#their father daughter dynamic is unbreakable

[ricksmarlene]

Judith - is she - is she alive?             She's okay.

RICK GRIMES AND JUDITH GRIMES | a chronology

[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.

[springtyme]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐆𝐨𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐭 ♡

Joel Miller x fem!reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

summary: You, Sarah and Joel spends a lovely day together and get ready for your first Halloween as a family.

word count: 1.3k

tags: No/pre outbreak. Stepmom!reader. Pre outbreak Joel is so special to me. Can be read as either game version or hbo version, depending on preference.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑) 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

The sun hangs high in the sky over Austin, its gentle warmth spilling over the neighborhood. It is one of those perfect October afternoons, where the weather is a perfect blend of mild breezes and golden Texan sunlight, casting dappled shadows on the ground with the distant hum of lawnmowers and kids playing in the streets. You stand in the backyard of the Miller house, a glass of lemonade in your hand, while Joel and Sarah work on a makeshift soccer goal.

“Dad, can you pass me the other chair?” Sarah chirps, her voice light and playful.

Joel grunts in response, stepping away from the task at hand to grab the lawn chair propped against the fence. You chuckle at the sight of him, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Here you go, baby girl,” Joel says, handing the chair to Sarah, who expertly balances it on one leg before planting it firmly into the ground.

“Thanks, old man,” she teases, a grin lighting up her face. Joel rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smile creeping onto his lips.

As Sarah sets up the chairs, you feel a sense of warmth watching the dynamic between father and daughter. It is a sunny day filled with simplicity, laughter, and unbreakable bonds—the kind of day that will later be sweetly remembered.

Joel turns his focus back to you, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “You wanna give it a try?” he asks, motioning toward the soccer ball resting on the grass.

You laugh, shaking your head. “You really think I can keep up with you two?”

“C’mon, don’t sell yourself short.” 

“Yeah, don’t sell yourself short!” Sarah echoes her father’s words encouragingly, bouncing on her toes and looking at you with wide, eager eyes. There is no way you can deny her anything. 

With the competition beckoning, you take a deep breath and step forward, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Joel flicks an eyebrow at you, setting the stage for the light-hearted battle to come. He isn’t one to let things go easy—at least, not without a little teasing.

“Alright, but fair warning: I’m ruthless,” you joke, taking a position on the makeshift field.

The three of you begin a small-scale game of soccer, the energy infectious. Joel’s competitive spirit shines through as he expertly weaves between you and Sarah, showcasing the skills that come from years of hard labor and resilience. Laughter erupts as the inevitable trips and fumbles play on repeat, each mistake accompanied by an exaggerated fall or mock pleas for mercy.

You can hear the bell of the ice cream truck echoing throughout the neighborhood, which prompts a perfect pause in your game.

“Okay, okay! Time out!” Joel calls, raising his hands in surrender. “How about we take an ice cream break, and then we can get those decorations up after?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the mention of ice cream and halloween decor, her previous determination momentarily forgotten. “Yes! I want a rainbow sherbet!” she chirps, hopping on her toes.

You and Joel exchange amused glances, both knowing how quickly she can switch from athlete to ice cream enthusiast. Joel dusts off his hands, feigning exhaustion. “A rainbow sherbet, huh?” he mumbles, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

With a triumphant grin, Sarah races ahead, her bare feet barely making a sound on the grass as she darts towards the street where the sound of the ice cream truck continues to ring out like a siren call. You and Joel follow at a more measured pace, your laughter trailing behind.

After your sweet treat, the three of you make your way back to the house, invigorated by the sugar rush. Sarah’s pink-stained grin is a testament to her delight, while Joel can’t help but tease her about the sticky evidence on her face. “Looks like someone went a little heavy on the sherbet,” he laughs, knowing full well that Sarah is a mix of sweet and mischievous.

“Hey! It’s called enjoying life!” she defends, puffing up her chest like a little warrior. She marches ahead with exaggerated bravado, her arms swinging confidently earning a heartfelt laugh from both you and Joel. 

As you enter the Miller house, the air is filled with the warm, sweet scent of cinnamon and apples from the kitchen. The sun, now starting to descend, casts a cozy glow through the windows, beckoning the impending festivities of Halloween. Sarah, filled with energy, bounces around the living room, her brows furrowed in deep concentration as she speaks about the decorations still waiting to be hung.

“Let’s make this place the spookiest on the block! I want ghosts hanging from the trees, cobwebs everywhere, and definitely the best pumpkins! We have to go to the pumpkin patch soon and get the biggest one they have,” she exclaims, her excitement palpable.

“Right, right, the bigger the better,” Joel chuckles and begins pulling out boxes from the storage closet, each labeled with scribbled black letters saying ‘Halloween.’

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” he says, dumping the contents of the boxes onto the living room floor. A whirlwind of colors emerges: orange and black streamers, plastic spiders, strings of twinkling lights, and various types of skeletons, witches and pumpkins. 

You can’t help but smile at the chaos as Sarah jumps into the pile of decorations, her laughter combining with Joel’s lighthearted comments. It feels like moments stretch into eternity, wrapped in joy and the love of family. There’s something so enchanting about the very air around you, thick with the scent of impending Halloween mingled with the faint sweetness of the ice cream still lingering on your tongue.

In the midst of Sarah’s enthusiastic chatter and Joel’s playful teasing, you catch him glancing your way, a soft glimmer of warmth in his eyes. As Sarah busies herself collecting decor items, sprinkling them throughout the room, you and Joel find yourselves sharing a fleeting moment of quiet intimacy. The world outside fades, and it’s just the two of you in this tiny cozy haven.

“You know,” he starts, his voice low, “you’re pretty good at this whole family thing.”

You laugh softly, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. “It’s pretty easy when it is with you two.”

He smirks, a soft look in his eyes as he steps just a bit closer, the playful teasing on his lips giving way to something deeper.

You take the opportunity to step closer too, feeling the familiar spark between you. He catches your eye and, when Sarah isn’t looking, you share a silent moment—a dance of emotions passing quickly yet deliberately. It feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you, even amidst the flurry of twinkling lights and glittering ghost decorations.

Unable to resist, Joel leans in, and before you can register it fully, he steals a delicate kiss, soft and sweet. It feels as natural as breathing. The surprise of the moment dances like fireworks in your chest, filling you with delight.But just as quickly as it began, the spell is broken by Sarah’s enthusiastic shout from across the room. “Hey! Are you two going to help or just stand there looking goofy?”

You both turn to her, laughter spilling out unexpectedly as you playfully adopt exaggerated guilty expressions. “We were just… plotting the next decoration strategy!” you say, your voice teasing.

“Yeah, that!” Joel jumps in, shooting you a conspiratorial grin, the moment still tingling in the air between you.

As you join Sarah on the living room floor, the warmth of the afternoon continues to wrap around you, a tapestry of laughter, love, and little moments that turn into cherished memories. The sun casts its final golden rays through the window, washing everything in a gentle glow.

[nnnn99999]

This post is a result of a note that has been sitting in my drafts since the first episode. It was sitting there for so long because I was waiting for the series to end to see if they would continue this theme to the end, and they did. So here is my essay on family as one of the central themes of peaceful property.

Family has always been my top priority in life. This is actually one of the reasons why I was so touched by peaceful property. Because this series gave me so many different types of familial bonds, good and bad. Because of who I am, I have a hard time relating to romantic love. It's not that I can't feel romantic love, it's just I don't really understand it that well. I have a superficial idea of it, but I've never felt it myself. But familial love is something I can definitely relate to and understand, so peaceful property was such a comfortable watch for me.

So what is family? Or a better question might be, what makes someone family? Family is the people you love and trust unconditionally, the ones you want to stay with for the rest of your life, the ones you find comfort with in the hardest of times, the ones you want to protect with your life, the ones with whom you share such an unbreakable bond that no matter what happens you find your way back to them. You may or may not have blood ties with family, but you definitely have strong emotional ties that can't be broken. This is what family means to me.

From the very beginning, peaceful property gave us different types of families, most of which are non-traditional. Peach and Pangpang, Home and his grandfather and Somkid, Kan and her single father, Suradech as a loner, Rak with her parents and husband, the magician and his sick daughter, Phoom and Vicha, Rider and Tharnsai, Somkid and Yai and finally Home, Peach, Pangpang, Kan and Suradech- all of these are the different families I can remember from the show. (I might be missing some since I'm writing this whole thing from memory but if I don't remember it, it means I didn't care about it.)

My point is, from the very beginning, this show was exploring different kinds of family dynamics. At first, I thought this show wanted to say something about capitalism and classism. But by ep 4, I was questioning my own assumption. By ep 6, I had a new perspective. In my opinion, this show only introduced these topics because money, status and class determine how we interact with others and how we form bonds with others. This show was always about Home's journey to finding his family. It's just that his wealth and status, how these things had been used in his favor, how he has an impact on people who don't have these things, how people perceive him because of it, how his thought process and behavior is influenced by these - all of these affect Home's quest of finding a family. It's not just his personality that matters. His upbringing, his privilege, his lack of understanding of the world due to his privilege matter too.

