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dollfacefantasy · 2 months ago

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CRY IF I WANT TO ♡

pairing: negan x fem!reader

summary: life has been different since you've been taken to the sanctuary. you're not sure how you fit in here. some may call you one of the wives, but you don't think that's accurate. maybe his pet? his doll? as the days pass, you're not sure it really matters. the distinction doesn't get you any closer to escape.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, coercion, forced ddlg/daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, violence (from negan, simon, and reader), hurt/comfort sorta

wc: 10.9k (oops lol)

a/n: ermmm... hehe yeah. i've been wanting to write this so i hope someone likes it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 13 - mindbreak (i think)

"Rise and shine, little lady. We got a lot of things to do today."

Your eyes flutter open, the bright light from the window in front of you broken up by the silhouette of the man at your bedside. The sight of him, even just the outline of his body, sends a nauseating crackle of dread through your bones. It's a feeling you can't verbalize of course - not if you want this day to resemble any sort of pleasant.

"There she is," Negan says, speaking with his signature cadence that made you want to rip out your hair, "How'd you sleep, babydoll?"

"Fine," you rasp as you slowly sit up. The mornings were the only time you could get away with dull answers like that. Any small bit of attitude could be blamed on you being 'cranky' rather than feelings of hatred that hadn't been broken down by this point.

He smiles at you, his rough hand cupping your jaw.

"You're so pretty in the mornings," he mumbles, sweeping a thumb over your pouty bottom lip.

You pause for a second, but so does he. Like he expects a reply. Unfortunately, you know the words he wants to hear. Swallowing the last sliver of dignity you have, you force out the response you'd been trained to say over the last however-long.

"Thank you, daddy."

He grins even wider if that's possible and pats your head. "You're welcome. Now let's get you dressed. Like I said, daddy's got a lot to do today."

You get out of bed and follow him over to the dresser that held your outfit for the day. The chill of cold air bites at your legs as the lack of blankets leaves them exposed. The generator had been out for the past day or so, leaving the Sanctuary victim to the harsh Winter raging outside. You were hoping he'd take that into account when picking your clothes, but you didn't hold out too much hope.

The two of you shuffle around the gray furniture of Negan's room. Even though you'd been in here more times than you could count now, you still marveled at the quality of the chairs and sofa. Items like these seemed luxurious with how the world was outside these walls.

When you reach the dresser, you follow the routine you'd become used to. You peel the small shirt you're permitted to sleep in off and drop it in the basket nearby. Your panties are next to go. You pull the dainty garment down and toss it to the same place as your top.

You can feel his eyes on you with every move you make. They watch how your breasts bounce when freed from their confines. They admire the curve of your ass when you bend over. They glimmer with smug satisfaction as you stand there nude before him.

"I'll tell you what. I never get sick of seeing this," he teases.

You offer a weak smile in return. The lack of energy almost seems to please him more.

He walks around to stand behind you, giving you a light pat on the ass as he does. His hands land on your hips first and then slide up to cup your breasts. He pulls you back, positioning you flush against his chest.

"You know I'd keep you like this all the time if I could," he murmurs in your ear, "Sweet and ready for me. Ripe for the pickin' whenever I felt the need."

The deep, gravelly rumble of it seems to trigger a flicker of heat in your lower belly on instinct, and you despise yourself for it. Shame burns so hot in your heart, it threatens to take the nausea you felt earlier into a full on dry heave. You're glad there's not a mirror in front of you. It's easier to keep a docile look plastered on your face when you don't have to stare yourself in the eyes.

The rough pads of his fingertips pinch and tweak your nipples, causing you to squirm a bit where you're standing, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a noise. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your neck.

You choose not to say anything to his last statement. There's no guarantee that he hasn't actually considered that, and you don't want to find out. Displaying you in that way in front of everyone doesn't seem like his style, but back when he had you lined up on your knees with the rest of your group, you wouldn't have imagined yourself ever calling him daddy either.

As you'd quickly learned in regards to most things around here, the risk just isn't worth it.

"I'd never do that to you though. Don't think anyone could keep their hands off if they saw all of you, and I just can't have that," he whispers, calming your fears for you. He pulls his hands away from your breasts and steps back to grab the pieces he'd be putting you in today.

He starts with panties. This pair is pink and ruffly just like the last. You step into it with rehearsed timing. One foot then the next. He slides them up to your hips and lets the elastic snap into place against your skin.

You had no clue where he got this shit. You didn't want to believe that his hold on his men was so strong that they'd waste an entire supply run raiding a Victoria's Secret, especially for women they never even got to touch.

It wasn't worth thinking about though. It's not like discovering the origins would spare you from wearing the damn things every day.

Next, Negan shakes the wrinkles out of your dress. You step into that too, just like you did with the underwear. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the garment.

It's just as humiliating as all the rest he makes you wear. The fabric is bright white and baby pink. Like everything else, you have no idea how it was kept so pristine. The waist is accentuated with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a large bow at the front. It's extra tight up top and melts into a puffy skirt down below.

He shimmies it over your body and yanks the zipper up in back. The dress conforms to the shape of your figure, leaving little to the imagination in terms of how much the neckline shows and how high the hem of the skirt sits.

