#this is my first time doing this so sorry if its not good

[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.

seven'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.

[beloveds-embrace]

Noona please I beg of you, I need more men grovelling and regretting their actions; please give us more of the angsty version of the dukedom au it’s so good, it’s so cathartic please. What happens when the boys realize they fucked up? Who wants to fight Konig upon realizing reader is definitely getting her back blown out by him? Imagine if reader ended up having his baby, or placing divorce papers on Price’s desk, god the ANGST of it all

Here’s my dog as a banana as payment

Original post

THE DOG PICCC TELL YOUR DOG I SAID THEY ARE GOODEST BOY/GIRL EVERRRR ID DIE FOR THEMMM

also thank you to everyone for all the suggestions! I couldn’t add all of them so I’m super sorry for that 😭 and also a thank you to @darkangel4121 for your replies!!

The shift in the household’s demeanor comes slowly, as if the wind has changed direction. At first, it’s little things- a hesitant glance from John, a lingering pause before he leaves a room. Kyle- as you've come to finally learn his first name despite not asking- places your breakfast tray before you with newfound care and no disdainful silence, and Johnny’s meals are cooked to perfection, also a new name you've just so recently been told of. Even Duke Riley himself begins to nod in your direction when he visits, acknowledging your presence in ways he never did before.

But it all feels hollow.

These gestures, once craved, now barely touch you. You are polite, civil, offering faint smiles that do not reach your eyes, acknowledging the changes without truly engaging. Your heart no longer waits at the threshold of their approval; it has found its sanctuary elsewhere, firmly cradled in the hands of a man who has always seen you. Your knight. Your shadow. König.

You walk through the estate, thinking of John’s efforts with a detached air. He invites you to dinners now rather than leave you alone for entire days and nights, his voice gentler, eyes searching for cracks in the walls he helped build. He asks about your day, and you respond with the measured politeness your parents taught you. The warmth he offers now is too late, a sun long set. The flicker of hope in his eyes fades each time you excuse yourself early, your presence like a ghost haunting rooms that no longer feel like home.

König waits for you just beyond the hallways, his presence like a balm to a wound. He falls in step beside you without a word, the weight of his loyalty comforting in a way no amount of decorum could be. He is everything you need- unwavering, fiercely protective, and yours.

In the gardens, beneath a gnarled oak tree, you find moments of peace with him that you could never find within the walls of the estate. You sit together in companionable silence, your shawl and his cape wrapped tightly around you against the evening chill. When you lean against him, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of his armor, you feel his breath hitch. His hand comes to rest at your back, gentle despite the strength he wields.

“I missed you today,” you whisper, your fingers tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his sleeve. It is an admission you would have once swallowed down, but with König, you have no need to hide.

His grip tightens briefly. “I am always here, mylady,” he replies, his voice soft only for you. “You need only call for me.”

“I know.” You close your eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. It beats for you, and that knowledge fills the spaces that loneliness once carved. “You are all I need.”

He shifts then, kneeling before you as he often does, his hands enveloping yours. His gaze is intense, pale eyes searching your face for signs of hesitation, but there are none. “I would give you the world if I could, mylady,” he says, voice low. “But all I have is myself.”

“You are enough,” you say simply, and you mean it. “More than enough. All I could ever want.”

König bows his head, a soft exhale escaping him. “Then I will stay by your side, always.”

The men of the estate still try, fumbling in their newfound efforts to mend what they broke.

John brings you flowers, freshly cut and arranged with care, so you can decorate your drawing room where you occasionally play the harp. You accept them with a polite nod, but they are forgotten in moments, and you go back to asking Konig his opinion on the melody you are playing. Kyle offers to escort you on walks, but you refuse, choosing instead the quiet solace of the garden paths shared with König. Simon’s attempts at conversation are met with cool civility, and Johnny's food largely goes untouched. You allow none of them closer than courtesy demands.

And the gifts received from John and Duke Simon are left untouched. They aren’t much of your style anyways.

But with König, you are different. Soft. Open. You share your thoughts, your fears, the dreams you had long given up on. He listens, always.

One evening, in the safe privacy of your rooms, he rests his head in your lap, a rare moment of vulnerability. You cradle his masked face, tracing the edges of the fabric. You are unafraid of being interrupted; your new maids were quiet and nervous, likely not wanting to be dismissed after the last batch were. You still have no idea how Konig managed to do it, but he spoke to John personally and had them all removed; despite that, you don’t care for their dubious help.

You had made sure to show Konig your appreciation quite thoroughly. Even days later, you swore you could feel how big his hands on your thighs were, keeping you nice and open for his tongue. He'd kept you in that position even when a knock had sounded and someone had entered, but the knowledge of what was going on only sent a sharp thrill of excitement through you.

Still, pettily, you hoped it'd been John who had seen you in the throes of pleasure.

Not right now, Duchess. Not right now.

“Are you tired, my love?” you ask gently, the term of endearment slipping out so naturally it catches even you by surprise, earlier thoughts pushed aside. Still, you have no desire to take it back.

He stills, breath caught. “Say it again. Please.”

“My love.” You smile, leaning closer to press your forehead against his. “You are my love.”

His hands tighten around yours, trembling. “I have always been yours.”

And you believe him. In the warmth of his embrace, you find what the others could now never give- a place where you are cherished, where you are enough. The rest of the estate watches you drift further away, their regret too heavy to shift the chasm that now lies between you. You are beyond their reach, ensconced in a love that was never born out of duty but out of genuine care.

In one of those quiet moments beneath the moonlit sky, after a tiring day of going between appointments and lawyers, you ask him, “Will you take me far from here one day, König? Somewhere far away, where I am free?”

“When you are ready, Liebling,” he promises without hesitation, pale eyes earnest. “I will take you wherever you wish to go.”

The world around you may continue its attempts to pull you back in, but it is too late. Your heart belongs only to the man who has always been your refuge, your shadow, your light. And with him, you finally feel free. König, König, König- and no one else.

[papaya-twinks]

I might’ve meant it - l.n 🎈

Warnings: None

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

You and Lando weren’t best friend, but you weren’t toral strangers either. Same friend group, so obliged to get him a present. Seemed simple enough.

“Yo, this is sick,” Lando held up whatever gadget Max had gotten him as you watched, a smile on your face, patiently waiting til it was your turn.

“Y/N,” Max nudged you forwards as you smiled bashfully. “I hope you like it, I made it myself,” you said a little shyly holding up the teddy bear with a crochet version of Lando’s bucket hat on its head.

It wasn’t as expensive or amazing as some of the shit your other friends got, but you made it yourself. “Oh my god, Y/N,” he took it into his hands gently.

“I love you- it,” he said, his eyes at the bear as you smiled, your cheeks pink as he ran a finger over the crochet. He really did like it, didnt he?

Later That Night

Everyone was partying, all shouting and screaming and dancing as you stepped out onto the balcony for some air. “Hey,” a voice snapped your train of thoughts.

“Oh, hi birthday boy,” you said softly, “why are you here, shouldn’t you be partying with your friends?”. Lando hummed, chuckling softly at the nickname.

“Someone was missing, is all,” he said, and you noticed in his arms was your bear. “Already attached?” you giggled, looking to the bear as he laughed again, before it fell silent.

“Listen, about earlier-,” you both paused, realising you’d spoken at the same time. “You can go first,” Lando said awkwardly as you shook your head, “No, no, I insist you-,”.

“No, no- look, alright,” Lando sighed, “I’m sorry I was gonna say I love you,” he mumbled, scratching the back of your neck, “I’m…not sure if I meant it,” he admitted.

“I was…hoping you would,” you said truthfully as his eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, surprised at your confidence. “I mean…yeah,” you shrugged, “I like you and Max says you like me, im not sure if he’s-,”.

“That bastard,” Lando mumbled, “spillin’ my secrets,”. You blinked. “So you do like me?” you asked, eyes wide. “Might do…might’ve meant what I said earlier,” he said sheepishly.

“Good,” was all you said, kissing him softly, his body stumbling back in shock, before he melted into the kiss. An interesting turn of events, for sure.

[shuafiles]

lie to girls [l.jn] preview

SUMMARY | it was hard watching jeno struggle with his relationship, but it was even harder when he ran to you for comfort every time. especially when you, his long-time best friend, have been in love with him for the longest time. but when jeno starts lying about where he’s going and who he’s with, you realize the biggest lie might be the one you’re telling yourself—that he’ll ever choose you. or girls will cry, and girls will lie, and girls will lose their goddamn minds for you.

PAIRING | nonidol!jeno x afab!reader

CONTENT | university au, angst, best friends to ?, aespa members included, cheating, swearing, drinking, smut (not everything is included in the teaser yet but just so you know whats in store)

WORDS | 855 (just this teaser)

A/N | sneak peek of what im working on! im planning on making this a looong one but i was too excited so i decided to share without spoiling too much. let me know if you like it! total wc is still unknown and the release date will hopefully be before november ends. also its my birthday today so heres my gift to you :D

“hey.” jeno greeted you, standing at your front door, which only meant one thing. they fought again.

you pushed the door wider, letting him inside. he looked like a mess, his shoulders slumped, dark bags around his eyes, hair disheveled. even from afar, you could tell he was going through something. his phone was in his hand, checking for notifications, but he let out a huge sigh when the home screen was empty.

“do i even want to know?” you prodded, eyes watching him as he plopped down on the couch. his head tilting back on the headrest, head filled with thoughts.

“you know how she is.” jeno mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. “said she needed some space.”

unfortunately, i do know how she is. jeno’s girlfriend, karina. they’ve been together since first year of college when jeno met her at some random party. they were the kind of couple on campus that, at first glance, seemed perfect, but you knew all too well what kind of chaos haunted them in private. you were too familiar with how she behaved with jeno; most of the time, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

jeno didn’t even have to say anything when you saw him at your front door. you have grown accustomed to this pattern: the same heartache, apologies, and cycle of hope and disappointment. and every time it occurred, jeno ended up here—at your door, at your couch, sulking.

you wanted nothing more than to scold jeno for letting himself get run over by her, but you kept your lips sealed. deciding that giving him comfort and support was probably what he needed right now.