This is where the different family dynamics come into play. Home, who has no idea about the true meaning of his own name, has to experience all of these different family dynamics to understand what having a family feels like. The goal of the show was clear from the begininning-what is the meaning of Home? No matter how you interpret it, it is clearly about Home's personal journey.

Family was always the driving theme of this show. All actions and motivations of the characters, be it the living or the dead, can be traced back to family in some way. The first ghost helped Home meet his new family, Peach and Pangpang take Home's offer for their family, Kan wanted revenge for family, Somkid became the way he did because of family, Phoom and Vicha ended up the way they did because of family, the magician resorted to playing tricks because of family, Chef Hong's ghost couldn't pass on because she considered Peach family. Most importantly, the main cast who became a family by the end of the show. And there is still so much more sprinkled throughout that I don't have the patience to mention.

At the end of the show, Home's answer to the question "what is home" was wherever feels like home is home. The answer I got from the show is slightly different, or maybe just a little better articulated than Home's answer. What is home? The answer the show gave me was, home is where family is.

[syndrossi]

You really got me with the Baelon and Aemon feelings with the Regnal Au.

Just-

"Baelon and Aemon," Daemon said, irritated that his father refused to take either the compliment or the bait. "They are twins. That is a bond they will have their whole lives. What better bond to honor than yours and Uncle Aemon's?"

"I recall Viserys saying you favored Aegon."

He had, but that had been when Daemon had been expecting a single son or daughter. A grand name, to herald a grand legacy. But two sons who had shared the womb, who already seemed upset to be parted for too long-

There was only one bond like it that Daemon had known.

Beautiful. Exceptional. Poetic.

Painful.

Why don't you just stab me in the heart?? It would hurt significantly less. I was legitimately close to tears when I read that last sentence...

But seriously, you write Baelon and Aemon so well, and they're not even alive nor the focus of the main story! Your parallels between the three generations of Targaryen brothers get me every time. Aemon and Baelon were the living, breathing image of what a bond of true, love, loyalty, trust, and friendship between brothers looked like.

When Daemon got older and as his and Viserys' relationship became more and more strained, the thought of his father and uncle, and the unbreakable bond they shared, probably just seemed so unattainable, perhaps even impossible to him.

And so many years later, in the main story verse, when the twins come along and Daemon sees just how much they mean to each other. How they communicate, how they protect each other, how they make the other laugh. Daemon has witnessed this before. It's been a long time, but he's seen it. Seen it in the way that Jon angles his body in front of Rhaegar's when he feels danger because that's what his father did. Seen it in the way that Rhaegar places his hand on Jon's should and calms him with a look because that's what his uncle did.

When Daemon meets his sons, he realizes that the bond his father and uncle had wasn't as impossible as he thought. Special, yes, but not so impossible as to never see it again.

-

Sorry this is super long! I just have so many thoughts and feelings about them, and then I just started rambling like crazy, plus I'm really tired. Anyway, I love your writing. Thanks for taking the time for it!!

It is my goal at all times to get people with the Aemon and Baelon feels, if I'm being honest. 😅 Just as canon!Rhaegar haunts the ASOIAF narrative, those two haunt Resonant. It's always been a story of three sets of brothers to me, for all the plotting and candle shenanigans going on throughout. The way that Viserys and Daemon are haunted by their two father figures, and the fact that neither of them can a) live up to either of them or b) even come close to the bond and friendship between them.

Like. I do think that an unexplored thing in a lot of the earlier canon stories so far is the Targaryen brother-brother dynamic. We know what a brother-sister "close" dynamic becomes: a marriage, since that's how Targaryens work. But what about two brothers? The fact that kepus means both your father and your uncle could be as simple as "teehee it's because your father is your mother's brother, making him your uncle too!" But I think it's more than that. That the Valyrians, to prevent familial infighting, truly did encourage the friendliest bonds possible between siblings. Your uncle is your kepus because he's just that close with your mother and father. You are like his son, in the same way that your cousins are like your own father's children.

Did it always work? I'm sure it didn't! There are plenty of ways personalities can clash and lead to friction/enmity. But recall that Maegor did not betray Aenys directly. He clashed with his sons after his death, which certainly does break the "your nephews are like your sons" sentiment, but he held the bonds of brotherhood between them sacred enough to honor his right to the throne. What he did to some of Aenys's children after was less heartwarming, of course. But there seems to be, at least closer to their departure from Valyria and its Doom, a sense of loyalty to one's siblings. Aegon himself elevated Orys, his bastard half-brother, to the rank of lord over all of the Stormlands, founding House Baratheon.

The most notable departure is of course the Dance, when those bonds of brotherhood (sisterhood) are utterly severed, to the point of kinslaying. But after, you still have pockets of tight bonds. Aegon III and Viserys II, for example.

(And of course not all brother relationships are equal! Aemon and Baelon had their inseparable bond, but neither formed much of a connection with Vaegon, and Baelon eventually grew frustrated enough teaching him to send Alyssa to face him in combat. Their differing ages and interests separated them, which meant there was really only one cluster of close siblings: Aemon, Baelon, and Alyssa. Did this also occur in old Valyria? Perhaps. Or perhaps, culturally, more was done to encourage harmony within the family.)

Okay, sorry, long aside there!

Back to Daemon and Viserys and their feelings of inadequacy as relates to their father and uncle! Like you said, it's such a shining, even idealized bond (I'm sure they had their occasional squabbles, as any siblings will), it feels like they can never achieve anything like it. I think the early days, when Viserys was throwing council positions at Daemon was him trying to live up to it that way, the way he imagined Aemon would have trusted Baelon to assist him. Except Viserys still saw Daemon as immature, and let Otto turn that into suspicion/paranoia, so he withheld what Daemon perceived as a "fair" partnership between them, aka Daemon as his Hand. And each firing after that was like another rejection of their bonds of brotherhood, further evidence that his own brother didn't trust him. And Daemon continually acting up in response was further proof to Viserys that he was justified in not trusting either Daemon's capabilities or intentions.

None of which happens if Viserys never becomes king. I'm willing to bet they had a much better relationship beforehand. Perhaps not Aemon-Baelon level, but that's not a fair bond to have as your standard. But the widening gap between the ideal (Aemon-Baelon) and reality (Viserys-Daemon leading up to the "heir for a day" incident) is something that must have weighed on either of them, and felt incredibly frustrating. For Viserys, it's "I love you, why can't I trust you?" And for Daemon it's "I love you, why don't you trust me?" They recognize that there's some kind of failure between them, and they're just not equipped to mend it. Viserys keeps poking at Daemon's scabs, and Otto keeps fueling Viserys's mistrust.

So at a certain point I think they do both decide that what Aemon and Baelon had was a once-in-a-century kind of bond. Which, as you say, is challenged when Jon and Rhaegar enter the picture. All of those memories come flooding back, even before you get into the way each of them echo Baelon and Aemon. There is living proof that it's possible. That it's not impossible for that level of trust and understanding to exist between two siblings. (And the ghosts return to haunt Daemon and Viserys. In Daemon's case, uh, sorta literally. 🕯️)

I'd love to do some explorations of (alive) Aemon and Baelon sometime. It's a shame none of the prompts involve them except as memories/dreams. Some outing with twelve-year-old!Daemon and Aemon could be very sweet. Or Rhaenys and Baelon getting up to mischief against Aemon. You know, things that won't stab you in the heart for once! 😅

[randomfoggytiger]

Scully: Lies and Self-Edits

Scully's lies and self-edits stemmed from a desire to be believed in: she wanted trust, admiration, and respect, honing her self-image to a fine point in order to earn that belief.

What I found interesting was how she self-edited her image to others particularly; and how that reflected in her relationships with those closest to her.

**Note**: Will ghost edit later.

"Agent Scully"

To her peers, to coworkers, and bosses (and even in her early friendship with Skinner), Scully maintains an edge of unbreakable, unapproachable distance. Her life is her own; and she will not be broken by misogynistic assumptions (2Shy and D.P.O. and Never Again) or blinded by personal connections (Revelations, Orison, etc.)

Scully seeks to earn their belief through respect, self-editing to cover up her personal struggles and weaknesses.

"Dana, What Are You Doing At Work Getting Knocked Down?"

Bill Scully is shown only one aspect of his sister's chosen line of work: abductions, trauma, and loss of inter-familiar connection. Furthermore, he is hurt, angry, even jealous that Dana would rather go to work and die in silence than admit her failing health to the family, who would be ready and willing to support and lift her up.

What Bill fails to see in his own behavior (and which Scully is too polite to point out to him) is his lack of confidence, faith, and belief in his sister: that her decisions-- be it getting knocked down at work or trying to adopt a little girl she's known for only a few days-- are born from rationality and conviction, not irresponsibility and emotions. He has prejudged her-- unlike or more than he did Melissa, by all accounts-- as flighty and frivolous: climbing to greatness before tossing herself off the mountain to doom.

Scully seeks to earn his belief through rationality, self-editing to appear emotionally detached and logical in the face of his (half-merited, half wildly unfair) criticisms.

