#each time he loses someone important to him

[blueblossomrose]

Pleaseeeee I wanna see more on leona from the parent thing 🥺

Course! Here we go!

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Post-canon, Leona being a tired dad, fem!afab!mc, fluffy.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Being a father was never something that really crossed his mind. Dealing with Cheka, and his own childhood problems, made him skeptical about the idea.

MC kind of knew about it, but she was ready to tell him anyway.

Leona was surprised and at the same time not. He wouldn't verbalize about it, but after the wedding, his mind turned to children for the first time.

He wouldn't say it was a desire to have children, but more like a concept, imagination.

Well, now he didn't have to imagine anymore.

In the first few months, he's sounds neutral. He doesn't hate it, but he has confused mixed feelings about it.

He doesn't feel the huge appeal, and deep down that makes him angry and sad.

Because he knows he's probably not making you feel safe, because he knows he is behaving exactly like his own parents, ignorants of love.

He refuses to ask Farena anything at first, but it gets to a point where he's so upset that he ends up venting to him.

Farena was straightforward in pointing out that Leona doesn't need to force himself to be something he's not. That he doesn't need to doubt his own emotions because of other people's emotions.

And after this conversation, he goes to talk to MC. She, despite being slightly confused too, didn't crucify him for it. Leona continued to protect her with all his might throughout her pregnancy.

When MC's belly grows and he feels the first kick, his mental confusion worsened, conflicting feelings hitting each other, and even though he still seemed indifferent... there was something between and MC notice.

When he held the babies in his arms for the first time, however... his gaze, which had been different, changed completely.

He loved those children. There was no way he could hate them.

He was: "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to them."

And MC was: "I know 😊"

He is a tired father, as expected of him. Yet, he's doing well there.

One of the common scenes is him lying on your lap while you fold clothes or do some other activity, and your children on top of him, pulling his ears and tail while he sleeps.

When they are babies, Leona is ok to stay up with them while MC sleeps. He understands how tiring it is. Plus, he likes to feel important when he sees that the little ones fall asleep more easily when they are in his arms.

Many times you wake up with the babies on top of you because Leona put them in bed to sleep with you two.

As the babies grow, you notice more clearly how docile Leona is with his daughter.

As if anything Zuri asked for, Leona would give it to her.

He would play with her dolls wearing a pink dress if she asked.

Which honestly wouldn't be impossible for her to ask for. Zuri is very demanding.

Totally different from Zayne and Sekani. Zayne is calmer, really quiet. Sekani is a shy, very sweet boy, and slightly fearful...

Zayne enjoys playing board games even at a young age. Leona doesn't mind playing with him often. It's pretty funny when sometimes he ends up losing and looks at his 6 year old son like this: 🤨

He compliments Zayne anyway.

Sekani is undeniably more attached to his mother, since he is the type of child who likes to be pampered with affection and MC is always holding him in her arms.

But Leona also showers him with affection (in a more discreet way), so he enjoys being with his father as well. Leona makes him feel safe, so whenever he is scared, Sekani runs to his father.

Despite sometimes complaining, Leona spends a lot of time with them. A lot of time. MC soon realizes that it is him giving his children the affection and attention that he did not receive.

Also, Cheka joins his cousins to go and bother his uncle. He loves having someone to play with now!

Leona having his three children and nephew glued to him 24 hours a day. Okay, maybe I exaggerated. 8 hours a day.

MC often joins in on the fun. When playing tag, Leona is usually quick to catch her because he knows where she usually hides. He will jump on you without mercy and probably scare you, but he will quickly make you laugh with involuntary tickles.

Leona finds the kids easily. And the kids can find you easily when it's their turn. Hide and seek with beastmen is no fun.

At the end of the day, Leona watches you sleeping in his arms along with the children... and he thinks that love and being loved like that isn't bad at all.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

come back. l Joel Miller

Summary: first steps together

Warnings:  +18, smut, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that), Ellie is mean to Joel

A/N: I guess I'm not done with them yet. Sorry!

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Everything was getting out of control, or maybe that's how it was supposed to be. Maybe he had already forgotten what it was like to lose control over himself, to be carried away by the moment and emotions, when instincts take over you, when you're a little selfish. Now it was all happening at once and Joel felt like a hurricane was raging in his body.

Your lips tasted of sweet wine, he felt the curves of your body under his hands, your fingers were intertwined in his hair. And he felt amazing. 

You were sitting astride his lap. The dress you were wearing was rolled up enough so that Joel's hands had access to your thighs.

Holy shit! Everything he had closed so tightly years ago was now exploding with new force.

He invited you to dinner, to spend the evening as if the world outside the walls of Jackson hadn't gone crazy, and you were just two people close to each other. When you showed up at his door in that dress, Joel believed that this could really happen.

You looked different than usual. You were a little embarrassed, it had been years since you last wore something nice. Joel's reaction was also specific, he was totally surprised and had a hard time greeting you.

And now you were on this couch, and his tongue was deep in your throat. Big, strong hands squeezed your buttocks, and you moaned feeling the hard bulge in his jeans under you.

"Wait." he whispered, pulling away from your lips for a moment, his hair was already a total mess from your hands. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Joel..." you sighed, smiling. "Do you think I would wear a dress if I wasn't sure?"

You saw him swallow. The last parts of his brain were trying to fight something he wanted so badly. He saw your glazed eyes, swollen lips, you were breathing deeply and your chest was heaving gently.

"Don't you like me?" Your question tore him from his stream of thoughts.

He grabbed your hand and slid it between your bodies where his hard cock was trying to get out of his jeans. You smiled and bit your lower lip feeling the hard shape under your fingers.

"That's a nice compliment." you stated "Please, Joel... I've been thinking about you for so long. Don't make me wait."

"Were you thinking about me?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.

"I didn't want to tell you anything though. We were friends, partners. Besides, Ellie was with us. I didn't want to, I didn't want to say something that you wouldn't reciprocate, and I would ruin what we had."

"Fuck, darling." he sighed, with difficulty pulling your hand away from his crotch. Just a little more and he would have exploded into his jeans like a fucking teenager. "I- I thought about you too. So many times..."

"Did you touch yourself then?" he looked at you surprised. "Once, when you were on watch, I woke up and I think I heard you. I didn't want to disturb you, but then I heard my name and..."

Joel cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess I did. It's embarrassing."

"It's sexy." you corrected him and kissed him hard so he would definitely believe your words. "Take me to your bed, Joel."

You didn't have to repeat it a second time.

Although Joel had seen you naked before, he had never seen you like this. His eyes took you all in. When the dress fell to the floor, his heart stopped for a moment, then started racing.

"What do you think?" you asked uncertainly.

He was unable to answer, his voice caught in his throat. Instead, his hands rested on your face and he kissed you hard. Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt and soon moved to his chest.

Joel couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like this. Gently, with feeling. Your closeness and tenderness were peeling off layers of him, and it wasn't just about clothes. 

You stumbled backwards and your legs hit the edge of the bed. Joel slowly laid you down, and then his eyes moved over your entire body.

"Stunning." He said quietly, and you could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

He slowly unbuckled the belt on his jeans and slid them down, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Without a word, his hands reached for the edges of your panties and slid them too.

Your skin was already so sensitive that every touch of his was felt by you even more strongly. You had never felt anything like this before.

Joel climbed onto the bed and closed you between his broad shoulders. Your lips found each other again. The heat radiating from his body was overwhelming and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. You wanted to feel him next to you, on you, inside you, in every way possible.

Only him.

Kisses went down to your neck and cleavage, you moaned softly as he squeezed your breast.

"You're perfect..." he whispered "So fucking perfect..."

"Joel, please..." you moaned.

You needed anything to help you, to give you relief, from the growing arousal between your thighs. And he gave it to you. The same hand slid down your hip and found your hot center, you were already wet and slippery with desire.

"For me?" Joel smiled slyly, and you felt the heat creep up your neck.

"Please..."

The colossal fingers slid over your folds and soon you felt a pleasant pressure as they slid into your heated core.

"Fuck, baby..." Joel looked in awe where his fingers disappeared inside you "You wrap them so well. I can't wait to be inside you."

You couldn't answer. The feeling was overwhelming, you would never be able to give yourself something like that. Joel's fingers seemed to find all the spots in you that made your head spin. You gasped as his warm lips captured your nipple, sucking hard. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling it harder than you intended. You were so close...

"I'm holding you, baby girl." his warm breath on your sternum "Let it go."

He lightly bit your other breast, his fingers sliding in and out of you harder and harder and soon you were tightening your legs around his hand as the pleasure flooded your body.

"Fuuuuck!" you moaned, arching your back.

Joel had never seen you more beautiful. He wanted more. To see, to feel, to taste, to experience. With you. 

He slid down his boxers, and his hard, swollen cock appeared in full. Joel grabbed it at the base and rubbed your juices along its entire length.

"It's been a while." he said, noticing your gaze. "I can...fuck... I might not last long."

"I don't care, Joel." you said. "I want to feel you. This is enough for me. I want you to cum too."

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance. For a moment you felt anxiety whether he would fit, whether you would be enough for him, but then you felt him start to slide into you. Inch by inch. 

Your walls stretched and took him inside, your hands tightened around his strong shoulders. When Joel entered all the way, you both froze for a moment. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing deeply.

"Fuck..." he sighed "I didn't expect this, give me a moment."

"Take as much as you need." You replied, stroking his shoulders. "You feel wonderful. You fill me completely."

After a short moment, his hips moved. He pulled out a little and pushed, as if to see if he could hold out. You pulled your legs up, and he tightened his grip on your thigh, then lifted his head and looked straight into your eyes. You didn't need words.

Joel's movements were steady, aimed straight at that spot he found inside you, that made you fall apart under his hands. He wanted to see it again, he wanted to feel you clenching around his cock now. Your panting mixed with the dirty sounds of skin slapping against skin, with how wet you were as he entered you at that steady pace.

You pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard. A hot tongue slipped between your lips and you moaned, but he silenced you well. He hit you harder, the air flew out of your lungs. Again and again. 

You woke up everything in him, between your thighs he could find fulfillment and redemption, he wanted it all, and you gave it to him with pleasure.

Another orgasm was building inside you incredibly fast.

"Joel..." you moaned.

He rested his arms on either side of you and didn't slow down. His eyes were black as night, he wanted to see you lose yourself in him again. He needed it.

"Give it to me again, baby. Don't hold back." he panted.

You didn't have a chance to answer. Another wave flooded your body and all your senses. Your eyes rolled back, you almost bit your lip. Joel didn't slow down, even though he was already close to the edge.

"Fuck!' he groaned loudly and pulled out of you.

His seed spurted onto your lower abdomen in hot streams. Although he was breathing deeply, he felt like he was constantly out of breath. He squeezed his eyelids shut trying to calm down. Only your delicate hand, which rested on his cheek, brought him back to life.

"Shit, baby..." he mumbled "I'll clean it up right away. I didn't think that... That was..."

You lifted yourself up and kissed him, and Joel returned the kiss with pleasure. You felt the smile that appeared on his lips and you smiled to yourself. 

This was it. This was the guy who was always there for you, who always gave you his arm as support, who shielded you with his body, who was there for you. He was everything.

His heart gave a strange throb when, going downstairs, he heard familiar chatter in the kitchen. Ellie was delighted with something and was telling you about something, and the pleasant smell of breakfast and coffee filled the house.

His clean shirt clung to his still damp body, and his hair was still wet, even though he had combed it back. When he woke up next to you in the morning, he couldn't help himself. You were still a bit sleepy when he slid into you, but you welcomed him with pleasure. 

It was slow, tender and gentle. He imagined mornings like this when he allowed his thoughts to be carefree for a moment. After everything, he pulled you into the shower, where his hands shamelessly explored your body. He didn't know the words to describe what he felt.

When he went down to the kitchen, Ellie's gaze immediately landed on him. A victorious smile appeared on her face.

"I see the evening was a success." she said, and seeing Joel frowned, she quickly added "Can you still do these things, old man?" 

You barely managed to stop yourself from bursting out laughing and were glad that you were standing with your back to Joel, making him coffee. Ellie was probably going to give him hell.

"That's none of your business, kid." Joel grumbled.

"I hope you're wrapping yourself up, because I'm not going to babysit your kids." she added. "You have to be a fucking responsible adult, Joel."

"Can you... Fuck!"

You quickly turned around and put the cup of coffee in front of him, giving him a gentle smile. Ellie looked at both of you and shook her head.

"I think I'll go now." she said, standing up and putting the last piece of toast in her mouth. "The atmosphere is getting stuffy."

"It's not getting stuffy at all." Joel replied, but she was already putting on her jacket.

"Wrap yourself up!"

"Ellie!"

The girl smiled at him widely, seeing that she hit all the soft spots and quickly gathered her things. Soon the front door slammed and her footsteps echoed on the porch.

"Don't be mad at her, she loves to tease you." you said seeing Joel roll his eyes "She was happy to see me here this morning."

"The house was empty without you, she wasn't the only one who missed your presence."

He walked up to you, his hands resting on your waist. You were wearing some of your old clothes and he wished it was yesterday's dress. You looked so good in it.

"I'm glad you stayed," he said.

"Me too." you replied stroking his cheek, he kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly and you smiled "Are you hungry? I made breakfast."

"Come back here." Joel interrupted you, a small wrinkle appearing between your eyebrows "Move back here. I don't want another morning without you, it was torture."

"Joel..." your lips lightly brushed his "Are you sure? Maybe we shouldn't..."

"I'm fucking sure. Listen, I've wasted a lot of time. I don't want to do this anymore. When you left..." he sighed as if he remembered something really bad "It wasn't just this house that was empty, you know."

"I felt the same way. I was hurt, but I couldn't stop thinking about you or Ellie. You're all I have."

"So come back to us. To me. Please..."

Your smile was the answer he needed. He leaned in, kissing you hard. That day, he felt like he was finally alive.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[sonderblade]

SONIC MOVIE 3 SPOILERS AHEAD!

SCROLL NOW YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

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Okay so we all know that Shadows survives at the end but I was thinking about if they went down the path of Shadow feeling extremely guilty for almost destroying the world and doing the opposite of what Maria wanted but I also was thinking about Shadow having strong guilt towards SONIC considering he almost made Sonic lose someone so important to him and Sonic ends up talking it out with him and helps him despite everything.

So I’m thinking about this AU where Shadow gets ambushed by GUN agents and there we see that soldier lady (who was very efficient in messing up everybody’s plans😭😭go queen, I Stan her) and he’s in a terrorgation room with no cuffs, nothing, just her and him. She approaches him saying that he wouldn’t have come willingly because he most likely would’ve thought they were ambushing him anywYs blah blah blah- we get to the point where she guilt-trips him using Maria, him almost destroying millions of innocent lives, and then she brings up Sonic and how he put aside his hatred and helped him instead and how good of person Sonic is and that Shadow didn’t deserve someone like Sonic to be good to him- that he didn’t deserve a second chance. And she does this WELL. She doesn’t yell, she’s calm and she has such a sure face that it messes with Shadow despite him trying really hard to not take everything to heart and agreeing WITH it. She says that he could EARN that second chance if he starts helping GUN because “today’s GUN isn’t the same GUN as before”. And adds,

“if not for the world, then for her.”

And THAT gets him on board, although still reluctant.

Then we can time skip into shadow having a REALLY bad time where he’s constantly switching from mission to mission to fighting in an underground illegal fighting ring because he can’t stand being at GUN’s room for him and he needs to let out his emotions. He’s in between fighting as an agent and as a bloodied fighter(he lets himself get beat bc he thinks he deserves it) and he’s seeing hallucinations of Maria but also starts to see hallucinations of Sonic and he begins to consume his mind because why??? Why help him??? Why console him? Why choose to understand him? Why did he smile at him knowing all the things he’s done? Why laugh and talk with him like they’ve known each other forever?

And he CANNOT get Sonic out of his mind. He’ll be fighting bad guys on missions and Sonic’s smile flashes or he can hear him laugh. And shadow doesn’t know how to feel about it. He barely knows the guy!!! But it doesn’t click until he gets a talk from someone in the locker room for the fighting ring where she tells him, “when someone looks at you with care even though you’ve done nothing to deserve it… it’s hard not to think about warmth after years of freezing.”

And it clicks. Sonic’s the only other warmth he’s felt besides Maria. But Sonic’s different, he isn’t someone to be like family- like Maria, it’s something else entirely and he’s so confused at the feeling. But he thinks of him anyway. And he dreams of new times with him anyway. And he’ll never plan to visit him.

Until a new foe arrives which causes the Sonic team+ Amy (so excited to see her!!)+ Shadow & GUN. Sonic and Amy are getting along fine but Sonic is just. So. Glad that Shadow is in fact alive. He introduces her, they talk about what happened but Sonic is all like “it’s all in the past, who cares??!!!!!” “Sonic, he almost killed Tom and you tried to kill him” “it’s all in the past!!!!!”

And they get to develop their relationship and Sonic’s talking about how Shadow needs to go “popular place” and needs to do “trendy cool thing” because he’s “uncultured to a horrifying degree”. They get to have teamwork, argue with each other, reconcile, laugh, bond, and it’s NOTHING like these boys have felt before. It’s so easy to share with each other but also have some sort of friendly rivalry and continue to push themselves to impress one another. It’s sportsmanship , it’s friendship, it’s romantic(tho they won’t admit it), it’s a genuine connection.

And maybe. HEAR ME OUT PLEASE. MAYBE. they have a dance scene. THIS ISNT CRAZY. THEY SHOWED SHADOW DOESNT MIND DANCING AND SONIC FUCKING LOVES IT!!!! SO!!!!!

ITS A ROMANTIC LYRICS BUT REALLY GOOD MUSIC TYPE OF SONG (think of “Ma Meilluere Ennemie” from Arcane which is SO THEM btw) BUT ANYWAYS.

I just really hope we see Shadow and Sonic become friends that everyone knows as complicated but They still Care. For one another even if they don’t want to admit it.

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

I've seen some people making some very good points about Vander and his role as a parent to Powder and Vi, especially related to criticisms about how he wasn't as stellar of a parent as the narrative portrays, specifically that he was emotionally neglectful, parentified Vi and failed to connect with Powder. While I think these points are worth discussing, I'd like to offer my own perspective.

Disclaimer: I am not justifying any behavior in the context of a real-life relationship, only within the narrative presented

First off, I don't disagree. Vander doesn't appear to have made a tremendous effort to connect with Powder, and seems to be much closer to Vi and Claggor than her and Mylo, putting a significant amount of responsibility on them (especially Vi, as the oldest) and Vi is definitely far more responsible for her siblings than she should be at her age, with Vander barely supervising them.

However, I think there's a lot of context people like to ignore. First off, this takes place in Zaun. From everything that's implied about Zaun, people don't typically live into old age. If they survive the street violence, enforcer violence, and unsafe working conditions, they're still likely to die or become incapacitated early as a result of Gray poisoning/horrific pollution, as we see with Viktor. Vander worked in the mines, which would make him even worse off.