“again, huh?” you sat down on the opposite side of him, tucking your legs beneath you.

“i don’t even know what that means, y/n.” jeno sighed, running his hand through his hair. he lifted his head to face you, gaze soft as he held eye contact with you. “one minute, everything’s perfect, and we’re fine, but suddenly, i’ve apparently done something wrong, and she won't even tell me.” his voice cracked, hopelessness evident in his tone. it pained you to see him like this. how many times is he going to let her do this to him?

“well, did you do something wrong?” you asked, but you knew jeno too well, he wouldn’t do anything to sabotage his relationship. sure, he has made mistakes in the past, but he was a good person, a good friend, and a good lover, you suppose.

jeno stayed silent for a moment, recalling if he had done something to make his girlfriend upset. “i–no, at least i don’t think so.” he shook his head, “i’ve just been busy with classes, but i always make time for her. and everything we’re together, i always try to make it special. you know?”

you nodded along to his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. you have heard this story countless times, so you could probably recite it to him. it wasn’t unusual for karina to act like this; she’d get upset over something vague, and then jeno would beat himself up for it, but he’d still bend over backward to get her back.

“maybe she’s just going through something?” you said, trying to think of what to say to ease his mind.

you and karina were acquaintances at best. it’s not like you didn’t try to be her friend, but something about her attitude just seems so off-putting to you. you weren’t entirely sure if karina was fond of you either. of course, you never told jeno any of these. you knew he wouldn’t listen, not when it comes to her. he loves her. he’d return to her every time, like a moth to a flame. and you’d be there, picking up the pieces when he got burned.

“i wish she’d just tell me what’s on her mind instead of leaving me wondering what i did wrong.” his face twisted into frustration with a mix of confusion.

“jen, you know i can’t help you if you don’t tell her what you’re feeling.” this time, you couldn’t hold back. “you’re supposed to tell her these, not me.”

jeno flinched at your words, somehow unsatisfied with your advice. “yeah… you’re right.”

you watched his expression, his eyebrows furrowed while he was deep in thought. “i’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear.” you hesitated, knowing you were treading dangerous waters. “i just think… you deserve someone who actually appreciates you.”

jeno stayed silent, processing your words as if he hadn’t told himself that a million times. but for some stupid reason, he couldn’t keep it in his head. he looked down at his phone, tapping the screen once more, but to his disappointment, there was still nothing. “i know you’re just looking out for me, y/n. but… i just can’t give up on her. not yet.”

and just like that, you could feel him slipping away, back into her orbit, leaving you alone with all the things you couldn’t say, wondering when he would run back to you again.

[ellecdc]

saw the blurbs rq post and immediately need

“i never knew i could feel this loved.”

w barty 🙏🙏🙏🙏

ugh friggen barty - I’ve missed him! Also sorry if it’s not too good, I wrote it on my phone. That means I also have no idea how long it is!! Thanks for the prompt 🫶

Barty Crouch Junior x Potter!reader who are at the manor over the school break

CW: touch starved barty (don’t worry, he gets touched), talking about grounding exercises, fluff

The school matron always told Barty to recite the “grounding lists” to help when things got to be too much.

What a load of rubbish. Who in the hells can recite 5 things they can see, 4 things they can hear, 3 things they can feel, 2 things they can smell, and 1 thing they can taste when they’re having a bloody fucking meltdown?

Not him, that’s for damn sure.

The only time Barty could imagine being able to do that was when he was already grounded.

Like now.

From his position on the sofa, laying on his stomach and situated between your legs with his face on your stomach, he could:

See

The plush, red velvet loveseat of the living room in your family home

The great expanse of pictures that hung along the walls of your living room

The half empty bowl of crisps the two of you had been sharing as you watched a movie

The throw blanket in a heap on the floor that the two of you kicked off of your intertwined forms

And the muggle tell-a-vision that was stuck on some fuzzy popcorn type screen because the two of you were too lazy to turn it off now that the movie was over

Hear

The low, staticky popcorn sound that the telly was making

The sound of your heart beat; so full of love that Barty swore it beat louder than anyone else’s

The distant sound of your parents laughing and conversing somewhere else in the manor

The sound of his thumb brushing over the space where the sleeve of your jumper gave way to the skin of your wrist

Feel

The rise and fall of your chest with every breath that you took

The fabric of the cashmere jumper he bought for you under his cheek

The warmth of your hand where it rested in his hair

Smell

The cinnamon and nutmeg candle you lit before the movie

The unmistakeable smell of you that Barty could never get enough of

And as he ran his tongue over his lips, he could still taste you from when you’d pressed a kiss to his lips before getting comfortable.

“Barty?” You whispered as though you weren’t sure he was still awake.

“Yes, my beautiful darling angel?”

You were quiet for a moment, and Barty could tell you were smiling to yourself.

“What are you thinking about?”

He lifted his head to rest his chin on your stomach so he could look at you; your hair was rather rumpled from the throw pillows, your eyes were clearly more than a little heavy, and Barty was sure that if you were alone, you’d probably be asleep by now. But you seemed to be putting 100% of your energy and effort into the loving gaze you were shooting at him, and Barty wondered - not for the first time - what in the hells he ever did to deserve you.

“I never knew I could feel this loved.” He admitted.

You froze for a moment; the breath you were in the middle of taking paused on its way out as your brows furrowed minutely before you expertly schooled your expression.

“Yeah?”

Barty hummed in agreement and pressed a kiss to your sternum.

“That’s funny,” you said as he lowered his cheek back onto your stomach, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

[aerynwrites]

Black Paint

Vessel x Fem!Reader

A/N: After almost a week of more i FINALLY finished this omg. sorry for all the teasing it just turned into way more of a beast to write this than i anticipated lol. Now that this is done though I have more of a horror oriented idea surrounding Vessel the character that I want to work on next. Hope you all enjoy! Word Count: 8.4k (oops) Warnings: none

--------------------------

The bar is busier than normal. You have to push the door rather roughly to not so politely get someone blocking it to move, and when you finally do make it inside, the air is thick with the smell of beer and warm bodies. 

Great.

You grumble quietly to yourself as you wade through the mass of bodies, laughter and the loud din of conversation assaulting your ears as you approach the bar, a glimmer of hope flickering in your chest when you see your usual seat at the end is open.  The bartender, Ryland, spots you immediately smiling at you as he gestures to the seat that is tipped forward onto the bar to signal its reservation.

He reaches forward as you finally reach your destination, tipping the chair back so it lands on all four legs and you slide into the well worn wooden seat. The patron to your left glances at you, eyes flitting from you, to the seat that you occupied, back to Ryland before dropping back to his glass. 

You smile warmly at the bartender as you pull your scarf from around your neck. 

“Thanks for saving it for me,” you say, talking about the seat. “I hope I didn’t put anyone out.” 

Ryland shrugs already mixing your drink as his eyes flicking to your neighbor for just a brief moment before they return to you.

“Couldn’t leave my best customer without her seat,” he says kindly, his words making you feign an exaggerated wince. 

“Ugh, Ry,” you groan, “you can’t keep calling me your best customer…it makes me sound like an alcoholic.”

Ryland laughs as he slides your already finished drink across the waxed wood bar top. 

“Well…” you chuckle as you take the drink. “Maybe this is sign enough.”

Your friend shakes his head. “You’re not an alchoholic love, trust me,” he emphasizes. “You might be one of the most regulars, but having one drink a visit doesn’t mean that much. No AA for you yet.”

You raise your glass as you laugh, “Cheers to that.”

Ryland opens his mouth to respond but a shout from the end of the bar cuts him off and he rolls his eyes before sending you an apologetic look. “Duty calls, sorry.”

“I get it, go do your job. I’ll be here,” you assure him.

“Oh, I know.”

His words make you chuckle again as he rushes off to tend to more customers.  Usually you spend most of your nights here at the pub after work talking to Ryland. It’s usually just you and maybe a handful of other people, also regulars. Tonight is different though, much busier, and you find yourself slightly disappointed you won’t get to chat much with him. 

You shrug to yourself, reaching down to retrieve the book you’ve been reading from your bag. Might as well pass the time somehow, you drove all the way down here - no point in wasting the trip.

However, as you turn in your seat to reach your bag hanging on the back of your seat, you see a set of eyes on you. Your bar neighbor. 

You ignore it at first, but then remember how he’d looked when Ryland revealed the seat he’d saved had been for you. Without thinking, you grab your book and lean over slightly to be heard over the loud atmosphere of the room. 

“I hope I didn’t take this seat from someone who needed it,” you say quickly, “Did you need it for someone?” 

The man shakes his head at your question, swirling the glass in his hand around idly. 

“You’re good.” 

His words are short, but you immediately take notice of the deep timbre of his voice.

You nod, taking his curt response as ‘back off’ and move to lean back into your bubble when he speaks again. 

“You must be pretty important to have the bartender save your seat though,” he says, lips quirked up slightly. “Especially if you only ever get one drink.”

You let out a small scoff, waving him off. “Nobody important, trust me,” you say. “I’ve just been coming here for a while, and between you and me, I’m a generous tipper - I think that’s the only reason Ryland puts up with me.”

He smiles at that, closed lips pulling rather upward before he tilts his head back to finish off his drink. “That will do it,” he tells you before falling silent as he lifts up a hand to signal for another drink. 

You follow the natural flow of conversation and let it end there as Ryland comes over to take the mans order, you turn back to your book. 

You get through a few pages of your book, successfully able to tune out the noise around you but unsuccessfully able to turn out the stranger next to you. For whatever reason, you find your eyes flitting over to him more often then they should. 

He’s handsome in a mysterious kind of way. You know you’ve never seen him in here before, so he’s not a regular. He’s not here with anyone either, just silently sipping his drink of choice and occasionally flicking through his phone. But otherwise he just seems to be…existing here. Head bobbing to whatever rock music is playing through the speakers eyes glancing around the room. 

However, the one thing that seems to catch your eye most of all are his hands. He’s constantly fiddling with his glass, the several silver rings that adorn his fingers, clinking softly against the sides. But what piques your curiosity is the small flecks and smears of black on his knuckles and staining the ridges around his nails. 

It looks like paint. 

And before you can stop yourself, you find yourself asking,

“Are you an artist?”

