shy one. Sweet too. Micheal and I have been trying to find the perfect man for her, but her shyness seems to not be a lucky charm.” Your mother battered, throwing a sweet chuckle making Lucas’s parents laugh.

“Well, how about you both come over? Bring all your kids, for dinner. I’m sure my Luca would love to get to know her.” Mary pinched Lucas’s cheek making him push away slightly.

“Yes. I’d love to know more about your daughter. I’m sure we will be able to entertain one another while you get dinner ready.” his dark words made your stomach turn and flip. Now you were definitely going to be sick.

“It’s settled then. We will see you at sundown.” Your mother bid goodbye tugging you away by your arm out of the church, not letting you go for a second. Knowing you’d just run off the first chance you got.

-

Night came quicker than you would have liked and no matter how hard to tried to slip away your mother made sure that one of your sisters was always with you, ready to shout if you tried to bail. What was this some type of house imprisonment? You didn’t want to go, that was more than clear. But your mother couldn’t care less and your father well it was ‘whatever mother says goes’. so you were alone in the more honest terms. Your brothers were too young to know any different, your sister who is only two years younger than you was a cutout of your mother. And your little sister was daddy's little girl. She didn’t care about anything but her daddy.

What a perfect family you seem to have. Everyone fitted in somewhere but you. You were the experiment. The first batch of cookies to come out of the oven that no one touches cause they were too burned or not fully cooked.

“Come on we are going to be late.” Your mother's voice rang through the house, your sister's eyes not leaving you. She had muttered something before heading for the door. You had told her you just needed to put on some garments before meeting her downstairs. She was hesitant for a moment thinking this was a plan to escape but you had said that there was no time now and what would be the point. Sensing your defeat she left you alone. Finally.

You pull on some pants under your dress, hating having to wear such feminine clothing. It wasn’t that you were against wearing dresses or lace or even frills. It was more that sometimes you wanted pants. Was that so bad? You sighed putting all the clothes your sister had pulled out for you to try on, on the end of your bed. That was later you’s problem. You noticed your book laying on your pillow making you swear under your breath. Tucking it back under the sheets you wonder if your sister saw it. You hopped not, if she saw what you wrote or worse what you drew, she’d be telling the church to burn you at the stake.

You ran down the stairs quickly, not wanting to waste any more time, hoping that if you go over and get this night over with you can come back home and hide away in your room, wishing you were anywhere other than with this family.

-

This night seemed okay as far as talking about our lord and saviour over supper was. Mary was busy finishing up the final dish, letting Lucas and your parents laugh over a blessed bottle of wine. They had sent you and Lucas away to, get to know one another and Lucas had to perfect idea to show you his barn. A place where ‘he could be himself’. God, everything he says annoys you. Climbing the old rusty ladder, you stand in an empty hay loft. Your gut felt strange, like your body was warning you of something but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Until you felt a hand grip your shoulder softly but tight enough to make you freeze.

His breath was so close, pooling on your neck. fingers were ghosting along your corset strings making tears build in your eyes. Even though he was a little boy in your mind. He was much bigger than you and he could easily take advantage of you if you didn’t play your cards right. So you had to act. “And what might we get up to here hmm…”

His chuckle sickened you. “Well, we have some time before mother calls. So I thought we get to know each other. Just like our families wanted.” he pulled away, making a grunting sound behind you. You turned slowly to see he was sitting on a blanket that had been laid out on some hay. Was this disgusting excuse of a man really thinking he could charm you into sleeping with him? God, his ego was bigger than you thought. You giggled, waltzing around the small room pretending to think but in truth, you were looking for an exit. You could go down the ladder but he’d probably grab you before getting that low. Maybe over the side onto the beams. He won't be able to get to you then. But then you’d be trapped until you eventually have to climb back over. And you know he’s the type to wait you out.

A window. Probably leads onto the roof. Not practical but if you recall you did see a bunch of hay bails just outside so if you jump you’d be able to land on them. And a broken ankle or wrist was better than….”Where is your mind wondering, baby? Do I scare you?”

Your head snaps back to him, giving him a small smile. “Oh, no…no…” You step closer, looking him deep in his eyes. “you don’t scare me…baby…” You stood right above his laying figure, his legs spread, enough for you to place a foot in between them. A grim smirk painted his unpleasant features. he went to sit up and you used this as your now or never, kicking him right in the balls without another thought. His groan was loud, knowing if it weren't for how far you were from the house. Everyone would have heard.

“You little bitch!” You ran for the window, crawling out as quickly as you could. The top of your dress got caught on a nail ripping the fabric. But you didn’t waste any time to cry about broken material, looking for the hay bails. It wasn’t as high of a jump as you thought, sliding down the straw, making some of it get caught in your dress. You could hear Lucas groaning in the distance as you started to run. Run fast and run far.

You needed to go home. Quickest route is through the forestry back towards the centre of the village before turning off from the church. Jump Mr Smith's fence and climb the vines into your room. Simple enough. But it's dark, a little too dark and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and rabid footsteps in the distance. The forest was thick. Trees tightly snug together. You almost tripped several times over branches and roots. Your heart was racing now, panting as your mind was becoming hazy. Need to get home. Need to get home.

“Ohhhh Little Dove, where are you.” Lucas’s deep sinister voice echoed through the dark forest. He was too close, you needed to stop. Hide. Maybe he’d go past you or head back. “Come out, baby. We were just having some fun.”

Quiet. Be silent. don’t move. Not a mucsle.

He called your name this time your real one making you gulp. His voice was maybe two or three trees away from where you stood. A twig snaps and you feel tears in the corners of your eyes. He was so close it was like you could still feel his breath. “Come on princess...” His hand wrapped the tree you were standing against and everything stopped. You closed your eyes thinking for a moment, trying to play thousands of scenarios of how you could get away. But nothing would work. He caught you. He danced the bend, slipping right into your view. Before you could run his hand gripped your throat making you freeze. “Don’t worry baby. I don’t bite.”

His words were short... sinister, like he had achieved his ultimate goal of capturing his prey. Your eyes widened going to spit back a comment but your words caught in your throat as you saw a figure suddenly appear behind Lucas. Tall, dark. Red eyes glowing through the night. Everything happened so quickly, the beast grasped Lucas the same way he had you, pulling him back with fright. “But I do…”

The creature's fangs pierced the disgusting man's neck making him scream out a noise that would make your blood curdle. His grip dropped from you, trying to scratch and fight off the larger figure. You took this moment to run, not even caring if the creature was going to kill him or not. All you knew was you needed to run. But you couldn’t run home anymore. There’s blood on your hands literally, Lucas’s blood splattered on you. If this wasn’t a perfect situation the priest was looking for to burn you at the stake you don’t know what is. “Hey, this way.”

You physically jump hearing a high-pitched voice cooe at you through the wind. It was a hooded figure, and normally you would of not gone with a stranger but in this case it seemed fair. You followed the person who seemed to be always a few steps ahead of you at all times no matter how hard you tried to catch up. It was only then, when you stopped focusing on the person to look around you noticed they were leading you to the castle grounds. Where myth reads vampires inhabit. That must have been what got Lucas.

A blood sucking vampire.

You stopped in your tracks not knowing to go back or forward. It’s not like vampires scared you per se. It was just. You were human and they are beasts. They would certainly eat you before you could plead your case. But one of them saved you right? That’s what it was doing? Not just finding two humans and deciding to have a late-night snack right….

“Hey over here.” The figure called for you again but when you looked up everything suddenly went black.

-

Your head was ringing. Heartbeat thumping slowly in your ears. Black splotches clouded your vision as you tried to look around. You were in a room. A Billiard room, to be exact. You have never seen a room of such a size. The bottom of your house most definitely fitting in this room alone. The leather under your fingers felt expensive, seeing the brown with bubbled texture. It was lavish, elegant—

"Beautiful, isn't it." A smooth voice swayed your attention, having caught you admiring the fine fabrics of the furniture. Your eyes locked with deep crimson ones. He was like nothing you've ever seen before. He was stunning, tall, and broad. You had to gulp at the sheer beauty of the man. But you knew he wasn't just a man. From his eyes, you knew he was a beast, a night crawler.

"Are you going to respond? Or are you more of a staring type?" Another voice scared you slightly. Looking to your left, you see another man, but he was sitting on the couch next to you. His black undercut fitted his features perfectly. He kind of sounded like the hooded figure that was helping you get away before...

"Definitely the quiet, staring type." A cheeky tone to your right. He was leaning on the pool table, his Cheshire cat grin painting his features smugly.

So there's three of them that live here?

"Now now, Woo, San. She's probably just scared." A shorter but beefier male suddenly stood next to the first one that spoke. He wasn't even looking at you, mostly paying attention to the two he called Woo and San. You were now sitting straight up, moving your gaze from each of them. As they were all in their own worlds arguing about why you might not be talking.

"You're bleeding, Tiny?" A voice growled behind you, startling you. You turned to see two very big men standing behind the couch. "When did you cut yourself?" He dragged his two fingers through your wound, making you hiss, pulling away from him.

He put one of his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes as if he were savouring the taste. Once he was done, he placed his other bloody finger in the male next to him, mouth. The other man groaned his eyes, glowing a harsher red as he stared you down. "You taste delicious, Sugar."

You went to stand, trying to get away from them, but your legs gave out, making you fall forward in front of the high-pitched boy who still sat on the other couch. "Be careful, Dollface. Don’t want ya gettin hurt."

"Okay, let's give her some space. Wooyoung, take San down to the kitchens and see if dinner is ready yet. Mingi and Yunho can go set the table." The one that stood at the door, the first man directed all the men with ease. They will followed without another word, heading for the door. "And for the love of Lillith, Jongho, can you please find your lover and Hongjoong. I think they were still cleaning up from..." He looked at you briefly. "Dealing with that disgusting human."

You knew he was talking about Lucas, and that meant this Lover boy or Hongjoong had been the one you saw ripping through Lucas's neck. They all left soon after, leaving you alone with the dominant man. You managed to sit back on the couch, but you wanted, needed to stand. So you tried your luck again, and your knees buckled, making you slip forward, but instead of making an impact with the ground, two large arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands gripped the creature's biceps, feeling his muscles taught and tense. "You do need to be careful, Darling."

Unlike Lucas's or any man, you've ever met really. These creatures don't seem to set off any of your alarms. You didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not, but you chose to brush it off, ‘cause in the end, you had never felt such kindness from anyone in the village. You were out-casted, unloved. You might as well be the witch they all wanted you to be. The kind smile that painted his features made your heart skip. He was indeed handsome. You finally spoke up saying who you were and the man looked at you with surprise before laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Seonghwa. It’s nice to meet you…”

Your name rolled off his tongue so beautifully. No one had ever used it to address you before. It was almost strange, foreign even. “Honestly you could call me anything. I was never called that name sadly.”

Seonghwa hummed in response, still holding tight on you. In truth, he knows much more about you than he leads on. When he and the others go on hunts he had found you a year ago. Ironically you were having your nineteenth birthday. On your own of course. He remembers the way you spoke to yourself, wishing yourself a happy birthday while you drew in your book. Your feet were in the cool water of the watering hole in the forestry just outside the village. You went there almost every second day. And so did he.

There was something about you that caught his eye. Caught all of the boy's eyes. You were special but none of them could put their finger on it. So of course when they found you running for your life from a disgusting man. They couldn’t stand by and let anything happen to their precious little human.

-

Dinner was quick as you just sat there and ate in silence. The others were loud though, making it seem almost normal. Like everything that was happening was something you all were used to already. Seonghwa had told you about all the boys and what all their names were. It took you a moment to put names to faces but once you got it. It was easy. Seonghwa never left your side. Making sure you were safe and comfortable. You appreciated it, understanding it must have been weird to have a human walking around. But you quickly learnt that all the maids and butlers were human. They got paid and some even lived on the estate.

Everything the village said about vampires and creatures in general was so wrong. And secretly you always wanted it to be wrong. So you were glad they weren't purely just bloodsucking beasts. But every now and then that face you saw popped into your head. You still didn’t know which one killed Lucas. And on top of it, this Hongjoong and Yeosang—Seonghwa had told you his name—were nowhere to be found.

“Okay well, sun will be up soon. Let’s get ready for bed.” Seonghwa again spoke up, dying down the chatter. It was like he took on a motherly role in the house. It was cute.