It's common for average parents, who had their children in their mid-twenties to mid-thirties, to live to see their kids well into middle age, when they will be reliably established as adults and able to care for themselves without guidance. This privilege does not extend to Zaunites. As someone with older parents at birth, I know the importance of older siblings in that situation. Vander needed to prepare Vi and Claggor to be responsible for their siblings and guide them into adulthood, because he knew that he was unlikely to be able to do it himself.

Second, one of the big ethical issues with parentification is that you chose to have kids, and should not subject your older children to the consequences of your choice. Vander... Vander didn't choose to have kids, they're not his biological children, he took them off the street because they had nowhere else to go. I think in real world adoption, the principle still applies, because adoption is also a choice and a lengthy, procedurally dense one at that, but that's not the case here. It really wasn't a choice for Vander, these kids had nowhere else to go. And this is a common theme in Zaun, there are just feral children everywhere, and people just take them in because it's the right thing to do. Everyone is responsible for everyone else. So, his kids needed to learn that same principle, to be responsible for each other, to look out when they are able for those who can't.

And lastly, as for his overall lack of supervision of his ankle-biters, I think... I think that's just a Zaun thing. I'm always so bamboozled when I hear people compare THIS aspect of his parenting negatively to Silco's, when Silco didn't supervise Jinx either. He let her hang out on a giant fan blade like 60 feet in the air and wander off to explode shit whenever she wanted. Benzo also doesn't appear to supervise his very young child, who doesn't even have any older siblings to watch him, and neither Jinx nor Sevika feel the need to keep one single eye on Isha as she runs around the underground doing as she pleases. It seems to just be a part of Zaunite culture, people lose their parents and their parental figures all the time, so they need to be able to look out for themselves.

All this to say there are definitely things worth criticizing about Vander's parenting, but I feel like people are being a little unfair about it.

[sstardow]

A Study of the Arcane [Arcane Hogwarts AU] Chapter 1

This is Chapter 1. Please read Chapter 0 if you haven't for TW's and information on the story.

This story is targeted at YA, Please do not read it unless you are at least 16+.

TW: Mentions and Descriptions of death.

IMPORTANT: This is an Arcane Hogwarts University AU where Students are sent their letters at 18 instead of 11. So the Students are all young adults and the same/similar age they were in the show.

(Multi Pov)

Vi stepped off the Hogwarts Express with a leap. Following behind her was Ekko, This would be Vi's 4th year at Hogwarts, and Ekko's 1st year. They knew each other as kids, Vi and Ekko, so she was thrilled when she found out he had received a letter too. Vi made sure to show Ekko around Diagon Alley before they boarded the train. She even lent him one of her robes from her first year to wear. 

Vi got her letter to Hogwarts soon after she got into some trouble with the Law back in the Zaun 5 years ago. She decided to attend Hogwarts, partially as a way to pardon herself for the remainder of her time in Stillwater, and also as a distraction from the pain of losing Powder. Vi had figured it would be easier to find her sister while attending a university, rather than being stuck in a prison.  

Vi wasn't very surprised when she got her letter to Hogwarts. Vander told her that their mom was a witch too. Vi always knew about magic since Vander, Her Mother, and Silco were all professors at the University back in the day. Now the only one left from them was Silco. Vi resented him for that. She knew that Silco had a part in Vander's death, she just had no proof it was him.

It happened close to when Vi was arrested. She was 15, Powder was 12. Vander had gotten a call that the School was threatened. Some dark witches and wizards wanted to get to the Headmaster, god knows why, and Vander wasn't going to let what happened to Mom happen to anyone else. He told Powder to stay home and brought Vi along to help get any bystanders to safety. 

Vander was in the forbidden forest looking for the mages, and Vi stood behind him in case he needed backup or someone to run and get more help. Silco told Vander that there were only three mages in the forest. So they brought five professors, and Vander and Silco were two of them. 

But Silco had lied, the dark mages ended up being more powerful, and a bigger group than they were told. Vi couldn't even quite recall how many there were, she counted 8 of them before giving up. And the mages were ready for them too, it was like an ambush.

After seeing this, Vander and the others were quickly outmatched. But against their odds, they were about to win the fight. Until Powder showed up with one of her "magic inventions" Which was really just her putting her uncontrolled magic into a toy and letting it explode. Well, this concentrated magic was a little more fueled than usual. Powder was scared for Vander and Vi, she wanted to help the best way she could. The only way she knew how, so she did. 

Powder always had an affinity for the arcane. But she couldn't control it, ever. She was so powerful for a kid, and because of that, she was dangerous too. Vander tried to teach her how to control it, But he didn't have enough time to.

Back in the battle, with the Professors bloody, but almost victorious. Powder released one of her "Magic bombs" at the group of dark mages. But the explosion was too powerful. It killed the mages, quickly. And most of the trees within a 50ft radius came crashing down. Vander got hit by the blast, as well as two other professors with him. Vi couldn't get the sight of Vander's bloody body under that fallen tree out of her mind for years. She still sees it in her nightmares sometimes.

And Powder never could forget it either. Nor could she forget the feel of Vi's slap to her face, and the words Vi said to her afterwards. "You're a Jinx!" were the words Jinx heard In her head every time she looked in the mirror. 

After they couldn't save Vander, Vi ran away, the night fell quiet and her sobs could be heard the whole time he was running out of that forest. The other professor who wasn't Silco began to bring Vander's body back to be buried. But Silco couldn't help but stare at the little blue-haired girl crying into her hands. Silco met Powder and Vi a few times before, back before him and Vander had that awful fight.

Silco noticed Powder looked just like her mother.

Limping over to the child, Silco offered her a handkerchief from his coat pocket. Ignoring it, Powder jumped toward him, and held on. Silco was knocked to the ground, as Powder held on to him sobbing into his coat, he wrapped his arms around the girl. "Your sister left you. Do you want to find her?" Silco asked as he held her. "She is not my sister." Powder said between sobs.

Vi regretted her words to Powder, regretted hitting her, she regretted every single moment of that night. Vi went back to look for Powder in the forest, but she never found her. A day after the events, the ministry found Vi, they took her in for questioning about the Dark Mages. But Vi couldn't offer them any worthwhile information. Vi's descent into rebellion was quick, acting out whenever she could. She broke many laws trying to find information on Powders whereabouts. Spells, threats, throwing punches, you name it. She ended up in prison fast. Then Heimerdingers letter arrived, Vi had an escape, so she took it.

Silco kept Jinxes whereabouts secret from Vi. He respected her wishes of never wanting to see her sister. But eventually the time came for Jinx to get older and attend Hogwarts. Silco was hesitant, but Jinx was insistent. He knew he could never control her anyways.

And so, unknown to Vi and Ekko, on the other side of the train, Jinx steps out with her black robes adorned. She was unsorted, being as it was her first year too. She would soon find out what house she'd be in. She had an inkling it would be Slytherin, that's what Silco had told her anyway. 

Vi was clueless that Jinx would also be attending Hogwarts, but Jinx knew Vi would be here. Jinx always thought that she would be mad or never want to see her sister again after what happened in their childhood, but she wasn't. She actually wanted to see Vi again, even if a part of her also wanted to scream at her. 

Silco was worried at first when Jinx said she would attend Hogwarts, but he was never one to tell Jinx no. Being the head of Slytherin house, he was confident he would be able to protect Jinx from any threats, whether they be emotional or physical. And he knew that Hogwarts would be the best place to unlock her highest potential.

Nearby at another exit from the train were Jayce Talis, Viktor, and Caitlyn Kiramman. They all wore their blue robes proudly as they walked towards their guide. "Need some help Viktor?" Jayce asked watching Viktor descend the train steps with his cane. "I've got it, like always," Viktor said, now off the steps. Caitlyn stifled a laugh at Jayce's worry, before speaking. "Jayce, What classes did you say you were taking again this year?" She asked. "Students, please follow me to the banquet hall!" A teacher interrupted. Jayce shot her a look that said "Tell you in a bit."

"First Years, come with me!" Another teacher yelled on a different side of the platform. Jinx walked that way, pulling the cloak above her hair. The night was chilly, and she eyed the boats they were about to ride over on. The academy looked huge in the distance, Jinx couldn't help but feel some excitement about attending. She remembered Vanders stories of her mom's time here. It used to make her so happy when he'd share those stories. But now thinking about them just made her angry, or sad, usually both.

As Jinx boarded one of the First Year boats, the water swayed beneath, rocking it side-to-side. Jinx held her breath. She'd never been on a boat before, and the feeling was uncomfortable. There were around four kids in each boat. She didn't know anyone from the first years, nor did she care to learn. 

Vi gave Ekko a nudge in the direction of the boats before heading toward the guide for the older students. She noticed the group beginning to walk toward Hogwarts and had to sprint to catch up. She raised her head to try and catch a glimpse of where the teacher was, and while doing so failed to see the blue-haired lady she was about to go barreling into. Briefly catching herself from tumbling full-force, Vi made a surprised sound as she bumped into Caitlyn. Caitlyn yelped in surprise back, turning around to see Vi, Caitlyn shot her a disapproving look. "There is no need to run around like a maniac," Caitlyn said, eyes drifting down to Vi's unraveling red and yellow tie. "Gryffindor." She added. Vi's eyebrows scrunched. "Sorry, Ravenclaw," Vi responded with more sarcasm than actual remorse. 

Ekko was led to a boat that had 3 other students in it. The night made it hard to see anything around him. The only light to illuminate the students, boat, and water was the moon, as well as a single lantern hanging from the front of each boat. The first years were chatting amongst one another. Ekko took his seat next to a student who had their cloak up which covered most of their head, he didn't blame them, as it was quite cold. He was the last first year to arrive, the teacher took attendance before sending the boats off toward the university. Ekko guessed the boats must be enchanted, cause they steered themselves on their own. As Ekko sat on the boat's seat, he looked around at the dark waters surrounding him. The water looked a lot cleaner here than it did back in Zaun. He inhaled the chilly air, it smelled like a lake, with the scent of algae and pine trees around. But a scent next to him reminded him of the Undercity, gunpowder.

Ekko turned his head to examine the student next to him better. Maybe they were from the Undercity and he knew them. Against the moonlight and lantern's warm hue, he saw a flash of pale skin and blue hair. A pit began to form in his stomach. It couldn't be her. right? "Jinx?!" Ekko asked, voice sounding alert. The chatter on the boat stopped for a moment as they all looked at Ekko. The cloaked student lowered their cloak down to their neck and looked at Ekko. "If it isn't the boy savior." Jinx teased, voice low. "What are you doing here?" Ekko asked. The phrase came out a little harsher than he intended, and he felt a twinge of guilt after seeing Jinx wince in response. "I could ask you the same... thing." Jinx dragged, the corners of her mouth tilting upward at the end. "I- I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that. It's just, we had no idea where you were. Vi has been a mess since you left back then and-" Jinx cut Ekko off with a wave. "Vi's been a mess?" She laughed. "I'm surprised she remembers me at all." Jinx lied. She wasn't surprised. And hearing Ekko say Vi is a mess... Well, that made her secretly feel happy. "We've missed you, Jinx. Why did you run for so long?" Ekko asked. Jinx inched closer to him before speaking. "At least someone has my name right now. and don't be dumb, Ekko." Jinx responded, tilting her head. "You know the reason I ran. We all do..." Jinx said glumly. "Silco and Vander," Ekko said. Realization dawning. he always knew, they all did. But they hoped that if they could find a way to forgive, then maybe Jinx could too. But she thought of things differently. 

The boats docked next to the university, and the students began to stand. "Students, please follow me to the banquet hall!" A teacher yelled. Jinx stood up but Ekko reached out for her arm. Jinx returned his touch with a warning glare, and he let go. 

[procyonloser]

Adam tapped his foot, tired of fucking waiting for Lilith to show up. So fucking what if she was pregnant, he had responsibilities too. Don't fucking make the appointment if you're going to be too knocked up to show up.

Also, Adam thought, it was already a giant fucking insult that she was lording her pregnancy over him for the second fucking time. Wasn't one demon spawn enough? No, she had to go and brag that she was getting creamed by Lucifer. How did she think he felt? He used to be the one having entirely uninteresting sex with her. Fucking stupid.

He was getting ready to leave, when the doors opened and in walked a figure. Adam nearly choked on his own tongue, sitting up right and going wide eyed. Lucifer? He'd not seen him in person since he'd fallen. He'd never come to a single meeting, apparently never deeming Adam important enough to face.

Adam opened his mouth, but he'd never seen Lucifer look like this before. There was a shadow on his face, and his expression was empty - hollow.

"Lilith isn't coming," Lucifer said, voice void of all tone. "I'm cancelling the meeting."

Adam let the words sink in, before he spluttered and stood, slamming his hands down on the table. "You're cancelling the- fuck you! Fuck Lilith! You don't get to just string me along afuckingain, and do whatever you and your cunt wife-"

"She's dead, Adam." Lucifer cut him off, meeting his eyes. While his face was empty, his eyes weren't. There was a storm in them, all encompassing that pulled Adam into his grief, his pain. "She didn't survive child birth. She... She tried, but she... There was too much blood."

It was true, when you died, you saw all your memories flash before you, your entire life playing out - but Adam hadn't realized it was similarly true when someone else died, to have all of your memories of that person come to the surface. Adam suddenly remembered playing in a stream with Lilith, splashing her, laughing with her, when they'd both been new and happy.

"... Did the kid survive?" Adam asked after a long minute, picturing Charlie, an adult now, but what little of her he'd seen, she looked for all the world like a perfect mix of her parents.

"... Yes, it was...twins, boys." Lucifer said, and the first cracks across his face happened. "I need to go back to...I need to go back."

Adam said nothing, his own thoughts shifting to his own twins, about losing Abel and Cain. He said nothing.

Lucifer turned, and went to the door, his steps short and stuttering, as though he was forcing himself to take each one. He didn't turn around when he spoke.

"... I'm sorry, Adam."

The doors fell closed and the room grew dark. Adam pulled off his helmet, and looked up towards the clouds in the sky above Heaven.

[all-the-bats-in-the-world]

Kindness Tastes Like Blood

Part 1. Where The Lost Things Meet

The darkness is getting hold of him. It's not something new, it started to reach him when he was little, when dad decided he was a play thing. That disgusting mother fucker. He's very dead now, but Wade still sees it in the back of his mind, fighting back, cutting him into pieces and giving it to some starving street dog. The dogs have always been good to him. They never liked dad, the animals know what is kind.

‘You’ll lose’ the darkness says to him, sounding like a voice he should have forgotten. And he is starting to believe it. His world is in danger, everything he cares about will die soon. He thought he could fix it. It seemed very simple, if Logan was dead, he just had to find another one to put in the place. Who would think the Wolverine was the anchor being of Wade's whole world? This is a weak script idea, sure, but also makes sense for Wade, he couldn't imagine anyone else to be this important to him. He remembers it, reading the comics he found in the trash under his bed, hiding it from dad, it was this story of this animalistic man that people tried to control and kill, a man that kept coming back and destroying everything on his way, it was this story that made him company, that made him believe someday he would be free. So, yes, he doesn't need to say he loves the Wolverine, does he? He loves him a great deal.

But the thing is, it's not reciprocated. He knows. He jumps through realities trying to find help, but he doesn't even get the chance to say that he needs him, that he's breaking, that he's desperate, they just punch him, kill him, and this is starting to pile up. ‘Nobody loves you’ the darkness decree. He knows it's not totally true, he knows people love him, Althea, Peter, Vanessa, she said it. He believes her. However, he believes love feels different, that love is not just someone who holds your hand in the bad days or puts up with you. He knows he should be glad, why is he not glad? Was what she offered not enough?

Yes. It wasn't. He knows it should be. Another punch. He's bleeding again. They used to be perfect for each other, but this was before he became a walking wound. Not, he was always like this, except now he can't just pretend anymore, he can't just joke it away. He tried, he really fucking tried. She said to him to show that he cared for something bigger than him. But everything is bigger than him, he's small. Insignificant. You see, this wasn't how love was supposed to be. Well, Wade believes love is understanding. He may be wrong.

‘Nobody will ever understand you, you are unlovable.’ He's covered in blood now, still feeling the sensation of six claws in his chest, piercing through his cursed heart. And he loses it, he throws the TemPad away in his despair, regretting it the same second, he runs and jumps to take it before it touches the floor, but ends up kicking it with his foot, then he stumbles, falling on his own face. Fuck. He cries, like the pathetic being he is.

That's when the electronic — whatever tecnologic shit it is — starts to oscillate on the floor, and bips bips bips. Did he break it? For fuckers sake! He takes it back. Doesn't look like there was any damage, he taps it, but he can't understand the coordinates on the screen. Is it another planet? Doesn't fuck look like Earth.

Suddenly a portal opens up and Wade stares at it. Something is wrong. This portal, it's not golden, it's dark, like a black hole. He feels like when he was a kid. There's a taste in his mouth, and a smell in his nose. He's dragged back to the past. He shivers, suddenly he's in the cold night, one of his feet chained. It hurts so much, but it’s better if he was outside. That was something he never told anyone. He loved the night, he loved when he got this punishment, he pretended to hate it, so that bastard would use it against him. It was a way he found to escape the molestation. It didn't work all the time, but when it worked he felt glad. Glad is a rare and strange feeling. He shivers in gladness and steps into it.

At first all he can see is profound darkness. He's not even sure his eyes are open at all. Has he gone blind? Then there's breathing, he thinks for a moment it's his own respiration, but it's not, he's not making this deep and painful noise. It's a very dark and heavy breathing that gets close with every step. Then he sees it, a subtle light, its red. Seems weird? He sees the eyes before he sees the being. It’s hard to tell its colors in the distance and in the low light. But they are bright and piercing. And unmoving, like it's not really looking at him. He moves close, and something registers, cutting through him. It's green, he realizes, like a pale forest, like a calm lake, its pupils grow, swallowing him in, in an inescapable stare. He's breathing so hard it creates little clouds in the dense air.

Wade would recognize those eyes anywhere. It's so shocking, he stops, his feet refusing to move before the vision. It's a Wolverine. Well, it seems like the TemPad was not broken, but he guesses he was not supposed to find this one, probably no one was supposed to find him. What paralyzes Wade is not just the eyes, but his appearance. The man is contained, pulled down on his knees, defeated, malnourished, the bones standing out under his skin, hes basically just bones and hair, frankly it's absurd he's still alive, well, regeneration is a fucked up thing sometimes. There is a mask on his face, metallic, it looks very much like a muzzle, and there are bright red lines, hundreds of them, connected to the collar on his neck. He's using the yellow accurate comic costume, but it's all dirty and worn out.

It's clear they left him here to die. But what a terrible way to leave this world, painfully slowly, getting weak and disappearing a little bit every day.

“What the hell happened to you?” He doesn't know this Logan, the others he knew, like just their appearances were a tell. And he still kind of feels bad for not helping the uncanny x-men Logan, but that felt like none of his business. This one though, he speaks to something deep in him. He needs to know what happened to him. There is no reaction to his question, he doubts the man will be able to talk soon, he is too debilitated to even breathe properly.