"You Were Always the Strong One"

We get a clear picture of Maggie Scully's reliance on her daughter in Beyond the Sea and Memento Mori, setting up one-half of the complicated dynamics of Scully's Starbuck complex. She openly grieves, openly weeps, and openly clings to her daughter-- "the strong one" of her children, boys included. That angle would reinforce Captain Scully's expectations and benevolence to Scully's achieving, self-sacrificing nature; and Scully has always bloomed towards praise, even after her personal revelation in all things.

Scully seeks to earn her unshakeable love, self-editing her own struggles out of a fear that her "cowardice" or failure will dry up Maggie's motherly love or belief.

"Other Fathers"

In Beyond the Sea, Captain Scully is prodded to ask his daughter about her job-- the very issue that fractured his and Scully's relationship from recruitment to field work (quite a long period.) Scully buries her insecurity, answering with a dutifully tight-lipped "It's good." But when her father walks away, she slumps, disappointed at his desire to move quickly away from that fulfilling part of her life.

At his funeral, she begs her mother: "Was he at all proud of me?" And works through her feelings of shame until her closure in One Breath. Still, the question haunts her; and she misinterprets her dissatisfaction and disillusionment in Never Again as a symptom of her "other fathers" hangup with Mulder. The truth she learns then was a different one-- post here-- but the similarities remain. Always patching holes back onto the ship, never pushing the captain too far.

Scully sought (seeks) to earn his pride through being a dutiful second mate, self-editing and downplaying her break for freedom in an attempt to win him back.

"A Source of Strength"

In Irresistible, Scully reveals to Karen Kosseff her realization: she relies on Mulder. She also recognizes her desire to never become a burden to him-- as she says in Fight the Future, "I've only held you back." She breaks down by the end, but that doesn't stop her inability to freely admit weakness until Milagro, and then not fully until after all things.

Scully seeks to earn his belief through attention: is he staring at the stars, forgetting her? Running off to the basement after perpetrators while her heart is being ripped out upstairs? More focused on his pursuit of the truth than her limitations? "You didn't need me, Mulder. I just held you back" is another way of crying out "I ruined your life by turning your focus away from what was more important-- from what is more important to you", after all. Scully self-edits her limitations to keep up with Mulder, be it physically shoulder-to-shoulder or mentally toe-to-toe.

"Life Is... Just a Path"

Melissa Scully, ironically, was the only relationship that needed nothing from Dana: only gave and gave and gave, pushed and pushed and pushed for her to become better. (A powerful storytelling tool, as well as a powerful relationship; and probably why Chris Carter kept acknowledging her influence in his mytharc episodes.)

Scully sought (seeks) to earn her belief through reassurance, self-editing her weaknesses to Melissa in an attempt to prove she is fine. However, she could never fool her sister, leaving them both frustrated and persistent.

THE TRUTH

Scully wants others to believe in her.

She will always face doubts in her chosen field of work; but she's won the belief of Skinner and a handful of others.

Bill may never fully trust or believe in her motives or actions, but her father jumped at his chance of redemption.

Mulder might not always give her the attention she craves but Maggie did; and Maggie might not always understand, but Mulder will.

Melissa's impact lives on, touching her life and propelling her to resolve those unsettled issues within herself; which, in turn, shifts her focus from denial to acceptance.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[heliphantie]

Phantie’s Encanto: Los pequeños trillizos

Following is a part of my personal headcanon about the childhood dynamics and personalities of Madrigal triplets. It's movie-compliant, with some elements related to production materials and some answers given by director and crew to audience, like the rest of my fanon.

Lots of text and pictures under 'read more':

Three Madrigal children, born at the same time, have got traits of their parents split between them. Oldest, Julieta, fully inherited gentle, caring and selfless nature of her father Pedro. Middle sister, Pepa, impulsive and passionate, got strong will and persistence of her mother Alma. Youngest kid, their brother Bruno, has got golden mean of personality between two – his father’s protective loving heart and his mother’s stubborn, resilient character.

When the three were born, there were no children of their age in the entire village: just some older ones, and only couple of years after setting, new babies started to appear. This way, already inseparable triplets, always under watchful eye of their mother, had spent their early years all to themselves, in the company of each other, and couldn’t imagine to part their ways in any foreseeable future. But even in their unity, they soon started to see differences between themselves, each one stepped on the path to their fate.

Julieta, first triplet to see the light, embraced duty of firstborn child seemingly since her infantry. The most empathetic and sensitive, she always provided comfort and care not only for her mother and siblings, but for newborn children all around the growing town, mending their injuries, calming their disturbances, filling for their parents when they had no one to take care of babies while busy with chores, in between helping her mother with household and remaining loving big sister for two siblings, fairly troublesome at times. She never seemed to get tired of her business, despite nobody ever forcing work on her, yet everyone felt defenseless once she came to offer her help, due her irresistible kindness and genuine commitment. No wonder she soon earned title of “everybody’s mother”, spoken discreetly to not cause bashfulness in her. And since she was small, nobody in Encanto ever had doubt that she’s destined to grow up a successor of her mother, future leader of the town and keeper of household of her own. So, inevitably, talks and speculations began to spread out on the matter of her eventual choice for husband, though at the same time, everyone had to admit that, most likely, she will remain too good for whoever daring enough to make move, and even luckiest one bound to face pressure trying to stand on par with her finesse and nobility.

And while people around the town continued to marvel at her maturity, closest ones, her uterine siblings, were able to see beyond it. It could appear that oldest daughter, responsible and sound-minded, would be at complete control of her own feelings and wellbeing, but Pepa and Bruno, typically carefree under the wing of big sister, suspected in secret that her tender heart might turn into her fatal weakness. Worried that one day advantage can be taken of her selflessness, they decided to try and become self-sufficient in order to protect and guard one person who always assured their own safety.

In the end, no one was surprised that on her fifth birthday, Julieta, whose happiness lay in providing security and peace for her encirclement, was granted gift of healing people with her very touch and pieces created with her hands, and gained ability of her own being staying intact and sound in any circumstances, never catching any illness in already safe environment of magically secured town*. But, mused her siblings, this doesn’t mean that her heart is as invulnerable and unbreakable as her physical form, after all, if it wasn’t, she would not be that wonderful loving person they know.

If you ask about vulnerability and insecurity, Pepa knows it quite well, and anyone who happen to hang around her, gets clear impression of it too. Thankfully, it’s lot easier to hide your internal sensitivity by acting as openly assertive and fierce as possible, so no one can suspect you’re wearing your fragility on your sleeve. Not carrying responsibilities expected from oldest child also comes in handy sometimes. What she lacks in elegance and feminine softness, Pepa makes up for with flashy and visible manifestation of her personality. And it’s indeed a big relief, when in place of twisted stomach, you get small whirlwind, or wake up in your bed soaked wet from simple rain unconsciously created in bad dream, spared from embarrassment. Downside is, you still can’t keep your feelings completely unseen, and cause inconvenience for those around you, but it’s not as bothersome, if you’re don’t get worked up over other’s condition, especially harmless temporary kind.

You can be true family weirdo all you want, especially with support of your utterly ridiculous brother, who appears even more content with himself all the time, your main and often single playmate who effortlessly brushes off your grudges and turn them into laughter. One thing, however, causing distress to bring up around either of siblings, is what you can’t help but notice you are kind of black sheep among the flock: you are evidently not that fine compared to both of your siblings, mild-tempered, petite, cute (no, it’s just sister, Bruno is hideous, naturally!), with pretty dark curls, coffee-colored skin, and gentle deep eyes, all while you stick out like sore thumb with your stupid shaggy red hair, lanky skinny build, and silly face turning hot red at slightest sign of agitation or resentment. And what makes it all so ludicrous and upsetting, none of this could’ve been that much of disadvantage if it didn’t get in the way of your innermost desire – experience of miraculous romance like one that resulted in her own existence, except with guarantee of living happily ever after, and even if not, doesn’t mere opportunity to live through it makes up for all hardships it can bring? If only she was born gifted with everything to be worth of it, something her lucky siblings apparently take for granted and don’t sweat about at all. Brooding about her tragic predicament since she was four, upon entering adolescent years, Pepa completely came at terms with it and concluded that, if her incessant wishing is bound to bear fruit and true love waits ahead, it could be none other but one that accepts her the way she is, seeing all her flaws as virtues (philosophy her brother regards with skepticism, but nobody asked him!). Growing surrounded by miracles, it’s only natural to expect such occurrence of fateful love!

One can ask, wait, why even worry about what can or can’t happen in future if you have around somebody who can unveil your future for you and get you prepared for inevitability of success or failure? For that, there are two answers. First, precisely because of it. When you have cherished dream in the very core of your soul, possibility of ripping it off of you is lethal, and none of common sense warning you of probable futility of your dream makes ultimate awareness of it less painful. Second, inevitable embarrassment on both sides that comes with entrusting such intimate matter to your brother. Both sisters had agreed to never asking Bruno about details of their future, and all three mutually decided he has right to refuse taking a peek into their personal lives, no matter how desperate they can become to see it. The law remained unbreakable as long as it concerns individual fates of girls and not a necessity of precaution on bigger scope. As for what may lie ahead of himself, very careful experiments involving insignificant requests of closest in time events, proved that, apparently, seer can’t see his own future, neither can he accidentally peep his own involvement in any upcoming events, probably, just because said events generally are none of his business anyway… In any case, experiments ceased here. Doesn’t really matter, what can happen, said he, grinning with reassure, if we stick together through thick and thin. And if it happens so we have to part our ways, it’s only if we manage to find happiness of our own. In any case, we’ll never be lost and unhappy.