“Come Sugarcube. Yunho and I will show you to your room.” The one named Mingi flashed you a smile making you smile in response. Bidding Seonghwa goodnight or would It be morning now? Mental note to look out for a clock. The halls were lavish and carpeted, matching all the rooms you’ve seen thus far. Everything was perfect, vintage and beautiful. Yunho and Mingi had caught onto your mind wandering and had stopped for a moment, seeing how far you’d walk without them near you. You were very cute to them. Like a clueless bunny, with wide innocent eyes.

“Hey, Tiny. Your room is over here.” Yunho’s far voice snapped you out of your thoughts making you turn around to see both large men. Their arms crossed, with big grins. Your face was redder than a tomato in seconds making them both groan at how you waddle back quickly. Cute. Too cute. “This is where you’ll be saying. We’ll try and get some of your personal things tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Hongjoong had said something about grabbing some stuff while your family are out tomorrow.” Mingi rubbed the back of his neck as you slipped past both men to look into the huge spacious room. Only hours ago you were about to be married off to some pig and live on his farm until your death to now staying with not one but eight vampires.

And what was worse. You couldn’t go back. Not that you’d want to that is. But still, all your life you’ve known one thing and now… “You okay Tiny? Not the style you like? We have like ten other rooms if you want to-No it’s okay it’s just…” You cut Yunho off before taking a seat on the olive green and black silk sheets that lay on the large king bed.

“Did…Did Lucas die?” You don’t understand why you were asking about that pig but you needed to know. You needed to know would your parents found his mangled body and thought the beast that did that also killed you. Or would they think you did it? Yunho sat on his knees in front of you, placing his large hands on your thighs in a comforting manner. His smile was soft and his fingers grazing on your exposed skin was gentle.

“No. Yeosang left him alive. But he won't be wanting to live with the way he looks now.” You don’t know if Yunho’s words made you feel better or worse.

“Hongjoong helped him drag him back to that barn. His parents found him and they are looking for you at the moment.” Mingi revealed, knowing you’ll just keep asking questions so there was no reason to hide anything from you.

“Do my parents think I’m dead?” Deep down you knew they’d be happy either way. Dead, alive. Murderer or innocent. Your family would plead their sob story about the monster you were regardless of the truth.

“No…Lucas told them you ran. They think you were a part of it. Luring him out there for your vampire lover to have a meal.” Yunho felt disgusted with himself for repeating what Hongjoong had told them your parents said. But what else should they do?

“Vampire lover….hmm.” You smiled, starting to laugh. That’s what they probably thought you were sneaking off to at random hours of the day or night. Both of the men looked at one another with confusion, letting Mingi sit down next to you.

“Something funny with that Sugarcube?” Mingi’s voice was so deep, velvety. It made your core tingle and heart race. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, but still giving him a smile.

“My mother has wanted nothing but to pin some devilish thing on me and now she gets it. Something that said I did not serve the lord. Argh…” Tears ran down your cheeks “Fuck the lord. Why should I have to care what an old man did for humanity?! I just wanted to paint. Find adventure. Not marry and be a baby maker for some lowlife pig.” All your pent-up anger. All your disappointment. Every single thing you wished to say to your mother was pouring out, in front of two vampires you had only met hours ago now. It felt like a weight being pushed off your chest and you were no longer drowning. Mingi’s hand rubbed circles on your lower back making you fall into his embrace, letting him hold you while Yunho straightened up so he could hold you as well. They were beasts that could drain you in seconds yet they held you like they’ve known you for years. They listened as if they cared. They spoke as if you were the most important person in the world. why?

“There, there baby. It’s okay. You’re free now. You can do anything you want.” Yunho’s voice was quiet almost barely above a whisper. But still still heard him. You pulled away letting them still hold you but you could wipe your face. You can do anything? No one has ever said that to you.

“Well...I guess since this my first time of freedom…” You had both the vampire's attention now with your words. “I want a bath. One with lots of bubbles.” You’ve never had such a thing in your life only settling for quick showers or sharing bathing pools with your siblings. Not something lavish. Mingi laughed a deep hearty laugh. As if you couldn't get any more cute, there you went.

“I think that’s a perfect idea Sugar. We’ll get one of the maids to fix one up for you. And…” He placed his hands on either shoulder pushing you towards Yunho. Your face inches from him. Mingi inspected the wound of your shoulder blade noticing it was already closing but blood was still pooling out of it slowly. “Get this wound cleaned up…”

His tongue licked a strip upwards, following the wound. You hiccuped feeling a slight sting from him. Yunho however distracted you by giving you a kiss. Your eyes were wide and confused. He… he was kissing you. His soft lips moved slowly against yours. His tongue dipped around your bottom lip, testing the waters. Perfectly distracting you from Mingi cleaning your cut with his mouth. Your blood tasted unlike anything he had ever tasted before.

“You taste amazing… fuck.” Mingi mumbled against you while Yunho’s tongue slipped into your mouth as you groaned. Your mind was spinning like crazy, your hand finding place on Yunho biceps, digging your nails in his cold flesh.

“Y…Yuyu..” You tried to speak, finally making both men pull away, leaving you to gasp for air.

“Sorry tiny. Your lips were just too kissable not to.” Yunho chuckled licking his lips of the saliva you left behind on them. Your heart was pounding, feeling such excitement but also a tinge of fear…

“Tha… that was my first kiss..” You felt embarrassed to say so but you felt compelled to tell them. Which made both of them growl. Mingi’s fingers wrapped in your tattered dress hem while Yunho rubbed his hand over his face.

“Fuck. I was your first kiss baby?” Yunho felt so proud of himself.

“Damn Yunho the others aren't gonna be happy when they find out,” Mingi spoke as if you were no longer there.

“Wait why would the others care?” You suddenly felt small, seeing hunger in both their eyes. You had no idea what these men were planning, nor what they all wanted from you. It frightened you. But not as much as it excited you.

-

The bath was filled with bubbles, vanilla scent soap and soft music from a vinyl. You could have stayed in there for hours but when one of the maids came in to help you dress your wound you knew it was time to get out. The nice maid named Minnie had brought you some sleepwear, soft silk sleep shorts and a singlet. You have never felt such soft fabric before always getting hand-me-downs or second/third hand clothing.

“You look cute.” A gentle voice echoed from the door of your room. You hummed, blush burning your cheeks. Turning you see Seonghwa leaning against the door frame, bottom lip between his teeth as he eyed you, not even trying to hide that he was checking you out.

“Thanks…” You played with your fingers, standing there awkwardly as you watched Seonghwa close the door, slowly moving towards you. Like he was stalking you. No doubt Yunho and Mingi had run off bragging what they had done when you were busy bathing. God, if this was going to become a new normal you were going to develop a headache from your head spinning.

“I wanted to check on you.” For every step he took, you took one back, like a little dance until your back was firmly against the wall and his body almost flushed against you. “I heard Min and Yun had some fun with you.”

“I-..Yunho kissed me…Mingi he uh…” You felt so flustered, fanatically looking around the room feeling embarrassed about spilling what you had done even though you knew the two giants would have told everyone by now. He put his fingers on your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling on it slightly.

“I was kinda hoping to be the first to taste you. But then again, none of the boys tend to listen.” His eyes were hooded, looking at you with such hunger. He could feel your heart race against the pad of his thumb. He can hear your blood pumping quicker than normal. And your eyes never left his. His face inched closer, and then some. Seeing just how close he could get to you before you’d pull away but you didn’t, not even flinch. “Have you done anything like this before?”

You shook your head no slightly. “Have you ever touched yourself, Bunny?” his question made your face become redder. This was filthy, dirty, something you were supposed to be sworn away. And man did defying god feel intoxicating. You whispered no, making him close his eyes with a sigh for a moment. So innocent, so cute… So his to taint. “Do you want me to touch you, Bunny?”

“Yes…” You whisper… He tucked a piece of damp hair behind your ear making you shiver as his fingers grazed your skin. His cold tips slide along your cheek, down to your neck, before pushing gently on your man artery feeling your hot blood pump under his digits.

“I could drain you dry right now. Or fuck you full? Maybe both? Hmm?” His lips brushed against yours but not enough to seal his lips on yours. No, he wanted you to do it, he needed you to do the first move. So he knows you do in fact want it. And you gave him exactly what he wanted, leaning up to lock your lips to his. His one hand cupped your face to deepen the kiss while his other, snaked down to play with the hem of your shorts. Your legs spread instinctively, giving him access to do whatever he pleases. His wet tongue danced with you making you feel all kinds of filthy.

You had almost gotten a man killed, ran away from home. Most likely been shunned for life from your village and on top of that kissed two men that both happened to be undead creatures you only just met, while another drank from one of your open wounds. If was indeed sins, you might as well be sent down to Lillith herself on a golden platter.

“Come on Bunny, let’s get you comfortable.” He pulled away picking you up by your thighs before walking over to your bed and laying you down on the plump mattress. His lips trail down your cheeks, then your jaw until he stops at your neck for a moment rubbing his nose along your jugular. “God I can smell your blood through your soft skin.” he sighs, drawing his fangs out.

“H-Hwa p-please…” You bucked your hips against his hardening length, spreading your legs further so he could get closer if that was possible. He chuckled, darkly. Fang pressing just hard enough to pierce your skin a little bit so a few drops of blood would spill out. He licked your blood up, trying not to get any on the bed sheets. Your whimpers were music to his ears, and your taste was heavenly. Now he’s wondering how else you taste in other places. “Fuuckk.”

The feeling of his fangs and the was his fingers play with your short made your head cloudy. His hand slipped into your shorts cupping your core making you suddenly aware what was happening. His mouth finally left your neck, kissing down the exposed parts of your chest. He was worshiping every part of your body sending your skin on fire. “Such a pretty bunny. I can feel heat pooling out of you. Do you find my devilish charms that intoxicating bunny?”

You squirmed, needed more. His index finger slide along your slit making your mouth open into an ‘o’ shape. Your eyes shut tightly, finally feeling some kind of relief that you were searching for. The pleasure was new, and strange, making you feel like you were in a whole another world. Seonghwa kept whispering sweet nothings to you as he slowly pushes a finger inside your drenched cunt. It was steady at first until he found a rhythm, inching yet another finger inside making your brows knot together. His name fell from your lips on repeat like some kind of broken vinyl, he knew he could get you close to your high without much effort given you have never felt such a feeling before. And with only a few more moments you were clenching around his digits, coming underdone while he stared at you intensely, watching every one of your features move and contort in the pure ecstasy he was gifting you. “Did that feel good baby? I can make you feel even better, all you got to do is say yes.”

“Yes, please Seonghwa. Please. Make me feel like that again. I wanna feel good.” You don’t know why your mouth started spilling such filth but you couldn’t care, not when you were so close to feeling a pleasure you have only wondered about in those lewd novels Miss Smith had down the path. She had let you borrow one and it had changed your life forever. Seonghwa got to work, pulling your shirt off above your head and tugging down the rest until it slipped off your ankles in one swoop of his wrists. You were completely bare for him. He could see all the sun-kissed spots. All the scars, and beauty marks. He could see the bruises of a handprint on your collarbone and other smaller ones littering your legs and arms.

Pathetic human. Digusting pig.

Fuck, does he wish that Yeosang and Hongjoong hadn’t kept him alive now. But then again giving him a swift death would have been too merciful. No, Seonghwa would want to keep Lucas in a cell, locked away for weeks. No food, barely any water. Watching him starve. Watch him beg for death. But Seonghwa would never give it to him. Lucas would welter away in the dungeon, cold, scared, and alone. Just as you felt when you were being chased by him. Just as you felt when he had put his hands on you. Seonghwa would make him pay.

“H-Hwa…” You sat on your elbows having seen the vampire's mind wander. Was he okay? Was he second-guessing his actions? Seonghwa was quick to disregard any of your fears as he shed himself off his shirt, before sliding off the bed to pull his pants down. They dropped to the floor with an audible ‘oof’. You didn't mean for your eyes to immediately gaze down at his fully grown erection but its angry red tip had caught your attention. Seonghwa didn’t mind one bit though, he admired your body in the meantime, letting you get a good look at him while he did the same to you. “That can’t fit inside me….”