This seems to pull the man from his reverie, eyes turning to meet yours in slight surprise. 

You gesture to his hands when he doesn’t answer. “Sorry I just - It looks like paint. on your hands…”

He looks down at his hands, brows raising slightly as he lets go of his glass to absentmindedly pick at the stains. He chuckles as he does, the sound sending a pleasant flutter through your chest. 

“You could say that,” he says vaugly. 

“That’s cool,” you offer a bit lamely, your mind anxiously reeling for a way to continue. 

You hold up your book. “I’m more of a consumer myself. You know…instead of the creator.” 

God, what the fuck is wrong with you?

The man shakes his head, “I doubt that,” he says kindly. “Most people I know who read are the most creative out there.”

You shrug, “I guess that makes sense...” You trail off for a moment. 

He obviously didn’t seem comfortable talking about what exactly he does since he avoided your question so you try to dance around it. 

“How did you get into your…art?”

The man shrugs, starting to fiddle with his glass again. “I think…It started as a way to express myself I suppose. Most art does. Then I just never stopped. I think of it as an escape if that makes sense.”

You nod firmly, once again thumbing through your book. 

“It does. I think that’s why I love reading so much…”

The conversation continues smoothly after that, the strangers seeming more open to talk as you both ramble on about everything and nothing. He asks you about what book you’re reading and you tell him, surprised to find he’s familiar with the author. You both just ramble on from things as simple as interests to eventually arguing about drinks of choice. 

Soon enough you’re on your fourth drink - a first for you really - and laughing about some story he had told you about a friend of his. 

“No way!” You exclaim through broken laughter, cheeks warm from both the alcohol and the sound of his laughter.  “I don’t believe it.”

He shakes his head hand placed over his chest, “I swear it.”

“Oh my god that is…” your words devolve into more laughter as you take another sip of your drink. 

Your new friend goes to speak again but cuts himself off as his phone buzzes on the bar top. His smile falls, only slightly, as his eyes scan the screen before he lets out a small sigh, Turing the screen off and tapping the phone against the solid wood beneath it.

“Duty calls,” he says ruefully, moving to stand as he pulls a pen from his pocket and scribbles something onto a dry drink napkin. 

You sit up straighter now, fighting off the pang of disappointment as he starts to pull his jack on. 

“Work?” 

He shrugs, sending you another one of those half smiles. “Something like that,” he says before pulling out what is obviously way too much money for his two drinks and tucks it and the napkin beneath his glass. 

“Get home safe,” he says, before turning to push his way through the mass of bodies. 

“You too!” You call after him, hoping he heard you over the din of the room. 

A low whistle catches your attention from where you watch the him exit the bar, and you turn to see Ryland has joined you once again. His eyes are bright as he looks at the empty place beside you, the cash and napkin in his hand as his eyes scan over it. 

“What?” You ask, leaning forward to get a peek at the note.

Ryland sends you a wicked grin. “Seems like someone made a good impression,” he chuckles, shwoing you the napkin. “Your tab is payed for, love.”

‘For the lady’s drinks as well. keep the rest.’

The handwriting was surprisingly neat, a mix between print and cursive as it flows across the delicate paper. You glance back up at Ryland as he whistles again. 

“Damn good tipper too, at that,” he admires. “Hope he comes back.”

It’s then, as your friend is drooling over his tip and you glance back down at the note in you hand that your realize it. 

You never even learned his name.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

It’s several types typical days at the bar before you see him again, and to say you’re surprised is an understatement. It had been almost a week since the night you met him, and you had resigned yourself to the fact that you’d probably never see him again. 

So, when you walk into the much calmer bar tonight, your eyes don’t search the room. Instead you make a beeline to your usual seat, waving at Ryland as you do. You hand barely meets the wooden back of the tall chair before a high pitched whistle sounds from behind you, turning several heads in the pub, including yours. 

You csilently curse the way your heart leaps in your chest as you find the source, a familiar face raises a glass from a booth in the back before waving you over. However, unlike last time, he’s not alone. There are three other guys sitting with him at the table, all eyes on you as you glance from them, back to your usual seat, before falling to Ryland. 

Your friend, who stands in front of you now gives you a scathing look. “Girl if you sit down in the chair I just might kick you out. Go,” he points to the table before walking off. 

You can’t stop the chuckle that leaves your lips as you listen to him, hand falling from your familiar place in order to walk towards the back table. 

The stranger from before assess you as you approach, eyes trailing from your face to your feet then back up again, and you can’t stop the shiver that runs up your spine at the action. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. 

You give him a confused look. “I did tell you I was a regular here right?” You ask. “I should be the one saying that about you.” 

He smiles, “Oh I didn’t forget,” he assures you. “How could I forget this place’s best customer?” 

“Oi, quit flirting and let the lady sit down!” One of the other guys at the table interrupts, leaning over from his place next to you to push out the last free chair as he looks at your strange companion. “You haven’t even introduced us.”

At the mention of an introduction, the man seems to freeze, as if he too realizes just like you did last time, that you never exchanged names. 

“Well…Uh, this is-”

You interject quickly with your name, sticking your hand out to the one who had pulled out the chair for you. He laughs at your formal greeting and playfully swats your hand away as he stands. 

“We’re the hugging type I’m afraid, but-” he pulls you into a quick hug before ushering you into your seat, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m iv”

You look at him puzzled for a moment, as you take your seat, spotting closer to the table. 

“Four like… like the number?” You ask, unable to keep the surprise out of your voice. 

The man laughs, as if he expected that reaction and nods. 

“You heard right. I’m iv,” he gestures to the man to his right, who has shorter white hair, “This here’s iii, and that-” he points to the man sitting next to your friend, “is ii. And well, you already know Ves.”

Your slight confusion must show on your face as laughter erupts from the table, the boys nudging one another as they all pause to take sips from their various drinks. The one named iii waves his hand in a dismissive manner, shaking his head. 

“It’s a bit of an…inside joke I guess. Nicknames we gave each other that just kind of stuck,” he explains.

You nod at his explanation, still perplexed but accept it nonetheless. And plus, now you know the name of the mystery man from last visit. 

Ves. 

You wonder if that is some sort of nickname too. 

However, you don’t dwell too long on that fact before the conversation last time with Ves comes to the front of your mind. With brows drawn together, you lean over slightly towards Ves, pointing a wandering finger towards the other three guys. 

“Wait, so was one of them the one that went streaking through the park after a night of drinking?”

The grin that splits Ves’ face is all you need to know the answer as a cacophony of groans and loud protests erupt from the table. But it’s not until iii slaps his hands on the table as he leans forward with a betrayed look on his face. 

“Ves, really man? We promised we’d take that shit to the grave! Why are you out here dissing me like that?”

The only response iii gets is a laugh from Ves and soon the other guys follow, elbowing their friend and tossing teases across the table, and before you know it, you join in too. 

***

The night goes on much like that, more stories of their wild times together coming to light, and they even get you to spill some more embarrassing, albeit funny, memories from your college days. Its through these conversations that you determine the must have been friends for a while, and you smile at the thought of what other antics they could get up too. 

This time, and idle chatter also reveals something else to you. 

More black paint. 

It’s still apparent on Ves’ hands like last time, although it looked like he tried to do a better job of scrubbing it away. The same couldn’t be said be said for the other guys. The dark pigment adorns their skin in small amounts much the same way as it did Ves’ the first time you met him. It’s mainly prominent on the ridges of their knuckles and fingernails, sometimes on their wrists when you can see the skin form where their shirts or jackets ride up. You even notice a particularly larger smear on the side of ii’s neck when he lens back to laugh particularly hard at some lame joke you said. 

It’s probably nothing, they probably all work together, it would make sense. But no matter how many times you try to ignore it, your curiosity won’t let it slide. 

And ii notices. Probably from when you let your eyes linger on him a bit too long when you noticed the paint. 

He takes a swing of his beer before gesturing to you with the glass. “Alright, out with it,” he says casually, “I know I’m attractive but nobody stares at me like that.”

iii reaches across the table and swats at his shoulder. “Oi, don’t be so full of yourself mate-”

iv joins in on the banter. “Yeah, we all know I’m the best looking-”

Playful banter breaks out at this, the lot of them seeming to forget about the question ii even asked you, and in the break from the spotlight, you eye drift over to Ves. 

Only to see him already looking at you, a pensive look on his face. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you look away quickly, reaching for your glass to take another drink as your eyes fall to your watch. 

Holy shit, it’s late. 

You let out a small huff, quickly downing the last of your drink before setting the glass back on the table with a soft thunk. 

“I have to head out,” you say, turning to gather your purse before moving to stand. 

The announcement brings out a chorus of protests and pleas to stay but you shake your head. 

“I don’t know what you all do for work but I have to be up in...” You look exaggeratedly at your watch, “oh five hours, so with that-” you reach into your purse and pull out several larger bills, laying them on the table, “Drinks are on me tonight as a thank you for a lovely evening.”

More protest follow, but you wave them off and before you know it the three guys you met earlier are out of their seats and giving you hugs as if you’ve known them for years, murmurs of ‘see you around’ and ‘drive safe’ meeting your ears before they back off. 

Then, Ves’ is in front of you before you can blink, and it’s only now that you seem to realize just how huge he is. Well, in reality, he’s not the tallest person you’ve ever seen but he still towers over you and has a…presses about him you can’t seem to place. 

You look up at him and smile as he holds your coat up in his hands, having retrieved it from the back of your seat before you could. He helps you as you slip your arms through the sleeves, and you turn back to him, smile still tugging at your lips. 

“Thanks.”

Ves nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“I can walk you to your car,” he offers, nodding to the windows. “It’s dark.”

You shake your head in an automatic response, “You don’t have to do that-”

Ves’ is steering you towards the door before you can finish, “I insist.”

The boys call out their goodbyes as you leave, and Ves just chuckles as you make for the door. 

“They liked you,” he says as he pushes open the door, holding it for you until you’re both out in the crisp night air. 

You laugh, turning right to head towards your car parked just down the street. 

“I liked them too, they’re a riot,” you say fondly. “I can see why you’re all friends. They seem like good people.”