Spinning you around, he whistles when he gets the full picture.

"Good God Almighty. Pretty as a picture," he praises, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

Again, you force yourself to smile.

He'd already dressed himself for the day before getting you up, so the rest of the time before you leave the room is spent working through the remnants of your morning routine. He takes you into the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and do your hair.

"Say ah, sweetheart," he smirks before jamming the brush into your mouth.

He's not careful or attentive. He only does it long enough to let the weight of humiliation settle in your stomach. It's always obvious when it kicks in. You get this look on your face like that of an abandoned puppy. Only then does he let you spit and move on to the next task.

He styles your hair into something cute, though you hate it anyway. Like the dress, it's only intended to make you stick out. To draw attention to your status as his possession.

The last thing he does is put your socks and shoes on. Your feet get covered in a pair of frilly ankle socks before he slips a pair of chunky sneakers on you. At least if this place got overrun and you had to bolt, you wouldn't be totally fucked.

"You ready to go, honey?" he asks you when the first part of your torture has finally come to a conclusion.

Again, you nod while looking up at him.

He grins at you. "You're quiet today," he says.

"Sorry, daddy," you respond. The way he said it sounded like teasing, but you could never be too careful.

"Don't be. I like it," he says.

You don't know how he does it, how he deflates you so easily without even trying.

He turns and grabs that stupid bat he carries everywhere, swinging it to his side before facing you again and sticking out his hand.

"Got my two favorite girls, now we're really ready to go," he says. He gestures with his fingers. A small impatient reminder. "You know the rules."

Of course you know what he's referring to. Always hold daddy's hand when you leave the bedroom. One of the rules he'd prattled off to you when he first brought you here.

You reach out and take his outstretched hand, earning a kiss to your head.

The way he'd been holding his arm caused the leather sleeve of his jacket to ride up a bit. Beneath the stiff fabric, you could see the fading scar you'd given him around the same time you'd been informed of the rules. Two crescent shaped marks in the pattern of your teeth.

You can barely stand to look at it now. All it does is bring back memories of when you still held hope for escape or rescue. Back then, you'd thought it'd only be a matter of days until Rick or Michonne burst into the small bedroom they were keeping you in.

The day you'd sunk your teeth into him, he'd just finished giving you one of his speeches about your new life at the Sanctuary. According to him, you'd be so much happier here. Sure you couldn't see your family, but now you had someone better than them. You had him. And he would spoil and take care of a pretty thing like you in the way you deserved. Show off to the rest of your old group how generous he could be.

He'd reached forward to pinch your cheek just like he'd done earlier today. You wanted to smack him away, but he had your hands bound. So you did the next thing you could think of and bit him. Hard.

His eyes burned with fury you hadn't seen since. You can still hear in your mind the way he yelled, shouting "Goddamn it" so loud that the walkers out at the fence probably heard.

After that was a bit hazy. He'd snatched that limb away from you before bringing it back and striking you hard across the cheek. You'd nearly fallen off the bed from the force.

"You little bitch, you try some shit like that again, and I'll knock your fucking jaw loose," he growled before yanking you up right and forcing you to look at him.

Involuntary tears leaked from your eyes as you glared up at his face. Blood oozed from the stinging wound you could feel inside your mouth.

That cut had healed by now though.

You squeeze his hand harder while walking down the hall out of his room. Even though it was the hand that struck you, it was the only thing you had to hold onto now.

Your brain tries to compartmentalize him nowadays. There's Negan, and there's daddy. Negan is the one who gets mean. Negan is the one who yells. Negan is the one who killed your friends. Daddy is the one who cares for you. He keeps you safe and healthy. He'd never hurt you like that. You didn't think you'd survive with a shred of sanity without that distinction.

He feels your little grip and squeezes your hand in return. That's what daddy does.

You stay close to his side as he guides you on the walkway that looks down on the commotion of the main room. Even after what you guessed had been a couple months, if not more, you still didn't like this place. Everything was so transactional. No one cared about each other. It was all about what everyone had to offer. That was by design of course, but it didn't make you any less critical of it.

Your eyes scan the clusters of people below. Although you weren't allowed to socialize on your own, you were starting to get a grasp on the cliques here. Negan's closest advisors all seemed to amalgamate in one area, spare the guy with the burnt face. The table closest to the window was where most of the soldiers ate while the one by the door seated the workers.

You weren't completely sure what class you fit into here.

The most obvious guess would be the group you're about to encounter, Negan's wives. But there are stark differences between you and them that prevent you from feeling camaraderie.

The two of you approach the room where he keeps this group of women. He maintains a tight grip on your hand as you slip through the doors. The disparities between you and the others become obvious as soon as you're within a few feet of them.

All of these women get to dress in black. They stand tall in heels, have earrings dangling next to their faces, and for some, a red tint painting their lips. All of them get to openly glare at him. They don't have to hide their hatred behind a feigned smile or soft laugh.

You know it isn't right to be jealous of them. They're suffering too. This isn't a happy situation for them either. But god, you can't help it. Envy nearly sears a hole through your heart every time you come into this room. What you wouldn't give to be one of them. To be allowed to drink and talk with other people. To not be under the constant threat of punishment.