He opens the TemPad, does a little reprogrammation, why not, it's a canon divergent fic, so he can do whatever. Soon the TemPad works very much like a Pokédex, he even turns it in his direction and gets: Wade Willson, also known as Deadpool in Earth XXX, 48 years old, sagittarius, species human…

Does the TVA control Wikipedia too? Or does the author just think it was funny? Whatever. He turns the advice to Logan. His eyes are still burning on him, it's almost unbearable. The scan starts to work, then it stops showing a glowing “restricted access”, so Wade has to do some hacker job, it's nothing, soon the information pops on the screen.

PS: Wrote it since someone tagged Logan to Essi Välimäki's art. So its not my fault. There will be more and Logan's pov too. They are both lambs turned wolves.

[spotaus]

Hehehehehe

Dream being particularly spiteful in this one moment is SUPER important to me for the sake of showing just how much Killer is enduring to protect Nightmare, but also to show Night a side of Dream he hasn't gotten to see yet. All NIghtmare knows up until this moment is what little Dream has told any given one of his spies (plus Cross who was only there for about a week) and what he knows from childhood. This Dream? This Dream reminds him of when Nim used to get mad at a servant or a guard for slacking or spilling or being sloppy in a fight. This Dream was the one who smacked him in the skull with a bust and told him he hated himafter the coronation. This dream... well, this Dream was actively trying to kill his big brother, someone Nightmare once promised protection to. Someone he cares about. (And he hears whatever twisted narrative Dream attributed to his 'betrayal' at the coronation.) He hears it all, he sees a good chunk of it, and he knows he can't trust his brother not to kill.

And. Yeah, I'm never the best with injuries but I think that the heavy loss of mana AND blood would be something that would keep Killer DOWN down. like, paralyzed style~ And it makes the later bits all that more intense, AND acts as a reassurance for Dream because. well. no one would survive an injury like that even if they did get him to a healer. he could have a slow, agonizing, death instead! That works!

The shift in Dream, too, the moment he sees it's NIght! The pleading hardly even registers aside from, like you said, more reassurance that it really is his sweet brother! He doesn't care a lick about the actual pleading or distress. He'd tug Nightmare forward into his chest and pick him up in a hug (luckily for a beanpole he's strong (bow draw requires a lot of upper bodystrength)) and then start to leave, no matter how much Night is struggling and wriggling and crying! Night is weak and a gangly teen and Dream is a warrior who's been training for years with a VERY motivated knight.

And owieeeee. killer just having to watch as Nightmare is taken so easily. The- THE BROKEN MASK- Dude imagine how pathetic he must feel, laying there, bleeding out, Night's shattered mask discarded on the floor in the wake of Dream's attack? He failed to protect Night, and now even symbolically the world is taunting him by leaving Night's broken mask behind. (Two things Night trusted to protect him, both used and spent and not nearly enough to truly help him in any meaningful way-)

I know!!! I forgor he existed haha! And I'm glad we vibe with the new thought on where to Drop Error in and wth the staff was up to!

I love the idea that Error and Ccino are equally stubborn and czre about each other and the others enough that they just end up going together for the best of all involved- (Error wanting to protect Ccino because he knows he can't fight is SO adorable and fitting- same with Ccino wanting to keep Error out of trouble-) And ofc yeah. Ccino making it to Killer and immediately jumping into action while Error fawns at the situaiton.

Ohhhh having Error there gives this scenes SO many more posibilites too, just like you did with all of ur entire description of this scene idea. It was so so tasty. Error kinda blue-screening over the fact that. Wow. Killer's like *actually* hurt. This isn't Horror landed a punch so Killer got a bruise kinda hurt, this is Someone was aiming to kill kind of hurt. And he feels awful when Ccino asks if he can heal. He can only mutter a 'nothing strong enough'. Because, tbh, he's pretty sure even Geno would have a hard time with this one. This was something he'd heard of. A monster losing so much life-force so quick would only last minutes. He doesn't even notice Ccino trying to get him out of the room because, like you said, he focuses on potential threats returning. Dust's storm is still going strong, and he can basically feel the fight out front. He needs to stay and protect them, even if Killer looks horrible and Ccino can't seem to staunch the flow fast enough-

And then Ccino out of left-field with the prayer!!! Ur right, Night *was* the only god anyone in the country believed in. Ccino of all people dropping a prayer, when he'd denounced the belief that Nim, or Nightmare, or any of them were gods? Strange? Then he gets to witness the the equivalent of an eldritch being awakening and gently stablizing this very clearly dusting guy, before going back to sleep. All at Ccino's ask. And. 1) HOLY SHIT???? He is FREAKING right now. like. excuse him, he needs to go sleep for a century, why did the equivalent of a god (which he's highkey an aethiest) just awaken to heal the funny cat guy? like, he's not complaining, but he can'tquite process it. 2) Ccino's been cool in his book for a WHILE but suddenly he understands what that Rogers guy was on about, why he seems to respect Ccino so much, and why the others do too. Ccino can bring incredible things to fruition, and suddenly Error is even more thrilled to have Ccino as a brother-in-law one day. Y'know. After he confesses to Night and they fall madly in love. according to his plan at least.

He is NEVER mentioning it to anyone aside from Reaper for sure, and hearing that Life knows *something* is comforting, but Error just can't believe he got to witness such an ancient, ancient magic arise to care for that who Ccino cared for. Error also started putting things together and being more aware of the magic surrounding Ccino after that point when things calmed down. Ccino might have had weaker magic personally, but his aura seemed to be rimmed by that ancient presence. Very, very faintly. Like it was watching him. And Error only sees it because he knew it when it cast the spell. No one, not even Geno, would be able to detect it otherwise.

And. Y'know, Killer gasps awake and Ccino goes back to making sure he stays with them, and Error is still frozen just inside the door when the others burst in. Dust is immediately sent away again, Horror is in shock beffore getting over it to try and lend a hand. Error is horrified by Cross' state too, entirely incapacitated and, strikingly, he has very similar (though more concentrated) wounds to Nightmare, though they had obviously been less deadly and more draining.

And omg, the healers are 10000000% sure Killer should be dead right now, but- ur so right- Ccino IS a miracle worker, so they assume if anyone could've done it it'd be Ccino!!!! (Oh and Ccino trying to get Error out of the room so he didn't see Killer dust? Destroyed me, their friendship means the world to me-)

As before, I love everything about the pain=life and peace=death thing with that scene!!!! gnawing on it.... And the Tree just yanking him back like a teacher at the class bell "You're not dismissed until I dismiss you." style haha! But fr, shout-out to the tree looking at its favorite person and going 'alright, alright, I'll use up a hunk of my stored energy to save him because I can FEEL how much he means to you' and driectly channeling the sentiment straight to Killer-

And, I feel I must ask. Do we think Ccino cried here, when Killer woke up again? Or do we think it was only after he was stablizied by the healers and moved (ever so painfully) to bed and Ccino got news that Nightmare really was nowhere to be found? Do you think he had a cry-session at Killer's bedside? not loud, or even particularly teary, but a silent cry for maybe 5-7 minutes before he wiped his eyes, got up, and just tried to keep going? Because I love the potential of Killer seeing Ccino tearing up overtop him, but I like even more the idea of Killer seeing *Ccino* crack. Getting to be the one he shares that grief with. Even if Killer's barely conscious and can't talk, and Ccino says nothing? That he's not leaving Killer alone and discarded after his failure to protect the thing Ccino and himself loved the most? Nightmare? Okay-

Hooo boy, the Knights searching so hard for him. The broken mask in the room near Killer was a bad sign, but when they really couldn't find *anything* on where Night had gone, and with Killer still recovering enough to muster words, they just... had to try and act like everything was normal. Listen to Ccino (they know he's at his breaking point. They're pretty sure he hardly sleeps, because he's either with Killer or out and about making sure affairs are in order in Night's absence) and search for leads. Replay the events of the fight in their heads and regret not stopping Dream sooner.

Bonus????? :D

Okay. Hi. GENIUS. They don't got time to wait for search parties to hope and pray they find that stupid little place they're hiding Nightmare away. They need to find him ASAP. So, Error starts on something that was only a concept before, intended to help track the knights if they split on missions, or track enemies. This time, it'd find Nightmare. That takes a while. Longer than Error wants. Maybe a week. Week and a half? He's pulling his old all-nighters and weaving and intent-filling like there's no tomorrow and... by two weeks Error's barely half-way finished. It won't find Night at this rate, it would barely scratch 2 or three town out at its current size and power scale... And when he tell the others, angry and embarrassed and so so guilty, Dust suggests like you said, super-charging it! And Error runs the math for a deay (he doesn't want to risk destroying their only source of information) before re-inforcing it and letting Dust go ham on it!

And the way they locate it so quick? it's amazing... They're off and away in no-time!

The party is definitely Dust, Horror, Error, and Cross, but Cross had to fight the others to convince them to let him come. He's still all bandaged up and recovering from Dream, and he seems to flinch at the name, but he *knows* he's the only one who can hold Ink back properly. He's the only one, and the others know it too. Cross is very, very confident that Ink wouldn't fight him under fair circumstances, let alone while he's injured and able to talk to him as the others keep Dream and Ink occupied. So, ultimately, he's with them!

Also, addition: I like to think that Dust's storm faded a bit when they found Night's location. As in, Dust knew if he let it rage out of control that everyone would know they were coming, they had to be subtle on approach, not give them any time to prepare, to move, to endanger Night. So he seals himself up the entire ride. It's freaky, but understandable, and the other knights respect it. Horror remembers that this is exactly how Dust acted when he first arrived and his bands were removed. Very quiet, very tense, hidden under his hood more ferociously. He just needs to store it up so he can fry Dream to a fucking crisp. Or, y'know, short-circuit him for a bit.

Another Addition: I really love the idea of the gang getting SUCH easy access into the depths of the camp, and their speed, because of that thing you mentioned on the other post with them getting directions to Nightmare? I think on the road there, they ran into a group traveling *out* of Dream's camp to meet up with a supply run. Eclipse was the lead of this particular scouting party, and told his party to stand-down. He exchanged a brief word with Horror, being up-front in knowing they were there to retrieve Prince Dream's little brother. That the boy was *happier* with them, surely. (Horror clarifies they're indeed only there for their king. They don't intend to harm civilians. Eclipse mentions his family, Horror promises they won't be touched.) And he agrees to guide them in. Send his party on ahead to intercept the real cargo, and he leads in the knights. No one thinks anything of it when they see Eclipse leading the charge, and so they get easy access straight to their targets!

And ohhhh, the way the Knights handle their own battles this time!!! I think Ink was probably why they encountered first, and he made a ruckus that lured Blue and Dream out of the cabin, because Ink was... yelling about Cross? Not good! Ink being so very adamant about not hurting/fighting Cross, and Cross insisting that it was him or no-one. And, I mean, Cross had always been looking out for him from the start, that's what they did, protect each other! And Cross was hurt because of Dream and... well, Dream is his friend too but Dream *did* send Cross away and- Before he can really decide what he's doing, Cross totally yoinks control of his magic and manages to find a way to keep Ink in place beside him.

Dust is the funniest- And most justified- Dude was DONE. Dream only got a look at a horse skidding to a stop before him, a glimpse of Dust's pissed eyelights out of the shadows, and was fucking smited by the Fuck You Lightning bolt that Dust had been saving for him since Nightmare went missing. CRUMPLED. Like a sheet of paper. Instantly. That guy stood NO chance! (What- What if he has a cool lightning-scar after this? Maybe it eventually heals over, but it lingers for longer than usual because the intent behind it was potent. 'You made my family hurt, feel their pain ten times over and don't forget it.' y'know? He's very chill about sitting atop his (very unbothered btw) horse znd staring at Dream, a lil crispy, before standing guard till Horror or Cross could come collect him. (Dust ain't lifting that entire twunk, and his horse can't carry that much weight anyways, Horror's horse was the one pulling the cart-) ALSO!!! Remember how Dust's lightning kinda just his anywhere in a certain radius? He finally learned how to aim exactly! In the moment in seeing Dream again!

Horror... my boy... Love the picture of him rolling off his horse and full-sending it at Blue. Blue is slow to summon his hammer and even slower avoiding Horror's initial punch. (Plus, I imagine this is closer to afternoon, so Blue had already taken off his armor and hadn't thought to throw it on before rushing out beside Dream.) He gets a pretty bad hit right at the start, and when the lightning goes off it disorients him a LOT (I think the Knights are very very used to sudden flashes thanks to Dust's training) and Horror is able to get him down and cuffed. Which doesn't stop his physical strength, but Blue is no match for Horror without that boost from his magic weapon, and when he sees Dream in the family guy death pose, he loses concentration and panics a little (lot) and Horror is able to restrain him further.

Ink over here was talked down by Cross, even after the lightning bolt in the distance, and Ink agreed to wear dampeners willingly and go sit in the cart with Cross.

(At this point, I think everyone in the camp has been SO psyched out by Dream about the danger the knights bring, plus their leader is down, possibly fried and dead, Blue is restrained and looks scared, and Dust is still atop his horse and such a presence now that his storm was released and it had begun to rain a little. No one wants to try and fight the knights, and Eclipse is making a big effort to reassure everyone not to try and fight, or run, just stay sheltered. Anyone who gets close to the main clearing in these moments of Horror walking Blue along and hoisting Dream over his shoulder and loading them both into the cart? Dust gives them a little warning zap. And by that I do mean Fuck You Lightning or bones so close they probably gave someone a sun-burn or burnt fur.)

This is when Error had already rushed past, love the invisible detail, and he rushes towards the cabin, just to see Nightmare tug open the door, bundled in a bright yellow cloak, ad seemingly ready to rush out into the storm- Only, he crashes straight into Error who forgot he was invisible. They tumble over each-other onto the porch steps, and Error drops the spell, and- Yeah, that's his Nightmare, those beautiful eyelights and that worried expression. And he decides to confess while they're tangled up and hugging. And Night is just SO distraught because?? As we've sstablished, who confesses in the middle of a rescue??? So Error, realizing Night is tearing up and obviously also mad about the poorly-timed confession, and who's been through a stressful 2 and a half weeks, kinda half-picks him up like a wet kitten/half-urges him to stand and fast-walk and rushes back to the knights. Dust is still busy restraining himself, and now Cross is busy watching the captives (though with Ink chummy and Dream out, Blue doesn't have much choice but to stay), Horror is totally the one who takes Night into his arms and holds him tight and reassures him.

And when I say this bit made me nuts, it'm not lying, but like- Nightmare immediately breaking down finally upon Horror huggging him, and not seeing Killer but seeing the other three and apologizing so so much, and Horror filling in the blanks and explaining to him that Killer's okay? Mentioning Ccino and that calming Night a little??? Ough.. Peak.

And- and- Ccino night terrors. Oughhhh. Yes 100%, this guy definitely has them, and they are ROUGH. I love it-

Finally, your tags!!! very quickly!!

Ink seeing Dust come down for his shifts just being like, "hey!! Hey can you tell Cross I wanna see him? I'm bored and we haven't played [Insert Game] in forever!" and like. Cross obliges??? And he ignores Dream and Blue when they try to talk with him, and just has a decently good time hanging with Ink all things considered? Everyone is fascinated by their friendship, but they're a special combo of weird <3

Oh Blue... he's so precious, i love him.... (Trying to think if Night would put them in opposite-facing cells, so they can see each other but not reach, or side-by-side cells so they could talk better but not see each other or easily communicate non-verbally. Or. Put Ink's cell between them so they can't scheme anything w/o Ink being loud about it? Idk lol-) But he's such a loyal knight (lover- who said that??)

And Dream. That guy is NOT catching a break!!! Good!!! Dust purposefully lingering more often in front of/around Dream's cell because he wants to cause maximum discomfort. Maybe anytime Dream tries to start making excuses to bring up that stupid 'brain-washing' Dust uses those sparks, which shuts Dream up REAL quick. Dream does NOT get little mercies when Dust is watching.

And Dream's iconic blast to reality through Reaper- Yeah, no one clarified to him Killer being alive, so he totally thinks Killer's dead af, and Reaper doesn't correct him, just lays out the basics and says Dream should do some long. hard. thinking. (And it aligns with what Night had told him at the camp, but, Reaper, neutral party, yadda yadda-) And shout-out to Killer!!! He's coming down to tell Dust to swap out, but the guard's running late so he's watching for a bit, and Dream makes the most strngled little noise ever and immediately brusts into apologies- Killer telling him that straight to his face would be SO lovely. Goodness gravy I love these guys-

Okay I am SO sorry I think this one ended up being super long- just so many good concepts you shot back at me lol! And I am known to tangent away-

Hey! The ask!! Lets see if i can manage to type everything i thought about in the time i got my break!!

So. I got thinking. (This was also a half baked drabble idea but didnt feel like making it a full one so you are getting the idea like this!! >:D)

We spoke about how Killer would be guarding Nightmare in the raid where Dream manages to steal him.

The problem is. If Killer can still move this guy WILL throw himself at Dream to save Nightmare. Meaning that Killer has to be mortally wounded. (Also works with why Nightmare rushes to shield his older brother)

So we got Killer just laying in whatever room Nightmare and him ahd been in. Probably slowly bleeding out.

On one hand. You can have the Knights run in right after. But then what is stopping them from splitting up, one part staying with Killer and one part rushing after Dream? And it has been YEARS since Dream last visited the castle. He may not remember everything quite right.

So... in theory. It should take more time for the Knights to get to Killer. But Killer is mortally wounded.

So. In comes!! Ccino (my beloved).

Ccino had been going towards killer and nightmare after helping the servants and maids evacuate or go to the bunker.

He gets there to see Killer pretty much laying there dying on the ground, Nightmare no where to be seen.

What does he do?

Ccino's crisis management skills activate. He wants to find Nightmare but he has no clue of where Nightmare went and he has no way to fight whoever took him. Killer is in front of him actively dying.

He goes to Kilelr's side.

Killer, the romantic idiot, probably realises he is fucking dying. So maybe he is like. Maybe i can confess? (Add some extra angst and make it that the hit was by either his neck or spine or soul. Making him unable to communicate)

Ccino is trying to keep the wound closed but he has no healing magic. He doenst even have first aid kit on him beyond the bare minimum. What does he do?

Well... he knows there is one being still in the castle. He does a little prayer and asks for help.

For Killer? Killer is slowly falling unconscious. He tried to confess but cant speak. He cant even apologise for failing everyone and losing Nightmare. At least Ccino is here in his last moments. He isnt alone. So he falls asleep.

Maybe some warm light guides him. A familiar voice that was once a friend? He tries to follow only to be stopped. Stopped by something sharp and pulling him down. Back into the darkness. It feels like when he fell into a bush. The way those thorns prick his bones.

Killer at first tries to follow the image of his friend (were they his friend? They saved him right? So why shouldnt he follow them?)

Only to hear so soft. So quietly from the darkness. 'Please dont let him die...'

And that sounds like Ccino... so Killer follows that voice. Goes into the darkness and it feels as if he traveled through a overgrown forest with sticks and stuff all pulling on his limbs.

And he wakes up. His skull in Ccino's lap as Ccino keeps the wound closed and did the best first aid he did. Moments later the Knights rush in to assist.

(Yes. The tree pulled Killer's soul back to the living side while the memories of chara were trying to pull killer into oblivion and get him to die)

Okay that is all. I wanted to get that out of my system.