Ves smiles softly at this, nodding his agreement. “They are - basically saved my life a time or two.”

A silence falls over you too then, neither of you sure what to say as you lead him further down the sidewalk, your car now in view. The only sound is the soft thudding of shoes on concrete and your own breathing. 

Your over active mind races for something to fill the silence, but you reach your destination before you can think of anything, and you try to swallow the disappointment you feel as your night draws to a close. 

“Well,” you say, pulling out your keys, “this is me.” 

You turn to face Ves, your back to your car as he stops just a few steps from you, closer than would be considered normally appropriate. 

Not that you’re complaining. 

He looks down at you again, features obscured by the shadows casted by the street lamps. But he seems to be studying you, that curious tilt to his head making your heart stutter slightly. 

“It was nice to see you again,” he says finally, voice gentle in the quiet night.

“It was nice to see you too,” you say, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth in a moment of contemplation. “I had been looking for you. Before tonight.” You admit. 

His brows raise at that, slight surprise painting his features. 

“Really?” 

You chuckle, “Yeah. I remembered after you left that we never even learned each others names and…it was silly. But I’m glad I got to see you again.”

Ves smiles at your words just a small gust of wind blows though, sending a shiver through you as part of your scarf falls down from around your neck. He reaches up instinctively to adjust the fabric, his knuckles brushing the underside of your jaw as he tugs it back into place. 

“Well,” he breathes, “Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

You’re looking up at him again, closer than ever and you can barely muster the weak ‘yeah’ that falls from your lips, before his hand drops back to his side. 

“Have a good night, love.” 

And then he’s walking back towards the pub. 

Your mind is racing again, and like a total dumbass you blurt the first thing that comes to your mind. 

“Baby oil!” You call out, stopping the tall man in his tracks as he turns to send you a very confused look. 

“For the paint,” you clarify, gesturing to your own hands. “Baby oil gets paint off pretty good. Better than soap and water.”

Ves smiles, and just nods turning back to continue his journey.

But even from this far away, the silent night allows you to hear that deep laughter slip from his lips. 

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Today was one of the bad days.

Everyone has them, you know they do, today is just your turn, you suppose. You don’t have many of them, or at least - you don’t go to the pub when you do. But even Ryland notices your dour mood, noticing right away when you by pass your usual seat without so much as a wave in favor of picking the tiny booth at the very back of the establishment. 

He only offers a small pat on the shoulder as he drops off your usual drink, muttering a quiet offering of solidarity before walking back off.

It feels stupid. To be this upset when nothing even really happened. Your car didn’t break down, you didn’t have a partner dump you, you didn’t get laid off, it’s just-

The tears seem to come without warning. Burning at the back of your eyes, lower lip wobbling in an attempt to stop the onslaught of tears and the sob clawing at your chest. 

Get it together!! You scream at yourself, frustration further fueling the tears. 

Life just sucks sometimes for no particular reason it seems. 

Work is overwhelming, your hobbies aren’t interesting, your house too quiet it seemed to scream at you instead of comfort you. 

You take a sip of your drink, wiping furiously at the tears that escape as you do so. 

You’re thankful you chose the booth seat facing away from everyone. How embarrassing to be a caught in a pub crying  over -

“Fancy seeing you here.”

The all to familiar voice shocks you from your own mind and you jump in your seat, making the mistake of looking over your shoulder to see none other than Ves. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter wiping hastily at your cheeks as you watch his lips turn downwards in concern. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, coming closer despite your inner desire for him to leave. 

You shake your head, wiping your nose for good measure as you stare down into your drink. 

“Nothing,” you say, voice clogged with emotion. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself when you realize he’s sliding in the booth across form you. Plastering on a watery smile you clutch your glass between your hands as you look at him. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you try to say casually, but fail miserably. 

Ves just shakes his head, eyes soft as he rests his clasped hands on the table before him. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells you, “not with me.”

“Do what?” You say, lip trembling again as your tears bubble up once more. 

“Pretend you’re okay, when you’re not.”

The laugh you let out is a bitter thing, small and broken by the tears that drip from your eyes that you wipe away again and again. 

Ves doesn’t say anything as you try to compose yourself again, but you find yourself unable to, and he eventually stops you from fruitlessly wiping away tears by reaching up to take one of them in his own. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks again, somehow even gentler than before. 

All you can do is shrug, tears salty against your tongue as you lick your lips. 

“Nothing, really,” you say again, continuing when he looks like he’s going to argue. 

“I’m just…sad. Don’t know why.”

Ves nods understandingly, thumb swiping comfortingly over your knuckles. He doesn’t say anything. Maybe because he doesn’t know what to say or maybe because he knows it won’t really matter. Either way you appreciate his presence - it’s nice to know someone is here, even if no words are shared. 

After a few quiet moments, he grabs a drink napkin with his free hand, offering it to you. 

You take it, fingers brushing his own and notice something that takes your mind off of your own turmoil. 

“The paint’s gone,” you say softly, turning his hand over to inspect it. 

You glance up only to see Ves’ lips twitch upwards ever so slightly. 

“Baby oil,” he says, “who knew?”

His words make you let out a soft chuckle, and he joins in, his hand never leaving yours. 

And suddenly, you’re not so sad anymore. 

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Laughter bubbles up from your chest as you and the boys spill out of the bar into the cold night air.  Your breaths materializing in front of you in puffs of white steam. iii is hanging of off iv’s shoulder, doubled over in laughter at something that someone said - you can’t even keep track of the conversation anymore, laughter cutting most of it off anyways. 

However, after a few more long moments of racouys laughter, iii perks up brows raised slightly as he looks to you. 

“Holy shit I almost forgot,” he says, letting got go iv to address you now. “You’re coming tomorrow night right?”

You send him a quizzical look before looking over to Ves where he stands next to you, only to see him waving his hand in front of his throat in a ‘cut it out’ motion, stopping abruptly when you catch him. 

“Go where?” You ask, curiosity piqued. 

You watch as ii rolls his eye, “Come on Ves,” he groans. “We already decided to extend the invitation.”

You hear Ves let out a huff, running a hand through his hair as you speak up again, confusion turning into annoyance. 

“What are you guys talking about?” You ask, exasperation lacing your words. 

It’s iv who speaks up this time, wrapping an arm around iii.

“There’s a concert tomorrow,” he says grinning. “We have an extra ticket and wanted you to come.”

“A concert?” You ask, turning to Ves only to see an almost imperceptible blush tinging his cheeks. “Why are you so worked up about a concert?”

Ves huffs again, shaking his head as he digs around the inside of his jacket for something. “I’m not worked up,” he grumbles, finally finding what he was searching for and pulling it out. “I just-”

II interrupts Ves with a clap on the shoulder and a shit eating grin on his face. “He’s just mad because he wanted to be the one to ask you.”

Ves shrugs his hand off his shoulder and lands a playful punch to his friends arm, mumbling something about being a prick and he’d pay for that later, before he turns to you, offering you what you realize now is a small badge attached to a lanyard. 

“Here,” he says, softer than when he addressed iv. “It’s VIP, just show up an hour before show time and they’ll tell you where to go.”

You take it from him, the black lanyard soft beneath your fingers as you examine the item. The badge is sturdier than you expected, seeming to be made of metal instead of plastic. it’s all black with a red symbol you’ve never seen before printed on both sides the name of the band printed just beneath it with the words ‘VIP PASS’ below that. The lanyard itself is black with white lettering echoing the same as the badge. 

Sleep Token.

Huh. You’ve never heard of them before, but that doesn’t surprise you as you haven’t been a huge music buff most of your life. Then, as if Ves’ words finally register with you, you look up at him again, brows pinched in confusion once more. 

“Wait. They’ll show me where to go - are you guys not coming with me?” You ask, “Because this ticket it wasted on me if you guys don’t come, I don’t even know the band-”

“Oh we’ll be there,” iii laughs from his place next to iv.

The boys all laugh at his words, leaving you feeling utterly left out of some inside joke they have. But before you can get to worked up about it, a warm hand reaches out to take your own that holds the pass. 

“Don’t worry about them,” Ves says, rolling his eyes. “Give me your phone.”

You comply without really thinking about it, watching as the much taller man takes it from you and types something into it before handing it back. 

“There. I put in my number, just text me when you get there tomorrow and we’ll find each other.”

You nod, stomach fluttering as your fingers brush his when you take your phone back and pocket it. 

“Sounds good.”

ii claps his hands together, seemingly satisfied with tonights events. “Alight, now that’s settled we probably need to get going. Big day tomorrow boys!”

The rest of the group whoops in agreement, grouping together as they head down the sidewalk, only Ves lingering behind at your side. Only when he gestures towards your car down the street do you realize he wants to walk you there. 

“Oh, right,” you say, chuckling softly as warmth rushes to your cheeks. 

You’ve been getting unusually flustered around him lately, unable to control the fluttering in your chest when he’s around. 

It’s silent for a moment before you break it, gesturing with the pass to the guys ahead. 

“This must be some band for them to be this excited about it.”

Ves laughs at that, an actual laugh deep from his chest instead of the usual soft chuckles he gives you. 

“Yeah, they…You could say it’s a huge part of our lives,” he says.

You hum softly, looking back down at the pass. 

“Well then, I’m sure I’ll like them if you all enjoy them this much. Ill try to listen to some of their songs on the way home-”

“No!” Ves interjects, voice loud on the quiet street as you both come to a stop in front of your car.

He clears his throat when you give him a withering look, caught off guard by his outburst. 

“I just…” he begins, “they’re best live,” he tells you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Promise you won’t listen to them before the concert tomorrow.”

His eyes seem to be pleading with you, and you can’t find it in you to deny him despite your curiosity. 

“Okay…I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

Ves sighs, relief evident in the way his shoulders drop ever so slightly, and before you can even blink his face is right next to your own, warm lips pressing quickly to your cheek before he’s back out of your space, grinning like a fool.

“Good. See you tomorrow night.”

And all you can do is stare, stunned silly, as he jogs to catch up with his friends. 

You only realize when you pull into your driveway that you never got the location of the concert, or the start time at the same exact moment your phone pings with a message. It’s from an unknown number but lists an address and a time, followed quickly by a second less cryptic message. 