Seonghwa laughed, physically laughed at your abrupt statement. “Oh don’t worry. It will.”  he yanked one of your legs making you gasp. He stood tall at the end of your bed, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, gathering up some of your cum to use as lubricant. The whole time his eyes never left yours. He wanted to see the pleasure pooling in your eyes when he entered you inch by inch. And as you bit your bottom lip, you tried your damned hardest to keep your gaze open. “That’s it, baby. Breath…”

The stretch was painful, to say the least. Even though Seonghwa had used his fingers on you, it still wasn’t enough to fully prep you for his girth. He rubbed circles in your hips, trying to settle the pain as much as he could, noticing your fingers had entangled in the silk sheets, with your knuckles turning lightly white.

“Ffuckk, hngmm Seong.” you mumbled, finally feeling him enter you fully, his groin flush against you. He stayed still for a moment, letting you catch your breath but man was it hard. The way you clamped around him, sucked him in for more. It made him want nothing more than to pound the living shit out of you. But patience. He needed patience. And luckily out of all the boys, he owned the most patience.

“Can I move Darling?” His words were a stutter, laying with groans and sighs. You nodded your head before responding with a quick and quiet ‘please’ letting him draw his cock until only the tip was inside you then smashing back in, knocking the wind out of you. You could no longer hold yourself up, falling onto your back. Seonghwa watched as your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts and how your thighs were clamped snugly around him. You felt amazing, looked eternal. And you were finally his.

He dreamed about what your cunt might feel like wrapped around his cock. Or how might your blood taste when you are in the middle of being fucked. Firty thoughts had always seemed to riddle his mind whenever he saw you and now he could finally get the answers. But one thing is for sure. He has no idea how he is possibly going to share you with the others. When he is going to be craving you permanently.

-♥︎

[saritamanyalu]

🕸👻HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! 👻🕸 Let's start this monster party with a bloody drink with vampire Boomer!

Boomer (c) Oscar Johansson

[good-chimes]

Proposing:

Grand Unified Scarian Theory

a single, overarching Scarian romance arc across the whole Hermitcraft and Life series as well as a primer for anyone curious about the early seasons.

We start with NEIGHBOR MEET CUTE in early Season 6:

Season 6 begins in a peaceful pirate bay. SCAR, an established hermit just beginning his third season, is happily making pirate caves. Into this tranquil scene comes GRIAN.

Grian, fresh-faced and new to Hermitcraft, picks a sea-themed base location right next to Scar’s pirate caves. He gets himself set up and starts his base. Even someone like Grian can get newcomer nerves, and he spends the first few weeks desperately trying to act like a normal person instead of the horrible gremlin he really is.

(Some hermits are taken in by this. Doc and Xisuma give him pity diamonds, something that—after getting to know Grian—they noticeably never do again.)

The only person exempt from Grian’s just-a-little-birthday-boy act is Mumbo, whom Grian already knows, clearly has a puppy-crush on, and pursues relentlessly.

Grian and Scar don’t interact much at first. Grian sees Scar for the first time while passing by his base. Scar instantly falls in one of his own caves and dies.

Grian panics.

Grian: I DIDN’T DO IT!

Scar, intrigued by his new neighbor, makes some overtures of interest:

1. Scar leaves a fully enchanted trident at Grian’s base as a welcome present. This is a generous gift for the cute neighbor you have a crush on and frankly the most normal thing either of them do in the entire years-long relationship.

Grian goes ‘huh!’ at the trident, never finds out who sent it, and immediately forgets the whole thing.

2. Scar entertains Grian’s traveling-salesman pitch and buys his overpriced armor boxes.

Multiple jokes about the size of Scar’s wallet. Grian clearly pleased by the transaction.

3. Scar makes Grian a complementary in-joke build (Spongebob’s house by Squidward’s house).

This delights Grian immeasurably for five minutes until he turns back to his prank war with Mumbo.

(Poor Mumbo. Clearly immensely fond of Grian but not sure he wants to be in a relationship with a lit stick of dynamite. This is very understandable.)

By this point Scar obviously kind of clocks that Grian is insane about Mumbo. This isn’t much of a leap. The entire SERVER is aware that Grian is horribly in love with Mumbo.

Ah. That’s okay. Scar backs off a bit. He recognizes when he’s not really in with a chance.

Maybe this thing he has with Grian is just going to be a friendship, and that’s okay! Having a crush is fun even if you’re not going to do anything about it. Scar is going to build some shops about it and be normal.

Both of them are going to be very normal.

FLIRTING (First Stages) – mid-Season 6

Both of them immediately forget to be normal.

Grian has started a detective agency and has no mysteries to solve. Scar instantly invents a cookie-based mystery supervillain called the Jangler and leaves Grian a series of tantalizing cookie-based puzzles for enrichment in his enclosure.

Grian has invented a game where you kill people with rockets. Scar volunteers to get murdered. Both of them are delighted.

Scar and Cub’s business empire is incidentally crushing Grian’s startup venture. There is no reason for this to be so flirtatiously charged.

At this point all the hermits move to a new village because of the Minecraft update. Grian starts a who-can-build-the-tallest-house war with Mumbo and Iskall. Scar notices and starts doing the same from the other side of the village.

It quickly gets so wild that Mumbo taps out (Mumbo does not do well with intensity, would rather just not, thankyouverymuch), and it's only Grian, Iskall and Scar.

Scar builds a wild giant plant eating his rocketship, and then a castle in the sky, and an enormous version of himself firing a canon at Grian's house. This is the first time you can really see Grian trying to hold in shrieks when he flies back in to see what Scar has done while he's gone.

Grian’s interest has been caught. He’s gone from barely seeing Scar to checking on him regularly. What’s our good friend Scar up to? What’s Scar done? What is Scar going to do next?

FLIRTING (How To Catch Your Crush’s Interest By Building A Secret Government Facility) – late Season 6

What Scar does next is put on a snazzy military uniform, team up with Doc to steal the time machine Grian invented last week, then, in the most effort someone has EVER gone to to get Grian's attention, spend weeks on end building a fully-functional 'Area 77' military base and containment facility to stop him getting it back.

Turns out this works beyond Scar’s wildest dreams.

Grian INSTANTLY obsessed with breaking into Scar’s base and retrieving his time machine.

Grian persuades Ren into forming a hippie camp with him next to the base and spends weeks entirely fixated on Scar. Meanwhile Scar, who is starting to really understand how to get and keep Grian's attention, builds more and fancier infrastructure to keep Grian out. This is also where Grian really starts looking at Scar's art—the insane cliffs Scar has build around his new hangers—and awkwardly not quite managing words, because it would be very embarrassing to just outright say the word beautiful, and Grian’s a very normal and non-embarrassing person.

In the climax of the season, Grian-the-hippie breaks into General Scar’s base.

Nobody can say that Scar making himself a top brass general and Grian making himself an anti-establishment flower power hippie does not end up with plausibly-deniable not-making-out Grian-provoking-Scar-into-holding-him-against-a-wall.

but.

BUT.

This is Hermitcraft. It’s temporary. Scar and Grian both know it was a bit. A bit they both got super into, sure! But a bit. Not weird at all.

(“Sure, mate, not weird at all,” Mumbo says, after all of this is over. “Then why are you making it SOUND weird Mumbo you’re the WORST”)*

(“Sooo....” Cub says, and Scar says, “I know. I know!”)*

*not canon but you can't tell me it didn't happen off screen

FLIRTING (But What About…) – early Season 7

Okay, so that was weird, but Grian is definitely still in love with Mumbo. The Mumbo pursuit is going great and Mumbo definitely doesn’t look nervous whenever Grian turns up with a new idea. Grian is going to get Mumbo to fall in love with him and they will marry in the spring and have a dozen beautiful children redstone contraptions.

Grian attempts to make it more official with Mumbo. Surely they have been flirting long enough, they are ready for the next stage! This is in no way a reaction to Scar becoming a weird wizard in a way very unsettling to Grian and building the kind of wild organic tangled forest build that Grian is fascinated by but can't even begin to comprehend.

Everything is very under control in Grian's life. He's now official boyfriends with Mumbo. They live together and have a messaging system and everything.

Mumbo announces he’s moving out.

It’s-not-you-it’s-me

You’re… you’re moving out? Grian says, in the smallest possible voice.

We’ll still have the messaging system, Mumbo says, unconvincingly.

FINE, Grian says, I’m moving out TOO.

Mumbo moves out.

Grian deals with this in the healthiest possible way. He invents a mayorship and attempts to give it to Mumbo.

Grian is Mumbo’s self-appointed campaign manager so Mumbo has to be round him ALL THE TIME, it’s for the CAMPAIGN, Mumbo.

Mumbo, a man who doesn’t deal well with pressure or responsibility, is maybe not the ideal choice for mayor, something that has escaped Grian entirely.

Mumbo builds a robot and attempts to palm off all responsibility for decision-making onto it. Grian immediately calls it their son.

Grian puts his moustache all over the server.

NO other hermits support them for mayor (except Scar, from a lost bet, who Grian has continued to have intensely weird flirtations with while all this is happening)

Things reach a fever pitch. Election day arrives. Mumbo doesn’t want this actually but try telling Grian that. The entire MumboGrian edifice that Grian has obsessively and wildly build has reached an unsustainable pitch and finally comes tumbling down around them.

Mumbo votes Scar for mayor.

Grian votes Scar for mayor.

Mumbo disappears for several weeks to do some nice soothing redstone and calm down.

FLIRTING (Civil War) – late Season 7

Everything has calmed down now. Scar is mayor. Mumbo is...somewhere. Grian is going to work on his base normally.

Grian has a new project. He wants to build in the new nether biomes. He builds a huge and echoing and obsessively inverse version of his huge and echoing and obsessively symmetrical mansion base. It's very impressive. It's totally hollow. There's... no one else here.

Grian decides that okay, he is going to bring PEOPLE here.

He invites Mumbo, because he hasn't seen him in weeks. He invites Bdubs, because Grian above all loves genius. And he invites Scar. Because of course. Everything major Grian does now, Scar is an of course.

Bdubs shows up! Generously builds Grian's entire mansion interior. Mumbo shows up. Builds a tiny upside down disco shack.

Scar does not show up.

Scar is being mayor! Scar is a very busy and important man! Scar has spent the last few weeks obsessively replacing every single goddamn mycelium block in the shopping district with beautifully tailored grass and making trees whose flowers are diamonds. He's also got his own megabase going on. For once Scar has so much to do it's even enough for Scar's ambitions, which have never been small.

He does not come when Grian calls.

Grian is Not Happy.

This is the point where Grian starts a steadily more unhinged campaign of leaving Scar invitations. He makes little tailor's dummies of himself and delivers them to Scar's house. He sets up a tea party of three grians in a secret space under Scar's mayoral throne. He hangs himself in effigy on the tip of Scar's megadrill build. Normal behavior.

And then when Scar still doesn't notice, he puts a tiny bit of mycelium back on one of the streets of the shopping district.

This starts… THE MYCELIUM WARS

Scar attempts to contain the growing mycelium patch with warning tape.

Grian spreads more mushroom spores.

Scar brings in his allies to help contain the growing mushroom patches.

Grian digs out an underground rebel HQ, recruits several rebels, and declares himself Motherspore.

Mayor Scar stares into a camera and uses his most velvety baritone to proclaim he will hunt down Grian and the mycelium resistance and bring them to justice.

Grian sets loose mushroom-spreading sheep.

Mayor Scar obsessively searches for his base.

Grian and Impulse build several decoy bases and trap them.

Mayor Scar employs Mumbo to strip-mine every block of the shopping district with redstone tunnel-borers.

Eventually Deputy Mayor Bdubs, having his own thing with rebel Etho, tricks all of the resistance into ender-pearling into jail.

Scar gets to threaten to pour lava on an imprisoned Grian for ten minutes straight and they’re both enjoying this so much.

Grian: Scar! SCAR! Scar Scar Scar no Scar no Scar no listen Scar

Scar: Yes?

Grian: …Let’s take this somewhere else.

They ‘take this’ to Scar’s beautifully-appointed mayoral office. Grian sits on the arm of his chair (I don’t know what to tell you, this is on-screen canon).

Grian: So I know how to end the war.

Grian: We have to play minigames and make personal bets.

Grian: And Scar, Scar, if you lose…

Scar: Yes?

Grian: … you have to help build my base.

Entire room: [stunned silence]

Etho: Is this what it was about the whole time, Grian?

So! That happened. And the thing is, they could both mentally pass off the area 77 general/hippie stuff as Just A Fun Bit That Got Very Intense.