Okay. Hi. As always, losing my everloving mind over this. Gonna make a Cut so it's easier to scroll hehe-

First off, you are SO right about Killer fighting till he physically can't move. I think that the combat between Dream and Killer is actually decently drawn out, because Dream is kinda in a frenzy (Storm growing outside + just obliterated Cross as far as he knows) and as a mostly long-range attacker it was stupid of him to try and fight Killer alone in a confined space. Killer's fast, and has a lot more to lose if he loses this fight (Nightmare is still hidden but low key stuck, and Dream is very adamant about ending his life) so he gets up close and personal for a while and lands quite a few solid attacks. However, Killer has also heard about Dream. He saw the distress on his little face when Cross admitted who had sent him and why. How Nightmare refused to send an assassination party to end things prematurely. This is Night's brother, so Killer won't kill him. As much as he wants to.

This leaves him at a direct disadvantage, and anytime he backs off to recoup Dream shoots arrows at him. (I also think he took a couple on purpose, because where he'd hidden Nightmare was the trajectory and he couldn't block it fast enough). And then, I like to think that when Killer gets in really close one time, Dream summons his blades, the ones he was still a novice with. But! One of Them peirces Killer's outer ring of his soul, and Dream jabs upwards (kinda using his other hand on the hilt to have more force) and wedges it into Killer's spine just past his ribcage. When Dream does this it his the magical equivalent of a vein, and when he shoves Killer away and off his blade, the other can only stay upright for a few stumbles before he teeters and falls onto his back.

Soul out in the open, covered in wounds (I like to think Dream's arrows peirce and burn), and now bleeding and seemingly paralyzed, Dream pulls out his bow again, ready to shoot Killer straight in his target soul. But, he's still selfish, and he wants to monolgue a bit, curse Killer (who he believes has been controlling his brother for so long) and shoots his hand, then a gash in his neck from a well-placed arrow, until he can see that dusty layer rising on Killer's bones signaling it'll be a slow death.

But, when he finishes cursing out Killer, is ready to fire the final shot? Nightmare had been hiding in a wardrobe, when Killer had stopped talking he'd gotten worried and peeked out against his better judgement. Now, with the scene, he rushes into the crossfire and, like we've discussed, the arrow ricochets off the mask and knocks it off, revealing Night in his teen form.

And it's a quick pleading, a desperate little plea from Nightmare not to kill Killer, or hurt his knights or the people. To just stop. And Dream, after his moment of shock + probing Night's emotions to find this really is him, scoops him up. His intention was to finish Killer off, but the storm outside roars louder and he can feel a strong emotion hurrying his way, so he decides to retreat. Killer should bleed out anyways.

And now finally to your point!!! Ccino is absolutely the best option! The Knights have no idea what's happening inside, and all they can. Do to help is keep Blue and Ink occupied. Cross is down for the count and looking rough, and they just have to trust that Killer got Night out or somewhere safe. Ccino? Ccino finished his part of the job, efficient af, and is rushing to go find Nightmare and Killer. He doesn't know Dream got in, he doesn't know quite where they'd be, but he can kinda sus it out based on carnage and wet steps in the halls where *soneone* got it. If they did, Killer would probably be stalling with Night nearby.

And like u said, he gets there and finds Killer actively dying, and crisis management kicks in! Ough everything about this moment is so perfect... Ccino never learned medicine, and has no healing magic, so he can only make Killer a little more comfortable and put pressure on his wounds to try and stop the bleeding. And he *sees* that soul injury. No matter how well he staunches the blood flow with his apron, that would surely kill him without treatment. And Killer seems to still be conscious, but barely. He's fading. And silent, which is deeply eerie and Wrong.

And good gods. Killer wanting so so bad to confess because, he's gonna die anyways so he wants to get it out, but he Literally can't say anything?? Wauhh!!!!!

And Ccino reaching out to the Veing in the castle... praying, begging for Killer to be saved, because Ccino refuses to leave him alone, and also refuses to lose him. Killer was Night's first knight, the most important person in that kid's world (Ccino doesn't count himself). All the Knights rely on Killer for guidance and support. Ccino needs Killer in his life, this idiot, this criminal, is somehow one of his favorite people in this castle. Please, please, please don't let him go. Keep him here until help arrives. *please*.

And the Castle obliges. Not only is Killer the one who protected Nightmare, the prince who is restoring this land, but Killer is one Ccino values. Ccino is here, stopping his wounds, begging for help to save a life. He hasn't done that before.

And!!! The description from Killer's perspective!!!!! For all intents and purposes, it seems the warm friendly voice (Chara!!!) Should be the one he follows. It's gentle, beckoning towards a soft glow, it's peaceful. And then the tree's method of getting Killer back is to snag him. Darkness, unpleasant contact that stabs and pricks and scratches. It's not nice, it's not subtle, it's dragging him back into pain and agony of his injuries (even if it's not immediate). But Killer doesn't fight because he hears Ccino! Even if he doesn't process that it's him, it unlocks something in his core that makes him decide to take the hard route and push back through that dense forest until he's back to the living realm. Still on death's door, but alive!

Oh I love this visual so dearly, frothing at the mouth about it....

And ofc the aftermath. Dream couldn't find the main entrance, so he snuck out a servant's door and signaled from outside that he was ready to go. The militia (I think the guard was busy holding off militia members from entering the castle walls) retreats first, scattering into town and Rogers demands no pursuit, hold the walls strong. Then Blue and Ink narrowly escape by simply using Ink's magic puddles, appearing somewhere else in the city through a big enough rain puddle. (Though, miles out they're still dodging the occasional lightning strike).

Only after they're too far off do the knight rush back. Horror's got Cross (in critical condition due to a blow to the side of his ribs+spine but ultimately stable) and Dust leads the way to search for Night and Killer, also following the trail Dream had left, and... they find Ccino and Killer. Killer is very very much limp in Ccino's lap, they're basically sitting in a pool of Killer's blood, and Ccino upon spotting them rapidly tells Dust to go find a healer and bring them here. Immediately.

Horror sets Cross nearby and focuses his efforts on trying to help Ccino put pressure on Killer's wounds but he can't do much either.

But, y'know, the healers who have magic for it are able to stabilize him (they are flabbergasted that he's not dead) and Cross is alright too. Dust + Horror go searching for Night. Nowhere to be found.

[cyellolemon]

Haunted

[hauntingblue]

WATER SEVEN BABYYYYY

Look at robin reacting when luffy says he wont give her up.... 🥺🥺

This is a joke right now but its actually a one piece tenet aldjsisjka

Usopp aksbaksjakqk the foreshadow is foreshadowing... Also Robin being happy with the crew after the Aokiji incident... Fuck!!!!

Sanji thinking robin just vanished or flew away and suddenly usopp is soaring thru the skies... imagine

AAAAARGGGGHHHH YOU CAN SEE THE GEARS TURNING

Zoro talking to merry..... only while he is alone of course

Why are nami and sanji matching ajdhakjsk look at the citrus sisters

Carpenter: maybe it was the government

Gov agent: I don't think so, also don't say that they are everywhere

LUFFY SUPPORTS WOMEN'S WRONGS!!!

Don't scream att chopper like that!!! Look at him... So small....

Imu tease???? (No) (Also I've changed websites again bc the translation is kinda off , I can't find a good quality b&w spanish translation and the colors scare me (i want the real manga experience))

GET HIM ICEBURG!!!!

I truly forgor if this is just a lie about her wanting to find the rio poneglyphs or genuine because she wants to die and will do it for them... because in skypiea she says she is not interested in the weapons so maybe if the gov pardons her but considering what she wants is illegal then idk abdjabjs this is such a dumb thing to forget... like thats important girl where did it go (reading this after remembering and it's kinda funny... i will make any sacrifice to kill myself (and keep you safe)... she goes HARD)

Little paulie and mozu and kiwi.... omg hello (the SBS says the twins wanted to be shipwrights too omg)

Franky's backstory is small but it does so much for me like it is so central to the themes... boats and people...

DID SOMEBODY ORDER MORE TRAGIC BROTHERS?

The fact that franky needs to learn this lesson to pass it on to robin.... do you understand how big this is.... also Tom does exactly as he says and takes responsibility for franky and what he has done... because he has done nothing wrong AND THAT'S HIS SON and he just punched spandam bc he wanta him to feel the pain franky feels... Tom is such a man..... proud of having built eater 7 up with the sea train.... goes out with a boom.... should we all kill ourselves....

I am crying again................... franky my god.... and the fucking frog!!! And of course franky can't stop Tom's hope for his island... of course he can't.... he hasnt learnt the lesson yet but this guy isn't over yet!! He has a life of being a pervert cyborg ahead!!! Iceburg following Tom's footsteps but franky not being able to do that bc of his guilt....

This is one of the coolest things chopper has done btw...

NAMII 😭😭😭

Robin damning the world for her crew when all she has ever done is damn her companions for her own sake.... how big is this...

I can't take this...... it's always nami in these positions... it happens AGAIN in Zou with Sanji... there is no way

The love letter gag is too good like damn that's so funny

AND IT'S NAMI GOING THROUGH IT AGAIN!!!! SHE LOVES ROBIN SO MUCH!!!!

[quietwingsinthesky]

the amount of time i spend thinking about Even carrying the metacrisis doctor’s fob watch is really quite disproportionate to how much ive fleshed out that part of the story in my head

[whimsicmimic]

once again thinking about my post-trimax legato somehow miraculously survives despite everything au and vashgato agenda aka The Worlds Most Miserable Roadtrip

[dunmesh]

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.

[morganmnemonic]

I can't stop thinking about the relationship between Jon and Helen as perhaps one of the most important ones in the entire show. They are narrative parallels for each other, and they both know it. They've both known it from the very start!

Helen walks into the Archives, paranoid, unsure of who to trust, and Jon sees himself in her. And he thinks "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." Then he can't save her. The next time they meet, she's a monster. They're both monsters. There was never any other way their stories could have gone, their fates entwined from the very start.

And Helen answers his original thought with one of her own: "Maybe if we can help each other, there's hope for us both." But Jon looks at her and sees everything that he fears becoming, and so he turns her away, and refuses to accept that their stories are still one and the same.

Helen went to the last person who was ever kind to her, the only person who both knew her as a human and had the context to understand what she'd become, and he hated her. He hated her because he liked Helen, and told her that she couldn't be Helen.

So she stopped trying to be Helen, and embraced being a monster. Reveled in it even. Then Jon wakes up from a six month coma, more monster than person, and tries so hard to cling to the things that mattered to him when he was human. Even with no support, even with the entire archives staff against him, he chooses humanity and compassion over and over again.

And this is a direct threat to Helen's world view. Their stories are entwined. If Jon can continue to be a person even after everything he's been through, then she could have clung to her humanity too, if only she'd tried a little harder. And that terrifies her! She wants to conceptualize herself as someone who was completely overwhelmed by forces beyond her control, who never had a choice but to become a monster. She want's to be an innocent victim. But Jon argues with his actions that they'd both had choices.

And, Jon, in turn, holds out hope that she might make better choices until the very end.

This is the conflict between them for all of season 4 and 5. Jon wants to prove that they can both be decent people, and Helen wants to prove that they were never going to be anything but monsters. This is why she's so devoted to trying to goad Jon into enjoying his newfound godhood. She knows that they are the same, and wants that to mean that he has a spark of evil inside of him, and not that she was always capable of doing good.

When Jon kills her, she loses her life, but wins the argument. Helen is nothing but a dangerous monster who needs to be killed for the good of everyone, and in the moment he decides that, Jon dooms himself to the same fate. Their stories are one and the same. "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." he thought. But he couldn't help her, refused to, even, in the one moment when it actually mattered. And thus, there was never hope for him.

[voyter]

DEVOTION — jeon jungkook.

genre. a song of ice and fire au. 103 AC. smut. knight!jungkook. queen!reader.

your knight is completely devoted to you, and while it’s his duty, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more behind his unwavering loyalty.

word count. 17.1k words (FUCK i am so sorry) warnings. this fic might be a bit confusing if you havent watched game of thrones or house of the dragon !!! misogyny. gender dynamics. seokjin and namjoon cameo hehe. forced / arranged marriage. over protective jungkook <3. cute convo between oc and her husband. violence. mentions of blood and murder. SO MUCH FUCKING TENSION. smut. two sex scenes !! dry humping. oral (male!receiving). unprotected sex (this universe takes place thousands of years ago and condoms didnt exist yet give me a break). bath sex. they almost get caught OOP. cheating (but both parties are consenting and they both openly do it to each other but they dont love each other romantically so its okay i guess) ???? jungkook literally worships her oh im sick i need him.

ana's notes. this fic ended up being much longer than i anticipated but oh my gosh i literally could NOT STOP WRITING !!! this is the longest fic ive ever written hello. this is inspired by alicent and coles relationship in season 2. sorry i hate them but this trope ??? OUUU TOO GOOD. so you know i got inspired. anyways, i love this one so much, so please let me know your thoughts <3. as always, keep your comments positive or say nothing at all xx

listening to. blue jeans by lana del rey / middle of the night by elley duhé / flawless by the neighbourhood

part of the based off film series. this one shot is based off house of the dragon.

You had always hated the idea of marrying someone you didn’t love, but you knew that marriage was not a choice — it was an obligation woven into the fabric of your destiny. Though reluctance filled you at first, you gradually came to terms with your duty, accepting the role thrust upon you with a measure of peace.

House Emberwyn ruled the Seven Kingdoms, making them the most powerful house of all. Your father had forged a deep bond with King Aelyx, the two men connected by the shared grief of losing their wives. Beyond their friendship, your father was adamant that uniting your houses through marriage was crucial. He envisioned a future where the intertwining of two powerful, wealthy legacies would forge an unbreakable realm.

Atticus, the son of King Aelyx, was only a year older than you — making him a suitable match. Like you, he was reluctant to marry, but he, too, understood the importance of duty. He wanted nothing more than to make his father proud, even if it meant sacrificing personal desire.

As the sole heirs of your respective houses, the pressure to produce children was immediate. The act of intimacy with Atticus was never one of passion or love; it was merely another duty. The first time was uncomfortable, almost unbearable, but over time, you learned to tolerate it. This was your life now, dictated by duty rather than desire.

Since your marriage, you have been blessed with three children. Ares, your eldest and only son, was conceived during your bedding ceremony. Now a boy of one and ten, he is wise beyond his years, his sharp mind driven by a deep love for books and knowledge. Celeste, your first daughter, is nine years old — a whirlwind of wild, unrestrained energy that seems impossible to contain. Already, she’s been eagerly awaiting the day she can take to the skies on dragonback, her spirit far older than her years. Then there is Luna, your youngest and newest addition to the family, a radiant little soul who brings warmth and light into every corner of your life. She is the calm of the storm, a small but powerful source of joy that never fails to lift your spirits, no matter how heavy the burdens of the day.

Atticus is a good father, never neglecting his children. He is present in their lives, providing for them with steadfast love and care. As a husband, he is kind and dutiful. Yet, despite all his virtues, he is not the love of your life.

The two of you had come to an agreement early in your marriage: you were free to seek pleasure where you wished, as long as heirs were made with each other. It was a compromise, one that allowed you both to navigate the confines of your duty while maintaining some semblance of personal freedom.

Tragedy struck shortly after Celeste’s birth when King Aelyx succumbed to an unknown illness. The crown passed to Atticus, and with it came the immense burden of ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

With Atticus as king, you became Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, unlike your husband, you did not feel the same pressure. Your days were mostly spent within the confines of your chambers, where the laughter and antics of your children filled your life with light and purpose. Despite never having known your own mother — she had died giving birth to you — you felt as though motherhood had always been your calling.

While you wouldn’t trade your life for anything in the world, motherhood came with its challenges. Ares and Celeste were at the age where they bickered endlessly over the smallest of things — whether it was toys, attention, or simply to see who could get on your nerves first. Their constant squabbles were a source of frustration, and yet you knew it was a phase they would eventually outgrow. Luna, on the other hand, still so small and newly born, could not seem to stop crying. Her wails often filled the castle, and while the maids were always close by, ready to assist, you never allowed them to. You wanted your daughter to find comfort in your arms, not anyone else’s.

There were days when calming her down felt like a losing battle, the hours stretching into what felt like an eternity. But when you finally succeeded, when her cries quieted and her tiny form melted into sleep, it filled you with a sense of accomplishment. It was a small victory in a life full of larger, weightier battles.

Fortunately, today was one of the easier days. Luna wasn’t feeling particularly fussy, and after a few gentle rocks and soft pats on her back, she fell asleep in your arms without much protest. Relief washed over you as you gazed down at her peaceful face, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The soft warmth of her against you, the quiet of the room, made you feel like, for a moment, everything was right.

“Your Grace?”

A voice interrupted your quiet reverie, but you didn’t turn. Your eyes remained fixed on Luna, unwilling to break the fragile serenity of the moment. You hummed in response, acknowledging the speaker but unable to tear your gaze from your sleeping daughter.

“Your presence is wanted, though not required, Your Grace.”

The words draw you from your thoughts, and with a soft sigh, you finally turn to face the speaker. It’s the Lord Commander, standing tall and imposing, his armor catching the dim light filtering through the windows.

“What for?” you ask, your voice calm but laced with curiosity.

“The Kingsguard posting,” he replies, his tone formal, as always. “It’s been suggested that you select who will guard the Red Keep.”

You consider his words, your gaze drifting back to Luna, still fast asleep in your arms. The thought of placing your trust in someone else, of relying on others to protect what matters most, brings a weight to your chest. As a mother, your first instinct is always to shield your children. You would want nothing more than for them to roam the castle freely, knowing they were surrounded by those you trusted — those you handpicked.

“I suppose,” you murmur.

After carefully setting Luna in her crib, you linger for a moment, brushing a tender hand over her soft cheek. Ensuring the maids were nearby to watch over her, you quietly slip from the nursery and follow the Lord Commander through the castle's stone corridors. Your thoughts remain on Luna for a heartbeat longer before shifting to the matter at hand — choosing the knights who would guard your family, your children.

You arrive at the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where a line of knights stands at attention, their armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. The air is crisp, the tension palpable as each knight awaits his turn to be presented.

The Lord Commander steps forward, his voice ringing with authority. "Step forward, Ser Kim Namjoon."

The knight moves with a quiet confidence, offering you a small, almost shy smile. Dimples crease his cheeks, and despite the serious nature of the proceedings, you find yourself smiling back, charmed by the warmth in his expression.

"Ser Namjoon has proved strong and steady in both the tourney lists and in service beyond," the Lord Commander begins. "While traveling through the Kingswood on the way to King’s Landing, Ser Namjoon recently brought a would-be poacher to justice."

You listen carefully, considering the man before you. His loyalty and steadiness are clear, and his recent actions speak of a knight who serves with honor. Still, your mind drifts to a darker, more urgent thought — combat. The Red Keep, and more importantly, your children, needed knights who were not only honorable but battle hardened. In these uncertain times, loyalty alone would not be enough. 

"Ser Namjoon," you say, your voice polite yet measured. "We thank you for your loyal service to the Crown."