If Julieta’s forte was her graciousness, and Pepa preferred to put her trust into her guts, Bruno was undisputably the brain of three – astute and perceptive, he usually occupied position of observer, but if it called for action, approached it with precaution and ready tools. While his sisters were busy with housekeeping and daydreaming, he utilized free time to performing remained domestic tasks or taking any chance in education on available matters. Even after he received his gift and stable position in community, he wisely figured that work of soothsayer doesn’t demand full-time occupation, so he continued trying various activities with purpose of finding a calling outside of it, and though he proved decent capability in many things, he didn’t feel enough enthusiasm for most of it, but eventually has found that few most satisfying pastimes for him were self-expression via paint and paper, all accessible reading, and taking care of any living creatures in close proximity, most approachable of which turned out to be rodents living in Casita’s walls.

To the chagrin of the kid, he soon become aware of cruel irony of his gift being something that, in the turn of events that would allow him to get a taste of it before his fifth birthday set his destiny in stone, could bring him to decision of wishing something else for said gift, something that would truly encourage him for lifetime of using it. Gaining abilities of animal whisperer, for example, or becoming a magical painter and being able to bring everything he draws to life! Moving paintings, isn’t it exciting? Or maybe ever something more modest than that, like being able to see not through the time, but beyond the mountains, all the way to the remote places he, probably, never going to reach otherwise… But in reality, things turned differently, all because of his own overly pensive mind. Listening to the story of his father’s sacrifice, not for the first time, right before the celebration of his birthday, he, yet again, got so lost in contemplating possibility of safe outcome that could’ve keep the family intact… if only there was a way to prepare for escape in advance, to foresee danger… so these thoughts continued to run circles in his head even when he reached his hand to the doorknob of the shimmering door of his new room. It was not the first time when the house expanded on its own when there was need for it, and it was common occurrence for all life of the kids, what unexpected could happen?..

Of course, he knew since forever, that his position in the family is peculiar, him being single and eventually oldest male member, due to demise of his father, meant certain unspoken obligations. It was never discussed directly, he got not a word about it from his mother, but it was apparent for him – he’s expected to be successor of his father, misty, enigmatic figure, only tangible trace of whom existed in the form of large portrait hanging at the stair’s head on the way to his old nursery, that remained abandoned yet waiting for somebody to come and revitalize it, but in meanwhile, it served as welcoming quiet place for the boy to find occasional resort from all the hustle. The portrait depicted slightly haze image of dignified, sophisticated yet humble looking young man, his face frozen in serene yet somewhat apologetic smile, and the boy who stared at it couldn’t make anything out of it, let alone grasping in that face something he could identify with. His expression, though, it’s somehow reminiscent of big sister, concluded he with wandering smile, as if in response to the painted man. Talking to pictures would’ve been definitely handy… How else I supposed to figure what you wait from me? Portrait also expected something from him, but what it was he had no idea. Only one thing he was certain of, his duty to provide a shoulder his sisters, his family, could lean on, no matter if he ever going to take over mysterious identity of his father or not.

Although nobody assigned to him the duty of protection, he accepted it wholeheartedly and regarded as his purpose in life as long as it demanded. Sisters were his whole world, or, at least, embodied his major connection to the people. Naturally pensive and, someone could say, timid, he could let himself breath and entrust his worries to his oldest sister, and with middle sister he could unleash childish urge to just run around and enjoying life as kid of his age does. Something he couldn’t even admit to himself, with his big sister, mature and motherly beyond her age, he felt much more at ease than with his real mother, who, he always suspected, silently compared him with his nebulous father at every turn, and he couldn’t shake off the sense of disapproving from her. But Julieta had no such frame of reference, nor she cared if he gets to measure up to figure of Pedro, and loved him as he was, with all her candid heart. And with Pepa, he could not think twice to speak his mind and bother himself with politeness out of fear of causing offence that will remain unexpressed, as she wasn’t someone to bother herself with tolerance and always got back at him, sometimes with things like ball lightning, which didn’t cause much trouble either that couldn’t be mended with his other sister’s curative meals. Though he also had to deal with more grating aspects of Pepa’s personality, her propensity to overreact and involve those around her into the drama she’s main heroine of at the moment, and most tiresome of all, difficulties of consoling her without going through handful of insults in response, all while keeping himself from escalation of conflict (“You only take mercy of me because you’re a doormat!..” – “You’re not going to make yourself pleasant to people by acting like a grouchy hag!”). But all differences aside, one thing that inescapably brought the two together was their shared affection for their little big sister. Pepa could never allow herself to get consumed with envy for her sister’s superior grace, Bruno could never doubt that, if that time comes, he’s going to stand up for his second mother to the end.

* Remember the fact Pepa’s gift originally was supposed to make her indestructible before authors settled on weather control for her? As I assumed Julieta’s healing gift has potential of giving her immunity to any physical harm as well, it occurred to me, in the universe of movie, the trait could be implicitly passed to Juleta (thus, in a sense, their gifts are switched around in final version). We just can’t see it due its less obvious nature. And because inheritance, same trait potentially can be secondary effect of Luisa’s gift of physical strength.

[eldritchxembers]

Walking through the picturesque streets of Cardinal Hill, you find Calamity ‘Cal’ Bardot, the 35 year old veterinarian/animal rehabilitationist originally from Portland, Oregon. Living alongside them in such a small town, you know that they're engaging and non-committal, but what you might not know is that they are a witch, and that they’re hiding something… ― Sophia Bush, bisexual, woman, and she/her.

Name: Calamity Kidd Bardot

Nickname: Cal, Kidd, Dizzy (only by her father)

Family: Clint (Father, Deceased - 1989), Helen (Mother, Estranged), Wyatt (Brother, Estranged), Shira (Sister, ???)

Likes: vintage motorcycles, fixing her father's classic car, dark chocolate, strong coffee (with or without vodka), stargazing

Dislikes: small talk, people who harm animals, loud, crowded places

Familiar Animal: a maine coon named Nemo

Favorite Song: "Head Like a Hole" - NIN

Theme Song: "The Killing Moon" by Echo & the Bunnymen

Character Inspirations: Willow Rosenberg (BtVS), River Song (Doctor Who), Faye Valentine (Cowboy Bebop), Nico Robin (One Piece).

Backstory:

The Bardot family tree has roots twisted by silence and storms. In Portland's rain-soaked suburbs, Cal learned early that love and pain often came wrapped in the same package. Her father Clint, a man who carried his own childhood like a set of brass knuckles, taught her both guitar chords and how to guard her heart. Every Sunday, he'd take her to his auto shop, showing her how to coax life back into dying engines while classic rock crackled through speakers caked with grease and time.

Helen Bardot, with her stark elegance and carefully curated social calendar, treated her marriage like another piece of fine art in their craftsman home - something to be displayed rather than lived in. She and Clint had found each other at a time when both needed the appearance of stability more than love itself. Their union was a masterclass in mutual pretense, each playing their part in a performance that fooled everyone except their children.

Wyatt, the eldest, bore the brunt of Clint's expectations and fists. He was the first draft of Clint's attempt to create the son he thought he should have, and like most first drafts, it was marked with heavy revisions and frustrated cross-outs. Cal would often find Wyatt in their shared bathroom, pressing cold washcloths to fresh bruises, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror with a mixture of shame and resignation.

Then came that day - the day that earned Cal her nickname and changed the power dynamic forever. She was seven, gangly and fierce, when she found Clint cornering Wyatt in the garage. The sound of Clint's raised voice and Wyatt's quiet apologies had become as familiar as dinner bells in their house, but something in Cal snapped. She stepped between them, full of childhood defiance, and took the hit meant for her brother. When Clint's knuckles connected with her jaw, she planted her feet like tree roots and said those words: "I'm not dizzy yet."

The nickname "Dizzy" stuck - Clint's way of remembering both her defiance and his shame. It became a complex token of their relationship, a reminder of the moment his daughter proved she was just as stubborn, just as unbreakable as him.

The real fracture in the family came when Shira, then nine, trusted their mother with a secret that should have been safe: she wasn't the boy everyone thought she was. Helen, ever conscious of appearances, couldn't bear the thought of what the neighborhood would say. When she told Clint, his reaction was swift and final. He packed up that night, but not alone - he took Cal, his "reliable one," the child who reminded him most of himself.

Living with Clint in a small apartment above the auto shop in Cardinal Hill, Cal learned the geography of her father's demons. She watched him drink himself to sleep, heard his nightmares, and began to understand that monsters are made, not born. She became both daughter and caretaker, learning to gauge his moods like checking tire pressure - a skill that would later serve her well with injured animals.