Despite all these thoughts swirling through your head, you manage to keep your mask on. A simple, thoughtless look on your features as you stand next to him like an oversized accessory.

He looks down at you before dropping your hand.

"Stay right here for me, sweet thing. Daddy's only gonna take a minute," he says.

He stalks off to the back corner of the room with a woman you'd come to learn is named Sherry. They speak in hushed tones, so you can't make out what they're saying. You figure it's about one of the girls sneaking around with some other guy. That's what it's usually about when he makes a stop here with you in tow. Even with their status elevated above yours, they don't get to escape the wrath of his possessiveness.

You stand there awkwardly, arms crossed over your midsection while your weight shifts between your feet. No one tries to talk to you. You can feel their eyes on your pastel form, but their gazes don't hold curiosity or interest. It's pity.

In the beginning, you thought they were looking at you with jealousy. After all, you got your own cell and then graduated to Negan's bedroom while they had to share amenities.

But they weren't naive like you had been. None of them wanted Negan's attention. They didn't want to be his pet or his dolly or whatever the fuck he would classify you as. They had each other, and they got to share the load between all of them.

You sigh quietly and look down at the sparkly trim of your white sneakers.

He finishes his conversation with Sherry and then migrates across the room towards a blonde, crying girl. They speak at the same volume as him and Sherry. It's not worth trying to eavesdrop on.

Instead, you patiently wait the couple minutes it takes for them to finish up and for him to return to you. When he walks back over, you can tell the discussion hadn't been a positive one. His shoulders seem weighed down by whatever information he'd gathered from them.

But the dark cloud above him fades away as his hand slips back into yours. He leads you out of the room just as you'd come in and continues walking with you.

You hesitate but decide to try. "Are you ok?" you ask softly.

His head turns slightly to cast you a look. For a moment, it seems the daddy act has fallen away. He looks at you like he would any other woman who asked him that. Cold. Analytical. But the persona makes its reappearance seconds later as he pulls on a smirk for you.

"Just fine, honey. You don't gotta worry about me," he answers.

You know you should just nod and shut up, but it drives you crazy being led around like a child expected to be seen and not heard. So you decide to try again.

"Did they do something bad?" you ask. You hate how weak your voice comes out. There's no spark to it, no bite or sharp edge. All of that, he'd extinguished in you.

He drops your hand and drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side.

"What are you so curious for, huh? You know something about it?" he responds.

You shake your head. Your arm rises and wraps around his torso.

"No. I just don't like when you're upset," you say. You lean your head into his chest to really sell it.

"Oh-ho, look at you. Turning on the charm," he chuckles, "I am just fine, sugar. I swear it. Sometimes those girls give me trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle."

You decide to just take it and nod this time.

He looks at you with satisfaction. "They can't all be like you, y'know? So well-behaved," he praises.

The compliment makes your blood curdle. You couldn't stand that he would act like obedience was your defining trait.

When you were with your group - your family more like - you would never have been described as obedient. Whether at the prison or Alexandria, it felt like every other day you were sneaking off to try something. You were always quick to spring into action, never the type to let someone belittle you. Rick got on your ass about deviating from plans in spurs of emotion more than anyone else. Maybe that's how you wound up here.

You had tried to stop them from taking Daryl. On that dark night in the woods, surrounded by the ring of headlights, you had tried. You didn't rush at Negan like your friend. Not wanting someone else to get their head bashed in, you were more subtle than that. But you attempted to get in the way of the guys carting him off. That's what landed you here. Tucked under his arm, the very weapon that took away two people you love swinging a foot away from you.

But you swallow down all of this rage and nod again. You nuzzle into his chest, a way to conceal the tightening sensation in your throat and the sting of tears at your waterline.

This is the worst part about Negan, you decide. The way he makes you act like you want it.

From your first day here, he made sure to tell you over and over how he's staunchly against rape. He's not a monster. He's not that kind of guy. No, no. You are a prisoner, so yes, technically here against your will, but never in a million years would he violate you in that way.

And he'd stuck true to that. Whenever you screamed or cried or yelled "no" on a loop until he shook you around like a bobble head, he always backed off of his advances. He never copped a feel or slid a wandering hand in your panties while you slept, never held you down or physically forced himself on you.

Instead, he broke you down until saying yes seemed like the only sane option.

You didn't want his affection? That meant you must not want to talk to anyone at all. For days. You didn't want to sit in his lap? Maybe you'd prefer kneeling by his feet for a week, in private and around everyone else. You didn't want to sleep in his bed? Fine. You could sleep on the concrete floor without a pillow or blanket while the heat was out.

You reflect on all of this as the two of you trot through the boxy halls. He takes you around on all his errands for the day. You stop by the doctor's office, inventory, and Dwight's room. All over the place. You stay quiet the whole time. busying yourself with your thoughts as you stay attached to him.

Everyday the line between survival and free will becomes blurrier. You tell yourself that you have to be like this with him. You'll be worse off if you don't act the part of the sweet, adoring girl he wants. But then sometimes you wonder if you truly are becoming obedient. Like a wildcat tamed into a lazy house pet. You almost never resist his touch anymore. You even go to him for comfort sometimes.