Hope you got home safe. See you tomorrow.

-V

* * * *

Even though you get to the concert venue an hour early like Ves told you too, it’s already packed. You almost don’t find parking until you get lucky with a street spot a few blocks over. When you finally make it to the entrance the line is down the block and seems to keep going. You look around for a line labelled for VIP, anything to tell you where to go, but all you see is the sign pointing to the long line for general admission. 

You pull your phone from your pocket, pulling up Ves’ number to shoot him a quick text. 

‘Hey! I’m here but I don’t see a sign for VIP…where are you guys?’

You wait less than a minute before a response comes through.

‘V: We’re running way later than expected. Find an attendant, they should be able to point you in the right direction.’

You huff at the message anxiety gnawing at your mind as you bit your lip. Late? You don’t know anything about this band or this venue, you don’t really want to go in without them-

“Miss?” 

A voice behind you makes you jump, turning to see a younger looking man with tattoos put his hands up in mock surrender as he chuckles. He’s wearing a t-shirt with the same logo as your lanyard.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says kindly, gesturing to your lanyard. “You’ve got a VIP pass. I can get you to where you need to go.”

“Oh,” you say, looking down to the pass hanging around your neck. “Yeah I was just texting my friend about where to go I don’t…” you hesitate for a moment. “I’ve never been to one of these before.”

The man smiles, holding a hand out as he gestures for you to follow him towards a side entrance to the venue. 

“That’s alright. In your defense we don’t have the best signage for VIP’s,” he chuckles. “We don’t get many of them.”

Surprise tugs at your chest at his words.

“You don’t?” You ask, “My friends are supposed to meet me here, will they know where to go?”

The man chuckles at this, eyes glimmering with mischief as he looks over to you before opening the door to head inside.

“I think they’ll be fine.”

You follow him inside the venue and marvel at the gargantuan space as he shows you around. The stage is set up, lights on but not moving and the bands logo projected onto the back wall of the stage. The venue looks big enough to hold thousands of people. The floor closest to the stage is void of seats, allowing for people to stand up close to the stage while stadium like seats art up about half way back and up all around the room. 

“So this is it,” He says as he brings you up to the side of the front of the stage on the floor, right next to the barricade in a small roped off section separating you from the rest of the open floor seating. “They’re going to be letting GA in here in a few minutes and concert starts soon after that,” he extends his hand to you. “My name’s Sam by the way, if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask someone.”

You smile, your nerves from earlier dissipating slightly at the thought of knowing someone here as you take his hand.

“Thanks, Sam.”

He smiles back, before his phone buzzes in his hand. He looks down at it before waving it in the air slightly. 

“Duty calls. Enjoy the concert!”

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone in the big empty room waiting for your friends.

* * *

‘Ves, where are you guys???’

Your text has gone unread for several minutes, but your nerves are at an all time high as the room around you continues to fill with excited concert goers. The doors had opened half an hour ago and the room was already packed to the brim, people who had floor seats rushing in to be the first at the barricades as the start time drew closer. 

You send another hurried text, looking around you in hopes that Ves and the guys would show up any second. 

‘The concert is about to start!’

For a brief moment, dread settles in the pit of your stomach. What if this is some cruel joke being played on you. What if they bailed last minute and decided not to come, leaving you here by yourself. An ache settles in your chest as the fleeting memory of lips agasint your chilled cheek flashes before your eyes and you go to send another text. 

‘Ves…please tell me you guys are coming.’

As if on command, the room around you goes pitch black, the crowed around you erupting into a deafening roar as the stage lights slowly come to life with the sounds of harsh guitar strings flooding through the speakers. 

You phone lights up with a text message. 

‘V: We’re right here’

The crowds roar around you continues to crescendo as the music flows from the speakers, the blue lights on the stage illuminating a sole figure emerging in the center of the stage to greet the adoring crowd as the drums behind him explode in a rhythmic beat. 

You don’t have time to try to direct Ves’s message, your attention draw and held captive by the presence now on stage. 

They approach the front of the stage, just mere yards from you where a microphone stand sits, and you’re immediatly observing the sight in front of you. It’s a man, that you’re now sure of. He moves to the beat, the black cloak he wears billowing out behind him. He’s not wearing a shirt but any skin that would be showing is covered in black paint - from the portion of his face not hidden by a hood and face mask to his chest and right down to the fingers now wrapping around the microphone.  

The mask is obviously the most striking thing. White with a red symbol of the band painted on the front, missing the lower half to leave his mouth free to sing. 

Which he does. 

The vocalist starts to sing into the microphone, a song unfamiliar to you, but no less enchanting as a streak of familiarity zings though you. His voice sounds familiar in a far off distant way - and for a moment you wonder if you have heard this band before somewhere. 

Without really thinking, you find yourself swaying to the beat, foot tapping against the ground as the bas reverberates through the room. Your eyes flit from the lead singer to another figure you see drifting across the stage, guitar slung over his shoulders as he plays. 

He’s also masked, visible skin inked in black and the suit jacket he wears having a hood pulled up over his head. 

In fact, all the members of the band wear masks with any visible skin painted black. From the drummer to the back up singers to the other bass guitarist now waltzing along the stage towards the section your standing in. You notice as he get’s closer that he’s the only one not wearing a hood, his ash white hair flipping this way and that as he moves to the beat. 

As if sensing your specific gaze on him, the bass player looks up from his guitar strings to where you stand, and sends you a playful wink before turning back the way he came, all but swaggering off. 

It all seems to click into place in an instant, your eyes going wide as they flick from the shock of white hair back up to the lead singer, who’s now pulled the microphone from the stand and walking to your side of the stage, never missing a single word of the song. 

He stops right in front of where you stand, an the crowd behind you goes wild as he reaches out towards them, before bringing just slightly to look directly at you, sending you an almost imperceptible smile before he’s up and back the way he came. 

You can’t stop the laughter that erupts from your lips as realization sets in, you finally push past your confusion to join the crowd in jumping and clapping and trying your best to sing along to songs you’ve never heard before. 

It feels like you blink and the entire time passes by going from upbeat high energy songs to slower more emotionally charged ones. You find yourself completely drawn into the whole experience, especially on the soft songs, and you can tell that parts of himself were poured into them when they were written.

In no time the concert is drawing to a closer the last notes of the set flowing through the speakers as the crowd erupts into more deafening screams and cheering as Ves’ bows thankfully to the arena. You just barely manage to catch it as he looks over to you, turning and placing his hands together in a ‘thank you’ motion before you feel a gentle hand on your elbow. You turn to find Sam, the one who lead you in earlier, gesturing off to the side of the stage. 

“Come with me!” He calls, struggling to be heard over the crowd. 

You nod, casting one last glance over your shoulder before you’re lead out of the main arena to the backstage area. 

“So, what did you think?” Sam asks, genuine curiosity lacing his words. 

You smile wide, adrenaline still coursing through you from the excitement. 

“It was amazing! I’m just sad I didn’t know the songs…”

Sam let out a small laugh, “Well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to learn them all someday,” he says before coming to a stop in front of a door towards the back of the backstage area. “You can wait in here. Vessel and the others should be by shortly.”

Vessel…

You don’t have time to dwell on the name reveal as Sam opens the door and ushers you inside and barely has time to close it behind you before a round of raucous laughter and cheers assault you as three of your four friends all but jump you as you enter. 

You laugh and hug them all, noticing that their masks are now gone, replaced with the familiar faces you recognize, just streaked with black paint. 

“I can’t believe you guys!” You exclaim once the noise dies down a little bit. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were in a band?”

iii waves a dismissive hand at you, moving to plop back into the couch in the center of the room. “Where’s the fun in that?” He teases, taking a water bottle that iv hand him. 

“Yeah,” iv agrees, taking a seat by iii, “it’s all part of the fun, love.”

You roll your eyes, turning youthful attention to ii who has yet to say anything from his place propped agains the edge of the couch. When he notices your eyes on him, he throws his hands up in surrender. 

“Don’t look at me, I was the one who wanted to tell you. These blokes,” his eyes shift to look at something behind you, “and him - outvoted me.”

You turn to face the object of ii’s attention, only to be met with a familiar towering form, the white and red mask still in place. Now that you’re able to see him up close, you can’t help the way your eyes roam. He truly is imposing like this - not in a bad way - but he seems to take on a different persona adorned in the costume. You take note of the paint still on his skin, but noticeably patchier from where it rubbed off or has dripped away due to the thin sheen of perspiration coming through. And from this close, you’re able to fully see the mask he wears, the intricate details and the way the eye holes are formed to create the illusion of there being 3 sets of eyes instead of just two. 

There’s so many thoughts running through your head, yet the only thing that you’re brain manages to verbalize is a very simple, and quiet - 

“Hi.”

Ves chuckles at this, the sound low and deep as it reverberates through his chest.

“Hi,” he mimics before casting a glance behind you. 

He must have silently communicated with the other guys because you soon hear rustling behind you as the al stand and start to move towards you, and thus the exit. They all murmur quick goodbyes to you, telling you and Ves to come find them later and you al can go out for drinks again, until eventually it’s just you and Ves alone in the room.

Neither of you have moved and you can feel a certain tension in the air that either of you have left to break. Until you finally work up the courage to speak. 

“So…Vessel?” 

The word comes out as a question, and you watch silently as he lets out a small huff, lips quirking upward in a small smile. 

“I figured ‘Ves’ was a more socially acceptable way of introducing myself,” he jokes, reaching up to tap the mask. “Despite what you might think, I don’t try to scare people away.”

He pauses for a moment, hands clenching at his sides slightly before he speaks again.

“So…what do you think?”

You can’t help but perk up at his question, flashes of the concert coming back to you immediately as you practically bounce on your toes. 

“What do I think?” You repeat, exasperated. “Ves, that was amazing! I might not have known the songs that well but it was phenomenal…”

Your words come out faster than you can really control, rambling on about everything you loved about the concert and their music. You’re so caught up in recalling the recent events that you fail to notice as Ves moves ever closer to you, eliminating the space between you both.