They can't do this with the mayor/motherspore stuff. They are basically making out on Scar’s chair. The resistance have noticed. The mayoral staff have noticed. EVERYONE has noticed.

Scar is into it. Scar is going along with it. Scar knows he’d had a crush for a long time, and he isn't scared of swimming with a huge wave, never mind where it's going to break. Scar has always embraced the rush. With Grian, you never know what’s going to happen next.

Grian has always loved being around Scar because there’s so much going on that you don’t have to think. Grian doesn’t have to think until everything’s calmed down. It's not until now that he stops and realizes… could this be… something.

(Maybe it already is.)

And then, by whatever eldritch mechanic you personally favor:

3rd life begins.

HEAD-OVER-HEELS – Third Life

In the tiny claustrophobic stripped-bare world of Third Life, Grian makes a choice. Grian thinks, for once very, very clearly: what if it wasn't a bit? What if it was real. What if Grian took every explosive piece of who he was and handed it over to someone he's—okay, he'll admit it—someone he's been obsessed with for a long time. What if that heady sparkle he's been seeing in the corner of his vision is true. What happens if you grab it with both hands?

Scar—surprised, bemused, amazed but wrong-footed—almost doesn't know what to DO with this.

Scar is so used to Grian layering all his obsession behind a thick layer of irony and drama and second-guessing and schemes. ‘Sure we can make out but only if I'm trailing mushroom spores and you're wearing that sash.’ ‘I'm only here because Mumbo's not around.’ ‘It’s not a thing.’ ‘It's not real.’

But it is real.

And, for once, Scar hears a tiny alarm go off in his brain. Scar knows Grian better than anyone else does, by now, and even he doesn't know where this ends. Grian is a force of nature and Scar has never been his unfiltered target. But Grian's throwing himself into this, throwing himself at Scar. And Scar always says 'yes.' 'Yes, and.' 'Yes, let's'. Scar never wants less of Grian. Scar has always taken what he can get.

But with that warning bell, Scar does try to keep that slight layer of dramatic distance, even in this new world where you can die and not come back, even if they don't know if they'll get out of this alive. Scar doesn't fully buy into Grian's second-in-command-devotion, he forces a space for Grian to still be the Grian he knows, some kind of safety vent (‘here's a bee on a lead’). And it could be a lot of reasons, but part of it is…Grian's head-over-heels, for once, and Scar has the unfamiliar feeling of needing to be the one to look where they're going.

Because where they're going is: the last two, all their friends dead, not knowing if there's any way to survive but knowing their friends haven't come back, and at that point Scar takes off the very last of his brakes and the very last of his reservations and says:

For everything you've done for me you can kill me.

(I want this. I want it to be you.)

This breaks Grian absolutely and completely.

And not broken in the fun way! Grian is too far in. Grian let go of Mumbo, who was safe because Mumbo never let it get too far, and he took a risk on Scar, and now Grian is discovering that he didn’t even know what risk meant. Grian is in emotional pain he never suspected existed. Grian has let himself put all his gambling chips on someone who wasn't SAFE and he has lost.

Grian has LOST SCAR and he has LOST HIMSELF and he has FOUND OUT HE CAN BE HURT and he is never going to be the fucking same again.

Scar is in the pond with Grian’s sword at his unresisting neck. And Scar is going to die, and Scar (damn him damn him) has turned it into: he's going to die for Grian. Now Grian is hurting, he's complicit, it turns out grief is an inevitable part of love and beauty, this is all it's taken for Grian's worldview to fall apart in pieces he can't pick up, and Grian has no defenses against pain so there's obviously no way to cope except to beat Scar to death in a cactus ring and jump off a cliff.

AFTERMATH – Season 8

They wake up in Hermitcraft.

They wake up in Hermitcraft! Scar is delighted to find out they just reincarnate, after all that!

Sure, they've all got some lingering trauma but Scar has never let that stop him from doing anything. Scar thought that whole thing went well! He just about dares to think...romantic...? Maybe...?

Grian is Normal to him.

Grian is so fucking normal. it's like. s6 normal.

Scar is. kind of. confused.

Grian is NOT acting like someone he had a romantic death match with.

(Grian is falling apart, but if there's one thing Grian has proved in his building it’s that he’s SO. fucking. good. at facades.)

(Don't go round the back.)

Neither of them are ready for the death game to repeat.

DIVORCE (Traumatic) – Last Life, Season 8

Second death game. Grian deals with his trauma super well by isolating Scar, stealing all his friends, tricking a life out of him, dropping his horse in lava, forcing him into an extortion death loop, then abandoning him and—just as a bonus—murdering Mumbo as well.

This time it’s Scar who comes back falling apart.

A theory that seems plausible: Scar’s old friend Cub picks him up, puts him back together, gets him on his feet. What we do know is that Cub moves in next to Boatem, where Scar is still living with Grian, and incidentally builds an enormous dripstone megabiome that is coincidentally very hostile and might murder you upon landing if you're someone who flies a lot, or happens to be a bird.

There’s a hole with an endless dark void between Scar and Grian’s Boatem bases. They built it together. It’s around this time they both keep repeatedly falling in it.

DIVORCE (But When It Was Good It Was So Good) – Season 8, Double Life

Then the moon gets big. Gets close. Gravity breaks down and that should be the end, should be a way out of this terrible spiral they're in, surely they're better without each other—

Grian turns up at Scar's base and says: Scar. Build us an escape pod.

—and Scar does.

They go out together. Both of them can feel the pull back into each other’s orbit but they’ll die if they acknowledge it. At the end of it all, the void, the protective suits, the unbearable gravity of falling into space together, of holding each other until another uncertain end. They're nowhere but they're in it together.

Is this a good time for another death game? Of course. How much worse can it get.

Double Life, and this time Scar keeps his distance. My soulmate is this allay! My soulmate is my cat! I don’t need a soulmate. Oh—it’s Grian? This whole time? Hahaha. How funny.

Grian: Soo… do you want to base together?

Scar: Do we have to?

Grian: It…might be nice…?

Scar is wary.

He has been burned.

But the pull is still there. The pull is always there. You can’t forget Grian, but you can blunt the edge of him on your skin. Scar is here to take care of these cat-pandas. Grian can do what he likes.

Cheated of Scar’s full attention, Grian tries to tempt BigB into a pale imitation of the Scarian folie à deux (BigB is a genuinely nice man who does not deserve this).

The rest of the server turn red, one by one. Grian and Scar are the last greens. BigB is audibly nervous when Grian proposes a red-green alliance, even though BigB is the red, he has the power. But Grian can’t escape the rest of the server, and the red hunt begins.

Grian and Scar, hunted—trapped at the top of flaming towers, jumping from heights, chased down like foxes at bay, crammed into boltholes with their hands over each other’s mouths, Grian shrieks and laughs and falls back on Scar and Scar catches him and they’re both as alive and elated as they’ve ever been. Scar dies once to Ren and BigB’s zombies and Grian murders both BigB and Ren in revenge (BigB was right to be nervous). Grian has another unhinged murder plan underway when he dies for the last time.

This whole time, Grian was hit in the face by remembering that when it's good, it's so good.

Scar isn’t surprised. Scar has known that forever.

Back in Hermitcraft, its not magically fixed. They’re not innocent any more. But every time Grian looks at Scar he remembers: when it’s good, it’s so good.

And Scar never forgot.

DIVORCE (We’re In Love And We’re Not Done Yet) – Season 9, Limited Life

By now we're into Season 9. They’re still alive. They always live, they always start again, and the other one is just there. Being, infuriatingly and magnetically, them.

Grian is thoroughly annoyed by Scar’s new allegiance to King Ren, but he keeps coming back to Scarland anyway. Scar, I made you an obstacle course. Scar, stand here and get squashed by this anvil. Scar if you don’t do something I’m going to start a resistance.

Grian pretends King Ren doesn’t exist and he has more important things to do, and pretends this so hard that he incidentally invents a mad science robot pulls them all through into the Empires dimension.

Scar, assuming Grian is doing his own thing, shacks up with Jimmy.

It takes Grian three weeks to notice and be shriekingly outraged.

Scar we’re doing a project. Scar you can’t spend all your time with Jimmy! Join my cult. Get in my shrinking machine. I made you an enchanted netherite bow. I need your allegiance. (Another real quote).

Scar teases Grian for weeks then instantly abandons Jimmy when the choice comes down to him or Grian.

Fourth death game—they’re used to this, now. Nothing too intense. Nothing too weird. Grian can’t help murdering Scar.

At this point, Scar is starting to read it as: I love you.

And that’s how we get to the current Scarian dynamic we know and love of you're the worst and I'm the worst and we've divorced a few time but we still like each other so fucking much.

It's been years. They've killed each other every possible way. These two characters are in love and they're not done yet.

[visenyaism]

I haven't read the main series yet and I'd love to know the lore behind Harrenhal, love see you and others post about it but I sadly don't get all of it 😭

sit down followers it’s story time. Once upon a time there was this guy named King Harren Hoare. and he was king of the iron Islands where he was from, but he decided he wanted to be king of more than that also. so he invaded the Riverlands and conquered it all which was pretty easy because they were fighting each other like they always are instead of him. but being king of two places wasn’t enough he also needed to have the biggest baddest castle in all of the land. So he rounded up a bunch of smallfolk in the nicest most central important location in the riverlands and got them to building it. In his hubris he got too into it and mixed actual human blood into the mortars of the castle. unlike other feudal castles, this one is both literally and figuratively made from peasant blood. 

but he got his castle and it is in fact the biggest in the entire seven kingdoms. It’s notable for its five huge (now wrecked) stone towers. A million men could march on that thing and slide right off. but he forgot to account for the WMD metaphor that being Aegon Targaryen and his sisters flying in on their big big dragons, wanting to conquer everything that he had previously conquered. he refused to surrender because he thought his blood castle would keep him safe and they burned him and all his sons alive in it.

Ever since then, Harrenhal is this half-burned wreck of a castle but no family has been able to hold onto without all dying for more than two generations. my fav occupant was danelle lothston, a girlknight cannibal blood witch who later got executed for bathing in too much peasant blood. in the main series, the whole thing about Harrenhal is that it was the site of this tourney that happened when the main cast were teenagers where jaime lannister got knighted, ned got a crush on a dayne maybe, and lyanna got crowned queen of love and beauty by a very married rhaegar targaryen, all of which set up their generation-defining war. Harrenhal is also this cursed deeply hunted liminal space where time seems to be a lot looser. everyone thinks it’s cursed. there are many theories as to why, including:

1) harrenhal is cursed because of harren’s hubris, which is like the hubris of the lords (usually un-landed) who get handed the castle because they think they can turn it around.

2) the harrenhal curse is an allegory for feudalism, a castle made from peasant blood that eats the grasping lords who get handed it whole.

3) the harrenhal “curse” it’s just that it’s too big to defend and it’s centrally located in the Riverlands, which is important in every single war so it just sort of gets chewed up all the time and there’s no actual magic involved.

4) the Harrenhal curse is just the fact that Aegon’s descendants (Maegor, Rhaena, Daemon, etc) do have a tendency to keep coming back to kill everyone there.

5) the Harrenhal curse is a freaky blood thing that has something to do with its blood walls and a lot to do with its weirwood and the nearby isle of faces, an old god island no mortal, has ever successfully gone to, but several people have died trying. the castle is hungry for blood. 

Ultimately it is a super important place and also this haunted torment labyrinth sometimes the author will just stick characters like daemon or jaime into if they need to be stuck in introspective agony for a while. The current lord is littlefinger so everyone manifest it comes for him soon. 

[bellaxgiornata]

Neighbors [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.6k

[Series Chapter List and Summary]

Warnings/tags: 18+; contains friends to lovers, violence, fluff, eventual smut, angst

a/n: Finally chapter one is here after that initial prologue! And so is Frank in this part! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mycobrakai1972 @stilllivindue2spite @luvr-bunnyy @pone21

Keeping your hand steady, you continued to write out the new seasonal menu on the chalkboard hanging by the coffee shop's register. Every beginning of the month you'd change the specialty lattes over to some different flavor combinations that you'd come up with which you felt were fitting for that time of year, and this morning it was time for that list to change.