The idea kills you, so you deem it best not to think about for now.

Rather, you focus on guessing what the rest of the day would hold. It's already the afternoon by now. The sun hangs low by the tree line, shimmering into the Sanctuary through the rectangular windows across the walls. He wouldn't have a meeting with the lieutenants today. Those were almost always around lunch time. You didn't think he'd spend it with one of his wives either. If that was the case, he usually gave you a heads up in the morning.

The most likely possibility you come up with is the dilemma from earlier. You had never been invited to see the culmination of those though. Normally, he kept you safe and sound in his room while he tended to matters like that, ready to provide him some stress relief when he finished.

But things can always change, and now it seems like that's the case.

He guides you back into the main room. A crowd has gathered down below. You can't see the center point of their conglomeration. All you can sense are the nerves vibrating between everyone.

Their feet shuffle around on the hard concrete flooring. They look between each other with anxious eyes. Hushed chatter clouds the area until you and Negan begin to descend the stairs. That's when they all go quiet. Mouths close and pupils snap to the position of their leader.

You look down to lessen the ache of humiliation that came with accompanying the center of attention. The few times you had scanned the crowd for others' reactions, seeing if you could find a sympathetic gaze or outraged expression, all you found was animosity. The male workers and soldiers leered at you. They smiled and smirked, visibly amused by your girly outfits and docile disposition. On the other side of the aisle, the women glared, taking in the details of your appearance with disgust, like somehow it was your fault you got toted around like this.

His voice booms out to his audience as he takes step after step towards them.

"You all know what we're here for today," he starts, "We got simple rules 'round here, but some people still seem to have trouble following 'em."

Your hand stays linked with his as the two of you reach the landing.

"Watch your step, babydoll," he murmurs to you before continuing his speech. Your cheeks burn with shame.

"It feels like I'm doing this every other month. It's getting ridiculous," he lectures, "I don't like having to be so harsh. Truly, I don't. But rules are rules, and I don't know how I can make myself any clearer. They are not optional."

He walks further into the room with you. Being level with everyone else, you can see more of what's happening. They're gathered around a furnace. Dwight stands near the opening to the flames, clearly preparing something. Another man sits a few feet away. Over in the corner, the woman from earlier is looking at him and crying.

Looks like your guess was correct.

"So we're gonna do this again. Hopefully it's the last time," he concludes.

The crowd parts as you and him head towards the center of the room. He leads you over to an empty spot near the wall. Dropping your hand, he cups your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes.

"Stay right here for me. Daddy'll be right back," he says.

You nod and then watch as he turns away, waltzing over to where Dwight stands.

While your eyes are up, they can't help but catch on somebody familiar standing at the front of the crowd.

Daryl.

Your heart stutters, and you can see on his face that his does too. He looks worn down. Eyes dimmed and face hollowed. His clothes, dirty and ill-fitting. You start to feel tears pricking at your waterline from the sight. You weren't the only one they'd broken down.

In him, you find the compassion you'd been searching for. The look that told you at least one person here didn't take enjoyment from your suffering. But it comes from someone who truly can't help you. Who's in a situation as bad as your own.

You sniffle and try to wipe away any beginning tears before Negan or someone who would tell him notices.

The loud creak of a metal door opening drags your attention to the furnace though. You watch as Dwight pulls out the item he'd been preparing. A burning, metal iron becomes the new focus of everyone in the room.

Upon seeing the small object, so many things connect in your head. You know what's going to happen. You realize why Dwight's face is scarred. You understand why that woman is crying. And you know no one is going to stop any of this now or in the future.

Your heart pounds harder, and your breaths become shaky. Tears blur your vision further. You dig your nails into your palm to try and ground yourself, but it doesn't help. The scene in front of you has whipped your mind into a frenzy. You haven't felt this bad since the early weeks of being in this place.

This stupid fucking place. You hate it. You hate how cruel it is here. How disconnected and lifeless everything feels. You hate him for being the only one allowed to really live. You hate everyone else here for letting him get this powerful.

It's a complete spiral whirlpooling in your mind, only made worse by the fact that you have to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself you just have to wait it out. This couldn't take more than five minutes and then you could go back to the bedroom. You'd be ok. You could take off this itchy dress and put your hair back to how you like it. You could kick off these shoes and hide yourself beneath the warm blankets. None of these people would be around, all you'd have is the quiet between those walls where daddy could make it all better.

As you're in the process of mentally talking yourself down, Negan takes hold of the iron. To free up his hands, he offers Lucille off to someone nearby. Your eyes follow his leather-clad limb to the neck of the bat and then up to its new handler. You see Simon.

You have to look down now. If you don't, everyone here will see the look of pure terror on your face. You close your eyes and rein in whimpers that threaten to spill from your lips. Everything feels fuzzy around you, intangible and like your hands would drift right through them. Your head heats up, the sensation making you dizzy. You try to steady yourself by leaning back against the wall, but the cool, flat surface does little to ease your nerves.

It does even less when you hear his voice closing in on you.

"Hey there, princess," he starts, voice laced with mockery, "You feeling alright?"