He bows deeply before stepping back into line, and you offer him a nod in return, though your thoughts continue to circle around the same question — how many of these knights had seen true combat?

The next knight steps forward, and your gaze narrows as you take him in.

"Ser Kim Seokjin," the Lord Commander announces.

This knight is taller, leaner than Namjoon. He holds himself with a quiet grace, his expression serious, but there's a spark of something beneath the surface — determination perhaps, or ambition.

"Winner of the melee at Cider Hall," the Lord Commander continues. "He was the last mounted of three and twenty knights. Ser Seokjin was knighted at eight and ten."

You raise an eyebrow, impressed by his accomplishments. Yet, your thoughts linger on something more pressing, more crucial to the protection of your family.

"Do any of these knights have combat experience?" you ask, your tone sharper now. "Beyond capturing poachers and winning tourneys?"

The Lord Commander nods solemnly, signaling the next candidate.

“Ser Jeon Jungkook.”

As the name is called, a young knight steps forward, noticeably younger than the others who had come before him. Yet, despite his youth, he carries himself with an air of quiet confidence, his steps measured and purposeful. Strands of raven hair fall loosely across his forehead, framing a face that, while youthful, is sharp with focus. His dark eyes meet yours with a steady gaze, neither too bold nor deferent — he stands unshaken by the weight of the moment.

He looks about your age, perhaps even younger, and though he lacks the grizzled scars of a seasoned warrior, something about him immediately draws your attention. There's a natural grace in the way he moves, his armor fitting him perfectly as if he was born to wear it. He’s quite handsome, a fact you can’t help but notice as he stands before you, the light of the setting sun casting a faint glow over his features.

"Tell me, Ser Jungkook," you say, breaking the silence, "have you seen real combat?"

He doesn’t falter, his voice steady as he speaks. "I have, Your Grace. I fought for a year as a foot soldier against the Dornish incursions. I was knighted after we razed two of the watchtowers along the Boneway.”

There is no hesitation in his tone, no embellishment. The quiet intensity of his words, the weight of lived experience behind them, strikes you deeply. His demeanor isn't that of a man seeking glory but of one who has already faced the fire and come out stronger for it. In that moment, your decision feels clear.

“It’s settled.” Your lips curve into a smile, one of certainty and satisfaction. “I choose Ser Jungkook.”

The Lord Commander stiffens slightly, his jaw tensing as though weighing whether to speak. Before you can take a step back toward your chambers, his voice interrupts, filled with respectful hesitation. "Perhaps we shouldn’t be too hasty, Your Grace. There is no doubt Ser Jungkook is a fine warrior, but Ser Namjoon and Ser Seokjin are from houses that are important allies of the Crown."

You turn slowly, your expression cool but firm. The politicking of the court — alliances, the endless exchange of favors and titles — was something you understood all too well. Yet, this was not a matter of alliances. This was the safety of your family, the future of your children. And no amount of courtly maneuvering could change that.

“Those men are tourney knights,” you say, your voice laced with a sharp edge. “My children should be defended by a man who’s known real combat. Should they not?”

The Lord Commander pauses, his gaze flickering between the knights and your unwavering stance. He gives a short bow, conceding. “Of course, Your Grace.”

You nod once, satisfied. “Very well, then,” you say, a smile returning to your face, though this time with a sense of finality. “I expect you to plan Ser Jungkook’s investiture.”

There’s a flicker of something in the Lord Commander’s eyes — perhaps begrudging respect or recognition of your authority in this matter. He bows once more before stepping aside. “As you wish, Your Grace. I will see to it.”

As the days passed, it became clear that your decision to appoint Ser Jungkook was more than justified.

Jungkook proved himself an unwavering presence in the lives of your children. He guarded Ares and Celeste like a loyal hound, always at their side, his dark eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger. Wherever they went — whether it was the training yard where Ares spent hours practicing swordplay or the garden where Celeste attempted to name every flower — Jungkook followed, his sight never leaving them.

In the corridors of the Red Keep, you would often catch glimpses of him, stationed at the door to whatever chamber Ares and Celeste had wandered into, standing with that same quiet intensity that first caught your attention. He never intruded upon their activities, never interfered with their games, but his presence was felt all the same. He was a silent sentinel, ensuring that no one entered or exited a room without his knowledge.

Even the servants and court members began to take note, offering respectful nods as they passed him. There was a certain respect that began to build around Jungkook, not just as a knight, but as a protector of the royal family — of your family.

Before Ser Jungkook’s arrival, the Red Keep had always felt secure. Its towering walls and seasoned guards provided a fortress of safety, a place where danger rarely crossed your mind. Yet, somehow, with Jungkook’s arrival, there was a new, tangible sense of protection. His presence, quiet yet vigilant, added an extra layer of assurance, as if the very air had shifted, growing thicker with safety, steadier with his watchful eye. He didn’t need to speak or make grand gestures; just knowing he was there, standing mere feet away from you, made the castle feel more fortified than it ever had before.

In many ways, he made you feel like that too — protected, even in the smallest, unspoken ways.

The Small Council was always the most grueling part of your day. Despite your title as Queen, you found yourself constantly sidelined, your voice often drowned out by the men who dominated the discussions. You had grown accustomed to their subtle condescension — the way they’d nod and pretend to listen, only to carry on as if your words had never been spoken. You’d learned to expect it, but the sting of dismissal never faded entirely.

And today was no different.

As you took your seat, Jungkook stood nearby, ever the silent sentinel. He’d grown adept at reading you, his dark eyes keenly observing the smallest shift in your demeanor. He noticed how, at first, you entered the room with a composed grace, ready to engage in the matters at hand. But as the meeting dragged on, frustration began to creep in, visible in the slight tightening of your jaw each time a man at the table spoke over you or dismissed your suggestions with a polite but infuriating nod.

Jungkook’s eyes followed the subtle changes — the way your posture stiffened, the soft sigh you tried to suppress, and then, finally, the way boredom started to settle in as you reached for the small stone ball on the table, rolling it between your fingers absentmindedly. He knew you were doing your best to remain patient, but the disrespect weighed heavily in the room.

His hand instinctively twitched at his side, a protective instinct rising within him as he stood there watching. He was ready to intervene if the moment called for it, though he knew better than to step in unless absolutely necessary. Still, his silent support was palpable, a reassuring presence amidst the clamor of men who failed to see the strength in the woman before them.

“Perhaps we should discuss Driftmark, Your Grace,” the Maester began, his voice too casual for the gravity of the subject. He directed his attention toward your husband, but the mention of Driftmark instantly drew you in, pulling you from your growing boredom. You straightened in your seat, the defensiveness in your posture clear.

“What of it?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, the raw emotion behind it hard to suppress. Driftmark wasn’t just a topic for idle conversation — it was family. Personal. The loss of the Lord of the Tides, your cousin’s husband, had been a blow that still lingered, and the aftermath of it weighed heavily on your heart.

He had been more than just family; he had adored your children as if they were his own, even naming your daughter, Celeste, as his heir. It was an honor, though one with its own set of complications. With Ares set to inherit the Iron Throne, Celeste was to inherit Driftmark. Your cousin, devastated by the loss of her husband and without heirs of her own, was to hold the seat in her stead until Celeste came of age.

The Maester’s eyes flickered between you and your husband, clearly aware of the tension in the room but too entrenched in his own position to approach the subject delicately. He cleared his throat, then spoke with a tone that bordered on patronizing. “It’s... a delicate matter, Your Grace. There are those who believe the succession should be reconsidered, given your daughter’s age. Furthermore, some question the wisdom of naming a girl as heir to such a powerful seat.”

Your stomach tightened, fury simmering beneath the surface. A girl. As if Celeste’s age or gender diminished her worth, her potential. You could feel the disdain, not just for your daughter, but for the very idea of a woman wielding such power.

You held the Maester’s gaze, your voice sharp with barely concealed fury. “And do you agree with them?”

The chamber seemed to freeze in that moment, the weight of your words pressing down on everyone in the room. All eyes flickered nervously between you and the Maester, the tension palpable as if even the air had thickened, making it harder to breathe. Everyone braced themselves for the confrontation that was surely coming.

The Maester, sensing the chance to finally reveal his true thoughts, straightened in his seat, his chest puffing out as arrogance replaced caution. He no longer glanced toward your husband for approval; instead, his focus was solely on you, his eyes glinting with condescension.

“A woman on the Driftwood Throne, Your Grace?” he repeated, his voice dripping with condescension. “Forgive my candor, but Driftmark is not some soft and delicate estate. It is a seat of warriors, sailors, men of the sea and battle. Its history is steeped in strength and tradition. To put a mere girl — no matter her bloodline — on that chair is folly, plain and simple. A woman’s place is in the home, tending to hearth and children, not commanding fleets or sitting in council chambers. The late Lord has a brother who would make a fine new Lord, more befitting the legacy.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your hands tightening into fists. “His brother has no desire for rule!” you shot back, your temper dangerously close to boiling over. “Celeste is his rightful heir. It was his wish, and it will not be questioned!”

The Maester, unfazed, continues. “Your Grace… with all due respect, your daughter is but a child. A girl of her age should be concerned with dolls and dresses, not the governance of a seat as vital as Driftmark. There are many in the realm who would argue that Driftmark deserves a stronger hand. A male heir, one capable of steering the course of the future, as tradition demands. Perhaps it is time to reconsider your decision, before it’s too late. Before the realm begins to question not only Driftmark’s future, but the Queen’s judgment as well.”

The insult hung in the air like a storm cloud, casting a heavy, suffocating tension over the room. The audacity — the sheer gall of the Maester to question not only your daughter’s right but your authority as Queen. Fury simmered beneath your composed exterior, your hand twitching as though you might lash out.

But before you could muster a response, Jungkook was already moving.

“You will watch your tongue when speaking to the Queen, Maester,” Jungkook’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble, carrying the unmistakable weight of a threat. His usually calm demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more menacing. “Or it shall be taken from you.”

The room seemed to shrink around the Maester, all eyes now on him as the color drained from his face. His earlier arrogance dissolved in an instant, replaced with wide-eyed panic. The man who had dared to question your daughter’s birthright now looked as though he might faint from fear.

“I- I meant no offense, Ser Jungkook,” the Maester stammered, his words tumbling over themselves in a desperate attempt to backpedal. His gaze flickered nervously from you to Jungkook, searching for some kind of escape.

“You did,” Jungkook cut him off sharply, his tone like the edge of a blade. His gaze bore into the Maester, unyielding, unwavering. “And I will remind you once more: mind your tongue.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the threat hanging in the air like a blade, and no one doubted that Jungkook would make good on his promise if pushed further.

You turned your gaze to Jungkook, barely concealing your silent shock. The man who stood just feet away, usually so quiet and composed, always speaking only when spoken to, had stepped in to defend you — boldly, without hesitation. The gesture was unexpected, and for a moment, you were struck by the kindness and protectiveness it held.

It was not just the words he had spoken, but the intensity behind them, the clear signal that he would tolerate no disrespect toward you. In a room full of lords and courtiers who often dismissed your voice, Jungkook’s sudden defense felt like a rare and precious show of loyalty. Uncommon as it was, it left a warmth spreading in your chest, a silent but deeply felt appreciation.

Jungkook still hadn’t met your eyes, his intense gaze fixed on the Maester, the disapproval and disgust etched in his expression radiating an aura so fierce, it was almost frightening. He stood there like a wall of steel, silently daring anyone to challenge him again.

You turned your attention back to the Maester, who now squirmed under the weight of the moment. His once confident, condescending exterior had crumbled, now sitting timidly in his seat.

“Celeste is the rightful heir,” you stated, your voice even and composed, though laced with quiet authority. “She will rule Driftmark, and she will do so just as well as any man ever could. Anyone who questions that,” you paused, allowing the weight of your words to settle over the room, “will regret it.”

The Maester lowered his head, unable to meet your gaze, his earlier arrogance completely shattered. “Of course, Your Grace. Please, forgive my words.”

Jungkook didn’t move an inch, his focus still locked onto the Maester like a hawk waiting for the slightest wrong move. The room felt smaller, the tension almost suffocating as the Maester’s earlier confidence reduced to a pitiful murmur.

“See that you don’t forget that again,” you said, your tone final and cold, leaving no room for further argument.

With that, you stood up from your seat, the weight of the moment still hanging heavy in the air. Without another word, you turned on your heel and made your way out of the courtroom, every step deliberate, your posture unyielding. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as you moved, a quiet power radiating from you that demanded respect.

Jungkook, as ever, was by your side in an instant, but he kept a respectful distance, just enough to remain a silent protector, his presence still like a shield around you. His footsteps were measured, the sound of his boots echoing softly in the corridors, and yet there was an undeniable sense of security in the space between you two. No words were exchanged as you made your way to your chamber — there was no need for them. His silent solidarity was all you required.

Jungkook’s presence was reassuring, like the calm after a storm, and it made the weight of leadership — of being Queen — just a little easier to bear.

After the heat of earlier’s events, the last thing you wanted was to step foot back into the chaos of the court. The weight of the Maester’s words still lingered in the air, and you felt the need to retreat, to recharge in the only place that felt truly like yours. So, you didn’t leave your chambers for the rest of the day. You took the rare opportunity to unwind, the need for solitude outweighing any further obligations for the day.

Without a second thought, you changed into your nightgown well before the moon rose, the soft fabric a welcome contrast to the tense weight of your court attire. You moved with practiced ease, the familiar ritual of shedding the day’s responsibilities easing the knots in your shoulders. 

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm glow that danced across the room. You sank into the couch, the cushions molding to your body as you settled in front of the flames. With a book in hand, you opened the pages, the words inviting you into another world — a world where you could forget, if only for a moment, the burdens of being Queen.

You lost yourself in the story, the flicker of the fire keeping time with the rhythm of your reading. Outside your window, the castle was quiet, the usual noise of the corridors muted by the sanctuary of your chamber. For the first time that day, you felt a sense of peace. The world outside could wait. Here, in the comfort of your own space, you could simply be.

But just as the fire’s soft, flickering glow began to lull you deeper into peace, a knock at the door broke the fragile silence, its sound sharp and intrusive. A flicker of annoyance stirred within you — someone daring to interrupt the quiet sanctuary of your evening. But then, a familiar voice, calm and steady, followed.

“Your Grace?”

It’s him.

You took a slow breath, the irritation melting away at the sound of his voice, and called softly, “Come in, Ser Jungkook.”

The door creaked open, but Jungkook didn’t immediately step inside. He stood just beyond the threshold, his tall frame framed by the dim light spilling from the hall, casting long shadows across the stone floor. There was something endearing in the way he paused there, as though uncertain, hesitating to cross the boundary of your private space without your explicit permission. His respect for the sanctity of your chambers was something rare, a simple act that made him stand out even more.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, like the evening air itself. “I’ve just come to alert you that the children are abed.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

What you didn’t know was that the children had been in bed for some time. Jungkook had only alerted you now because he was standing just outside your door, hesitating. He wasn’t sure if he should disturb your peace with the news. Still new to this role, he was uncertain of how to balance his duties with the delicate art of discretion.

“Thank you, Ser Jungkook,” you said, your tone warm with gratitude. “I would appreciate it if you informed me every night from now on.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Sleep well.” Jungkook gave a respectful nod, his voice as steady and sincere as ever, and he turned to leave.

“Ser Jungkook,” you called again, before he could close the door behind him.

He paused, hand resting lightly on the doorframe, his dark eyes meeting yours in the soft, flickering firelight. For a brief moment, the noise of the castle seemed to fall away, the crackling fire the only sound that filled the space between you. It was rare, these moments of true stillness, where it was just the two of you, no interruptions, no duties weighing on either of your shoulders. The warmth from the fire cast a soft glow over him, accentuating the quiet strength in his features.

For the first time, you found yourself truly looking at him — not just the protector of your children, not just the present knight, but Jungkook. 

“I’ve yet to thank you for earlier — in the Small Council chamber,” you said softly, your voice quiet but earnest. “I appreciate your defense. Thank you.”

The words hung between you for a moment, carrying a weight that felt heavier than it should. It wasn’t just the defense itself, though that was significant; it was the quiet way he had stood up for you. Jungkook had always been the silent one, always just there, standing in the background. But today, he had been more. He had spoken when no one else had. His simple act of defending you meant more than you could say.

Jungkook’s posture softened at your words, though his expression remained composed, his usual stoic demeanor intact. Yet, as he held your gaze, his dark eyes seemed to linger a moment longer than usual, a subtle warmth settling in his look that wasn’t often there. It was as though the space between you both had shifted, the heavy tension of the day dissolving into something quieter, almost comforting.

“It was nothing, Your Grace. You need not thank me,” he replied, his voice low and measured, though there was something beneath it — something genuine, almost vulnerable, that made the words feel different from his usual calm, detached responses. His eyes remained steady on yours, and for a moment, the usual distance between you seemed to shrink, as though he was offering something unspoken, something more than just a knight’s duty. “You shouldn’t have to endure that kind of disrespect. It’s my duty to protect you, in all ways.”

You gave a soft nod, absorbing the weight of his words. Jungkook was a constant in your life — a silent guardian who stood watch over both your children and yourself. But hearing him speak of protecting you in such a way, so plainly and honestly, stirred something within you. It wasn’t just your children that mattered to him; it was you, as well. 

“You do more than protect,” you said, your voice softer now, the weariness of the day gradually easing. “Your actions today… they meant more than you know.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched at the corners, acknowledging your words, but he didn’t respond right away. There was a brief silence between you both, the fire’s crackling embers filling the stillness as he shifted his weight, his stance still as rigid as ever, but now, a slight tension in his shoulders had eased.

“If there’s ever anything you need, Your Grace,” he said finally, his tone softer than it had been moments before, but with an underlying firmness that conveyed his commitment, “I am here.”

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around you like a quiet promise, steady and unwavering. The light of the fire caught on his features, casting soft shadows over his face, making his usually guarded expression seem less distant, more human. You felt a sense of peace settling into the space between you both, a momentary connection that felt more genuine than anything that had passed between you in the public eye.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, finding comfort in the rare, honest exchange.

Jungkook inclined his head once more, his expression softening in a way that was unusual for him — a small, but genuine smile curling his lips, the warmth of it making him seem more approachable, more... real.

“Goodnight, Your Grace,” he said quietly, voice full of respect, but also something else — something deeper.

“Goodnight, Ser Jungkook,” you murmured in return.

With that, he turned and moved to close the door behind him, the soft click of the latch signaling his departure. But as the door clicked shut, you realized that this time, you didn’t feel the usual solitude. There was something different. Something comforting. Something exciting that made the pit of your stomach feel funny, in knowing he was standing just outside your door.

Just the barrier of wood between you two.

The next day unfolded much more peacefully than the last. 

You sat on the floor of your chamber, the luxurious fabric of your gown pooling around you like a soft sea of silk. The quiet of the room was comforting as you focused on the delicate task in front of you — embroidering a blanket for Luna. Each stitch was a calming motion, your mind momentarily free of the weight of royal duties. 

You hadn’t seen Jungkook yet, but his presence lingered in your thoughts, like an unspoken promise. The anticipation of his arrival stirred a quiet excitement within you, though you had no idea when he might appear. 