The witch part of Cal's story began in those years above the auto shop. Magic found her like stray cats find kind souls - naturally and necessarily. It started small: plants thriving in impossible conditions, animals seeking her out for help, wounds healing just a little too quickly under her touch. She kept this part of herself hidden from Clint, adding it to the growing collection of secrets she carried.

Meanwhile, Wyatt disappeared into the world of tech startups in Seattle, building firewalls instead of relationships. Shira found refuge in Portland's queer community, blooming into herself despite the family's fractures. Helen maintained her social calendar, telling friends her husband and daughter were "finding themselves" - as if absence was just another fashion trend.

Cal learned to live in the spaces between - between her father's love and his rage, between her family's past and their scattered present, between the mundane world of veterinary medicine and the hidden realm of her magic. She became an expert at straddling worlds, at healing what's broken while keeping her own cracks carefully concealed.

Now, at 35, living in Cardinal Hill, Cal has built a life that looks whole from the outside. Her veterinary practice thrives, her father's old guitar sits in her living room, and she's known as the person who can fix just about any animal that crosses her path. But underneath it all, she's still that girl standing in the garage, refusing to fall down, carrying secrets like spare change in her pockets.

What the good people of Cardinal Hill don't know - what they can't know - is that some of her healing comes from more than just medical knowledge. They don't see how the moonlight catches in her hair during midnight rituals, or how the local wildlife seems to watch her with knowing eyes. They don't notice how plants lean toward her as she walks past, or how storms seem to skip over injured animals in her care.

The biggest secret, though, isn't her magic. It's the gnawing guilt she carries about Shira, about leaving her behind that night. It's the weight of being the "good" child, the one Clint chose to take, and the responsibility she feels to somehow make it right. This guilt feeds her drive to heal, to fix, to make whole what's broken - whether it's a wounded hawk or a fractured family.

And somewhere in Cardinal Hill, behind the warm smile and gentle hands of their local vet, Calamity Bardot holds these pieces of herself together with magic and sheer will, wondering if she'll ever stop feeling like she needs to prove she isn't dizzy yet.

Relationships:

Helen: The Mother She Could Never Please

Helen Bardot moved through life like she was perpetually on stage, each gesture calculated, each word measured. To young Cal, watching her mother was like studying a foreign language - beautiful but incomprehensible. Helen's love came with conditions: straight A's earned a slight smile, a perfectly pressed dress might warrant a pat on the shoulder, and winning a beauty pageant meant a rare "That's my girl" at one of her mother's garden parties.

But Cal was all scraped knees and motor oil stains, more comfortable under a car with her father than at Helen's afternoon teas. Her mother's attempts to mold her into a proper young lady slid off like water on waxed canvas. "Calamity," Helen would sigh, the name taking on a different meaning in her mouth, "must you always look like you've been wrestling in the dirt?"

The final fracture between mother and daughter came not during the night Clint took Cal away, but in the silence that followed. Helen never called, never fought for her. Years later, Cal would learn that her mother had redecorated her bedroom within a week, turning it into a sewing room as if erasing all evidence of her existence. The message was clear: imperfect things had no place in Helen Bardot's carefully curated world.

Wyatt: The Brother She Chose to Shield

Three years older but infinitely more vulnerable, Wyatt became Cal's first rescue project. She learned to read the weather patterns of their father's moods to protect him, developed an uncanny ability to appear just when Wyatt needed an interruption or escape route. At twelve, she was already redirecting Clint's attention with strategic questions about carburetors or perfectly timed clumsy accidents.

Their dynamic confused outsiders - the little sister standing guard over her big brother. But Wyatt understood. He taught her coding in return, late nights spent hunched over a secondhand laptop, whispering about binary codes and escape sequences. "You're like a buffer overflow," he once told her, "small but capable of changing the whole program."

When Wyatt finally left for college, Cal slipped him her savings - $342.78 earned from mowing lawns and fixing neighbors' cars. "Don't come back," she whispered fiercely. "I've got things handled here." He tried to refuse the money, but she shoved it in his backpack along with a note: "Being strong doesn't mean you have to stay."

Shira: The Sister She Couldn't Save

The age gap between Cal and Shira - seven years - made Cal feel more like a third parent than a sister, but she embraced the role with fierce dedication. While Helen fretted over Shira's "peculiar behavior" and Clint maintained gruff disapproval, Cal created safe spaces. Their secret fort in the backyard became a sanctuary where Shira could wear Cal's old dresses and talk about feeling like a stranger in her own skin.

Cal still remembers the day Shira, then seven, asked why God had put her in the wrong body. She remembers pulling her little sister close, saying, "Maybe God didn't make a mistake. Maybe you're magic, like those caterpillars that have to transform to become their true selves."

Shira was more than just a sister; she was Cal's heart, her conscience, the part of her that refused to be broken. The night Clint took her away, it was Shira's silent plea that echoed in Cal's mind. She had failed to protect her, to shield her from her father's wrath.

The guilt was a constant companion, a heavy weight that she carried with her. She dreamed of a day when she could make it up to her sister, when she could offer her the love and support she deserved.

Clint: The Man Who Shaped Her

Clint Bardot was a man of contradictions, a force of nature both gentle and destructive. He taught Cal the beauty of fixing things - engines, friendships, even broken hearts. But he also taught her the ugly side of power, the way it could twist a man's soul and leave a trail of wreckage behind.

The physical abuse was a constant undercurrent, a dark secret woven into the fabric of their life together. It wasn't just Wyatt who bore the brunt of his rage; Cal, too, had her share of bruises and broken promises. She learned to read the signs, to anticipate the storms, and to protect herself and her siblings whenever possible.

Despite the pain, she found herself strangely drawn to his strength, his ability to find beauty in broken things. She saw in him a reflection of herself, a survivor who had learned to endure. But she also saw the toll it took, the way it had hardened his heart and clouded his judgment.

Cal's love for her father was a complex tapestry of love, fear, and resentment. She wanted to break the cycle, to show him a different path, but she also knew that sometimes the only way to heal is to distance yourself from the source of the pain.

[vonlipvig]

You know i suddenly think of AU for King Romus Toras again, hear me out what if King Valero bought an expensive mansion on Sordland and there whether it was located on Holsord, Lachaven or Deryr the mother of Anton Rayne work as a housemaid on the mansion of King Valero and there meet crown prince Romus Toras as a child the two became fast friends and somewhat brothers not related by blood, their bonds forge like Sordish steel, strong and unbreakable. During the first coup on the republic crown prince romus is with anton when the military came to the campus and begun arresting the teachers sensing danger romus tell anton to run but the stubborn rayne insists since he can't argue when anton made an decision and so he stay and there he join anton along with petr and the rest of student campus protesting on the soldiers and then the soldiers launch forwards and there anton stood firmly while the others run and romus protecting his somewhat younger brother punch and tackle the soldier to the ground but more soldiers arrived and gang up on them and beat relentlessly the two. Romus shield his body under Anton while the soldiers punch and kick him instead of anton. It became a diplomatic incident between Sordland and Rizia. King Valero order crown prince romus toras to leave the country sensing the chaos plaguing the streets of Sordland before he leave he learn that anton join the red youth and protest against the coup and while on Rizia the news of Sordish civil war reach their shores. He hope anton survive the civil war. A few months or year later. He learn a certain Colonel Soll defeated the two fighting generals and reunify Sordland. He wanted to return but the new president Soll forbid any foreigners returning on the country while rebuilding on the aftermath of the civil war and he also learn that Soll seize the King's assets on Sordland. So the two begun sending each other letters and the rest of Romus story stay the same. He got kidnapped saved by Welhen forces and help to purge the traitors within the throne. Meanwhile Anton sent letters to Romus that he became an uncle to his son Franc and later his daughter Deana. Romus also sent warm congratulations to Anton being the youngest MP to enter the Assembly. A few years later the two meet again on an AN meeting. Anton Rayne as the fourth president of Sordland and King Romus Toras as the Kingdom of Rizia. The two know that they got each others back. Would they succeed on survive the waves of challenges? What do you think of this AU?

I think if Romus Toras is given the chance as a sibling he gives me vibes of older protective brother who might cross heaven and earth to save his sibling when in danger and man i still haven't touch the possible dynamic that could form between Romus Toras and Petr Vectern as a friend of Anton Rayne on this AU during the campus era since i somewhat headcanon that Romus value Law and Order growing up while Petr is somewhat an chaotic and rowdy person. I also think Lucian Galande might burned the letters of Romus to Anton because he Lucian sense it could sabotage his plans on controlling Anton since he fear that it could affect Anton's decision making. And his plans on being the VP when something struck Petr down. Honestly i dunno. I just think for fun.

OH THAT'S VERY FUN I DIG IT, the idea of them knowing each other since way back then is super interesting! i love that it would have been really eye-opening for romus since he probably would have lead a pretty sheltered life thus far, but anton's unshakeable spirit definitely rubbed off on him, thankully!