You had been focused on what you were doing for the past fifteen minutes now, teeth biting down on your lip in concentration, until a noise coming from the back of the coffee shop caught your ear. Your hand momentarily paused on the ‘B’ you'd been trying to write as you attempted to decipher the sound, beginning to feel slightly on edge. Despite the fact that your shop was bright and airy inside, full of natural light from the large shop windows that allowed for the varying plants you had everywhere to thrive, you always found yourself a little nervous when you were here alone. It was always a fear of yours that something would happen–even if this was generally a friendly small town.

Turning your head, you focused on the door that led to the backroom as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. Your hand tightened around the bit of chalk you were holding, your body tensing. Seconds later you spotted Allison making her way through the doorway. Quickly relaxing at the sight of her, you felt ridiculous for having been on edge thinking it could've been anyone else.

Of course it was just Allison, you told yourself. She was on the schedule to open today.   

She sent you a smile when she saw you standing in front of the chalkboard. “Good morning, boss!” she greeted you.

“Morning, Aly,” you replied, attention returning back to the chalkboard. “Do you mind unlocking the front door so I can finish working on this?”

“Already on it!” she replied.

She made her way around the counter, grabbing your keyring from off of the top of it as she passed by. You heard her make her way over to the front door and stick the key into the lock as you finished up the second line on the seasonal menu. You lowered your hand, taking a step back and eyeing your handiwork, trying to see if the lettering looked even enough by your perfectionist standards. 

“So I went on that date last night,” Allison told you.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, head turning to the side as your eyes narrowed at the spacing of a few words. “How'd the second date go?”

Allison placed the keys back onto the counter near you before she made her way back around it. With a sigh you finally figured the second line looked perfect enough and you began to focus on starting the third line.

“Awful,” she told you. “I don't think I've endured so many awkward silences in my life. I mean, it's like he lost the ability to make small talk entirely this time!”

“Maybe he was just nervous?” you told her, focused on the ‘L’ you had begun writing. “You are a big personality after all.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Allison grab an apron from off the back wall and throw it on. Chewing on your bottom lip again, you tried to perfectly space out the next letter with the lines already written above this one. If anything was just slightly off, you knew it would bother you all month long. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Allison said with a sigh, coming to rest her forearms onto the countertop near you. “But I like my men bold and outgoing, you know that.”

You laughed lightly, nodding your head. “That I certainly do,” you agreed. “But maybe someone more subdued could ground you sometimes. Never hurts to give people a chance.”

“Speaking of giving people a chance,” Allison began, the tone of her voice causing you to stop writing and shoot her a side-eye, “when are you going to let someone take you out on a date?”

“Never,” you told her, focusing back on the chalkboard. “I like my men nonexistent. I don't have time to date, you know that, Aly. Besides, there's not a decent option in this town near my age who's still single and doesn't slog it up at The Crooked Antler most nights.”

“You do know there's a thing called the internet, right?” she asked. “That's what dating apps are for.”

“Dating apps are mostly for hook-ups, Aly,” you pointed out, focused on spelling out the word ‘lavender.’ “I'm not looking for that. Or anything. I'm busy enough with the shop and Lily right now.”

“Okay,” Allison said, drawing the word out suspiciously. “But what if you happened to meet a guy in person? Could there be someone who might change your mind?”

“Considering I don't leave this town hardly ever and I've already said there's not many prospects here,” you replied, “I find that highly unlikely.”

Out of your peripheral you saw Allison shrug, her attention fixed on the front of the shop. You continued to work on the third line of the chalkboard, knowing full well Lily would want to decorate it this morning when you finished with it.

“Well what if a really hot guy just walked into Common Grounds looking like a tree that needed to be climbed?” Allison asked casually. “Like a really, really hot guy?”

Your eyes narrowed at her, your hand hovering over the ‘E’ you'd just written. “I'd say that'd never happen and sounds like its bordering on inappropriate work talk.”

Aly rolled her eyes at you. “Only because you don't like to talk about your love life,” she said.

“Because it's not up for discussion,” you stated, turning back to the chalkboard. 

“If you say so,” she sing-songed under her breath.

Beginning to draw out the ‘R’, you heard the door to the shop open behind you. You half-expected to hear Lily’s excited voice greet you along with the cold blast of wind from the early spring morning, but instead you heard heavy footsteps making their way over to the register.

“Good morning and welcome to Common Grounds!” Aly cheerfully greeted the customer. “What can I get you today?”

“Just a large coffee,” a deep voice rumbled out. “Black.”

Finishing the letter you were working on, you couldn’t resist glancing over your shoulder at the man standing in front of the register. He was broad-shouldered under the black jacket he was wearing, his presence easily commanding the space he was in. He stood with almost perfect posture as he focused on swiping his card through the reader once Aly had read off his total. 

The slight head gesture Aly was making at the man when he wasn't looking caught your eye and your attention shifted over at her. She mouthed out ‘he's hot, get his number’ to you and you immediately shot her a pointed glare in return, shaking your head. Aly abruptly straightened back up, plastering a smile onto her face as if nothing had happened when the man looked up at her, sliding his card back into his wallet.

“Your coffee will be ready in just a minute,” she told him.

You watched as Aly turned around, beginning to work on making the man's black coffee. For a moment you stood there, silently eyeing him as he waited patiently for his drink. You had to admit, Aly was right. He was attractive. He had a chiseled profile with a prominent nose, and thick dark hair on his head that you wouldn't mind running your fingers through. A bit of dark stubble covered his jaw, accentuating his cheekbones. He even looked well-built beneath his jacket as he stood with his hands clasped at his waist in front of himself. But the more you observed him, the more you were positive that you'd never seen him in town before. Before you could stop yourself, the question was already leaving your mouth. 

“I haven't seen you in here before, are you just passing through or visiting?” you asked.

The man's full attention shifted to you at the sound of your voice. There was a faint scowl on his lips, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he briefly looked you over. A sudden self-consciousness washed over you under his gaze and the surly, unfriendly expression on his face.

“Neither,” he answered gruffly.

“I just say that because I'm usually great with remembering faces and coffee orders,” you continued, hoping to ease the awkwardness with a friendly smile, “and I don't recognize either with you.”

“Look, I'll be honest ma'am,” the man said, that dour expression never changing, “I’m not one for small talk. It's been a long week and I got a long day ahead of me. I just want some coffee.”

He took a couple of steps farther down to the end of the counter, turning his back slightly towards you and abruptly ending the conversation. Your eyes widened in disbelief at his rudeness, your eyebrows rising up onto your forehead. That wasn't common in this small town. 

Shaking your head at his back, you were about to return to your chalkboard menu when the door to your left once again opened. The sight of Lily beaming at you as she dragged your brother into the coffee shop had a smile instantly returning to your face.

“Good morning, Nini!” Lily happily greeted you. 

“Morning, coffee bean,” you greeted her back. “You ready to help me here this morning?”

Her index finger landed on her chin, tapping it lightly as she glanced up towards the ceiling as she often did when pretending to be in thought. A smile tugged at your lips as you exchanged a look with your brother. You both knew what was coming next–a pastry request.

“If I help, can I get a cinnamon sugar scone?” she asked, her eyes going wide and doe-eyed as they landed back on you.

“Of course, coffee bean,” you answered, taking a step forward and reaching a hand out to ruffle her hair. 

She giggled, beaming back up at you. Just as you were about to say something more to her, the man who'd been rude to you made his way towards the three of you congregating near the door, his large coffee in his hand. Your mouth closed again, your lips instantly thinning into a straight line along your face at the sight of him and that still grumpy expression.

“‘S'cuse me,” he muttered, head ducking down.

He slipped past the three of you, accidentally bumping into your shoulder as he headed towards the door. Your eyes narrowed at his back, watching as he made his way out of the shop and down the sidewalk. 

“Who was that?” Jaime asked curiously, a thumb gesturing over his shoulder. “He doesn't look like one of your usuals. Never seen him around here before.”

Your attention returned to your brother as you shook your head. “Don't know,” you answered. “But he sure was grumpy. Anyway,” you continued, not wishing to spend anymore thought on the stranger's rudeness, “I'll drop her back home at half-past five tonight? As usual?”

Your brother's eyes darted down to his feet, his hands slipping into his jacket pockets. He suddenly looked almost nervous.

“Is it possible you could watch her until eight?” he asked. “I've uh, pulled some strings and got some extra time at work tonight.”

Your head tilted to the side, brows knitting together. “At the Antler?”

“No uh, at work,” he answered, his eyes still avoiding yours as a hand slipped out of his pocket, awkwardly running over the back of his neck. “There's a project that is being rushed and my boss was accepting a few volunteers to work more hours to help speed things up.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, curious as to why he was acting so strange about this. “I can drop her off by eight. Maybe we can order pizza for dinner,” you said, glancing down and shooting Lily a wink.

At the mention of pizza, Lily instantly perked up. She began bouncing up and down as she clutched her stuffed husky to her chest. You smiled, your mood instantly lifted by her presence.

“Thanks, sis,” Jamie murmured. “You don't know how much I appreciate your help.”

You waved him off with a dismissive hand. “Don't worry about it, we're family,” you told him. “And I love having my little coffee bean helping me keep things running smoothly here.”

Jaime nodded, shooting you an almost sheepish smile before he turned and knelt down towards your niece. The pair of them exchanged their usual goodbyes along with a hug before Jaime made his way out of the coffee shop without another word. You watched him leave for a moment as he headed back towards his car, still curious as to why he’d seemed so off this morning. 

“So, Lily,” you began, eventually tearing your eyes away from your brother and focusing back on your niece, “why don’t you go fill that watering can in my office while I finish this sign? And then after you’ve finished watering the plants I can grab you that scone to enjoy. By the time you’re done with that I should have this month’s menu written out and you can decorate it. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, yes!” she exclaimed, excitement shining in her eyes. “I’m going to draw butterflies and bunnies and flowers on it!”

Grinning, you gestured your head towards the back door of the coffee shop. “Sounds perfect, coffee bean. Why don’t you get started with that watering can?”

Without being told twice, she darted off through the coffee shop and around the counter, disappearing through the doorway and down the hall towards the back office. Allison was smiling after her, pointing a finger in the direction she’d disappeared.

“If only someone could bottle up that energy and brew it into a coffee,” Allison joked. “I’d like five of those.”

“You and me both,” you agreed.

Heading back to the chalkboard, you tried to focus on finishing it, but you could feel Allison’s eyes on you. With a sigh you turned towards her, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly.

“What?” you asked her.

“That guy might’ve been hot, but his attitude?” she said, shaking her head and making a face. “Wow. I was not expecting that. Definitely no longer Allison-approved for you.”

You shot her a cheeky smile as you teased, “Especially because he despises small talk so much?”

Allison laughed, shaking her head. “Yes, that too. I guess it’s true when they say looks aren’t everything.”

“No, they certainly are not,” you agreed with a sigh.

Once more focusing back on the chalkboard, you began to start on the final line. You wanted it finished before the usual morning rush appeared in a few minutes. But as you were drawing an ‘R’ on the board, you heard Allison speak again and the comment she made had you botching the letter.

“Bet he’s still good in bed, though,” she said, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your face heated as a brief mental image of that man in a more intimate setting flashed through your mind, but you quickly tried to push it away. It had been far too long since you’d last been with someone and you didn’t need to start thinking about that right now.

“Alright, Aly,” you lightly scolded her. “Lily is just down the hall. Let’s keep it PG for now, alright?”

“You got it, boss,” she answered.

But you didn’t miss the tone of her voice that told you she’d noticed your reaction to her comment. Clearing your throat, you focused twice as hard on your chalkboard in silence.

Hanging up the call on your cell phone, you set it down on the small kitchen island. “So Lily,” you called out, turning around and making your way out of the kitchen and back towards the living room. “I just finished ordering us a large pepperoni pizza from Francisco’s and–”

You stopped dead in your tracks as you entered the living room at the sight before you. Both Lily and your dog Penny were perched at the front window, faces pressed to the glass and looking out of it. Presumably the pair of them were once again staring at the neighbor’s driveway–something you'd scolded her for doing a few times already now. 

“Lily, what do you think you’re doing?” you asked her, arms crossing over your chest.

Both her and Penny looked back at you simultaneously. The sight was almost laughable with how much of a pair they always made together, especially with the matching looks of guilt on their faces. You fought to keep a fairly stern expression on your own face at the sight because she’d been trying to watch the neighbor all evening ever since his truck had pulled up and she had told you that he'd been unloading it. The only way you managed to pull her away from the window for any length of time earlier was when you told her she could plate the cookies she’d made for him. Which of course turned into her picking out a leftover plate from Valentine’s Day, one that you’d used when the pair of you had baked heart cookies and handed them out to neighbors and friends the other month. You'd reluctantly helped her plate them, your embarrassment at the prospect of dropping the cookies off only growing with her plating choice. But at least she was coming with you, because there was absolutely no way in hell you’d have delivered them yourself.