The silence was broken by your husband's voice, cutting through the peaceful air as he entered without knocking, his tone casual. “How are you feeling today?”

You glanced up briefly, meeting his eyes before returning to your work. “Better,” you answered, the edges of your lips curving into a faint smile.

“Good,” Atticus replied, smirking as he made his way over to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. “Do you think you’ll be attending the Small Council today?”

You hesitated, the thought of sitting through another long, tedious session filling you with a quiet reluctance. “No… if that’s alright?” you replied, your tone tentative, not wanting to seem too dismissive of his suggestion.

“Of course,” Atticus said, lifting the goblet to his lips. His eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he added, “But I’ll have you know, I’ve hired a new Maester.”

The words hit you like a spark, and without thinking, you put your needle down. The sudden shift in the conversation caught your attention fully. Your eyes locked onto him, eyebrows raised in surprise. The idea of a new Maester was unexpected — and it immediately piqued your curiosity.

"Are you upset about that?" you asked, your voice soft and laced with a hint of apology, eyes searching his face for any sign of how he truly felt.

Atticus paused, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. His lips curled into a knowing smirk, and he set the goblet down gently on the table. "I could never be upset with you for only standing up for yourself," he said, his voice steady, though there was an underlying heat to his words. "And someone as disrespectful as that will not continue to walk around in this castle."

His declaration was resolute, filled with a quiet determination. The confidence in his voice was not just from his position, but from a place of deep respect for you. It was as if he had taken the full weight of your frustration upon himself, and the fire behind his words showed that he would do whatever it took to ensure you never had to endure such treatment again. 

You smile warmly at his words. "Thank you, Atticus."

He pauses, a small smile tugging at his lips, his fingers tapping idly on the edge of the table. "You know, as much as I’m not in love with you," he says slowly, his tone more thoughtful than usual, "I still love you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, the raw honesty in his voice bringing a quiet comfort. It wasn't the passionate declaration of romance you might have hoped for, but it was the kind of love that ran deep — steady, consistent, unshakable. 

You meet his gaze, and your heart softens with understanding. "As do I," you reply, your voice gentle but genuine. 

It wasn’t the kind of love that others might expect, filled with grand gestures and whispered sweet nothings. But in its own way, it was a love that had stood the test of time. It isn’t passionate, but there’s a respect and understanding between the two of you that runs deep.

“Now,” Atticus says, his voice low, teasing. “Can we talk about your knight in shining armor?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smirk that tugs at your lips. “Oh Gods,” you say, the edge of amusement clear in your voice as you go back to your needlework.

“Oh, come on,” he whines, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “I let you pick, now you have to tell me all about him!”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “It was you who suggested I pick?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I thought you’d feel more content choosing someone yourself.”

“I do,” you reply with a small smile, returning to your embroidery. “It was a wise suggestion.”

“Oh, don’t change the subject now!” He motions with a dramatic hand. “What was that about yesterday?”

“He was just defending me,” you say, hoping to dismiss the conversation, though you’re well aware it won’t be that easy.

Atticus lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes in dramatic fashion. “No knight is that devoted to duty, my dear wife.”

His words make you pause, but you try not to let it show. Still, a smile begins to creep onto your lips, unbidden. You hadn’t really allowed yourself to think about it that way. Jungkook had always been quiet, loyal, reliable — but devoted in the way Atticus is hinting? It’s a thought that stirs something unexpected in you.

“Well, believe it or not,” you say, unable to stop the small grin now, “we’ve spoken to each other only a few times.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, clearly entertained. “Is that so? And yet, with little words between you, he’s ready to challenge a room full of lords for your honor. Fascinating.”

You roll your eyes, returning to your needlework in an attempt to focus, but your mind can’t help but drift back to Jungkook. The memory of his voice, steady and unyielding as he defended you, lingers. Maybe Atticus has a point, but admitting that would only fuel his relentless teasing.

“He’s just dutiful,” you insist, though even you can hear the uncertainty creeping into your voice. 

Atticus catches it too, and his smirk widens as he takes a slow, deliberate sip from his goblet. “Dutiful because he loves his duty? Or because of you?”

Your cheeks flush instantly, the warmth creeping up your neck as you try to brush off the insinuation. “You’re reading into this too much,” you mumble, focusing on the embroidery in your lap, though your needlework suddenly seems less interesting.

“Am I?” Atticus drawls, stepping closer, his tone playful but probing. “Did you solely choose him because of his skills?”

You glance up at him briefly, trying to suppress a smile. “Are you implying something?”

He shrugs, the smirk on his lips widening. “Well, did you?”

“I did!” you exclaim, the words tumbling out a little too quickly, as if you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. You glance up at Atticus, catching the amused gleam in his eyes. “He’s excellent with the children, and he strikes the perfect balance around here — intimidating enough to make it clear no one should challenge him, but not so much that the children are frightened. I trust him completely, and I’ve only known him a short while.”

Atticus hums, swirling the wine in his goblet with deliberate slowness before taking a sip, his skepticism apparent in the slight arch of his brow.

You shake your head, sighing lightly. “He’s proven his worth,” you say, trying to sound firm, though the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips betrays you. “It’s his abilities that matter.”

Atticus grins, thoroughly enjoying this exchange. “Of course, his abilities. And it’s just a coincidence that the knight you trust with our children’s safety also happens to be rather… easy on the eyes?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, though the warmth spreading through your chest betrays your amusement. “His appearance has nothing to do with why I chose him,” you insist, though your tone has lost its edge, becoming playful and light. “He’s capable, loyal, and vigilant. His looks are irrelevant.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a knowing grin. “Irrelevant, but not unnoticed?”

You shoot him a mock glare, though the smile tugging at your lips makes it hard to maintain any seriousness. “You’re impossible,” you say with a shake of your head. “I care about his skills and nothing more.”

Atticus chuckles softly, clearly entertained. “We shall see,” he teases, his voice lingering in the air as he begins to make his exit. His steps are slow, unhurried, as though he’s savoring the moment. 

He walks out with a lightness in his stride, and the faint echo of his laughter trails behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts — and the quiet, unsettling realization that maybe, just maybe, his words weren’t entirely off the mark.

Returning to the Small Council felt different this time. The atmosphere had shifted. The men were more considerate, actually taking your opinions into account — a stark contrast to their usual dismissiveness. It seemed Atticus’ harsh punishment of the last Maester had sent a clear message: disrespect would no longer be tolerated. They were treading carefully now, not wanting to find themselves in a similar predicament.

You exhaled a long breath as you walked into your chamber, ready to unwind after the tense day. Removing your jewelry, you placed each piece delicately on the table, the soft clink of metal filling the otherwise quiet room. You went to bend down to slip off your shoes, eager for the relief of the cool floor beneath your feet.

But before you could, a sharp point suddenly pressed against your neck.

You froze.

Panic surged through you as the cold blade pressed harder against your skin, the world around you narrowing to the sound of your racing heartbeat.

“Don’t scream,” a low voice hissed in your ear, breath hot against your skin, “or you will die.”

Your breath hitched, the threat sinking in, terror flooding your veins. Tears welled in your eyes as helplessness gripped you. You had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly at the mercy of another.

The man spun you around with a jerk, and your gaze landed on another figure lurking in the shadows — both were dressed in the rough, dirt stained garb of rat catchers, but their eyes gleamed with intent far darker than pest control.

“We were paid to kill the little girl,” the man growled, his eyes boring into yours with malicious purpose. “The one who is set to inherit Driftmark. Where is she?”

Your heart stopped. They wanted Celeste. Your daughter. 

Desperation clawed at your insides, but you forced yourself to remain calm, though your voice trembled as you spoke. “I have many things in here of great value,” you said, your mind racing to stall, to buy any time you could. “You can take whatever you want. Jewelry, gold…”

The man sneered, pressing the blade just a fraction closer, enough to make your skin prickle with fear. “We’re not here for trinkets,” he spat. “We’re here for the girl.”

The suffocating pressure eased as the man shoved you away, though he kept his dagger trained on you, its sharp point a constant threat.

“Lead us to her,” he snarled, “and you will live.”

Your pulse quickened, panic rising. But amid the terror, you clung to one thought: Jungkook was just outside, standing guard by the children’s room. He would protect Celeste.

Heart pounding, you forced your legs to move, stepping cautiously toward the door of your chamber. The rat catchers followed closely, one of them pressing the dagger against your back, a constant reminder of the danger lurking just inches away.

By the time you reached the door, your eyes caught a glimpse of movement. Jungkook — his back against the wood, waiting, ready. His gaze met yours, and in that brief moment, you felt a surge of relief, but it was fleeting.

Before you could react, Jungkook sprang into action. In a heartbeat, he grabbed your arm and yanked you behind him, shielding you with his body. You stumbled backward, watching in awe as he unsheathed his sword with deadly precision. 

Jungkook wasted no time. His blade sank deep into the stomach of the first rat catcher, a sickening thud echoing in the hallway. The man gasped, blood spurting from the wound, and crumpled to the floor.

The second assailant, wild with desperation, swung his dagger wildly at Jungkook. But Jungkook moved with lethal grace, dodging each strike effortlessly. His movements were swift, controlled, each step calculated. In one fluid motion, he caught the man's wrist mid swing, twisting it with a force that made the man cry out in pain. Jungkook’s grip tightened, and with a brutal efficiency, he forced the attacker to plunge the dagger into his own abdomen.

The man’s eyes widened in shock, the weapon lodged deep within him, his strength faltering. Jungkook released him, and the second rat catcher staggered before collapsing to the ground beside his companion, both of them now lying in pools of their own blood.

In shock, you stood frozen, tears welling in your eyes as the reality of the moment crashed over you. Only a minute ago, you had feared for your life, for your family’s lives. And now, Jungkook had effortlessly put an end to the rat catchers, his blade on the ground still stained with their blood. It all felt too surreal, too close.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Jungkook rushed to you, his expression softening with concern. He cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch grounding you. “Your Grace? Are you hurt?” His voice was low but urgent, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury.

You shook your head, still unable to find your voice, too overwhelmed by everything. Your heart pounded, your throat tight as you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispered, his thumbs brushing tenderly across your cheeks. “Everything’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. The fear, the relief, the gratitude — they all hit you at once, overwhelming your senses. And before you knew it, your emotions spilled over. You erupted into sobs, throwing your arms around Jungkook’s neck, seeking the warmth and safety of his presence. You buried your face into his skin, your tears dripping onto his armor as you cried.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate for a second. His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him, his strength and warmth offering the comfort you so desperately needed. One of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your back while the other cradled your head, pressing you gently against his chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong, was the only thing keeping you grounded amidst the chaos of your emotions.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmured into your hair, his voice soft and calming. “You’re safe now.”

And in that moment, in his arms, you believed him.

After Atticus learned about the rat catchers’ attack, his fury was swift and intense, shaking the very walls of the Red Keep. His voice thundered from the Small Council chamber, echoing through the halls as he took command of the situation. His anger wasn’t just justified — it was terrifying. No one dared stand in his way as he set out to make sure something like this could never happen again.

You sat in your children’s room, seeking comfort in their innocent presence. Even as you tried to calm your racing heart, the distant roar of Atticus’s orders only heightened the gravity of what had nearly occurred. He wasted no time doubling the guard, placing knights at every vulnerable corner of the Keep. The added protection was meant to reassure, but for you, it only underscored the severity of the danger that had almost taken your daughter.

Atticus was relentless in his pursuit of justice. He immediately dispatched his men to find out who had hired the rat catchers. It wasn’t long before the truth came out — your former Maester hadn’t been acting alone. There were more, many more, who shared his poisonous view that Celeste, your little girl, had no right to inherit Driftmark. These men, clinging to their outdated belief that only a man should rule, had conspired to end her life before she could ever sit upon the Driftwood Throne.

Those who were caught speaking against Celeste’s claim were dealt with harshly. Atticus showed no mercy. He threw them in the dungeons without a second thought, ensuring that any who dared oppose your daughter’s future would be silenced. In this, he was steadfast, and you were grateful for his fierce protection of your family.

But even with the threat supposedly contained, the fear hadn’t left you. That night still clung to you like a dark shadow, creeping into your thoughts when you least expected it. The memory of those men — of their knives and their cruel threats — replayed in your mind every night, a loop you couldn’t break free from. 

Sleep was becoming harder to find. You would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the attack pressing down on your chest. Even with Jungkook stationed just outside your door, standing as your silent guardian, the sense of unease never fully faded. You trusted him more than anyone now, knowing he had saved you without hesitation, but your mind couldn’t silence the what ifs. What if something happened to him? What if the guards missed something? What if they came back?

Tonight was no different. The room was quiet, your children safe in their beds, but your thoughts raced. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind outside felt like a reminder of how close you had come to losing everything. You sat up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest, trying to calm the storm within. 

Jungkook was right outside the door — so close, and yet, the fear lingered. You knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but that night had changed everything. The vulnerability, the terror, had been too real, and you couldn’t just forget it. Even though the Red Keep was locked down, even though Atticus had done everything in his power to keep you safe, you were haunted by the thought that danger still lurked just out of sight.

You couldn’t sleep. The quiet room, the stillness, your own thoughts circling endlessly — it was too much. You knew that tonight, like so many others, you’d be awake until the sun rose. So, with a sigh, you slipped out of bed, crossed the room, and quietly opened the door.

And there he was.

Jungkook stood just outside, his back to you, ever vigilant. When the door creaked softly, he turned, eyes meeting yours. In the faint light of the moon, his features were softened, yet his gaze was alert, concerned. The gleam in his eyes caught the moonlight, and for just a moment, the comfort of his presence made the world feel a little less daunting.

“Your Grace?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I thought you’d be abed by now.”

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice quiet but laden with the weight of sleepless nights and endless worry.

“You’re safe now,” he said gently, his tone firm yet soothing, as if trying to will your mind to find peace. “Allow yourself to rest.”

You managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You said you’d be here if I ever needed anything.”

His brows furrowed slightly as he nodded, understanding your unspoken request. “I did.”

You hesitated only briefly before speaking again, your voice softer now. “Can you come in?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he straightened. “Your Grace, I hardly think that is appropriate,” he replied, though his tone was more uncertain than firm. His sense of duty and propriety clashed visibly with his desire to help you.

“It will comfort me,” you said, the vulnerability in your voice enough to make him falter.

He hesitated, clearly torn. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword as if it could ground him in the face of your request. His loyalty to you was absolute, but the boundaries of it were something he grappled with now.

Seeing his hesitation, you added, teasing softly, “Your Queen demands you.”

That earned you a small smile, one that softened the tension in the air. Jungkook shook his head, chuckling under his breath as he conceded. “Well, who am I to deny my Queen?” he said, stepping past the threshold.

As Jungkook entered the room, his mere presence brought with it a sense of security you hadn’t even realized you’d been yearning for. His eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of concern and quiet understanding, as you led him over to the couch by the fireplace. 

You settled yourself on one side, pulling a blanket over your legs as you crossed them beneath its warmth. When you glanced up, you noticed he hadn’t joined you yet. Instead, he stood a little distance away, unsure, his posture stiff as if still on duty.

“Sit,” you gestured to the empty space beside you.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to the door as if he still wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do. But your gentle command was enough to sway him. With a slight nod, he moved closer, his heavy footsteps softening as he reached the couch. Just as he was about to sit, you spoke again, your voice quiet but firm.

“Take off your armor.”

He froze, eyes wide as if caught off guard by your request. “Your Grace,” he said slowly, his tone almost a warning, a reminder of the boundary he believed needed to remain in place.

But you shook your head, your expression soft but insistent. “I don’t want you here as Ser Jungkook,” you explained, your voice carrying a vulnerability you hadn’t meant to reveal. “I want you here just as Jungkook.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, clearly torn between his sense of duty and the comfort you were asking for. But then, with a slow exhale, he began to unfasten the clasps of his armor, the metallic clinks filling the otherwise quiet room. Piece by piece, the weight of it fell away, and he set it aside, each movement careful and deliberate.

Jungkook looked at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips as he gestured to his cloak. "If you would," he said softly, his eyes warm but with a hint of playful mischief.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a bit lighter as you stood from the couch, the blanket slipping from your lap and pooling onto the floor. Your fingers brushed against his as you reached for the clasp of his cloak, feeling the cool metal as you carefully undid it. The fabric was thick and heavy, and as you pulled it off his shoulders, it seemed to take with it some of the invisible barrier he kept between you both.

The air between you felt different now, more intimate, as you set his cloak aside with the rest of his armor. When you turned back to face him, he was watching you closely, his expression softer than before, as if seeing you in a new light.

For a second, you just stood there, gazing at each other in the soft glow of the fire.

Now, without the weight of his armor, Jungkook looked more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, though there was still a quiet alertness in his posture. When you invited him to sit, he did so without hesitation this time, his expression softening as he settled next to you on the couch.

As the fire crackled gently beside you, casting a warm glow over the room, you found yourself seeing him differently. Here, sitting in your chambers, with the walls of duty momentarily lowered, Jungkook wasn’t just your knight anymore. He was a man — kind, steady, and unexpectedly gentle in his presence.

“I’ve not been able to sleep as of late,” you admitted, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than you intended. “But with you here... I feel safe.”

Jungkook’s smile was soft, a flicker of warmth that reached his eyes. “I’m happy to hear that,” he said, though his voice was still laced with the respectful formality he always carried. “Your Grace.”

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke your name, more firmly this time. “Use my name. The formalities can stay with your armor… Jungkook.”

The moment hung between you, quiet but significant. When he repeated your name, his voice was different, softer, almost intimate. It felt personal, as if you were the only thing that mattered in this room, in this moment.

Your heart fluttered hearing your name on his lips. The way he said it felt more intimate than you’d expected, and as the quiet settled around you both, you realized the walls between you were coming down even more.

“My mother died when I was four and ten,” Jungkook begins, his voice steady but carrying the weight of years of grief. “She was murdered right in front of me. I was weak, untrained... I couldn’t help her. I just stood there, frozen, and I couldn’t save her.” He pauses, his gaze distant, lost in the painful memory. “When I left the children’s chamber to go guard yours and I saw those rat catchers in there… I knew I couldn’t let you down like I did my mother. I couldn’t let that happen again.”

Your heart clenches and your brows knit in sorrow, completely torn by his story. His words hang heavy in the air, the realization of his past weighing on your chest. You feel both gratitude and guilt — glad that Jungkook trusts you enough to open up, yet heartbroken by the trauma he’s lived through.

It suddenly makes sense — why he’s always so guarded, so precise, so fiercely loyal. You understand now why he was trained in combat at such a young age, why he’s so vigilant, and why he holds himself to such a high standard. His devotion to you, his protection of your family, it all stems from a promise he made to himself long ago, a promise born from tragedy.

You reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm resting on the back of the couch, your touch warm and comforting. Jungkook’s gaze flickers to where your hand rests on his arm, and then back to your face, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“You’ve done well to uphold that promise,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. As your eyes meet his, you offer him a genuine smile, hoping it conveys the compassion you feel. “Your mother would love the man you’ve grown to be, Jungkook.”

For a brief moment, Jungkook’s eyes soften, his usual stoic expression breaking. He looks almost vulnerable, as if the weight he carries is shared, if only for a second.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I find myself very… protective over you.”