“And then when you were on the piano and singing that song I could just tell that you poured your heart into it and it reminded me of that night at the bar when I was upset and you -”

Your words are cut off before you can continue, large calloused hands cradling your cheeks as warm lips capture your own in a kiss that takes your breath away. You barely even notice the way the mask he wears presses into your cheek until one of his hands leave your skin in order to pry the offending article up and off his head, lips breaking from yours only momentarily before kissing you once more. 

You hands fall to his sides instinctively, skin warm beneath your palms as your try to pull him closer.  He obliges your request by moving to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you too him until he eventually breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against your own as you both struggle for breath. 

“You are truly amazing,” he says softly, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. 

You pull away from him then, just enough to look up and capture his gaze with your own, heat flooding your cheeks. 

“You’re one to talk,” you jest lightly, reaching up to wipe at the pain smudged on his cheeks. 

“Never in a million years would I have guessed you literally cover yourself in paint. I thought you were a painter!” You exclaim.

Vessel laughs at that, eyes crinkling at the corners as he does so. 

“Well, I guess technically I am a painter-”

“Not what I meant,” you argue, reaching up to wipe at something tickling your cheek. 

Vessel reaches up and grabs your hand before you can wipe your cheek again, eyes widened slightly. 

“Stop, you’ve got paint…” 

You glance at your hand in his, only to see black paint smeared over your palms from where you’d touched him earlier. 

“Here,” he says, reaching up to wipe at the smudge you assume is now on your face.

However, his nose scrunches up as he does so. “Oh…” he tries to wipe it again. “I - I’m just not helping at all really-”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles as you imagine him just smearing more paint around in an effort to clean it up, and he soon joins in before reaching grabbing the corner of his cloak to use instead. 

He takes your chin between his fingers, tilting your head to one side as he used the piece of fabric to delicately wipe away the traces of paint. His eyes trial over your features as he works, taking you in until he eventually drops the fabric back to his side in favor of cradling your face in his hands once more. 

“I really want to kiss you again,” he whispers, eyes shimmering with mischief.

You smile.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

And then his lips are on yours, and you couldn’t be happier for that busy night at the bar all those weeks ago. 

[carto0ncritter]

So, first of all, I've hears Lutes leaked song and damn does it slap, also make sense. Beacuse....it's true. Like, Charlie does think she's hells savior but hasn't really done anything?

Like we saw her try maybe 3 time's to help the people at the hotel be redeemed. The trust exercise, which Vaggie took over, Angel's studio, where she got yelled at then cried, the drug thing with pen and angle which just ended up upsetting angle, and....that's all. None of these actually helped them become better people. There was no build up, there was no pay off

Sire pentious ending up in heaven doesn't seem like it's cause of Charlie its like God rolled the dice and said "eh a 6 is high enough, yeah okay then" if anything sir pen got himself there by sacrificing himself like-

You know what? I think that arguably Vaggie knows the cast better then Charlie does. That's how little these characters actually interact. Like, we see vaggie and angle interact in the pilot, we see her and pen interact, her and Nifty, her and Alastor, her and carmilla, and her and husk

All those being characters she's talked to or has had a sweet or funny moment with, you can even argue that Husk has some type of respect for her cause technically he doesn't have to listen to anyone but Al, but he chooses to listen to Vaggie. You can actually see character dynamics between her and the others, you can't really do that with Charlie

Chalries main interaction with the gang is with Angle and its not even a good one. Not to mention Vaggie DID help the group grow closer, via yeeting them all off a building of course, but still.

Sorry for the rant just, the realization suddenly hit my brain and....yeah, jsut mroe flaws on top of the pile of flaws

no need to apologize for the rant, you're 💯% right

[bratisland]

Soldier Boy x Male Reader frotting h/c’s

wc: 1.3k

warnings: (1) slur lol, not proofread

a/n: i havent written in MONTHS bc of my uni exams and english isnt my first language but i really wanna promote my homosexual soldier boy propaganda so, sorry if its not good lol, my request ''rules" are on my pinned

*

He has been with men before, well, it was at the first Herogasm so, to him; it doesn’t count. He was high on drugs, alcohol and sex, he isn’t a homo, he really isn’t.

So why in the fucking hell you just looking at him makes him feel some type of way? He won’t say how he feels, not in a million fucking years, he isn’t a fucking faggot it’s just- you look good for a man, that’s all there’s to it.

He’s most likely just pent up after being revived, his dick is just looking for anything to cum into. So he seeks out women, not like its ever been hard for him. It does relax him somewhat physically but his dick always stays so fucking hard, he bites his lower lip in frustration as he fists cock to completion; with how you would look on your knees, your mouth full of his cock…and that actually helps hell of a lot more than actually fucking a woman. He is so fucked.

It doesn’t really help how much you fucking look at him, normally he would just call out your bullshit but just looking at you makes his chest feel heavy, his cock stiffen and his face distorts into a scowl. Anyone looking from outside thinks that he fucking hates you so much, Butcher says to not concern yourself with it, the fucker’s old and you being queer is probably what’s got him like this. You’d wanted to stand up for yourself but you really don’t want to be torn apart by a supe who hates your fucking guts according to everyone.

It happens so fucking randomly, you’re left to babysit his old ass as the rest of the boys go out to do something– you couldn’t care less. Right now, you had more pressing matters. Like how his gaze doesn’t feel so… cold anymore. He’s been eyefucking you all day! You let out a big sigh as your clammy hands reacher for your glass, “Hey kid,” soldier boy starts and you’re so startled that he adressed you directly for the first time since you’ve met; you spill the water over yourself.

You expect a chuckle, some snarky remark or even a slur, you don’t expect his eyes drawn to your sweatpants then back to your face again, “How do you…” he clicks his tongue in annoyance with himself and the way you’re looking at him- seriously stop- “How do you… people have sex?” you let out a snort despite yourself, what the fuck is this moment you’re having?

“Like, gay sex?” He huffs in annoyance as he leans more onto the table, his relaxed demeanor gone, “obviously you fucking idiot, what else?” you roll your eyes, getting up to grab some napkins to at least dry yourself off a little, you don’t miss the way his eyes drift to your ass, you don’t point it out, “depends, some couples have strict top and bottom roles, who gets dicked down and who does it,” You don’t hear how he gets up from his chair, “some couples like to switch it up, some don’t care and do what they want to, penetration isn’t the only way t…” you’re cut off by the feel of hands caressing the sides of your thighs, your head snaps to look behind you, too look at him.

He raises his eyesbrows as if you’re the one that’s groping his thighs and ass, “dude, what the fuck are you doi…” you’re cut off as he groans (in annoyance, obviously) and turns you around, caging you between him and the kitchen counter. “What the fuck does it look like i’m doing? You’re gonna get us off, so shut the fuck up and–” his hand slides down your damp sweatpants, “stroke and touch it while you can.” 

You want to say something, do something, you really do, but look, he’s a supe and he can break you in half with one hand and he’s hot. Plus you have not gotten any action since you joined the boys, also, being soldier boy’s first proper gay awakening? That is fucking hilarious. So you do as he says and stay still and let your sweatpants drop down, of course he pulls this shit when you’re going commando.

You hear the way his breath hitches at the sight of your cock and fuck it gives you such an ego boost, yeah you’ve got a pretty dick that’s also getting harder by the minute just because he’s giving it an ounce of attention. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the infamous soldier boy’s dick, standing up in attention just because of a “fruit bowl” (his words) of a man, which in this case, is you.

He looks at you, irritation clear in his eyes as you gawk at his cock, yes it’s big and yes your reaction gets him even harder but fuck he just wants to get off at this point, “you gonna help both of us out or stand there with your mouth agape, tinkerbell?” that snaps you out of your surprise and you swallow thickly as you take his and your cock in your hand (it’s hard to- but you make do) and start to slowly strone the tips, which earns you a hiss from soldier boy. You focus your eyes on his face, hands on both of your cock’s. 

You bite your lip at how much he’s reacting to just…frotting, he must’ve been waiting for this, his hips are thrusting upwards, his hips rolling as he moans with relief everytime you stroke. 

He’s never been this horny in his damn life, the way your cock feels against his is indescribable, feels so fucking delicious is all his mush brain can muster. He groans out a fuck as your thumb ghosts over the tip, gathering the precum to get both of you slick. You would say something but you’re honestly too horny to, there’s silence besides moans and groans as you work your cock’s to finish. You feel his dick twitch against your own, his hands grip the sides of your thighs and he pulls you closer; earning a high pitches whine from you. He looks at you once, his pupils dilated with lust and want as he smashes your lips together; your cocks grinding against each other as he rolls his hips non-stop, your hands now steadying you on the counter as soldier boy grinds and rolls his hips. 

The kiss is all tongue and teeth, there’s nothing affectionate about it, just pure animalistic want. Makes you moan like a bitch into it as he overpowers you easily, his hands gripping your ass now, his tongue inside your mouth as he gives one final roll of his hips and cums with a loud ‘fuck, yes’, his voice is the thing that tips you over the edge as you cum with a low pitched whine, both of your hips spasming and stuttering as you grind onto each other and the kiss gets even deeper; refusing to part with you even when both of your t-shirts are now stained with each other’s cum. 

You sigh shakily as he finally lets you go, rudely might i add, as he pushes his hair back and gives you a look you don’t really understand, shoves you off, making you curse under your breath as the counter digs into your lower back. You watch as he just… pulls his sweats back on and takes off his t-shirt, finds cigarettes on one of the cupboards and goes outside to smoke…

“What… the fuck was that?” is all that leaves you, your dick still out and your heart beating so rapidly you think it’s gonna burst through your chest. What a mess of a man, huh.  