You're not looking at him, but the image of his stupid face projects with HD clarity in your mind. You swallow hard and nod.

Laughing lowly, he comes to stand beside you. "You sure about that? You're looking kind of lightheaded," he taunts.

"I'm fine," you choke out.

His hand darts up and grabs your jaw. He doesn't gently guide your eyes where he wants them to look. He yanks your face in his direction like an unruly child with a doll.

"I don't know about that. You're looking kind of rough," he says while glaring down at you with those ruthless eyes, "Maybe I should take you over to the doctor's. We both know Negan wants his favorite toy kept in good condition."

Your entire body vibrates with hatred for this creature. Every breath you take acts as an effort of restraint, a way to lull yourself into not ripping out what hair he has left.

You didn't just despise Simon because he's an asshole or because he was the person harassing your group leading up to that horrible night you were taken. Your aversion for him stems from experiences entirely your own.

A few days after the biting incident, you had tried getting physical with Negan one more time. You'd managed to worm one of your wrists out of your restraints, and instead of aiming for escape, you decided revenge held a higher priority. You waited for him to come check on you, keeping your arm tucked to your body as if it was still bound.

When he finally came in, you sat there and took the speech, took the condescension, and took the promises that you would conform. And then he leaned a bit closer. That's when you backhanded him as hard as he had you the few days prior.

After the hit landed, you lunged forward and tried to wrap the rope connected to you around his neck. You pulled as hard as you could, and for a moment, you thought you had won.

But wrangling you off was easier than you anticipated. They hadn't been allowing you much food or sleep, so the strike took most of your energy. It only took him a handful of seconds to snake his hand under the rope and then pry your arms away.

He stood up and slammed you into the wall with his hand around your throat. In that moment, he didn't look at you with the same fury he had before. This time around, frustration dominated his gaze.

"Was that fun for you?" he asked.

You didn't answer. Your chest puffed with exertion while your eyes stared daggers into him.

"What did I tell you last time? What did I fucking tell you?" he asked. Despite the look in his eye being less volatile, his tone of voice was dangerous as ever. "I told you I would knock that jaw of yours loose. That's what I said, and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I didn't. But I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't think it would work, and I'm not one to waste my own time."

Internally, pride swelled in your chest, thinking you had called his bluff. But then he kept speaking.

"I have a bad feeling that if I struck some sense into you that you'd just try to strike it into me right back, and I can't have that. That's just not gonna fly around here," he said, "So I'll tell you what: I have a better idea. You don't wanna play with daddy? Then you can spend a weekend with your Uncle Simon. See how much fun he can be."

Back then, you didn't know Simon as the right hand man. You didn't have his name and face connected yet. Now, you wished you could go back to that state of mind.

You were with him for three days while Negan did a tour of the outposts and subjugated communities. Only 72 hours. But an hour of him would have been enough to scare you for a lifetime.

When he first came into the room, you didn't get the feeling that him and Negan would handle you so differently. You could tell from the way he looked at you that, like his boss, he looked at you as something to toy with. A source of amusement. The difference, you soon found out, was how they played with their toys.

Unlike daddy, Simon didn't talk just to talk. He didn't warn you of future spankings or timeouts. He hit. And he kicked. And he shoved you down and tossed you around. He didn't offer the same condolences daddy did, there was no "this hurts me more than it hurts you." Nothing he did even bothered Simon. He watched you hurt, and he enjoyed it.

You didn't even get a reward once you'd settled down. Your attitude had disappeared almost instantly. Having the wind knocked out of you once was enough for you to become more amicable, but your change in demeanor didn't phase him. It wasn't his goal.

The only rules Negan left him with were the basic ones for the Sanctuary along with no killing you or causing permanent damage. But that didn't mean he couldn't threaten you with breaking them. He went on and on during the down periods where you cowered in the corner or huddled against the wall of your bedroom cell, telling you stories of how he went rogue before. Any horrible thing he could think of, he dangled in front of you as a potential fate.

When Negan finally came back, you eagerly awaited him. Despite your sleep deprived and bruised condition, your eyes stayed locked on the door like a puppy expecting their master. For the next week, you latched onto him. Didn't want to leave his side. He had made his point. You could hate him as much as you wanted but leave you alone with Simon for a little while, and you'd beg for him back.

That's how you feel right now, staring up into Simon's eyes while he holds your jaw. The pressure his fingers put on your cheeks serve as a reminder of the pain he can inflict while his other hand holding the bat twirls the weapon near your calf. As much as you had been internally preaching your hatred for everything to do with Negan minutes ago, all you want to do now is run into his arms.

You feel more tears wanting to slip down your cheeks, but you try your best to hold them in. The more you cry, the more I like it. That's what he'd told you more than once over those three days.

"Just leave me alone," you tell him. You try to sound as firm as possible, but even your own ears catch the way your voice quivers. "Negan wouldn't like you talking over him."

Your attempt at taking a stand falls flat. He doesn't back off any, rather, he leans in closer.

"Negan, huh? Are you even allowed to call him that?" he mocks and feigns a pout.

"Just shut up!" you say. You mean it as a threat; though, it hits his ears like a plea. More hot panic rushes down your spine from the stress of having to remain quiet while also trying to be assertive.