You tilt your head slightly, a teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips. The soft glow of the fire casts a warm light over your face, and your eyes seem to shimmer with curiosity. “Why is that?” you ask, a playful lilt to your tone as you watch him.

Jungkook hesitates for a beat, his dark eyes holding yours. He slowly pulls his arm away, the loss of contact leaving your skin colder than you expected. But before you can fully miss the warmth, you feel the feather light touch of his fingertips brushing down your arm. His touch is slow, deliberate, sending a tingling sensation across your skin, awakening something inside you.

Your breath catches as his fingers trail lower, the gentle path they take igniting a flutter in your chest. When his hand finally finds yours, his touch is warm and firm, his fingers lacing with yours like it was meant to be all along.

Jungkook looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing tenderly over the back of your hand as if testing the waters. “It’s more than duty now,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with something deeper. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability there, something raw and unguarded. “I can’t explain it fully, but… it’s like you’ve become more than just someone I’m sworn to protect.”

His gaze lingers on your face, searching for a reaction, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you — curiosity, anticipation, and something that feels dangerously close to longing.

Your lips part slightly, your heart hammering in your chest as the room feels smaller, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. “More than duty?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten just a little around yours, grounding you in the moment. His eyes soften, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes… much more than duty,” he says, his voice tender yet filled with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls, but all you can focus on is him — on the warmth of his hand, the depth in his gaze, and the way the space between you seems to shrink with each passing second.

With his fingers still interlaced with yours, Jungkook gently pulls you closer. The sudden shift brings you nearer to him, and you let out a soft giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as you blush under his gaze. The warmth of his body, the way his eyes are fixed on you — it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

As the distance between you vanishes, your breath catches when you realize his gaze is locked on your lips. It’s intense, and it makes your heart race. You watch, spellbound, as he lifts his other hand slowly. His thumb brushes tenderly across your bottom lip, the pad of his finger soft against your skin. The simple, teasing touch sends a wave of warmth washing over you.

He lingers there for a moment, rubbing your lip, and then his thumb presses just a little more insistently, grazing the slit of your mouth as though silently asking for permission. The unspoken question in his eyes makes your pulse quicken, and you instinctively part your lips in response. His thumb slips inside, and you close your mouth gently around it, letting him in.

Your eyes remain on him as his thumb rests against your tongue, the sensation both intimate and electrifying. The fire crackles in the background, but the world feels muted, like it’s just you and him in this moment. Your heart pounds, and the connection between you grows stronger as you suck lightly on his digit.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes slightly uneven as he watches you, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more primal. He gently withdraws his thumb, his fingers now tracing the curve of your jaw, his touch both firm and tender. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

The air between you is thick with anticipation, the moment heavy with the promise of what’s to come. His forehead rests against yours, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stop.

“We should stop before things go further,” Jungkook whispers, his voice low and husky, the warmth of his breath tickling your lips as he gives you the chance to pull away.

You pause, your heart racing in your chest. “We should,” you whisper back, the words lingering in the air between you both.

But neither of you move.

Instead, your gaze remains locked on his, and you can feel the heat radiating between you, the unspoken desire that lingers in the small space that still separates you.

And just like that, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is electric, his lips soft yet insistent as they press against yours. It’s slow at first, a tentative exploration, but the moment your mouths meet, everything else fades into the background.

As your lips remain locked with his, you straddle his lap, the movement seamless and natural, as if you’ve both been leading up to this moment for far too long. Your hands slide behind his head, fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss grows more heated, more desperate.

Jungkook’s hands find your waist, gripping you firmly, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You feel his muscles tense beneath your fingertips as you press yourself against him, your hips moving instinctively. A soft gasp escapes your lips when you feel the hardness beneath you, his cock straining against the fabric of his breeches, the friction making you yearn for more.

Your hips begin to buck slowly, grinding against him as you search for more contact, more release. The heat between you two is palpable now, your breath mingling with his as the kiss deepens, tongues tangling in a rhythm that matches the slow, steady roll of your hips. Every shift of your body sends a wave of pleasure through you, and you can feel his grip tighten on your waist, his breathing growing heavier.

Jungkook lets out a low groan against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, igniting something primal. You can feel the restraint he’s holding onto, the tension in his body as he struggles to keep control, but the way his hands grip your waist tells you he’s just as lost in the moment as you are.

The friction between you both builds, the heat intensifying, but the layers of fabric between you only heighten the desire, making you ache for more.

“Perhaps I should thank you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and teasing as your hips roll against him, causing a deep groan to escape from Jungkook’s throat. You can feel him hardening beneath you, his body responding despite his attempts to maintain composure. “For your service…”

His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your sides just enough to make you feel how much he’s holding back. “It is only my mere duty,” he says, voice strained, each word laced with barely controlled desire.

You smile at his restraint, your lips moving to brush against the sharp line of his jaw. “You’ve done so much,” you murmur, your lips trailing lower, leaving a warm path down his neck, just beneath his jaw. His skin is soft and warm, and his pulse races beneath your touch. You hear his breath catch as you kiss along his collarbone, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate press of your lips. “For me…” You move lower, your kisses more intentional, feeling his chest rise and fall more rapidly under your touch. “For my children…”

His hands twitch on your hips, torn between pulling you closer and letting you continue your slow, torturous descent. When you glance up at him, you see the way his dark eyes watch your every movement, clouded with need, a silent plea for more even as he struggles to keep himself grounded.

"I think you deserve a reward," you whisper, your voice sultry, teasing as your lips hover just above the edge of his tunic. Your fingers slowly, deliberately trace the hem, brushing against his heated skin as you make him wait, drawing out the anticipation.

Jungkook's head falls back, his lips parted as he releases a shaky breath, his control slipping with every passing second. His voice is a low growl, thick with longing. “You owe me nothing,”

You shake your head softly, your lips grazing the exposed skin of his chest. “I owe you everything,” you whisper back, your voice filled with sincerity and seduction, the intensity of the moment building as your hand moves lower, testing the boundaries of his restraint.

His body tenses beneath your touch, but his hands stay firm on your hips, holding you against him as if he’s afraid to let go. His eyes meet yours again, dark and full of raw emotion, his voice hushed, almost reverent. “I am yours,” he breathes, and in that moment, you know that he means every word.

With a soft smile playing on your lips, you slowly lift yourself off his lap, feeling the tension in the air as you lower yourself to the ground, kneeling between his legs. Jungkook watches you closely, his breathing uneven, eyes darkened with a mix of anticipation and restraint.

You place your hands gently on his thighs, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric of his breeches, his muscles tense beneath your touch. You start slow, allowing the moment to settle between you, your fingers tracing soft, deliberate circles along his thighs, teasing without rushing. Jungkook’s breath hitches slightly, his gaze locked on your every movement, as if entranced by the sight of you at his feet.

With a deliberate slowness, you begin to untie the laces of his breeches, savoring the quiet rustling of fabric as you pull them off completely, your fingertips brushing against his skin, making him shiver. You take your time, your eyes never leaving his, a playful gleam in your gaze as you watch his resolve crumble little by little.

His cock springs free, finally released from its tight confines. Jungkook lets out a low groan, the sudden release of tension sending a wave of relief through him. The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your breath catch, but you don’t rush. Instead, you rest your hands on his thighs again, grounding yourself in the warmth of his skin, feeling the subtle flex of his muscles beneath your palms.

You glance up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sends a thrill down your spine. His lips are parted, his breath heavy, and you can see the restraint in the way he grips the couch, knuckles white, fighting the urge to take control.

You spit into your hand before wrapping it around his cock, feeling its warmth and weight resting in your palm. You start slow, allowing him to adjust to the sensation, your fingers curling around him with a firm but careful grip. As your hand begins to move, sliding up and down in deliberate, teasing strokes, Jungkook's head falls back against the couch. A low, breathy moan escapes his parted lips, his chest rising and falling more heavily with each breath, betraying his struggle to hold onto his composure under your touch. His muscles tense, eyes fluttering shut, as the pleasure builds with each movement.

His reaction fuels you, and you keep your pace slow and sensual, your hand gliding smoothly along his length. Each movement draws another sound from him — whether it’s a quiet sigh, a deep groan, or the way his breathing catches for a split second. The power you hold in this moment, the way his body responds to your touch, makes the air between you feel electric, alive with tension.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into the cushions beside him, as if holding on for control, but you can see the way his restraint is unraveling, bit by bit. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parted in silent bliss, eyes closed as he surrenders to the sensation.

With a mischievous smile, you tighten your grip just a little, adding the slightest bit more pressure as you continue to stroke him, and his moan deepens, sending a shiver through you.

You lean in, teasingly slow, letting the anticipation build. Jungkook’s breath hitches as he watches you, his chest rising and falling faster, his hands tightening into fists. The moment your tongue makes contact with the tip of his cock, his body tenses. You start with soft, delicate kitten licks, testing his sensitivity, letting him feel every light flick of your tongue as you work.

A bead of precum gathers at the tip, and you lap it up, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. Jungkook’s groan is deep, almost guttural, his head tipping back against the couch once more as you tease him with your soft licks, never giving him more than just a taste of what’s to come.

The way he reacts, the way his body trembles under your touch, only spurs you on. You take your time, savoring the control you have over him, feeling the way his thighs tense beneath your hands.

You glance up at him through your lashes, enjoying the sight of Jungkook completely lost in the moment, his lips parted, breath heavy. His reaction fuels your desire to tease him more. Your tongue moves slowly, deliberately, swirling around his sensitive tip, while your hand continues its steady rhythm, pumping him with just enough pressure to keep him on edge.

He moans again, low and deep, his hips instinctively bucking up, searching for more of that friction you’re so teasingly withholding. You hum softly, the vibrations making his cock twitch against your tongue. You take him a little deeper, wrapping your lips around the head, sucking gently as you let your hand pump the base, building the tension.

Jungkook’s hands grip the couch tightly, fighting to stay still, his body betraying him with every small thrust of his hips. You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, your tongue working against the underside of his shaft as you slide him further into your mouth. His response is immediate — his body jerks, a strangled groan escapes him, and you feel his hands twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to reach out and grab you.

You reach up and intertwine your fingers with his, and in that simple gesture, a new layer of intimacy blooms between you. His grip is firm, almost desperate, as if holding your hand is the one thing grounding him in the intensity of the moment. It's no longer just about desire; it's something deeper, more vulnerable, a connection that transcends the physical. His thumb gently brushes over your knuckles, a soft, tender contrast to the raw passion swirling around you. That small touch, full of unspoken emotion, speaks louder than words ever could, reminding you both that this is more than just a fleeting moment — it’s a quiet, shared promise.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes even more ragged as you continue to take him deeper, your lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to push him closer to the edge. You can feel his restraint, the way he’s holding back, trying to stay in control despite the pleasure coursing through him.

He groans, your name slipping from his lips in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. You hum softly in response, the vibrations causing another moan to escape his lips. The combination of his hand in yours, his soft gasps, and the warmth of his skin beneath your touch creates an almost overwhelming sense of connection.

You pull off him with a soft, wet pop, leaving his cock glistening in the firelight. Your lips curve into a teasing smile as you drag your tongue slowly along the length of his shaft, watching his reaction. Jungkook’s breath catches, his body tensing with anticipation. When you reach his base, you let your tongue dip lower, tracing a path to his balls. You take your time, licking and teasing the sensitive skin before gently sucking them into your mouth.

The reaction is immediate — his hips jerk up involuntarily, a deep moan escaping him as his head falls back against the couch. His knuckles are white as he grips the cushions, and his fingers tighten around yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment. You keep your eyes on him, enjoying the way his face contorts with pleasure, his lips parting with a shuddering breath.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice rough and strained, the sound vibrating through the air, sending a thrill through you. His chest rises and falls heavily as you continue to pump his cock in your hand, your strokes slow and deliberate, matching the rhythm of your mouth as you suck gently on his balls.

You can feel the tension building in him, his body trembling slightly under your touch. His muscles are taut, straining as he tries to hold himself back, but you know he’s close. The soft, breathless curses he murmurs between groans let you know just how much you're driving him to the edge.

Jungkook’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more intoxicating than the last. The feel of your mouth wrapped around his cock is overwhelming, your lips warm and slick as they glide over him, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. But what makes his pulse race even more is the sight of you — the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms — on your knees before him, your eyes dark with desire, lips wet and swollen as you take him deeper.

He can barely process it. A part of him feels like he’s lost in a dream, but the grip of your hand on his thigh, the soft, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat of your mouth around him all ground him in reality. His fingers tighten around yours, the intimacy of your entwined hands a stark contrast to the lust coursing through him.

He can’t stop thinking about how utterly beautiful you look, your regal composure gone, replaced by raw want. It’s sinful, how he can feel his cock throbbing in your mouth while your crown sits not too far away, a reminder of who you are — his Queen. And yet, here you are, on your knees, giving yourself to him so completely.

And then there’s the thought of what comes next. His cock twitches at the idea of getting you beneath him, of spreading your legs wide and burying himself in your warmth. He’s desperate to feel you around him, to watch your face twist with pleasure as he takes you, over and over again.

But even with all those thoughts swirling in his mind, one thing keeps echoing louder than the rest: the sheer power of this moment. The Queen, on her knees, sucking his cock like she’s wanted this as much as he has.

The thought sends another wave of heat through his body. He’s barely holding on, every moan, every stroke of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, more ragged, his hips beginning to move on their own, thrusting gently into your mouth. 

Before Jungkook can take control, you pull back, rising from the ground and denying him the release he craves with a teasing smile. His frustrated groan fuels your confidence as you straddle him again, your knees resting on either side of his hips. Your fingers intertwine with his, and you guide both of his hands behind his head, locking your arms around his neck. His arms cross behind him, muscles flexing as he fights to keep himself in check.

The intensity in his eyes is undeniable — burning with desire, frustration, and the raw need to touch you, yet restrained by the control you've taken. Every part of him is taut, his body tense beneath you, waiting, aching for your next move. His gaze never wavers, fixed on you with an almost desperate longing, as if the anticipation alone could undo him.

You lean in slowly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, then another on his cheek, your breath brushing his skin. His chest rises and falls against yours, the heat between you both building to a near unbearable height. Then, lips grazing his ear, you whisper in a low, sultry voice, “I want you to fuck me the way a Queen should be fucked.”

Your words send a shudder through him, his body reacting instantly to your challenge. The restraint he’s been holding onto falters, his breathing turning ragged, his grip tightening slightly on your hands. The dominance of your demand ignites something primal in him, the heat in his gaze searing into you.

"Your Grace..." Jungkook murmurs, his voice deep and breathless, the title slipping out before he can stop it, laced with a mix of reverence and raw, uncontained desire. The slip into formality catches him off guard, as if he’s forgotten to leave the titles behind along with his armor. His jaw clenches, the tension in his body palpable as his control begins to fray at the edges. His eyes burn into yours, dark and hungry, as if your very presence has set him ablaze, and now, all he can do is watch helplessly as the flames consume him.

You feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, and you smirk, rolling your hips against him, letting the friction drive him further into madness. “Are you going to make me wait, or must I command you again?”

That’s all it takes. His resolve snaps. With a low, feral growl, Jungkook releases your hands and grabs you by the thighs, lifting you effortlessly in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised giggle, heart racing at how easily he’s carrying you across the room. His strength, his commanding presence — it’s intoxicating, making your body heat with anticipation.

With a mischievous grin, he throws you down onto the bed, your body bouncing softly against the mattress. Jungkook is on you in an instant, crawling over you with a predatory grace, his body looming above yours, eyes dark and filled with intent. His hands press into the mattress on either side of you, caging you beneath him. The weight of him, the way his muscles ripple as he moves, has your breath catching in your throat.

His lips hover just inches from yours, teasing, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “I’ll show you exactly how my Queen should be fucked.”

There’s a rough edge to his voice now, one that sends shivers down your spine. His hands trail down your sides, fingers curling around the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you beneath him, his gaze smoldering as he drinks in every inch of your bare skin.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Jungkook’s lips descend to your neck, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your throat, your collarbone, and lower still, as his hands grip your hips, holding you firmly in place. His touch is everywhere — greedy, relentless — stoking the fire that’s been building between you all night.

As his mouth moves lower, a soft moan escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward him, craving more. And just when you think you can’t take any more teasing, he pulls back, hovering above you once more, eyes dark with lust and promise.

Jungkook pulls off his tunic, standing before you, fully bare. His gaze is unwavering, filled with awe and raw desire as he drinks in the sight of you, every inch of your body drawing him in with quiet reverence. The heat of his stare is palpable, his lips parting slightly as his eyes travel from your breasts down to your stomach, pausing at the faint stretch marks left behind by your children. 

There’s no shame in his gaze, only admiration — those marks are a testament to your strength, the life you’ve brought into the world. His hand reaches out, hesitating for just a second before brushing over your skin, tracing the delicate lines with his fingertips, as if memorizing every detail. His touch is tender, contrasting the heat in his eyes, and the reverence in his expression makes your heart swell. 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice hushed but filled with sincerity, almost as though he's speaking to himself. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell. There’s no hesitation in his gaze, no second thoughts — just pure admiration.

You can’t help but smile. Despite being nearly bare beneath him, you don’t feel vulnerable. You feel cherished, worshipped even, as if this wasn’t the first time he’s seen you like this. There’s a sense of ease between you, as if his presence was always meant to be like this — intimate and without fear. 

Jungkook leans in closer, his lips trailing down to your hip bone, placing a soft, lingering kiss there. The sensation is both grounding and electrifying, sending a shiver through your body. You glance down, meeting his gaze — intense and burning with desire, the kind of look that makes your heart race and your breath falter. In that moment, you can feel the fire behind his eyes, as if the world has fallen away and you're the only thing that matters.

Without breaking the connection, he lowers himself further, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The kiss is soft, reverent, but full of promise, inching closer to the place where you crave his touch the most. Your breath catches in your throat, anticipation thick in the air, when he finally leans forward and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your pussy through your soaking wet underwear.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the sudden contact, and instinctively, you lift your leg, gently pressing your foot against his shoulder to stop him from going further. His eyes flash with surprise, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in them as he looks up at you, waiting for your command.

“Maybe another time,” you murmur, your voice breathless but firm. “I want your cock.”

Your words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation, and Jungkook’s expression shifts, darkening with pure lust. He gives a low growl of approval, his hands gripping your thighs a little tighter as he quickly moves back up your body.

Jungkook wastes no time, his hands quick but careful as he pulls off your last piece of clothing and positions himself between your legs. His cock, already hard and slick with anticipation, brushes against your entrance, the warmth of him sending a ripple of electricity through your body. You can feel the tension in his muscles, every inch of him taut with restraint as he fights the urge to simply take you. He wants this moment to be more than just a rush of desire.

With a slow, deliberate nudge of his hips, he presses the tip of his cock against your core, the sensation both tantalizing and overwhelming. Your body reacts immediately, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he teases your entrance, the heat between you intensifying. His eyes are locked on yours, as if he’s savoring every second before fully sinking into you. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer, urging him to give you exactly what you’ve been yearning for. His lips crash onto yours in a heated kiss, the moment charged with raw, unspoken passion as he finally pushes into you.