(also, imagine romus telling vina all about his childhood adventures with the fourth president of sordland, protesting together for a good cause, kinda like that scene where anton tells franc about it? i bet vina would really appreciate it, and would gain a lot more respect for her father!)

but yeah omg they'd be such buddies, especially with petr in the mix, i can totally imagine the parties and casual get-togethers (imagine romus managing to convince valero to let him bring pabel with him to sordland for his trip, so they go hang out with anton and petr and monica). and of course when they're all grown up and suddenly romus is king and anton is the president of sordland and they meet again and they're like that paul rudd 'look at us. who would have thought? not me" meme lmao.

and of COURSE lucian has to be a cunt, because that should always be respected no matter the AU. that's consistency, baby.

[chaleurhqs]

welcome, LEAH BREWSTER !! we’re happy to welcome you at the chaleur. please collect your keys at the front desk and send in your blog within 24h.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* look, a new neighbor moved into the chaleur compound. it’s LEAH BREWSTER !!  they are a CISWOMAN ( SHE/HER ), they look like EMMA MACKEY and are 26 years old. did you know YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL BY LANA DEL RAY is their favorite song ? they told us they’re a LIBRARIAN at THE LIBRARY and live in THE TOWNLOFTS. they remind me of FRESHLY BAKED BREAD ON A SUNDAY MORNING and NEATLY STACKED BOOKS ON EVERY POSSIBLE SURFACE. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Leah Grace Brewster entered the world on the 12th November, born to middle class parents. The second born daughter to the pair, and their final child. Born hard of hearing in her right ear, life started out pretty rough for Leah. As soon as she was born, it didn’t take long for her mother to abandon the family dynamic. A white paper note left on the counter for her father to find. A family of four, quickly dwindled down to a family of three.

A single income for two growing girls meant that responsibilities of child care fell onto Lily, Leah’s ten year old sister. While their father picked up extra shifts to cover any expenditure that the family would come across. Resulting in an unbreakable bond between the two girls.

Finding a passion proved difficult. Leah found that she was pretty average in her classes but never found anything that sparked her passion. Until, when she was fourteen upon taking her GCSE’s she read Of Mice and Men. The book ignited her love for reading, which she’d been doing ever since. Picking up cheap books in charity stores, reading them cover to cover. It inspired her to eventually get a degree in classical literature, combining her passion and love for reading with a newfound love for school.

It was while she was studying for her degree, that she met and fell in love with Luke. A whirlwind romance that made her feel seen for the first time in a really long time. Before she knew it, she was engaged. Impatiently waiting for her degree to be completed so that she could start building her perfect life.

Before she knew it, it was graduation. The final step in her education journey. Everything she had worked so hard for. A joyous celebration for all involved. Drinks were flowing and it seemed like everything was on the up. Until it wasn’t. A drunken night out turned into Leah stumbling into the women’s bathroom contemplating her decisions. Things were going way too fast for her to properly sit and process all that was going on.

With a heavy heart, she called off the engagement. A new degree and newly single, the decision to move to the states was simple. Easy. Florida was the first stop on the adventure that she’d planned for herself. Yet, once she’d arrived, she completely fell in love with the state. Deciding to make it her home and applying for a job as a librarian at the local library.

[echovilled]

— the happy chemical.

→ character(s): selina liu.

→ supporting character(s): gao yaling (selina’s mother), stephen huang (selina’s stepfather) ma lei (xiang lian’s mother) and xiang lian (selina’s future best friend).

→ genre: trigger warning — descriptions of child abuse, toxic family dynamics.

→ word count: 1,413

→ description: selina meets her future best friend for the first time.

The day of any performance always made Selina feel sick, not because of the event, which she thoroughly enjoyed for the festivities, but because of the moments leading up to it. The entire day would leave her feeling exposed, exhausted, and vulnerable.

The mornings always started with an ice-cold shower, where her skin was scrubbed until red and bruised. Yaling always said that these showers were beneficial. They increased a neurotransmitter called Dopamine, the "happy" chemical. She said she learned this when she was her age, and she said she should be able to know what all of these chemicals are by this age. Selina once told her that the word sounded like dolphins when she started bathing her this way, and she contorted her face in a way that made her realize that she was annoying her. Something that she had become familiar with but it never failed to make her stomach drop each time.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You think other daughters are wasting their time telling their mothers that?"

"No."

"No, what? They’re doing what?" "No, Mama. They're learning chemikals and new row transmittens on their own." Yaling doesn't say anything further as she continues to scrub and scratch at her skin. Normally, Selina would start crying, but after the last incident, she only imagines what it would've been like to touch a dolphin instead of talking about one.

This particular moment of the day doesn’t make her happy, but it helps with numbing the pain.

She could tell that the anger in her tone was due to her still thinking about the night before. Every time before a contest, a recital, anything to showcase Selina’s undeniable talent, she would become anxious and it would drive Stephen, Selina’s stepfather, up the wall. Of course, in Selina's perception, their relationship was never a loving one; if anything, it was terrifying. First they would be fine for a while but then Yaling would turn the simplest occurrence into something more. It happened every time Selina had something eventful to do, as if she’s telling her that it is her fault that she’s causing the strife in this household.

“I can’t do this anymore. I am fucking done with your bullshit this time, Yaling!”

“You’re done when I say you’re done!”

“Let go of me, Yaling.”

“No!”

“I said let go! You can’t bully me like that ragdoll of a daughter you got locked in the back room like some fucking prisoner!”

“Ma ma, please. Let’s just go to bed, you always feel better when you go to sleep.”

“"Get away from me! Can’t you see that this is your fault?!"

At least last night she finally said it.

She never understood why Stephen kept appearing and reappearing from their lives, but she's gotten used to it almost entirely. Stephen is either at home, quiet as ever, willing to go along with anything Yaling wants to do, or it is an all-out screaming match. He'll undercut his pretend persona of not caring as much and throw jabs towards Selina's way while he is doing it. Some of the things that she has deduced from his comments are that;

He simply didn't like raising another man's child.

He didn't like her father; by proxy, he didn't like her either. Despite Stephen's flaws, Yaling's love for him was unwavering. To her, he was a beacon of light, illuminating every corner of her world.

Selina, on the other hand, remained indifferent. She was, and always would be, her mother's daughter, and their bond was unbreakable.

This is why even when she was sleep-deprived, when she was hungry when she was too tired to put up a fight during the invasive showers, and when she was too exhausted to do anything at 3:00 AM, she still had a love for her mother. On the nights Stephen left, her small body would attempt to rock her mother to sleep. She sat next to her on the kitchen floor as Yaling screamed and cried, claiming no one loved her enough to stay.

"I love you, Ma ma. I always have and I always will." Selina would say in response. She never needed a response to reaffirm her love for her mother because she loved her unconditionally.

And Yaling would never give one.

Things would change drastically when they left the apartment for school on performance days. Being away from home acted as a revitalizer for both of them. This was the time when they shut the door on their problems and Yaling felt her best. Selina believes it’s like a troll shedding its skin to reveal a dynasty empress. When Yaling is in front of other people, every outlier that effects their dynamic melts away. She appears perfect, glowing, affectionate, and everything Yaling wants. Selina is everything Yaling wants.

She likes it when they get to school, too; everyone loves to look at her, and they love to converse. She does spend so much of the weekdays trapped inside her room that she forgets how fun it is to talk to others. She likes this part because Yaling hugs her, kisses her, and tells her everything she wants to hear, and she doesn’t have to do anything to deserve it. It’s all for free when they’re in front of a crowd.

It’s the behind-doors part that Selina hates. The troll skin comes back, and it’s vicious, scary, and hurtful. The words are slick with venom, and she wonders when she will adapt to it when it would hurt less, why it hurts so much to hear them, and why it is so confusing for her to listen to them. Yaling tells her she’s a failure, a disappointment when things don’t go her way, while the tone differs from when they’re in front of a crowd.

She desperately wishes to be in front of people again; she wants to believe that this is a facade, and she wants the Empress to come back.

But something is different about today.

While Selina and Yaling are alone in a dressing room, an Auntie comes in dragging their own daughter, and she sees Yaling morph back into the Empress that she wanted to see. The young girl stops crying when she sees them, and it is like a light switch turned on when they both notice each other.

“Was she wishing her own empress could come back too?” She thought as the young girl peered curiously at her. She looked away as her mother spoke.

“I’m sorry to barge in but you know how insolent they can become when they start learning about free will.” The mother joked, and Yaling laughed, a genuine laugh at that.

Who were these strange people?

“Oh, Excuse my manners! I’m Ma Lei, but everyone calls me Leila. This is my daughter, Xiang Lian.” she nudges the young girl forward with her red face still wet with tears. Lian quickly sticks out her hand for a handshake and Selina takes it without thinking about the repercussions that stand behind her.

"You're pretty," Lian says, her voice muffled by sniffles. Lian let’s go of her hand as she reaches into her purse. Selina’s eyes catch sight of a red imprint on the girl's shoulder. She then turns her gaze upwards to Lian's mother, who is already smiling at her. Even though the woman is smiling, it's evident that her eyes don't reflect the same joy as the other women outside. Choosing to disregard her slight discomfort, she quickly averts her gaze.

Lian pulls out a piece of candy and hands it to Selina. It's a wrapped, chewy ginger and apple gin-gins, the kind she always sees at the Baozhen Grocery Store when shopping with her grandma. Lian encourages her to eat it and pops one into her own mouth. At this moment, Selina, whose stomach is growling in protest, realizes she hasn't eaten since the previous afternoon. She quietly slips the piece of candy into her mouth.