[tiredsmashbros]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEO !!!!

all what blud is pondering + yapping bout smh @neo91502 🍔💛

credits to nxva on the tsmg4 fanart LMAO

this is my bday gift to the blue canine with wings nothing crazy underneath nooooo nope nope nopity nope :) shhhh

and now for my essay speech bc that's becoming my trademark now other than being comic ceo of smg34 apparently LMAO

neo, you already got my lil emotional yap thru dms bout ur "loyal lettuce" role, but ong i'm boutta give another sappy essay for you to use ur big pikmin brain to read: once again, thank you, for wanting to talk to me, hang out with me, and just yap about shared interests. it takes a lot for me to open my shell due to past experiences with folks its hard to even open myself to making friends at times,,, yet never did i expect anyone to know or like EPIC: the musical as much as i did nor even WANT to go forth the idea of a smg4 au for fun. i'll admit i was very nervous being invited to the private dms to yap bout it and a part of me from bad habits wanted to run away, but your understanding and providing ways to help so i didn't feel excluded made me feel so relieved and welcomed. as i already told you, it's been a VERY long time i got to really yap my love for musicals in this way in depth and getting to know even more folks from that outburst {lookin at you knightmare and lore 💛} has genuinely made me so much happy. i love musicals in a very deep level and finally getting that opportunity to talk to others just has been the greatest ever /gen /srs.

other than musicals, FINALLY i have met someone who loves isaacwhy too hELLO????? like i've gotten very few people irl to show them clips but none have either really stuck into watching or liking them as much as me. so getting that opportunity to watch LTLVC with you and nova was SO FUN {despite my stream quality was laggy and slow} i enjoyed it so much and finally i can reference the jokes so much BC GOD I USED TO DO THEM SM IRL U HAVE NO IDEA HAHAHAHHAHAH TYUFGHEDCSXYUIGJHEFDC

another big factor was just being so surprised and shock you had a fursona!!! neo!!!! it just made me so happy GENUINELY bringing me back to my furry home adobe and knowing the fact i could draw other's fursonas and even my own and being welcomed about that idea just made me explode /pos. even more when i got to watch you DRAW TOMMY.... like at that point i finally got over my fear and confidently pressed that follow.

you are such an awesome guy neo. you're really fun to yap with and never once had i had any second doubts other than being afraid i would embarrass myself ITYGJHFCDSX i still remember almost vividly the first time we aCTUALLY talked when i was doing thumbnail sketches of my final comic assignment, with the "typer" joke YOU CHOCKED FROM LAUGHTER HAHAHAY89IUTGYFUEHJDSX TO THE NEXT DAY ANDER AND I TALKED BOUT IT AGAIN HAHAHAHA still one of my fav vc's ever. thank you so much for being a fan, joining my server, and joining vc to us being friends. you mean so much to me, thank you for being your silly self, i srsly look forward to yapping to you every day.

and good gOD i will continue that binge on getting into the pikmin lore TRUST..... 💛🍔

BTW, THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO ATTENDED NEO'S BIRTHDAY PARTY EVENT IN THE TSB SERVER !!!! whether it was just for a bit or the whole event, THANK YOU. /gen

i don't plan on doing much birthday vc events unfortunately, but i def wanted to do one {and using neo as a guinea pig once again} since this silly man had impacted me so much i wanted to give him the best bday he could have. even if it got really chaotic several times YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY OH MY FUKIN GOD HAHAHHAHAA and no im not sorry for being absent the first 40 mins my stephen king fixiation is a priority /j

[nickscodthoughtsblog]

Matter of Size (König/m!Reader)

hey gang, sorry for the near-month long lack of stuff, my motivation to do anything at all was at critical condition but after looking at König's ingame model and noticing he was the one default skin that has a noticable bulge as far as I can tell, i had an Idea™️

CW: slight size kink?

It’s usually pretty quiet in the shower room on base, since most of the time it’s just one or two soldiers using it at once. This time though, as you walk in to the locker room of the men’s showers, its not so empty. The first thing you notice is König, who was hard to miss as always, drying himself off, sitting on a bench with his hood on. The second thing you notice is the sound of some other recruits showering and talking casually. König is pretty quick to notice you, nodding in your direction. “Hallo.” 

“Hey.” you reply, stopping at your locker nearby to undress. “You just finished?” 

“Ja.” He nods, watching you take off your shirt. “...most active the showers have been.” 

“There’s still space, right?”

“Of course.” Konig relaxed standing up and going to his locker a few blocks down from yours. You glanced over just in time to see him take his towel off and fold it up to stuff in his locker. You had always been pretty comfortable around naked men, so it didn’t really bother you much. But you had never actually seen König specifically nude before. You can’t help but stare, taking in the shape of him. He was impressively built, and clearly put a lot of time into his body. 

You were going to make an idle comment about it when you notice something that gives you pause. His dick looks pretty big from this angle. He’s not even slightly hard, and you’d hazard a guess that was at least five inches…how big would he be hard? Six? Seven!?

He cleared his throat, and your jaw snapped shut hard enough to hurt your teeth a little. You met his gaze, and he hardly seemed bothered by your staring. “Something caught your eye, Maus?” he asked, turning slightly to let you have a better look at him. 

“Uh- nothing.” You tried to just avoid the conversation, going back to getting ready for a shower, stripping in a hurry, not sure if he would tease you for not being as, well…endowed as him. You almost tripped yourself taking off your boxers, making König chuckle a little.

“Easy now, Maus.” His comment earned him a glare from you. But, even though you noticed his eyes go down to your crotch for a few noticeable seconds, he never actually said anything. Bad or good. 

“Shut up…” You huff, waving him off and grabbing your towel. He chuckled and went back to getting himself dressed while you left to shower.

The thought of how big he is might linger in your mind for a while, but you're fine with that.

[thecoffeelorian]

Fandom Friday, 11/15: Fanfiction!

Hello again, everyone…and welcome to another installment of Fandom Friday, the two-post series where I go off to find new and interesting fanworks that might need a bit more visibility.

Before we begin...let me first do a little check-in with everyone, so that as many of us can start off with a fairly good morning as possible. In other words, if you haven't had any glasses of water yet, please do; if you're able to get yourself some breakfast, go ahead...and if you haven't taken any necessary meds yet, please take them.

Now...if you're all ready to go, here are my picks of the week.

THE CLONE WARS

The Clone Wars Fanfiction--By @threebea:

The Clone Wars Fanfiction--By @sinfulsalutations:

THE BAD BATCH

The Bad Batch Fanfiction--By @im-no-jedi:

The Bad Batch Fanfiction--By @rex-meshla:

ANDOR

Andor Fanfiction--By @ghostofskywalker:

THE MANDALORIAN

The Mandalorian Fanfiction--By @violetwanderer:

The Mandalorian Fanfiction--By @echoingbirdsofprey:

AHSOKA

Ahsoka Fanfiction--By @kalevalakryze:

Ahsoka Fanfiction--By @illuminatedquill:

In conclusion, as part of my mission to poke around the Star Wars fandom and, on Friday every two weeks, highlight those writers who might otherwise go unnoticed…I hope you will check out the links I have included for yourselves and like, comment on, and reblog them, as well as also giving the writers a few more followers to their Tumblr pages.

Please also like and reblog this latest installment so that these links can be spread around to as many other fans as possible, just in case not all of them can tune in at the same time.

An additional thank you goes to @djarrex for making the divider I used earlier in this post, but still want to give credit for.

And finally, so that I do not forget…thank you to my friends, thank you to this fandom, and if it's a little longer between updates, please stay safe out there.

No Pressure Tags: @melymigo @algo-o-nada @theosb0rnway @everybirdfellsilent @skellymom

@leos-multifandom-corner @maggie-dylan @leenabb104104 @gun-roswell @tazmbc1

@bluedeedeedoop @its-time-to-rise-above @tlmtwelve @snoowply and anybody else who might be on the lookout for new SW fanfiction.

[caitified]

Hi again! I am the one who asked if you wrote for kelsey plum but speaking of my wife I don’t have a specific idea but honestly anything with her and a pregnant reader (if your comfortable with it) anything super fluffy please💓

growing

kelsey plum x reader

warnings: pregnancy, ivf, i’m so sorry for keeping you waiting for so long!! hope this is okay. another kelsey fic coming out at the same time. 🖤

kelsey hadn’t stopped smiling since the moment you told her you were pregnant. every time she looked at you, there was this glint in her eye, a mix of wonder and pride, like she still couldn’t believe that the two of you were about to become parents. she’d always been focused, intense even, on the court – but lately, her focus had shifted, and all that energy had turned into this fierce, protective love for you and the tiny life growing inside you.

the ivf process had been extremely taxing for both of you, and now that you had reached the other side kelsey was more protective than ever.

tonight, she’d come home from practice a little later than usual, exhausted but excited. you were curled up on the couch, resting a hand on your belly and watching your favourite show on the tv. when you heard the door open, you looked up, smiling as she dropped her gym bag by the door and made a beeline for you.

“hey, mama,” she murmured, bending down to kiss you softly before settling onto the couch beside you. her hand immediately went to your belly, her thumb brushing gentle circles over the fabric of your shirt. “how are my girls?”

you chuckled, placing your hand over hers. “we’re good. she’s been kicking a lot today – i think she misses you.”

kelsey’s face lit up, and she leaned closer, whispering to your belly, “hey, little one. i’m right here.” she pressed a soft kiss to your belly, and you could feel her warmth and excitement as she whispered sweet words to the baby. it was one of those things she did that made you fall in love with her all over again.

after a while, she sat back, her arm around your shoulders as you snuggled into her. “i still can’t believe this is real,” she said, her voice soft. “i mean… we’re having a baby. you’re gonna be a mom.”

“we’re gonna be moms,” you corrected with a smile, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “and you’re gonna be amazing at it.”

kelsey looked at you, her expression serious but full of love. “i’m just so grateful. for you, for her, for all of this.” she paused, her thumb still tracing gentle patterns over your shoulder. “i know the season’s been a lot, and you’ve been dealing with so much on your own. i just want you to know i’m here for you, no matter what.”

“kelsey, you don’t need to worry,” you reassured her, squeezing her hand. “i know you’re busy, but every time you’re here, you make me feel so loved. that’s all i need.”

she leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a slow, lingering kiss that made your heart race despite the familiarity. when she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her hand finding its way back to your belly.

“i can’t wait to see her,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “to see her little fingers, her first smile… she’s already got me wrapped around her finger, and she’s not even here yet.”

you smiled, feeling tears prick your eyes. “she’s lucky to have you.”

do we want more of this? thanks for reading! requests open.