His lips flatten into a line before he continues speaking. "Your head's getting too big for those shoulders, little girl. You better watch your attitude, or I might have to suggest you're due for some more correction," he mutters.

A loud scream rips the two of you from your conversation. He drops his hand from your face, and you both straighten up against the wall. Negan stands in the center of the room, pressing the blazing iron to the side of the man's face.

He wails until he passes out, and that's when his leader peels away the device of torture. Sticky skin goes with it before snapping back against his face like a rubber band. You grimace, your stomach twisting at the sight. You'd seen so much blood and guts over the years of living out on the road and fighting with other groups, but melted skin was a new one.

Negan turns to Dwight and gives him the iron back. You breathe an involuntary sigh of relief, subconsciously soothed by the thought of him returning to your side.

The reprieve ends suddenly though when a small, sharp pain slices along the meat of your calf. You whimper and lift your leg away on instinct. Looking for the source, you see the bat twirling from the motion of Simon's wrist. One of the barbs had caught your skin. Your eyes flit up to him.

"Watch out!" you say. The old you would have been seething. She would have pulled out her pocket knife and given him a little receipt for the cut. But now, you watch him with fearful eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you would get in trouble for calling him an asshole.

"Remember what I said," he tells you quietly as a trickle of red runs down to the lacy frills of your sock.

Before you can respond, a warm hand lands on the small of your back. Your head turns to find Negan smiling down at you.

"What's with the long face, sugar? Simon bothering you?" he asks, clearly not meaning it seriously even though to you it is exactly that.

You part your lips to answer, but Simon beats you to it.

"Bothering her? C'mon. I'm just checking up on her. She looked a little dizzy, so I offered to take her to the doctor's," he says, light as ever, "I'm just watching out for her, y'know? Sweet thing like her will get eaten alive here if she's not careful."

Negan raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you think he's about to take your side. But then he just chuckles and shakes his head.

"She's doing just fine. That was her first time seeing one of those, so she's probably a little shaken up," he says, rubbing your arm.

"Hm... Sounds about right," Simon replies, "I know that's not how her little group did things."

"Yeah. So I'll get her back to the room. Think you can handle shit down here?" he says, gesturing around to the dispersing crowd.

"Always," Simon says with a mock salute. He then hands Lucille back.

Finally, you find some relief, some true sanctuary as Simon walks away. Your body physically relaxes. Negan feels it underneath his arm and spares you a glance as the two of you walk back up the stairs.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

You want to just take the easy route and say no, to play along with this sadistic charade and not cause any trouble. But you can't get the single syllable out. It feels impossible to even shake your head. Even though Simon's gone, the weight of everything that happened still remains along with the stinging in your leg.

Your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel like they're two seconds from overflowing. The lights suddenly seem too bright, and everyone here is too loud. You can't show him that though. You don't want more correction. You don't want someone to like it when you cry. But you can't ignore him either. That would be the worst thing to do.

All you manage in response is a shaky shrug. You let out a broken sigh with it and lean into his chest. The tension in your shoulders returns as you fight to keep the tears from leaking out against the worn leather.

At first, he doesn't say anything, and the two of you keep walking. Your steps remain in time with his as you traverse the walkway and around the corner. Then the two of you come to a stop when you're out of sight. He turns you by your shoulders, holding you in front of him so that you can't shy away.

"I got one more thing to attend to out by the fence. Think you can handle that?" he asks.

Your heart pulses to an uneven rhythm, trying to decide what to do without devolving into pure panic. You bite your lip as you mull your options over. Say yes and go with him. Then inevitably fail to contain yourself and get in trouble. Or, say no now and risk punishment for being defiant. You're not sure which one will end up worse.

"Can... can we just go back to the room?" you ask. Your voice comes out weak as if every word siphons a drop of energy from you.

He eyes you with uncertainty of his own; though, there's no fear in his look. His gaze is careful, an attempt to decipher if this is some kind of deception. You'd been pretty well-behaved as of late, but one bad day could take even the most obedient pet to a rabid dog, jaws primed to gnash.

But you didn't really have a reason to lie. The bedroom with him would provide the least likely chance at escape, and in the condition you were in now, you didn't seem to be planning an attack.

Slowly, he nods. "Sure, honey. I'll have Arat handle the other shit," he tells you before leading you in the direction of his bedroom.

The words he mumbles through his radio sound distant to you. You watch your legs switch between one and the other as you walk. On your right, you see the small red splotch staining the pristine cloth of your sock.

Before you know it, he's pushing open the bedroom door and bringing you inside. It then closes behind you, creating a barrier between you and everything else out there. It gets a little easier to breathe.

He guides you the few steps over to the edge of the bed and sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You feel his eyes scanning over you in an attempt to figure out the problem without asking. His hand rubs up and down your back over the crinkly fabric of your dress. His other palm focuses on your legs, coasting over your knees and the area of your thighs the skirt doesn't cover.