It satiated the hunger ache that she was feeling prior, but that was the last thing on her mind. Instead, she noticed Lian's kindness and didn't have to do much to receive it. That feeling felt foreign to her as she has always learned that kindness, like everything else in life, must be earned.

"Thank you," she blinks quickly as Yaling nudging her brings her out of her thoughts. "you're pretty too." she responds, smiling as she feels a warm fuzzy feeling spreading throughout her chest.

This must be what dopamine feels like.

[minamoto-misaki]

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒✈ Relationship with Got7

Marksaki

Mark and Misaki formed a tight-knit friendship reminiscent of sibling camaraderie. Their initial bond sprouted from a shared passion for music and performance. In the whirlwind of their K-pop journey, they became each other's steadfast support, sharing the highs and lows of fame. Their communication was genuine and open, sprinkled with playful teasing and insider jokes only they could understand. Celebrating triumphs and consoling each other during challenges, they created a genuine, sibling-like bond founded on shared dreams and unconditional encouragement, making their K-pop journey all the more fulfilling.

Mijae

Jaebum and Misaki share a unique and endearing bond akin to that of a father and daughter. Jaebum, as a seasoned member of the group, took Misaki under his wing, guiding her through the intricate world of K-pop with wisdom and care. He offered advice, nurtured her talents, and provided a comforting presence, much like a father figure. Misaki, on the other hand, admired Jaebum's experience and looked up to him for both professional and personal guidance. Their interactions were marked by a gentle yet firm mentorship, overflowing with love, trust, and paternal protectiveness, enriching both their careers and personal lives within the vibrant K-pop community.

Jisaki

Jackson and Misaki cultivated a beautiful relationship akin to that of an elder brother and sister from different parents. Jackson, the charismatic and caring older brother, embraced Misaki with warmth and support, embodying a protective figure in the demanding K-pop industry. He provided guidance, cheered her on during tough times, and celebrated her successes, instilling a sense of comfort and assurance. Misaki, appreciative of Jackson's unwavering care and sibling-like love, turned to him for advice and camaraderie, sharing an unbreakable bond that mirrored the dynamics of a close-knit, blended family. Their relationship thrived on mutual respect, trust, and a genuine sibling connection, contributing to their success as a dynamic duo within the group.

Miyoung

Jinyoung and Misaki found themselves at the center of a delightful fandom fantasy that shipped them as a romantic couple. Their on-stage chemistry, marked by electrifying performances and seamless harmonies, fueled the imaginations of adoring fans who envisioned a love story beyond the stage lights. Their interactions were filled with playful banter, lingering glances, and a magnetic closeness, igniting rumors and fan fiction that fueled the "miyoung" ship. Their friendship was the canvas upon which fans painted their romantic ideals, embellishing the narrative with hope and admiration for a love story that, in the realm of their imaginations, mirrored the magic they created together on stage.

Jaeki

Youngjae and Misaki, the lovable K-pop idols within the same group, became endearing subjects of a charming fandom ship known as the "puppy-cat duo." Their contrasting yet complementary personalities and energies sparked this delightful concept. Youngjae, affectionately seen as the playful and energetic "puppy," was charismatic and full of boundless enthusiasm. Misaki, on the other hand, embodied the graceful and enigmatic "cat," exuding a sense of elegance and poise. Fans adored the way their dynamics mirrored these qualities, creating a visual and emotional appeal much like a playful puppy and a graceful cat playing together. Their onstage performances and offstage interactions only fueled the imaginations of fans, turning this ship into a delightful representation of their harmonious partnership within the group.

Bamsaki

Bambam and Misaki, showcased a dynamic that often teetered between friendship and rivalry, earning them the playful moniker of "frenemies." Their spirited camaraderie was characterized by a blend of competition and genuine camaraderie. They would playfully challenge each other during dance practices, striving to outdo one another in a lighthearted yet spirited manner. The rivalry served as a motivational force, pushing them to refine their skills and reach new heights within the group. Despite the friendly competition, a strong foundation of mutual respect and genuine care existed, allowing their friendship to thrive outside of the playful rivalry, ultimately enhancing their chemistry and success within the group.

Yugisaki

Yugyeom and Misaki, the adorable K-pop idols embodied the essence of "cute babies" within the vibrant world of K-pop. Their endearing personas, marked by innocence, charm, and unbridled enthusiasm, made them fan favorites and earned them the delightful nickname of "cute babies." Their interactions were characterized by playful antics, infectious laughter, and a shared excitement for the music they created. Whether it was their playful teasing, affectionate hugs, or the way they effortlessly lit up a room with their infectious smiles, fans couldn't help but be drawn to their sweet and lovable dynamic. Their friendship, grounded in genuine affection and a shared passion for their craft, epitomized the innocent joy and enchanting spirit of youth that endeared them to fans across the globe.

[celebritynewsinusa]

Unveiling the Hogan Family Dynamics: Brooke Hogan’s Absence Explained

Unveiling the Hogan Family Dynamics: Brooke Hogan’s Absence Explained Introduction In the glamorous world of celebrities, weddings are monumental events often celebrated with grandeur. Recently, the renowned professional wrestler Hulk Hogan tied the knot with Sky Daily, marking the inception of a new chapter in his life. However, the absence of his daughter, Brooke Hogan, raised eyebrows and sparked curiosity among fans and followers. A Wedding Under the Radar Hulk Hogan, whose real name is Terry Gene Bollea, exchanged vows with Sky Daily in a private and intimate ceremony. The event was meticulously shielded from the prying eyes of the media, ensuring that the couple could enjoy their special day without unnecessary intrusion.

Brooke Hogan’s Perspective Brooke Hogan, a personality known for her music and reality TV appearances, openly addressed the reason behind her absence at the wedding. In a candid Instagram post, she elucidated that her journey towards healing and happiness necessitated some distance from her family. Navigating Through Changes Families in the spotlight often undergo dynamic changes, and the Hogans are no exception. Brooke highlighted that the continuous transformation within her family unit has been challenging to navigate, especially with the public scrutinizing their every move. A Father-Daughter Relationship Despite the distance, the bond between a father and daughter is unbreakable. Brooke wished her father well on his nuptial, subtly emphasizing that her decision to maintain distance should not be misconstrued as a sign of estrangement or animosity. Hulk Hogan’s Marital Journey Hulk Hogan has experienced a roller-coaster of relationships, with Sky Daily being his third wife. Each marriage reflects a different phase in his life, with its own set of challenges and triumphs, contributing to the tapestry of his personal life. Conclusion The narrative surrounding Hulk Hogan’s wedding and Brooke Hogan’s absence provides a glimpse into the complex dynamics of celebrity families. As fans continue to speculate, it is imperative to approach the situation with empathy and understanding, acknowledging the challenges that come with living in the public eye. FAQs - Why was Brooke Hogan absent from Hulk Hogan’s wedding? - Brooke has chosen to maintain some distance from her family for personal healing and growth. - Who is Hulk Hogan’s third wife? - Hulk Hogan married Sky Daily in a private ceremony. - How many children does Hulk Hogan have? - Hulk Hogan has two children: Brooke and Nick Hogan.   Read the full article

[handsbloodied]

I’m adding an NPC for Judith for her newest modern verse. He’s gonna be mentioned in threads every once in awhile. He’s her partner that she works with pretty much constantly and someone else who has her back. This is based solely on their dynamic in Criminal Minds to be honest, I love them!

All of is information is gonna be under the cut (not really giving him a super full backstory yet just getting the stats and a small little blurb out of the way)

BASIC

FULL NAME: Sebastian Eduardo Ramirez NICKNAMES: Seb, Baz AGE: 35 BIRTHDAY: June 2 SPECIES: Human GENDER: Cis Male PRONOUNS: He/Him/His ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married

FAMILY

MOTHER: Elena Ramirez FATHER: Ricardo Ramirez SIBLINGS: None SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Genevieve Presley-Ramirez CHILDREN: Valéntina "Valé" Ramirez

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

FACE CLAIM: Adam Rodriguez HEIGHT: 6'0″ WEIGHT: 130lbs BUILD: Fit, muscular HAIR LENGTH: Short and sometimes curly HAIR COLOUR: Black EYE COLOUR: Brown DOMINANT HAND: Right NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: His daughter's birth date tattooed in Roman numerals across his left bicep, a few scars from his time in the army and the FBI SCENT: Mountain air ACCENT: Bronx ALLERGIES: Cats DISORDERS: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder FASHION: Usually jeans, a t-shirt and a loose button up with boots

LIFESTYLE

RESIDES: Denver, Colorado, USA BORN: Bronx, New York City, New York RAISED: Bronx, New York City, New York VEHICLE: n/a PHONE: iPhone 12 LAPTOP/COMPUTER: Standard laptop PETS: German Shepherd named Luna POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Democratic RELIGION: Raised Catholic ALCOHOL: On occasion DIET: No specific diet LANGUAGES: English, Spanish, French PHOBIAS: Losing his family and friends, clowns, dying alone SOCIAL MEDIA: He definitely has Instagram and posts mostly about his dog and his wife and daughter

FAVOURITE

LOCATION: His cabin in upstate New York MUSIC: Anything he really enjoys he'll listen to SHOWS: she mostly watches the news, but likes to watch lighthearted shows as well MOVIES: she particularly likes old films, like pre 2000 movies, and also disney movies RADIO STATION: she prefers soft instrumental playlists FOOD: Ropa vieja (but only if his abuelita makes it) BEVERAGE: Coffee COLOUR: Navy blue

CHARACTER

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral MBTI: ENTJ MBTI ROLE: the mastermind ENNEAGRAM: 6 ENNEAGRAM ROLE: Loyal Sceptic TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic WESTERN ZODIAC: Gemini

Sebastian “Baz” Ramirez was born in the Bronx to Elena and Ricardo Ramirez and he is an only child. Fresh out of high school at the age of eighteen, Baz joined up with the US Army Rangers where he would spend the next eighteen years of his life until he was honourably discharged and after a year of being home joined up with the FBI, specifically the Fugitive Task Force.