[mariyap]

People are hating Taryn for the wrong reasons

I’m lowkey a Taryn defender but only to a certain level: She shouldn’t be hated on for agreeing in a promise that entails marrying Locke when she knew he was pursuing Jude at the same time. Its hinted that she did that to be included into the court but on top of that Locke literally has enchantments/magic that make people love him; which was hinted at when Jude was still in relationship of some kind with Locke and Dain shows up & mentions to have a little gem in the middle of her forehead to make ppl love her. At first, i didn’t know why they brought it up twice when she didn’t even end up choosing that path, obviously, but then i noticed Holly Black chose to not bring it up again after Locke left her life for Taryns and. But then in The Stolen Heir it said that Locke’s mother was a Gancanagh, a Love-Talker, which makes Locke also one. For gancanaghs, its said that some Mortals die from such admiration which Taryn could withhold and, once again, Taryn mostly married him to secure a place in court (and then killed him bc he wouldn’t shut up so it prob didnt work that well).

Anyway, I think we should hate Taryn because she NEVER apologized. Even over simple things! Which is shown when Taryn and Jude go to the mall (In The Cruel Prince, Book 1) and they both think they’re in the wrong and Jude says “Im sorry” and Taryn says “I know your probably mad…” which suggests that Taryn was never going to say sorry and divert the assumed resentment away from her. When she was in the wrong, CLEARLY, she only went up to Jude to rekindle because she wanted something from Jude. And I hate when ppl go like ‘oh Jude is so stupid for forgiving Taryn’s manipulative ass’ when Jude knew!! Taryn was taking advantage of Jude’s positions & Jude in general and couldnt even manage to say im sorry. Instead, she used manipulation and tried to make it seem like she’s the victim to get Jude good with her when all Jude wanted was a sorry and an ‘I won’t do it again’.

Btw, you can tell that she mostly, or even only, went to Jude to get something because it’d be monthssss since a betrayal (each time) then she comes back a few months later, or more, when she had the freedom to go anytime. Then after manipulating Jude in believing she was sorry, or smt, she would ask for something or hint at something she wants like a second after!! (Jude forgave her anyway too) If you dont remember: the first time was to ask or hint at wanting Jude to revokes Locke’s title of Master Of Revels. With the second time was even worse. Second time she only came back bc it was LIFE OR DEATH and came to Jude as a LAST MINUTE, a day or so before her trial so you couldnt even say that she used it as a excuse. And something that lowkey breaks my heart is Jude assumes Taryn just killed him and came to Jude immediately to hide the body n stuff but Taryn tried to hide the body and everythinggg before coming to Jude… then on top of that she put Jude’s life in danger.

The first thing the trial asks is who she is: the real answer was obviously Jude but she lied and said Taryn. But I get it, Jude cant be glamoured so its fine!! But the thing is that TARYNNNN DIDNTTT KNOWWWW!!?? She deadass went to Jude, asking her to fill in for her, when Jude was in exile so if her exile was fr and she could be glamoured normally then Jude wouldve been dead😭.

(Props to Vivi for not letting Jude go until Jude admitted she couldnt she glamoured but Taryn was TOOOO ready to let Jude die in her place)

Anyway, we should all collectively hate Taryn for that; not hating her for trying to live in elfhame differently from Jude.

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

waves!!!! could i please request an agere “snow day” (CG) Nikita and (Little) Artyom moodboard??

thank you for your time whether you do this or not and have a great [timezone]!! 🫶

caregiver! nikita + little!artyom snowday stimboard

YESS!!!! i NEED more cg + little requests with any of my boys this makes me SO happy!!!!

also i realized you said MOODboard right after i already put this together so im super sorry about that! my fault for not reading properly….ill make a moodboard version if i remember!

i didnt get to add them, but snow leopards always make me think of artyom and this board made me remember that (my furry version of him is a snow leopard/lynx hehe)

i think being outside would be good for both of them because nikita needs to see some damn sunlight and artyom needs to touch some damn snow (HEADCANON of mine that he doesn’t particularly like certain outside things)

i have no idea whos idea it would be to go out there first, but i think it would just be them whining back and forth and then somehow ending up outside

i also just want them to shove each other in the snow - particularly wanting artyom to shove nikita in there and for them to play fight and such,,, trust itd be so cute hehehe

he would also let him wear his coat if he gets too cold even with the stuff he has on….he can cope with the cold and sacrifice his jacket smh.

once they get too cold and wet though they would totally go back in and get a warm shower - nikita would make sure he gets all cleaned and warmed up before he takes care of himself.

they would also (of course, like always) get cuddled in bed together after and i think artyom would wear nikitas purgen hoodie (in this particular scenario just pretend he wasnt wearing it outside) because he thinks its super comfy. he always keeps that specific hoodie washed and cleaned because of that.

artyom would also totally be embarrassed to even do this and be this way in private, but he secretly really likes when nikita takes care of him like that. i think hed also he pretty bratty for a little, but like also super clingy.

[angelspitxx]

daemon wants to teach his sweet niece and nephew how to pleasure each other before their wedding. it is his duty after all, to bestow his wisdom upon his brother's children. just as he did with rhaenyra.

(sorry to my helaegon followers, don't hate me for this lol)

tw: dub/non-con, coercion, age gap.

aegon and helaena look over at daemon with wide eyes, full of innocent wonder. he's stroking his cock as he watches the pair touch each other with hesitation, both of them glancing back at him for approval and direction.

helaena's hair is spread out across the bed, her thighs propped on aegon's shoulders as he teases her with his tongue. she's whimpering and mumbling nonsense, squirming her hips uncomfortably. she's never felt something so delightful but overstimulating at the same time.

"more," daemon demands with a grunt of frustration, "use your fingers, boy. how do you expect to please your wife if you're shy about it?"

aegon does as he's told, but is sure to be careful. helaena is a fragile girl, his pretty sister-wife, she needs to be touched gently. at least, for now, until she can handle more from him. she tenses around his fingers as his tongue plays with her clit. her breathing coming out in quick bursts and his name a whisper on her lips.

"that's it," daemon's hand tightens around his cock as he pumps it faster, "just like that. good. now i want you to add another. stretch out that pretty little cunt."

his hesitation angers his uncle, and daemon's at his side within seconds. guiding him into it, both of their fingers sliding in and out of helaena. her face is bright pink and her eyes are screwed shut. aegon thinks it's too much for her. that perhaps they're making a mistake doing this, that it's wrong. only he can't find the courage to say it out loud and he can't stop touching her. daemon's making sure of that.

aegon isn't expecting his uncle to kiss him, tongue forcing itself inside of his mouth. the kiss sloppy and rough. daemon tastes of bitter wine.

"i believe our little princess is ready," daemon whispers against his lips, "make me proud, aegon."

he nods obediently and they both take their fingers out of her. helaena opens her eyes, tears blurring her vision.

"is it done?" she whispers, almost hopeful, until she realizes aegon is climbing on top of her.

"im sorry," he mumbles as he accidentally pulls on her hair, clumsily adjusting himself.

she isn't sure what he's apologizing for. pulling on her hair, or what he's about to do..

the moment he shoves himself inside of her, she hisses in pain. it feels as if her body is being cleaved in two. her hands push at his arms, trying to stop him.

"no- hurts-"

"it's going to be painful, helaena," daemon says softly as he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, "this is what's expected of you. take a breath, sweetling. the pain will fade soon enough."

still, she insists on resisting. her fingernails digging into aegon so deeply he begins to bleed. he ignores the sting as he thrusts inside of her slowly. she feels heavenly, and looks like an angel. her hair haloed out around her. those big eyes looking up at him with a mixture of fear and love. this wasn't how he envisioned their first time together. still, it felt nice. in this single moment, it was like they were the only two people in the entire world.

that is, until aegon felt daemon's hands on him. big and rough, enveloping his hips. he noticed something prodding his backside.

"uncle..?"

"its alright. focus on her.. don't pay me any mind."

he tried not to, so he shifted his focus back to his sister. helaena was making precious little sounds. the pain was in fact fading, and pleasure began to course through her body.

"aegon- more.. i need you," she whined as she pulled him closer against her.

he bottomed out inside of her, moaning against her lips. just as he could feel himself close to finishing, he felt daemon pushing his cock inside-

"no, uncle, please-"

daemon forced his fingers into aegons mouth, making him choke.

"quiet. now it's time for a proper lesson.."

daemon started off slow, gradually picking up speed. until he was ramming into the poor boy so roughly that aegon's tears were dripping onto helaena's face. the motion from him getting fucked was in turn making his hips move, thrusting into helaena harder and harder. by the time daemon was done, they were a fucking mess. blood stained the sheets, their eyes were glassy and bodies pushed past their limit.

daemon took in his niece and nephew, panting and sprawled across his bed. sticky with sweat and bodily fluids.

"did we.. did we please you, uncle?" aegon asked shakily, his hand reaching out to grasp his sisters.

daemon smirked as he brought a wine goblet up to his lips, "you did well, but i believe we will need more practice. perhaps next time, we may both get to enjoy helaena."

[stompingdvds]

first of all, im sorry it took me a while to respond. i took a break from tumblr the last couple days because i was overwhelmed, and id rather prioritise my immediate mental health than a response that could be written/read any time. and tbh with exams and school and looking at sixth form open evenings i havent looked at my phone much.

genuinely i am a little confused as to where i said i didn’t know any BIPOC people? like i cant find which part of my post said that but ig i can assure you thats not true- i live in a big city and the majority of people at my school are non white

the thing is: i haven’t been in the fandom for months. i joined/started watching the show no more than 3 weeks ago, so i haven’t been around for much or really interacted with most parts of the fandom in depth. so i was basing my post of the limited amount i have seen, but i can see now that i shouldn’t have posted anything when i didn’t have a good idea of what i was talking about. i apologise for that, and for generalising a whole fandom. i know i probably wont be able to convince you, and that’s alright, but i do give a fuck. so im sorry again about the post, and that i made you feel like you had to spend your time and energy responding.

(i read that article, by the way. i’ll avoid using that phrase in the future. also, you’re right that i haven’t read many anti racism sources, so id be interested if you did have any recommendations. its not your job to teach me tho, so i can find some myself if not)

hey im a white queer so maybe im calling a spade a spade but bucktommy feels like such a white gay ship. like we made the attractive white guys kiss so lets pretend the racism plot was resolved offscreen.