The code is harder for him to crack than usual. Normally when you got upset, it resulted from something he said. And he knows that because, usually, that's his intention. It was always either that or you'd just generally be feeling down, missing your home. But that doesn't seem to be the case right now. You seem more antsy than your normal bouts of sadness. He doesn't think it was from watching the spectacle downstairs. He knows you hate the saviors indiscriminately. Watching some random guy's face melt off wouldn't have you this upset. Finally, he relents.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He actually makes an effort not to sound like he'll make fun of whatever your answer may be.

"I just don't feel good," you choke out and bite your lip.

He feels you shudder on his lap, and he knows it's not the full truth. Pulling you a little closer on his thighs, he continues to look down at you.

"C'mon, baby. Tell daddy what hurts," he coaxes.

Your face tenses, but you know he won't drop this. "Just... just... I don't know. A lotta stuff," you say. You couldn't decide on a lie to commit to.

He sighs and bounces his leg with you on it a few times. "Did someone say something to you? Was someone bothering you?" he asks as his scope of potential causes narrow.

You're in the middle of trying to think of a cover story when his hand glides down to remove your shoes. He knocks one off. Then the other. The foamy white sneakers clatter to the ground next to his foot.

He goes to bring his hand back up, dragging it over the fine threading of your socks, but his eyes catch on the bloody splotches near the edge. Grabbing your ankle, he tugs your limb upward. It puts you at an awkward angle and nearly knocks you from your perch on his thigh. He stares the small wound down, assessing every detail of the tiny scrape.

"How'd you get this?" he asks. He looks over to you.

In reality, it may have been the most standard question in the world. But it hits your ears like an accusation and brings a fresh wave of tears that you can't control. Your lip quivers as your lids blink a few droplets over your water line.

"Simon did it," you weep.

You're scared he won't believe you, but after a few seconds, he drops your foot and pulls you close. His arms wrap around you tight and keep you flush against his chest. The warmth of the embrace encompasses you. You let the dam burst and cry into him, pouring all your sadness out against his body.

His hand sweeps up and down your back in comforting strokes. "Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart. Daddy's got you," he murmurs.

You feel him shrug off his jacket and push it aside, leaving the plain material of his t-shirt to soak up your anguish. He keeps you as close as possible. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to ensure you don't pull away.

"Does Simon bother you a lot?" he asks.

You nod. "Whenever I'm not with you," you choke out.

He hums in acknowledgement. "I'll talk to him. He's not supposed to hurt you when you're being such a good girl for daddy."

"I was trying really hard," you sob, your voice cracking, "I've been trying to be good. But he just hates me anyway. He's so mean to me."

Your arms snake around him as tight as a pair of snakes aiming to kill. You cling to him with everything you have, as if he's your one true savior from this living hell and not the cause of it.

In your head, you feel like you're annoying him. He's probably waiting for you to calm down, so he can nip this blossom of resentment in the bud. Good girls don't have tantrums or meltdowns, right? And all he cares about is that you act the part of a good girl.

But you only think all of that because you can't see the smile on his face right now.

He's grinning more than any of the times he got you to say something humiliating or cooperate with a punishment. The look he displays now reaches a new level of smugness, higher than the night he killed two of your people and traumatized the rest of them. His satisfaction runs deeper this time because right now, you're truly broken.

This isn't something you agreed to because the other option was worse. It's not something he had to coach you into or manipulate a situation into becoming. You did this all on your own. You came to him. Sure, he had to coax it out of you a little bit, but once he got his foot in the door, you let him right in. You're clinging to him for comfort, looking to him for a solution. He couldn't be more pleased. This is exactly what he wanted - to break you down. Now he just had to reel you back in the slightest bit, get you in that perfect middle ground between too independent and non-functioning.

"You have been doing really good for me, y'know? I'm proud of you, baby," he tells you in the most earnest tone he can manage, "Don't worry about Simon for right now, ok? Daddy's gonna set him straight. He won't bother you again."

You nod, but the reassurance doesn't stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Your fingers stay clenched around the fabric of his shirt.

"No more tears, honey, c'mon," he coos. He pries your limbs from around him and boosts you to your feet, standing you between his thighs. "I'll take care of it just like I take care of you. Let's just worry about what my little baby needs to feel better right now."

You take a few seconds to think about it, but the answer comes with relative ease. The most agitating thing about this situation right now is wrapped all around you, scratching at your sides and digging in under your arms.

"Can you take my dress off?" you sniffle.

His eyes fall from your face over your body. "What? You don't like this pretty little number?" he teases.

For once, you don't feel like you're two seconds away from punishment. You feel like it's a joke, and you don't have to awkwardly straddle the line between playing along with the humor and submitting to the literal interpretation.

"It's ok... it's just kinda scratchy," you say and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

"Spin around for me then. We'll get it off you. Can't have it irritatin' that soft skin while you're tryin' to relax."

You take the few steps to turn around. His fingers grasp the zipper and undo the baby pink prison you'd been trapped in for the day. Feeling the chafing fabric pulled away from you lets you take a real breath for the first time in hours. Already a small bit of relief. It only compounds when the garment hits the floor and pools at your feet.

He tugs you back by the waist and lays you across the bed, body on full display for him. Right now, you don't mind his gaze tracking your curves. He leans over you, his hands coasting from the sides of your breasts down to your hips.

"You're prettier like this anyways, princess," he praises.