“Seeing if he’s done unpacking,” Lily answered guilty. “So that we can go give him the cookies.”

“Lily, you can’t be staring at people outside,” you told her. “It’s rude and people don’t like that. Don’t be a nosey Nancy.”

“But he just grabbed the last box!” she whined, turning around towards you. “Can’t we go give him the cookies now, please ?”

Sighing, you glanced down at the watch on your wrist. It was getting late now that it was nearing six. Any later and it would be incredibly rude to go knocking on his door to drop off cookies. And if it was the last box that he’d taken out from his truck, you hopefully wouldn’t be interrupting him too much, but maybe you’d have an excuse to hand him the cookies, welcome him to the neighborhood, and then run away back to your place and hide from his reaction since he’d need to finish unpacking.

 “Alright,” you relented with a sigh. “We can go drop off the cookies.”

Lily let out a shriek of excitement before she bolted past you, tossing her stuffed husky onto the coffee table as she raced to the kitchen. Penny darted excitedly after her, her nails clacking across the wood laminate floors as she went. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you made your way over to the entry closet, pulling out shoes for you and Lily. 

When you turned around, you saw her carefully carrying the plate of cookies in both of her hands out of the kitchen, the vibrant pink and red heart pattern on the plate impossible to miss even with the plastic wrap holding the very pink and sprinkle-covered cookies in place. Internally you cringed, but the look of pride on your niece’s face had you smiling back at her instead. Because admittedly it was a very sweet gesture she’d thought of all on her own. Even if you still wished she’d just wanted to make regular chocolate chip cookies for the man instead.

It took the pair of you a couple of minutes to get your shoes on before you stepped outside onto the small front porch you shared with your neighbor. Lily walked a step ahead of you, proudly carrying the plate of cookies in her hands down the short distance between you and your neighbor’s front doors as the light waned outside. The sun was near setting behind the row of houses across the street now and it wouldn't be long before it was completely dark outside.

Inhaling a deep breath in as the pair of you came to a stop in front of the neighbor’s front door, you reached a hand out and knocked firmly three times against it. You kept internally hoping this man wasn’t about to make some sort of asshole-ish comment to your niece about the cookies, desperately hoping he was as polite and gentlemanly as Cora had made him sound. But a few moments later when the door unlocked and swung open, your eyes grew wide and the smile completely fell from your face. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs at the sight of the rude man from Common Grounds this morning standing before you. The very same one who’d refused to make small talk and then bumped into you on his way out. All your hopes of him being friendly and polite to your niece immediately disappeared, leaving you with nothing but a sinking feeling of dread.

The scowl you remembered from this morning was still on his face as his gaze landed on you first, his eyes narrowing just a fraction in something like suspicion as he scanned your face. You were still trying to figure out what the hell to say to him when Lily finally spoke up.

“Look, Nini!” she exclaimed, finally catching the man’s attention, “it’s the grumpy man from the coffee shop!”

You swore your heart stopped beating in your chest, embarrassment flooding you completely. Slowly the man’s eyes returned to you, one of his dark brows raising up onto his forehead. Swallowing hard, you’d never wished you could disappear into thin air more in your life than right now.

“Grumpy man, huh?” he asked.

An awkward laugh slipped out of you, a nervous smile sliding onto your face. “I suppose we’re all a little grumpy before our caffeine,” you awkwardly replied. Clearing your throat as his hardened stare only grew your discomfort, you quickly pressed on. “Look, we didn’t mean to disturb you, we just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Pointing to yourself, you gave him your name in a rush before gently placing a hand atop Lily’s head. “And this is my niece, Lily. She��s often with me and she was the one who wanted to bake you cookies when she heard I was getting a new neighbor. So we just–just came by to drop those off real quick.”

The man’s expression shifted slightly as he focused back down on Lily at your side. An emotion crossed his face so fast that you almost didn’t catch it, but you had. Curiously you noted he'd briefly looked pained, but then the unthinkable happened–he smiled .

“Well is that right?” he asked, crouching down to your niece’s height. “You made me cookies, sweetheart?”

“Yes, they’re heart cookies,” she told him, holding the plate out towards him. “Because heart cookies make me happy, so I thought they’d make you happy. Nini and I made them yesterday.”

He reached out, accepting the plate of cookies from her little hands so gently while the smile only widened on his mouth. As you watched the surprising interaction play out, you had to actively make sure your jaw hadn’t dropped onto the front porch floor. Because whatever you’d been expecting him to do or say in reaction to receiving those cookies had most certainly not been this.

“Did you pick out the pink frosting?” he asked her, examining the cookies.

“Yep!” Lily answered proudly. “Pink is my favorite color! And so is purple and green.”

The man glanced up from the plate in his hands at your niece, a genuine smile still on his face as he nodded. “Well those are good colors, but I think you chose well with the pink,” he told her. “And I like the sprinkles.”

“Thank you!” Lily said, beaming and twirling a little back and forth in excitement before him. “So what’s your name?”

He chuckled lightly at her enthusiasm, his focus solely on her. The unexpected and pleasant deep sound of it warmed you, especially with the sweet way he continued interacting with your niece.

“My name is Frank,” he told her. 

Lily nodded her head, still smiling her heartwarming smile at the man. The look on his face had you realizing maybe you’d completely misjudged him this morning, though you worried he wasn’t going to like you much after Lily’s initial comment about his grumpiness. Hopefully that wouldn’t make things strained between the pair of you, especially with being neighbors.

“It’s nice to meet you, Frank!” she chirped.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, too, Lily,” he told her. Gesturing his head towards the plate of cookies in his hands he added, “Thank you for these. Been awhile since anyone’s brought me baked goods.”

Lily’s eyes lit up at his words, a surprised gasp leaving her. “Well in that case,” she began, her excitement somehow increasing further, “maybe we can make you brownies next! And Nini makes the best cinnamon rolls!”

“Hey, coffee bean?” you said, quickly cutting in. 

She looked up at you, all innocent eyes and bright smiles. You sent her a tense smile in return, ignoring the way Frank’s gaze falling back on you was beginning to make you feel multiple confusing things all at once.

“Maybe we should let Frank get back to unpacking and settling in, yeah?” you suggested. “He just moved in, remember?”

The expression on her face slightly fell at your words, but she nodded slowly. In the doorway, Frank began to rise back up to his full, intimidating height. Swallowing nervously, you focused back on him, sending the tense smile on your face his way.

“Sorry to have bothered you this evening, I'm sure you're busy,” you told him. “But welcome to the neighborhood. I’m uh, just next door if you ever need anything.”

He nodded his head curtly in reply, muttering out a quiet ‘thank you.’ You gently nudged Lily’s shoulder with a hand, attempting to direct her back towards your duplex with you. But as you turned and began to make your way back home, you overheard Lily speak up one last time.

“You know,” her little voice said, “you really aren’t so grumpy after all.”

Your eyes snapped shut as you sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily pausing mid-step. Why did kids always have to say whatever was on their mind?

“No,” he agreed with a soft chuckle, “no, sweetheart, I’m not. Thank you again for the cookies and I hope you ladies have a good night now.”

Cheeks straining from the awkward smile you plastered back onto your face, you glanced at him over your shoulder, sending him a partial wave. He shook his head, laughing softly to himself before he turned and closed his front door. Lily skipped happily over to your side as the pair of you made your way back to your front door, entirely unaware of your current embarrassment.

“How much longer until the pizza gets here?” she asked.

“Soon, coffee bean,” you answered, opening your front door.

Hopefully soon enough for me to bury my face in it and forget about that awkward encounter, you thought, hurrying back into your place. Because that was uncomfortable. Hopefully we don’t run into each other all that often.

[muffinsin]

muffin! Muffin! I just saw something interesting. Babies ears are more developed by 25-26 weeks and can hear and recognize voices and sounds especially of the parents.

And I got a request if you can, can you do the sisters talking to their unborn child that is still in the womb of their female s/o and how they react when the baby kicks when they hear the sisters voice.

Oh? That’s cool, hon! :) Absolutely🙌 :)

Let’s get into it📝

Masterlists

Bela

Bela is there throughout your pregnancy, every day, day and night

She sticks to your side, helps you through everything that has happened and all that is yet to come

She understands, this is difficult for you and will do all she can to make it easier for you

And really, she is an incredible help, easing pains and satisfying cravings within minutes

But, pregnancy is not only a discomfort

The two of you find the joy in it, too

Of course, both of you look forward to your unborn child

Sometimes, the two of you like to joke around, listing names the little one might receive when they’re ready to come out

Sometimes, your little one joins in on this

Bela giggles every time her voice causes a kick. You two figure it either means the baby loves, or hates the name she proposes

Doing this turns out to be one of your favorite activities

After all, not only does it distract you from your struggles and grants her a break from work, but it also gives you both the opportunity to bond with your little one already

Often, you’re sat up in bed or on a sofa, giggling as she caresses your stomach

“How about….Mary?”, she asks, having already decided the child’s middle name to be Alcina, should it be a girl

No kick, and both of you giggle when your lover pouts

“What abouuuut, Anna?”, she asks playfully

Feeling a kick, you write it down on a list of names the two of you have collected over the past days

“What are we thinking about…ugh, please don’t give us a kick, little one…Daniela?”, Bela asks this time, sticking true to her promise to not immediately rule the name out after her sister woke both of you up in the middle of the night, insisting it would be such a perfect name for your unborn child

You laugh, holding your stomach as a series of little kicks follows

Bela is sure; it’s just because of her voices and playful tone!

Still, you note the name down

“Let’s try Susan!”

No kick, and you quickly turn Bela’s frown into a smile when you pull her in for a kiss

You both smile, whispering gentle love confessions as the little one within your stomach kicks again

Just when she’s about to try another name, you interrupt;

“What if it’s a boy?”

Bela looks shocked for a moment, as though utterly surprised at the mention of the other gender

Ah, yes, she nearly forgot about that

Giggling, she speaks; “Daniel”

Cassandra

When thinking of this particular Dimitrescu, words such as “gentle”, “loving” and “parental” don’t quite come to mind

Alas, this is exactly what the sadistic woman is with you

After all, she does not like pain she doesn’t cause you, of course

But, more importantly, she feels so very strongly towards your unborn child already

She loves them so very much already, feels so protective of them already

She loves you and your little one more than anything else

And your little one loves hers

The sound of her voice seems familiar to them already

Each time she crackles loudly as she chases her sisters or some poor maid throughout the castle, the sound echoing loudly, your little one gives a happy kick

And every time she sleeps by your stomach, her hand and face near to protect you and the baby in all cases, and small purr-like sounds come from her, the baby is blissfully calm

Almost as if they recognize their mother and feel equally calmed by the sound

When you tell Cassandra about this, she immediately takes the opportunity to spend time with you and your unborn child

Often, you need to remind her not to share battle stories

You doubt the small thing can even understand words- in fact are sure of it- but with Cassandra’s DNA…you don’t want to risk it

The two of you also uncover another thing, though:

Cassandra’s voice not only alerts the baby, but calms it, too

Often, the little one will be kicking wildly just around bedtime

It’s frustrating, somewhat painful and annoying when you’re just in need of sleep

Cassandra gets by your side immediately, stroking your hair and stomach, trying to calm the little one down

She speaks calmly, whispers gently as she talks

And it helps

The little one, despite being unable to make out what she says, quiets down at her voice and calm, quiet tone

She jokingly calls herself the baby-whisperer

Daniela

Loving as she is as a partner, you knew she would be just as sweet with your little one

Even in the womb, Daniela already is head over heels in love with the little one

She knows, she will love and care for them forever and protect them for eternity

The first time the two of you find out the baby recognizes her voice, both of you are blown away

You feel so tired, resting in bed, clutching your stomach and whining at the little kicks happening just about every time you close your eyes

You’re at your limit, it seems, whining and groaning

You’re so tired…

You smile exhaustedly as Daniela slips in bed with you, stroking along your bare stomach lovingly

“Hey, little one”, she whispers quietly

“Why don’t we let mama have some rest? Or else she’ll take it out on me”, she adds, giggling when you smack the back of her head playfully

To your surprise though, the sounds of her giggles has the little one kick

“Oh? You like that?”, Daniela coos, giggling more as more kicks follow

“You like when mama smacks me around?”, she gasps playfully, giggling when another kick comes

The two are so precious, you feel as your eyes water already

You love them so incredibly much

“I think they got that from their aunt Cassie”, Daniela whispers, giggling when another kick comes

You feel her adjust your position, allowing you to lay down comfortably

“Now, why don’t we let mama get some rest, you little stinker?”