There, he met Judith who had been working for the FBI for nearly five years at that point, spending the last two working with the FTF. Baz and Judith quickly became good friends, both being relatively new to the job and Judith having to travel quite a bit, taking her away from her family from time to time. 

After a particularly bad case early on in their partnership in which they had lost one of the two children they were trying to save, and Baz having to save Judith from almost being caught in the fire and subsequent explosion, the two now share an unbreakable bond. Judith is grateful to Baz for saving her and helping her realize that she wasn't responsible for the loss of the child.

Even after nearly eight years, Judith and Baz are still just as close, celebrating life events with each other, like Baz's wedding, his daughter Valé's birth, even all three of the Cadron kids' birthdays. Judith and Baz are both grateful to each other, knowing each of them is going to have the other's back and keep each other safe.

[thejustmaiden]

So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

[pintsizemama]

Hot Chocolate

Day 4

Welcome to the 2021 Christmas Writing Challenge! Big thank you to Steph (@toomanystoriessolittletime) for putting this together!!!

Summary: Marcus, Missy, and you go ice skating.

Pairings: Marcus Moreno x Female Reader, Marcus Moreno x You

Fandom: We Can Be Heroes

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1,381

Warnings: language, fluff, kissing…Let me know if I missed anything!

Day 3 Day 5 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist Marcus Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

“Are you alright, mi amor?” Marcus asked as he helped you back on your feet. Marcus had decided it would be fun to go ice skating with Missy…and for some insane reason, you had agreed with him. The problem was, you had never been ice skating before. So, naturally, you fell on your ass—a lot. You were fairly certain you would be black and blue tomorrow.

“I’m fine,” you said, embarrassed. “I just suck at this.” Missy glided effortlessly on the ice and stopped next to you.

“Wow, you’re falling down more than even I did my first time on the ice,” she giggled. You laughed along with her. Marcus steadied you once you were back up on your skates.

“Can’t you just use your super powers to keep my skates where they’re supposed to be?” You huffed in exasperation.

“That’s a gross misuse of Heroics property, madam,” he laughed.

“Sure, sure,” you mumbled. You lowered your voice so Missy wouldn’t overhear. “So keeping my ass from slamming into the ice is a ‘misuse’ of your powers, but vibrating the piercing on my clit while you fuck me isn’t?” Marcus’s gaze turned molten at your words.

“No one sees that use of my powers, querida,” he said in a low voice. “There are too many witnesses here.” He gestured to the crowd of people enjoying the ice. You sighed sadly.

“Why don’t you hold my hand,” he offered.

“No way,” you said waving your hands in front of you. That set you off balance and your arms windmilled comically to keep you from falling. Marcus grabbed your shoulders and set you right once more.

“You really are terrible at this,” he laughed. “Come on…take my hand. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I’m not dragging you down with me, Marcus,” you sighed. “Just help me get to the bench, and I’ll watch.”

“We can head out,” he said with a small hint of reluctance. “I don’t want you to sit by yourself.”

“It’s fine, Marcus,” you assured him. “I want you and Missy to enjoy yourselves. It’s not a big deal.” Missy looked excited at the thought of staying longer.

“Are you sure?” Marcus asked.

“Yes,” you nodded, “but I still need help getting off this death trap.”

“You got it,” he smiled. He carefully guided you to the side of the frozen pond. Couples and children zoomed by, laughing and talking. You were envious of how easy they made ice skating look.

“Thanks,” you said softly once your feet were safely off the ice.

“You got it, baby,” Marcus whispered and kissed you gently.

“You go have fun,” you told him. You waved him away, assuring him you’d be fine on your own. He skated back to Missy, and you sat on the bench to watch the two of them. They were amazing together. Not just on the ice. They had this unbreakable bond and a unique father daughter dynamic that you loved. You were so lucky that they had allowed you to become part of their lives.

You watched them for a while, content just to observe them. You noticed people walking around with hot chocolate. You looked around and saw a small stand selling cookies and cocoa. You untied your skates and walked over to the rental booth. You gave them the skates and got your boots back. Once you were laced up you made your way over to the cocoa stand. You waited in line and order three hot chocolates, and three huge gingerbread cookies.

You gathered everything in your arms and walked back to the pond. You searched for Marcus and Missy but couldn’t find them. Finally you spotted them putting their boots back on.

“There you are!” Marcus called out when he saw you. “I was worried when I didn’t see you on the bench anymore.”

“Did you stop skating because of me?” You asked, worry on your face.

“No,” Missy told you. “My feet are starting to hurt. I think I’m outgrowing these skates.” While you had to rent your skates, Marcus and Missy had brought their own. Apparently ice skating was something they did regularly together.

“Well, maybe you should ask Santa for a new pair this year,” you suggested.

“I think I’m getting a little too old to believe in Santa,” Missy laughed.

“Why?” You asked. “I still believe in Santa.”

“No, you don’t!” Missy couldn’t stop giggling.

“Of course I do!” You protested.

“Well, then why don’t adults get presents from Santa?” Missy teased with her hands on her hips.

“Because adults are on the naughty list,” you said simply with a shrug of your shoulder.

“I know I am,” Marcus said in a husky voice.

“Eww,” Missy shuddered. “Can you at least wait until I’m out of earshot before you start being gross?”

“What?” Marcus asked innocently. “I’m on the naughty list because I say bad words and don’t eat my vegetables. What the hell were you thinking, mija?”

“Oh my god!” Missy groaned. “You’re the worst!” You laughed along with them. You made a mental note to find out what size skates Missy needed. Your intention was to make sure that they would be in a box under the tree from ‘Santa’ this year.

“Alright, Morenos, get your minds outta the gutter and drink your cocoa,” you said and handed them their hot chocolate and cookies.

“Oh!” Missy squealed. “Thank you! You’re awesome!” You smiled as she dug in to her treats. Marcus smiled at the joy on his daughter’s face. He pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered.

“It’s just cocoa and cookies,” you said simply.

“Not just for this,” Marcus said. He gestured to the pond. “For everything tonight. It means a lot to me that you came here and did this with us.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you said softly. He leaned down and kissed your lips gently.

“Gross!” Missy gagged. “Keep it in your pants, Dad!” Suddenly a piece of cookie bounced off Missy’s forehead. “Did you just throw a cookie at me?”

“Just a bite,” Marcus shrugged. “I’ll kiss my girl whenever, wherever I want, munchkin.” Missy rolled her eyes, but smiled.

“You know I really am glad you two finally came to your senses and got together,” she said as she took a bite of her cookie.

“Oh is that so?” Marcus asked.

“Yep,” she nodded. “Took you long enough. Wildcard, Guppy, and I were trying for months to get you two together!”

“What?!” You and Marcus exclaimed at the same time.

“Yeah,” she said with a huge smile. “Remember that time you both got locked in the supply closet at Headquarters?”

“You mean when we were trapped for over two hours?” Marcus practically growled.

“Mmm hmm,” Missy hummed proudly. “That was all us. We figured forced proximity would help speed things along.” Marcus shook his head in disbelief, but you were soaring. You had always worried about how Missy would take to you—having lost her mother at such a young age. To find out that she had been the one trying to push you together…well, it made you happier than you could ever imagine. You grabbed her into a tight hug.

“I love you so much, you beautiful little genius,” you said softly. She squeezed you back.

“Love you too,” she returned. When you broke apart you saw Marcus discreetly wiping tears from his eyes.

“Alright, you two,” Marcus said. “Let’s head home and warm up.” He looked at Missy. “On the way we can discuss your antics and meddling in my love life.” You began walking back to the car.

“I think I’m gonna need a bath to soothe my sore muscles from falling over so many times,” you muttered, rubbing your bruised ass.

“I have some cream I can rub on that,” Marcus said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“OH MY GOD!” Missy screeched and sprinted ahead of you, one hundred percent done with Marcus’s ‘naughty side’. You both laughed and Marcus pulled you in close to his side. If ice skating always ended in hot chocolate and a massage from Marcus…well, you’d definitely come back next time!

Day 5

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