“Oh Gods,” you moan, your back arching off the bed as the sudden stretch overwhelms you. Jungkook fills you completely, every inch of him pressing into you, making your breath hitch as your body adjusts to the delicious pressure. His movements slow for a moment, letting you feel every bit of him, the weight of his body grounding you as the heat between your legs spreads throughout your entire body.

Jungkook’s forehead drops to yours, his breathing ragged as he holds himself still, giving you a moment to adjust. "You feel so perfect," he groans, his voice thick with restraint. His hands roam your body, gripping your hips as though he needs to hold onto something to keep himself from losing control completely.

Your fingers slide up his back, nails grazing his skin as you tug him closer, desperate for more. "Move," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I need you."

That’s all it takes.

With a low growl, Jungkook begins to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the sensation sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. Each movement is deliberate, deep, and measured. Your moans mix with his breathless grunts, filling the room with the sounds of your shared desire.

Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper with every thrust. His pace quickens, and soon, he’s moving faster, harder, the rhythm building as the pleasure between you grows. Each thrust drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder, more desperate as you cling to him, completely lost in the moment. 

Jungkook’s lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your skin between ragged breaths. “You feel so good… so fucking good,” he pants, his hips snapping against yours with growing urgency. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, your body responding to his with a need that’s been simmering for so long, now finally unleashed. "Don’t stop," you moan, your voice shaky as the heat within you builds to a breaking point. 

Jungkook’s thrusts become erratic, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t think I can stop," he chuckles, his words sending a shiver through you just as the first waves of release begin to crash over you. 

You kiss him eagerly, teeth grazing his bottom lip before tugging at it playfully. Jungkook groans into your mouth, his hips stuttering for a moment at the sensation. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more heated as your hands pull him closer, your nails digging into his back.

He responds in kind, his lips crashing back onto yours, the intensity of his kiss matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He bites gently on your bottom lip in return, making you gasp into his mouth, your bodies completely in sync as the pleasure mounts between you.

Your kiss is a frenzy of passion, tongues dancing, breaths mingling, as every movement pulls you closer to the edge. You tug harder at his lip, and he growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips and sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins.

Jungkook’s pace becomes relentless, his control slipping as he loses himself in you. “The day of the Kingsguard posting,” he starts breathlessly, his voice low and rough as he thrusts into you. “When you walked onto the balcony… I saw you. Thought you were so pretty. So, so pretty.”

His words, spoken between ragged breaths, send a shiver down your spine, making you arch closer into him. You gasp, your hands clutching onto his shoulders as his confession wraps around you like a heated secret. The intensity in his eyes as he speaks, as he moves inside you, is overwhelming — his vulnerability laid bare, a part of himself he’s never shared with anyone else.

“I shouldn’t have thought it,” he continues, his voice thick with desire and restraint as his pace quickens, “but I couldn’t help it. I wanted you from that moment.”

You feel your heart pound in your chest, not just from the pleasure but from his raw honesty. Your lips part, but no words come out, only breathless moans as he pushes you closer to the edge. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips brushing your ear.

“I never thought I’d have you like this,” he whispers, his voice rough with awe and hunger, each word laced with the weight of unspoken desire. “But now that I do… I’m never letting go.”

His confession wraps around you, sending a shiver through your body as his movements become more intense. The passion in his eyes, the way his body presses into yours, has you spiraling, lost in the heat between you.

You raise a trembling hand, gently brushing his hair back, your fingertips lingering against his skin. “I’m yours,” you breathe, the words slipping from your lips like a vow.

The way his eyes darken, the way his grip tightens on you, tells you he’s heard it loud and clear. And in this moment, you know he’ll hold onto that promise as tightly as he holds onto you.

He laughs out a moan at this. His pace quickens, his thrusts deeper, harder, each one sending you spiraling further. Your moans mix with his, filling the room, the sound of skin against skin only adding to the fire between you. His hands roam your body, memorizing every curve, every inch of you like it’s the last time.

“I’m so close,” he whispers, his voice strained, his body trembling as he fights for control. His forehead presses against yours again, his eyes searching yours, desperate, as if he’s asking for permission to lose himself in you.

You nod, your own release building, teetering on the edge. “Cum with me,” you breathe, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

With a few more deep, powerful thrusts, you feel Jungkook’s body tense as he releases into you, a low groan escaping his lips. The sensation triggers your own climax, waves of pleasure crashing through you as your body tightens around him. You gasp, arching against him, your hands clutching at his back as you ride out the overwhelming sensations together.

His name tumbles from your lips in a soft moan, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. For a moment, the world outside fades — it's just the two of you, tangled together, hearts pounding in sync, as you both come down from your highs.

He doesn’t move right away, his weight still pressed against you, his hands tracing slow, soothing circles on your hips as he catches his breath. You can feel his heart beating wildly against your chest, a silent reminder of the intensity you just shared.

Finally, Jungkook picks his head up from your chest, his dark eyes soft as they meet yours. He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, just because he finally can. It feels different now, with no hesitation between you, just pure connection. After pulling away, he shifts to lay beside you, pulling you against his chest, your bodies fitting together perfectly. 

You lie there in comfortable silence for a while, both of you catching your breaths, the calm after the storm. Jungkook’s fingers absentmindedly trace shapes on your back, lulling you into a peaceful haze. But then, he breaks the quiet with a teasing tone.

“Did I exceed your expectations, my Queen?” His voice is low and playful, a soft chuckle escaping him.

You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “Arrogant, are we?” 

But you don’t let him respond. Instead, you sit up, straddling his waist once again, your grin mischievous as you lean down to kiss him, deeper this time, your lips lingering against his. 

“Might need to go again to give you a wholehearted answer,” you say with a smirk, looking down at the man who looks far too comfortable in your bed — a man who, by all means, shouldn’t be here.

His eyes widen for a moment before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, matching your energy. He chuckles, his hands gripping your waist firmly, his desire evident.

Jungkook knew that once the children were tucked safely into bed, these sneaky nights with you would be his favorite part of the day — full of far more excitement than he’d ever imagined.

The days stretched on like endless hourglasses, the sand moving far too slowly. Every moment of the daylight hours was consumed by anticipation, the constant pull of wanting the sun to sink and the moon to rise. It was during the night, when Jungkook would slip quietly into your chamber, that the world finally felt right.

Whether it was tangled sheets, quiet conversations, soft laughter, or simply lying in each other’s arms, those moments with him were the highlight of your days — only second to the joy of your children’s smiles, of course. But with Jungkook, time seemed to bend, each night feeling like a stolen treasure that you cherished more with every passing hour.

As much as you despised the act of walking past Jungkook during the day, pretending he wasn't your lover at night, the thrilling game of trying not to get caught was undeniably fun.

The secret, the tension of it, had its own special allure. Yet, there were moments when the near misses took a more terrifying turn.

Like that one time.

You'd been soaking in a bath, the water warm and fragrant with bubbles, the steam swirling around you like a blanket of comfort. But Jungkook, always unpredictable, had snuck in without a sound. Before you could even protest, he was stripping himself bare, sliding into the tub with you, the sudden shift in water making a small splash as he settled in.

Laughter filled the room as water overflowed, but that quickly faded into a mix of heavy breaths, wet skin, and the sound of sloppy kisses. Jungkook's hands gripped your waist as he leaned back, his head resting against the tub's edge, eyes locked on you. Your hips moved in sync, the sound of water splashing and your soft moans combining with his groans, creating a rhythm that made your heart race.

Then, just as the heat between you both reached its peak, a knock at the door shattered the moment. It was so sudden and unexpected that Jungkook's hand shot up, covering your mouth before you could release a gasp, freezing you in place. Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest.

"Your Grace, I have your warm towels," came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. The maid sounded so oblivious, so unaware of what was actually happening just beyond the wooden barrier.

Jungkook didn't move a muscle, still as stone, his hand resting over your lips as his eyes met yours with a mischievous glint. Slowly, he lifted his hand, urging you to speak.

"J- just leave them at the door," you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heartbeat betrayed your calm facade. "I’ll grab them once I'm finished."

Jungkook stifled a chuckle, clearly finding the entire situation amusing as though it was nothing more than a joke to him. But you knew better. This was dangerous, reckless, and could cost both of you far more than just embarrassment.

"Very well, Your Grace," came the maid's voice, before the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance.

The moment she was gone, you slapped Jungkook's chest, eyes narrowed in mock fury. "We could've been caught," you said, your voice laced with both exasperation and something else — something darker, more thrilling. But the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed your feigned seriousness.

Jungkook grinned, his chest rising and falling with a quiet chuckle, as he pulled you back toward him, the playful tension still lingering in the air.

Because nights with Jungkook were always too short, he made sure to steal as many kisses and playful winks during the day as possible. The fleeting moments shared between you were like stolen treasures, hidden in plain sight.

Whenever the children finished their lessons, Jungkook was quick to position himself in front of the door to the next room they’d move into, knowing you'd soon follow, eager to check on them and hear about what they’d learned. Each time, like clockwork, you’d approach, ready to step past him, only for him to block your way with a teasing grin.

“Let me in,” you’d whine softly, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

He’d simply point to his cheek, signaling for a kiss as if he were making a royal decree. You’d roll your eyes but play along, leaning in. Just as your lips brushed his cheek, he’d turn his head swiftly, catching your kiss on his lips instead.

Your heart would race as you quickly pecked his lips once more, a mixture of thrill and worry filling you at the thought of someone walking down the corridor and catching you both. With a final flustered glance at him, you’d hurry into the chamber to join your children, trying to maintain your composure as you asked them about their day.

Meanwhile, Jungkook would stand tall outside the door, his expression serious, as though he was merely guarding the room. But the sparkle in his eyes and the lingering hint of a smile betrayed him, the playful mischief still present even as he forced himself to appear composed.

The only person who knew about your secret relationship with Jungkook was Atticus. You’d confided in him, and he had been overjoyed to learn he’d been right all along. He had always suspected something, but hearing it from you only fueled his excitement and pride at being in on the secret.

Jungkook’s devotion to you went far beyond his duty as a knight. On the surface, he played his role flawlessly, always by your side, always vigilant. To everyone else, he was simply your loyal protector, the ever watchful guard who would give his life without question. But beneath that armor, beneath the stern facade he wore in public, his loyalty ran much deeper.

He wasn’t just devoted to you as his Queen; he was devoted to you as the woman he loved, with a fierce, unshakable passion that transcended titles or obligations. Every time he stood by your side, it wasn’t just as your sworn knight but as the man who would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant loving you in secret for the rest of his life.

In the quiet moments, when the world wasn’t watching, his love shone through. The way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way his fingers lingered just a moment longer when they brushed against yours, or the way his lips would curl into a faint smile when he caught you stealing glances at him. It was in the way he held you at night, after everyone else had gone to bed, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke of a love so deep, words could never do it justice.

Jungkook didn’t need grand gestures or declarations of love. His devotion was in the small things, the quiet sacrifices, the way he protected you not just with his sword but with his heart. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word in the darkness was a testament to his unwavering loyalty — not to the crown, not to his duty, but to you.

And though the world might never see the depth of his devotion, you felt it every day. In the way he watched over you, in the way he shielded you from not only physical threats but from the weight of loneliness that sometimes crept in. He was your protector, not just in body but in spirit.

As the years passed, your secret love remained hidden, but his devotion never wavered. No matter the risks, no matter how many times you had to pretend in public that he was nothing more than a knight, Jungkook’s heart was yours, fully and completely.

In the end, it didn’t matter that the world would never know the truth. You knew. You saw the way he loved you, not just as a knight sworn to protect you but as a man devoted to your heart, forever bound to you in a way that went beyond duty or title.

And in that devotion, you found your peace. Because you knew, no matter what happened, Jungkook would always be by your side — not just as your protector but as your lover, your confidant, and the one person who truly understood the depths of your soul.

© voyter 2024, all rights reserved.

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc—There are better ways to meet someone.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main. Soul mates.

---

"Exactly... what does this ring do?" The shining ring was still attached to his finger. This wouldn't worry him if it weren't for the fact that, with each passing minute, the ring emitted more light, and that can't be good.

The cult leader refused to speak. He wouldn't even look at him, seeming particularly attentive to the material the floor was made of. Very funny that now he was scared of him when, an hour ago, he was giving a very cliché speech about how humanity was doomed because it would summon the evil of evils.

It wasn't very smart of him to perform his summoning precisely in Gotham City, home of the Dark Knight.

Red Hood was getting impatient. He placed the hand without the ring on his weapon; if words didn't work, a real threat to his life would. And this didn't really break Bruce's 'no killing' rule because the gun was only loaded with rubber bullets. However, just as he was about to advance and shoot the guy, he saw Batman grab the leader's tunic collar and lift him up.

The man, of course, screamed in fear. "Speak, what does that ring do?" No jokes. Batman's voice was deeper than usual, showing that he was upset, no, rather angry.

Or worried, but Jason could never consider that possibility. For the moment, he was only surprised, although it didn't show through his helmet.

"I-I don't know," the leader replied. Poor guy, he seemed about to cry. Batman, not content, tightened his grip even more; he wasn't willing to tolerate a lie this time.

Red Robin raised an eyebrow. "You managed to gather a bunch of magical artifacts for your summoning and you don't know what they do?"

The man looked away. "No..." The rest of the cult members also looked away. Very brave and stupid of them to all agree to lie to the bats. Jason himself wanted to mock them, but the ring kept shining. He couldn't mock when the ring kept shining and he didn't know what it meant.

From the communications, Robin could be heard. "Tt, this wouldn't be happening if Hood hadn't put on the ring." Jason suppressed a growl.

"Kid, I didn't put on the ring. This thing stuck to me the moment I touched it." It was true. In the middle of the operation to stop the ritual, Jason had pulled the ring, which at that moment was a kind of necklace by the chain that ran through it, from a member who was wearing it. The ring in his hand began to glow and suddenly teleported to his ring finger, then stopped shining. It was when everything calmed down that the ring began to release a different, but constant light.

Approximately ten minutes have passed since then, he thought as he looked at the ring, ignoring all the magical stuff; it was actually a very simple ring. Suddenly, the ring began to blink.

Oh, no. That couldn't be good.

Batman, fed up with the leader's silence and his followers, threw the man meters ahead. "Oracle, call Zatanna now, we need more information about the ring," he ordered as he approached the man who was in pain from the fall. The guy, terrified by the violent aura of the Dark Knight, tried to retreat.

Finally, Nightwing stepped between the man and the brutal beating he would receive if he didn't speak.

"It's okay, B, calm down." With his hand on his father's shoulder, Dick tried to ease the atmosphere. "I understand your concern. We are all worried about what the ring might do to Hood. But we can't let fear and anger control us. Hood is important to all of us. He is our brother, your son. We can't lose our cool now. Let's call Wonder Woman. If no one wants to talk, she can help us with the lasso of truth."

Total silence. Jason didn't know what to say; he didn't think his family would react like this over a blinking ring. That is... he doesn't know. Suddenly, the ring's light began to blink faster.

Batman, after Nightwing's words and seeing the change in the ring, understood that he couldn't waste time with someone who wouldn't talk. "You're right, thank you Nightwing." Looking at the others, he said: "We need to act quickly, we don't know the effects the ring might have on Hood. We need to take him to the cave for a thorough analysis, no discussions." The last part he said looking at Jason. "Until then, don't try to take it off or use it."

Jason scoffed, as if he would.

"Oracle, you heard, call Diana. Red Robin and I will take care of the rest of the cult. Nightwing, take Red Hood to the cave." Batman began giving orders as he reached the leader and began dragging him towards the rest of his cult. The leader, in a failed attempt, tried to resist. "Agent A, please prepare a stretcher. Understood?"

Everyone nodded.

On the other hand, the touching speech and the strange family moment of the bats seemed to soften the heart of a girl from the cult, who in a whisper said: "The ring, nothing will happen to him." Although she spoke quietly, everyone present heard her.

The leader, panicking that the information would be revealed, exclaimed: "Catrina, shut up!" However, he was struck by Batman, who was already fed up with the guy.

"What do you have to say about the ring?" he asked.

The woman hesitated to speak. "We thought of using the ring to subdue the king of the dead and make him listen to our orders..." She paused, not knowing how to continue. "There is a real legend about the ring. A long time ago, a witch wanted to know who her soulmate was, so she created the ring. This allows one to be guided to their soulmate through the red thread. I think everyone already knows what the red thread is." Nervous, she looked around. Only Nightwing nodded, and that was enough for her to continue telling. "Well, the witch's red thread connected with a prince. Unfortunately for everyone, the prince was not happy that his soulmate was a witch. So he had her killed." The girl looked at her hands; that part of the story was sad. "The witch was angry, but still wanted her soulmate to accept her, so she rewrote the ring's original purpose. It was no longer something that united you with your soulmate, but now it was something that allowed you to subdue your soulmate... uh, this." She pointed to a book that was lying in a corner. "With another spell, in fact, it can be used to subdue anyone, even a king of the dead."

With the whole story already told, Red Robin asked: "So, what is the ring doing to Red Hood?"

"It's tracking his soulmate. I... didn't get to put the other spell on it. I could only activate the ring's primary function. Your brother will be fine."

That definitely changes things. Jason swore he could hear his heart beating. A soulmate, wow. He admits he's read many romance novels and maybe once dreamed of it, but for it to actually happen, wow.

Suddenly, the ring stopped blinking. Five seconds later, everyone saw a red thread shoot out from the ring's gem. It quickly moved in one direction, went through the wall, and kept going. The process was like a fishing rod when it catches a fish.

"Does this mean it already found its soulmate?" Red Robin asked. Astonished by the red thread, he tried to touch it but his hand went through it; apparently, the thread was intangible to anyone else.

"Yes," the cultist also seemed astonished.

Jason felt a look on him, turned, it was his brother. Oh no, not that look, he knew that smile; Dick would tease him so much in the coming days. For his part, Batman sighed in relief. Well, it wasn't such an extreme danger, but it was still dangerous. "Agent A, cancel the stretcher." He never imagined this would mean a soulmate case. "Oracle, don't cancel the call to Zatanna or Wonder Woman, we need to verify the information. We'll stay here until the police arrive."

How nice it would be if everything ended like that, right? With Dick joking with Jason, Tim analyzing the thread, Barbara laughing at the turn of events, Bruce relieved and Damian surprised. However, one must remember the story.

The witch changed the ring's original purpose. Unexpectedly, the thread began to retract, as if it had caught something. It did so so quickly that Jason grabbed his hand in pain. It was then that everyone had a bad feeling. The wall the thread had previously passed through suddenly exploded, the noise and dust alerting everyone, especially when once the chaos disappeared, something horrific could be seen.

An arm. A fucking arm. Apparently freshly torn from its owner. Oh, no. What did it do to his soulmate?

...

Somewhere else in the world, somewhere in the United States, Danny gasped in pain. What the hell? What was that? Ancients! Where is his arm?

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Edited on 06/21/2024 - Note two: Thanks to redflagshipwriter, who continued this idea below. And to Sakuravalelp who made me laugh with the complement.