A last kick, no more follow when Daniela stops talking

She curls up by your side instead, stroking your stomach until you fall asleep

Not wanting to draw another kick from the little one, she stays quiet

Instead, her fingertip trails against your stomach, lightly drawing out a shape

A shape of a little heart

[gnocchibabie]

Desire and Blood (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 4.7k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

A/N: You can find the previous chapters on my masterlist!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

!!! This chapter contains dialogue in High Valyrian, which will be designated by bold and italics...enjoy :)

A week had slipped away since Jaenara and her family had settled into King’s Landing. She found herself passing time by discussing plans for the upcoming coronation with her mother or entertaining little Aegon and Viserys. Occasionally, she rode out on dragonback with Baela and Rhaena, savoring the freedom of the skies above. When she was up amongst the clouds, the princess forgot all about what her life had become down below. Sitting atop Aetherion, it was as if nothing else mattered.

Yet above all, Jaenara found herself occupied with a careful dance of avoidance whenever Aemond Targaryen crossed her path. She had escaped several close calls, ducking into unoccupied rooms whenever she saw the prince at the other side of a hallway. Jaenara had often wondered to herself if she could continue to keep up this game of cat and mouse well into their marriage, but the prospect of having to constantly hide from the man who was to be her husband did sadden her. Ever so slightly. 

Currently, the princess found herself in the castle gardens walking shoulder to shoulder with Helaena. Jaenara had not had as much alone time with her aunt as she would have liked, and was eager to reconnect with the one member of the Targaryen-Hightowers she could actually stand to be around. Helaena seemed to be pleased with the company, though it was difficult for Jaenara to tell at times. Her aunt had always been a somewhat emotionally distant person, even when they were children.

“My mother tells me that the planning for Rhaenyra’s coronation is almost finished?” Helaena inquires.

Jaenara and Jacaerys had both been closely involved with the planning of their mother’s name day ceremony. The preparations had proven to be stressful, even now plaguing the princess’ mind. Temporary discomfort is a small price to pay for mother to sit the Iron Throne - Jaenara had told herself. Though, she could not say she felt the same way about the looming, permanent discomfort she would soon find herself in…

Rhaenyra had even tried to include Aegon in the ceremony planning as well. An offering for the position he had given up for his older sister. Though he had seemed less than interested, opting to disappear for hours at a time instead. Even now, Jaenara wondered where her uncle often took off to, leaving her sweet aunt and their children alone. She questioned if she would be condemned to such a fate as well - Aemond fluttering about doing gods know what while she was left to care for their babes alone. The princess decides it is best not to mull over such depressing possibilities that she may soon enough find herself in.

“Yes, her name day will be here before we know it - just a short week away. Though I find myself anxious about the festivities.” Jaenara finally responds. 

“I understand,” Helena breathes, “I am not one for crowds either.”

“Well then we must stick together until the whole ordeal is over.” Jaenara reassures her aunt. And herself.

“I would gladly,” Helaena giggles, “Though when your wedding day arrives, my brother will stand at your side, not I."

Jaenara sighed - another formality she had been dreading heavily. She’d venture to guess that the moment her mother’s name day passes, planning for the wedding will begin immediately. The princess knew that her scarcity of interactions with Aemond would not last for much longer. Not if either of their mothers could help it. 

Jaenara felt she had little to discuss with her betrothed. What else was there to say?

Helaena came to a halt, bending down to pick up a large, green beetle. Jaenara winced - she had never been one for bugs, save for the pretty butterflies she had often chased with her aunt in their youth. She watched as the beetle began to travel up Helaena’s arm. Jaenara found that Helaena looked serene, her blonde-white hair picked up by the breeze and a content smile on her lips. The princess decides to take advantage of the peaceful moment to ask her aunt a troubled question.

“What is it like? Being married, that is.” Jaenara’s face grows serious.

Helaena removes the beetle from her forearm with a gentle touch and places it on a leaf below.

“It doesn’t really feel like anything,” She says, though her aunt does not sound particularly bothered by the dreary thought, “Aegon does not pay me much mind. Save for the times we have…done our duty.”

Jaenara clears her throat awkwardly.

“So, I suppose it is not so bad. I am free to do as I please. As he is. Though I think Aemond will make a better lover.” Helaena finishes. Jaenara looks at her aunt as if she has three heads and scoffs. She looks back at the princess with a coy look on her face.

“What a terrifying thought.” Jaenara sounds defeated as the two women resume their walk. A calm silence passes over them once again, as does the gentle breeze.  

Helaena looks as though someone is speaking to her and finds herself gazing up at the sky for a moment - and then to her niece.

She smiles, as if the clouds have told her a secret.

— — —

On the far side of the Red Keep, The One Eyed Prince begins to lay the groundwork of his plan to put his soon-to-be wife on the Iron Throne. Aemond has decided he must get in the good graces of his family - especially Jacaerys - if he is to carry out familicide without raising any suspicion that he had a hand in it. Something easier said than done, Aemond knows. Any amount of decency he could afford the heir and his brother would be met with scrutiny. A few kind words will not undo years of victimization dealt on both sides. 

Aemond clenches his jaw as he searches for his nephews throughout the grounds of the Red Keep. Locating them had proven to be challenging, though not as much as finding their sister. Aemond knew that Jaenara had been purposefully avoiding him. One evening, he had even caught sight of her ducking into her mother’s chambers when he had turned a corner, entering the same hallway as her. Her elusion frustrated the prince. If he could not speak to the princess and build up a rapport with her, then she would assuredly be the first to point her finger at him when news of Jace’s murder came about.  

Just when Aemond is about to give up entirely, he spots Jacaerys and Lucerys in the training yard, wooden swords in hand. Aemond lurks back for a moment, watching them practice their drills. Their moves are quick and calculated, proving that his nephews had become even more skilled fighters during their time away from the Red Keep. Though their moves had a certain unrefined quality to them. Aemond finally moves from his spot, drawing nearer to the princes. Lucerys spots him first and mumbles a curse under his breath, as hid older brother turns to meet Aemond’s eyes. Aemond smirks at the boys, and he can tell it takes all of Jace’s strength not to throw down his play sword and saunter off. 

The prince stands tall over his nephews, to hide the uneasiness he feels about approaching them. He’s pulled his long, sleek hair into a bun. His own sword, a practice blade worn smooth from countless hours of swinging, hung loose at his side

The air is tense around the group and a short silence hangs over them. Clanking of wood and metal and grunts fills the yard as the princes all stare at each other.

Aemond finally clears his throat and breaks the quiet.

"You're both too cautious," he remarks in a voice that carries authority but also a hint of patience. "Don't overthink your strikes. Let them flow naturally. It's about instinct as much as it is about technique."

Jacaerys narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You must think of us as fools, uncle. Why would we listen to you? You do not practice the habit of fighting honorably - Luke and I’ve both seen that.”

And what would you know about fighting honorably? Aemond remarks to himself.

Where is the honor in gouging out a boy’s eye? 

He inhales a deep breath to calm his rising frustration.

Lucerys, ever the more reserved of the two, held his ground but watched Aemond with a cautious curiosity.

Aemond knows he should not make the jest, but before he can stop himself, the words fall from his smug mouth.

“Fools? No - I only see two Strong boys before me.” 

Both of the brother’s harden their gaze. This time, Jacaerys does take off, with Luke trailing behind.

Fuck.

“But!” Aemond is quick to add to his lecture, desperate to keep the boys where they are, “Honor in battle is not always as straightforward as the songs would have it. There are times when survival demands unconventional measures.”

“And how,” Jace has stopped and turned to face his uncle once more, “would you know anything of a real battle?”

“You forget I train with Ser Criston Cole.” “You forget we trained with Daemon Targaryen.”

Aemond chooses to bite back another remark about how - despite training with one of the realm’s most formidable soldiers, the brother’s still lacked the necessary knowledge and skills.

Instead, he walks back towards their place in the yard and motions for the Velaryons to follow him. Jace stares at him a moment, lets out an exaggerated huff and mutters, “Come on, Luke.”

At their return, Aemond demonstrates a quick feint, his movements precise. “You’re signaling your intent with your movements, Jacaerys. And Lucerys, you hesitate before every strike. Be bold, but calculated. Like this," he continued, demonstrating a fluid series of strikes and blocks. Luke, with a touch of reservation, takes up a fighting stance in front of his older brother.

Aemond nodded approvingly. "Let's try it again. And this time, don't hold back."

For the remainder of the afternoon, Aemond guided them through drills and techniques, offering pointers in between bouts. Slowly, the initial wariness between the boys and the Targaryen prince faded, replaced by a grudging respect for his skill and knowledge.

When the sun had begun to dip into the horizon, the three young heirs sheathed their swords. Aemond found a rare smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. He did not find any joy in the times he sparred with Aegon, which had been few and far between lately. His brother had no real interest in learning and bettering his skills. And Criston Cole was becoming predictable - through no fault of his own. Aemond simply had no one else to spar with that was anywhere near his level. He found unexpected fulfillment in teaching his nephews.

Jace finally deposits his wooden sword with the others in the training yard, Luke following suit. 

With a huff and an expression that makes the prince seem physically pained he tells his uncle, “Well. That was rather…I did not think I’d ever see the day where you would give us any kind of genuine advice. Nevertheless, I am…grateful for your counsel uncle.” 

“Yes. Thank you, Aemond.” Lucerys adds curtly.

Aemond gives them a nod as acknowledgment.

Naive fools.

With that, Jace and Luke begin their journey back into the Red Keep. Aemond watches the boys stride away side by side. He almost resigns himself to turning in for the day, when a thought suddenly enters his mind. 

“Do you know where I might find your sister?” He calls after them. 

Jace remains silent continuing his walk. Aemond rolls his eyes.

She has sworn them to secrecy.

Lucerys seems to take some sort of pity on his uncle after their shared afternoon - much to the dismay of Jace, “I think she spoke of spending time in the gardens…” the younger brother’s sentence trails off when he sees the look Jacaerys gives him. 

Aemond nods gratefully, though no one sees it, and sets off towards the gardens, his mind already racing. He knew spending time with Jaenara was another crucial part of his plan he needed to begin sowing the seeds for. As much as she may detest it.

The believed that if he could convincingly pretend to be infatuated with his niece, to the extent that she truly believed his feelings were genuine, it might help divert suspicion away from him regarding her brother’s eventual murder. She may even come to defend him, when the time comes. Though this would prove to be a challenge.

“You can expect a union that does not harbor any illusions of love” Aemond’s own words from her first evening back at King’s Landing echoed in his mind.

Aemond lets out a frustrated groan and picks up his pace.

When he reaches the gardens, Aemond finds Jaenara and his sister seated on a weathered stone bench in deep discourse, while their ladies-in-waiting linger nearby, amusing themselves.

The distant laughter of the two maidens surprises Aemond and stirs a hint of a smile on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time his sister had laughed so freely. It was then, he realized, he had never heard Jaenara genuinely laugh. Everything she let out in his presence was nothing more that a scoff or dry laugh. This, he thought, was a nice change of pace. Happiness suited her.

I should leave them. Aemond’s resolve falters for a moment, and he pivots for a swift and silent retreat. Yet, his sister catches sight of him before he can vanish.

"Aemond!" Helaena's voice rings out, compelling him to sigh and reluctantly turn back to face them.

Helaena's eyes glint with mischief as she waves a hand, beckoning him over. Meanwhile, the fleeting smile on Jaenara's face vanishes, replaced by an indifferent gaze.

"Aemond," his sister greets again, her tone laced with curiosity. "Where have you been?"

"Just sparring with your brothers," Aemond replies, his gaze drifting towards Jaenara.

The surprise in Jaenara's eyes is evident and impossible to conceal.

"With Jace and Luke?" she questions, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You seem…unscathed. I trust the same can be said for my brothers?"

"It was just a training session - nothing if not civil. I only meant to give them a bit of advice," Aemond responds, a smirk playing upon his lips.

Helaena suddenly springs to her feet. "I don’t believe you two have had many opportunities to speak as of late. I will leave you to catch up" she suggests, a faraway look on her face. "I must attend to the children." Her lady-in-waiting follows closely behind as she departs.

Jaenara starts to rise, offering to assist, but Helaena insists she stay. Aemond can't help but conceal his amusement at Jaenara’s desperate state.

The princess exhales sharply and resumes her promenade through the gardens, without so much as a glance over her shoulder at Aemond. With a huff, he follows behind her, as her lady-in-waiting mirrors.

The prince wishes he could dismiss the attendant, wishing for a moment alone with Jaenara to speak without restraint. 

He thinks of another solution.

Aemond peers down at his niece and lets High Valyrian fall freely from his lips.

“You have been avoiding me.” 

Jaenara does not remove her eyes from the path in front of her.

“You have not sought me out.” She retorts, her tone cool and collected. Aemond lights up. He had not expected his niece to be fluent in their mother tongue, and hearing her voice enunciate the ancient words caused something unknown inside of him to stir. 

“I am now,” he replies evenly, “ And I have to say, I had not expected you to be so fluent in Valyrian. Not even my brother speaks it so well. That idiot can barely piece together a single sentence.” 

Jaenara laughs, “I am a Targaryen. Every Targaryen should speak their language. Understand their history.”

Aemond nods, “Something we can agree on, niece. Though I have to say, you speak it better than I thought a-”

“Then a bastard would?” Her words are laced with a bittersweet acknowledgment that catches Aemond off guard. His niece had never spoken the truth of her parentage in front of him - or anyone for that matter. In truth, Aemond found him unsettled from her acquiescence. Though he understood the only reason she dared to acknowledge the truth now, is because no one around them had a clue what she was saying. 

“You’re not laughing, uncle. Very unlike you - you who never passes up an opportunity to remind me of my blood.” Jaenara still seemed unfazed, her attention drifting to a cluster of blue irises at their feet. She bends gracefully to touch the silky petals, and Aemond finds himself captivated by the way her dark hair spills like a cascade of black silk over the blossoms. He clears his throat.

“You are to be my…ābrazȳrys (wife). I no longer wish to humiliate you over things out of your control, such as your parentage.” Aemond’s voice is steady and controlled, betraying his inner turmoil over making such remarks.

Jaenara lets out a laugh, though it sounds hollow. Much unlike the laughter she had shared with his sister. Her lady-in-waiting shifts uncomfortably behind them. “Actions speak louder than words, Aemond.” The princess rises from her spot amongst the flowers, turning to face her betrothed.

Aemond is filled with a stubborn determination at hearing her challenge, and takes a few steps towards her - until he can feel his niece’s breath fan over him. He stares down at her, and finds that he enjoys how she does not shrink under his gaze.

“Pār nyke jāhor gaomagon.” - Then I will act.

Jaenara laughs again, but it is quickly put to an end.

“I do not know why you laugh, Jaenara. I am being sincere.” His gaze is hard. 

She considers his words for a moment, and turns back to the garden path. The princess returns to the common tongue. 

"Come along, it is growing darker," Jaenara says, her voice carrying a hint of finality as she resumes their journey along the garden path. Aemond follows silently, his mind still processing the weight of their conversation. The sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the estate grounds, while a cool evening breeze stirs the leaves of ancient trees. When the couple finally reach the stone archways and paths of the Red Keep, Aemond speaks up once more. 

“You will have breakfast with me. Tomorrow” It is not a question, though his tone remains soft..

“I will?” Jaenara asks, an eyebrow raised in defiance.

“This is me taking action.” He offers her a wry smile.

Jaenara exhales and looks to her handmaiden, who skillfully avoids her gaze. “Fine. I will see you in the morning” She stomps off to her chambers, lady-in-waiting trailing behind. The princess does not get to see the small, honest smile that settles on Aemond’s lips. 

— — —

Early the next morning, Jaenara awakes to a polite knock on her chamber door. Alora, her lady-in-waiting, entered cautiously, offering a sheepish greeting. "Good morning, Your Grace."

The princess rubbed her eyes wearily and yawned. "Good morning, Alora. And please, call me Jaenara when it is just us. No need for formality in the privacy of these chambers." she replied with a tired attempt at a smile.

"Oh! Yes, my lady—I mean, Jaenara," Alora stumbled over her words, feeling conflicted over addressing a princess so casually. "Um... Aemond - the prince - sent me to assist you with dressing. He wishes to have breakfast with you?" She sounds uncertain.

Jaenara sighed lightly and pushed herself to her feet. "Very well. Let's not keep him waiting," she said, giving Alora a reassuring glance.

Alora deftly combs out Jaenara's long, ebony hair, swiftly braiding half of it and letting the rest fall down her back. As the princess gradually awakened, she engaged in light conversation with the younger girl, easing her nerves. 

With gentle assistance, Alora helped Jaenara into a splendid dress—its upper half a deep shade of black, its lower half a rich crimson. The sleeves were wrought with golden embroidery. Once satisfied with her handiwork, Alora guided Jaenara to the dining room, where Aemond awaited their arrival.

“Thank you, Alora. I think that will be all for now.” The princess smiles at her lady, dismissing her. Jaenara hesitantly pulls out a chair across from Aemond.

“Good morning.” She offers. An honest attempt at niceties. 

Aemond hums, sounding pleased. “Good morning.”

It remains quiet for a while, as the two begin to serve themselves and take a few bites of the breakfast that has been prepared. The prince steals glances at his niece, observing how her dark curls frame her face. Watching her spoon her food gracefully. Noting how her dress clings to her.

At last, Aemond ventured to break the quiet. “That dress suits you well.”

The princess pauses her cutting of a sausage. Jaenara had not expected to hear that kind of comment so early in the morning. And no less from Aemond of all people. She narrows her eyes at him.

“What?” She asks, as if offended.

Aemond pauses, mid-bite. “I only meant it as a compliment. The Targaryen colors agree with you.” 

Jaenara continues with her meal, deciding that pretending as though she had not heard her uncle was the best course of action.

Why did he say that? Does he mean to mock me?

The prince breaks the silence once more, wanting to change the subject. "I hear your mother's name day preparations have been finalized."

Jaenara swallows a mouthful of food and clears her throat. “Um…yes. I believe so. Everything should be in place by now. The ceremony will be in…five days? I believe.”

"My mother seems unusually eager for the occasion," Aemond remarked. "She and Rhaenyra have been quite chatty lately."

“You’ve noticed too?”

“It is hard not to.” Aemond admitted.

Jaenara shrugs, “True enough. Well, they seem happier anyway.”

Aemond only hums in agreement. “My mother, although…she seems to be even more excited about the wedding than the coronation ceremony.”

Jaenara sputtered on the ale served alongside their meal.

A smug grin spread across the prince's face.

“Oh? Is that so?” She asks as nonchalantly as she can. 

“Oh yes,” Aemond sounds amused, “I hear her and Rhaenyra have taken to planning a few things.”

"What!?" Now Jaenara could not hide her surprise. Her outburst drew the attention of nearby servants, and Aemond grinned at her fluttering.

“Um - I only meant. I had not known they were already planning the ceremony.” She finished, dabbing a napkin to the corners of her mouth.

“Well someone has to. We certainly have not spoken about it.” Aemond remarks.

Jaenara almost feels guilty. She searches Aemond’s eyes for any indication of regret or sadness over their lack of time together. 

“Well then…what would you like to discuss about it?” The princess makes an attempt to turn to the matter.

Aemond considers the question. “What kind of cake would you like?”

Jaenara lets out a true laugh at that, catching Aemond off guard.

“If I must tell you,” She says while catching her breath, “I am fond of lemon pastries.”

Aemond makes a noise of agreement. He recalls that her mother favors the sweets as well. “Then we shall have them.”

Jaenara looks up from her meal and the couple lock eyes. She stares intently into his, trying to decipher his unreadable expression. 

What are you doing, uncle? She is left to wonder. Jaenara feels a crack begin to form in the walls she had put up to keep Aemond out. But the fracture is filled as quickly as it appears when she considers that Aemond is simply playing his part. Putting up a charade. The princess looks at the man before her, and can only seem to remember the cruelties that he has dealt. Her heart hardens.

"Why do you care?" she questioned, her tone accusatory. Despite their heartfelt conversation in the garden the day before, Jaenara only continued in her struggle to believe in her uncle's sincerity.

“Because I want to care.” Aemond is taken aback, though he makes an effort to sound earnest.

The princess scoffs and takes a swig of ale. She rises to her feet.

“I am full.” she declares, signaling an end to the meal and perhaps to their conversation. Jaenara stands and walks the length of the table, drawing near to the door but coming close to Aemond.

That strikes a chord within the prince, “You are about as stubborn as a damn mule,” he mutters under his breath.

The retort is not lost upon the princess’ ears. Jaenara spun around abruptly, facing her uncle where he was currently still seated. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed incredulously.

"Damn it," Aemond whispered to himself, closing his eyes briefly. 

“And here I thought you were being truthful yesterday when you said you no longer meant to belittle me.” She bites.

Some unseen force compelled Aemond onward. He reached out and gently but firmly grasped his niece's wrist.

"I only meant..." He struggled to find the right words. "Gods, you're infuriating."

Jaenara felt a stirring within her at his touch, but she pushed the sensation aside, focusing instead on his words. "I’m infuriating?" 

Now, Aemond raises his voice. “Yes! Infuriating. I am making a sincere effort to get to know you, and I am met with nothing but resistance. There is nothing we can do to change the marriage we will soon find ourselves in,” He rises from his chair, hand still gripped around Jaenara, “but I am making a sincere attempt to make it more bearable. For you.”

A part of Aemond understood that his words were primarily to uphold a facade, to maintain the illusion of feigned interest in his niece. Yet another part of him recognized sincerity in his sentiments. He couldn't help but feel pity for Jaenara. This thought had crossed his mind repeatedly—in the quiet of his chambers, in the stillness of the night, and even yesterday as he watched her depart from the estate gardens. She had undoubtedly drawn the short straw amidst their betrothal.

Jaenara Velaryon was being forced to marry Aemond, a scarred and flawed second son by his own reckoning. While Aemond had initially perceived the proposal of marriage to his own bastard niece as an insult, he couldn't deny the faint attraction he harbored towards her— a sentiment he was certain she did not reciprocate. 

The princess regarded her uncle with a peculiar mix of curiosity and contemplation, allowing his words to sink in. Jaenara's relationship with her uncle had always been incredibly strained — tense. Yet, as she observed the furrow in his brow and the genuine anguish in his eyes, she sensed a truth in his earnest plea. She reflected on her initial hopes—that they might spend their lives avoiding each other, barely exchanging words. Yet, standing before him now, she reconsidered. If Aemond—of all people—could muster some semblance of kindness, however feigned, Jaenara resolved she could reciprocate. Even if it was nothing but a lie. 

For in the convoluted dance of courtly alliances and familial expectations, sometimes even the semblance of civility could hold more weight than honesty in securing fragile peace.

With hesitant resolve, she reached out, gently clasping his hand in hers. Aemond feels goosebumps form on his skin from the additional contact. 

"Aemond," she began quietly, meeting his gaze squarely. He makes an effort to memorize how his name sounds on her lips.

Gods be damned, he thought. 

"I apologize. I hadn't fully appreciated your efforts. You are right. For this marriage to have any chance of contentment and peace, we must find common ground. We must make an effort to get to know each other."

The princess finished her apology, her words hanging in the air between them. All Aemond could manage in response was a silent nod, fearing that his mouth would betray him if he were to open it.

Jaenara withdrew her hand from his with a slight hesitation. "Well…I should be going. I intend to meet with my mother to discuss our impending wedding. There is much to plan," she added, her voice faltering slightly as she hurried out of the room.

Aemond stood there, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He glanced down at the hand that had briefly held his niece's, flexing his fingers thoughtfully, a mixture of uncertainty and determination swirling within him.

A/N: As you may have noticed, this chapter is structured a little differently! I decided to make these changes for narrative purposes/so everything flows better. Because of this, I will be revising the previous two chapters, so the next chapter may take a little longer to come out (I also have a job interview coming up, so I will be doing a lot more than just brainstorming and writing now T-T) Anyways! As always, thank you for reading :)

Tags: @toodlesxcuddles