"Thank you, daddy." It spills out as naturally as water from a faucet.

He rewards you with his lips on your stomach instead of words. Kissing the smooth, warm skin, his lips travel from just above your navel to the divot between your breasts. Your nipples rise to attention automatically.

His hands slide up to cup your mounds of flesh. He fondles and gropes them as his lips migrate up the curves to the hardening little peaks. They don't latch on just yet. He teases them with kisses instead, letting the anticipation of blissful suction build.

You take your lip between your teeth as you watch him. Chills break out across the rest of your body. You know you should be fighting. You know you should kick and scream and cry. You should try to take advantage of his closeness and get towards your revenge. But in your hellish life, are you not allowed one moment of pleasure? You haven't let those plans of escape and vengeance go, but you want this right now. You want to feel good, and he gives you that.

This isn't Negan. This is daddy. And you don't wanna hurt daddy.

His tongue peeks out from between his lips to trace wet circles around your nipple. The sensation draws a whine from you. Your body squirms beneath him with an eagerness to feel more.

"I think I know how to make you feel better. Take your mind off all that stuff from before," he whispers.

He takes one of your nipples between his lips, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue and scraping his teeth against the sensitive area. You reward the choice with a mewl and squirm your legs. He chuckles and then switches to the other one.

"That feel good?" he asks.

You nod, your head tilting back and your eyes fluttering.

Grinning, he continues his work on your chest. You whine and squirm for him, giving him all the reactions he craves. Soon, his hand ghosts up your inner thigh. His fingertips drag over the flesh and land on your clothed center. Through the thin pink cloth, he rubs at your clit. That garners a breathy moan and a full body shudder.

"Goddamn, you are so cute," he chuckles, "Just a few little touches and you squirm around like a virgin for me."

Heat floods your cheeks, but you don't bother disputing the claim. It was the truth. You weren't sure what it was about him that got you so amped up and needy.

The pad of his middle finger swirls around the little nub in your panties. He can already feel the fabric getting sticky from the wetness between your thighs.

"Poor baby. You're so easy to play with," he says.

His mouth leaves your breasts now and begins to retrace its path down your stomach. It glides over your skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the hem of your underwear. His fingers fall away from your center to your dismay.

Your disappointment is short lived though. You feel him position your thighs on his shoulders. When you look down, his eyes are staring right back up at you, gleaming like that of a panther ready to pounce.

"You want daddy's mouth on you? Will that help you feel better?" he rasps.

You nod quickly. "Please, daddy," you whimper.

"So polite. You didn't even need me to remind you of your manners," he smirks.

You don't even care about that remark. It washes right over you. All your mind is concerned with right now is getting more of his touch.

He brings his index finger back between your legs. He hooks it beneath the soaked seat of your panties, pulling it to the side and revealing your slick folds to him. The thumb on his opposite hand comes up to rub over the length of your slit up to your clit. Back and forth, nice and slow, just to tease you.

Your hips writhe the slightest bit, and he nips the skin of your inner thigh.

"Tsk. You know good girls are patient. They don't wriggle around. I've taught you better than that," he chides.

"Sorry," you say, backing down quickly.

"It's alright. I know you're having a rough day, so I'll let it slide this time," he says. He then leans in to lay some kisses on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He never let things slide. This must have been a miracle. The same man who always toted that the rules weren't optional, letting you bypass one? Maybe you were his favorite. That's what you took it as anyways.

He makes out with your cunt like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. His lips engulf it, spreading his affection from your little bundle of nerves all the way down, nearly reaching your puckered entrance below. You whine and clutch at the bedsheets. You were still too scared to grab his hair. You weren't sure if he'd like it and groan or glare at you in a way that said you'd pay for it later.

It doesn't matter to you right now though. What you hold isn't important when you feel this good. It feels like a firework show is erupting in your belly, bright bursts of all different colors. Your heels dig into his back, subconsciously keeping him buried between your thighs.

He's tempted to tear your panties off and fling them aside. He would if not for the limited number in his possession. If this was normal life, he'd rip a pair to shreds on a weekly basis. These things were so cute when he put them on, but when he wanted at you, he despised them. If this was normal life, he'd just buy you new ones whenever a tattered one had to be tossed. But then again, if this was normal life, he wouldn't have you at all, so it isn't really worth thinking about.

Refocusing his mind on your pleasure, he dives further into your cunt. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue fucks into you. He pushes it in a few times before pulling back and just lapping at your pussy in broad strokes, getting every drop of you he can. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance before slipping in. They fuck deeper than his tongue, but don't stretch you out like his cock. A happy medium to walk the steps of preparation.

He maneuvers his digits with expert precision, scissoring and curling them at the perfect intervals. You can't help the way your hips buck in response. He doesn't get on you about it though. He just wraps your arms around his hips and holds you in place.

Your thighs squeeze around his head too. Luckily, that wasn't against the rules. He loved feeling the heat of your plush legs wrapped around his skull, keeping him close.

He pumps his fingers faster, curling them right against that spot that got you to squeal and cry out his name.

"Cum for me, babydoll. All over my face. I wanna feel it," he rasps.

It's a fortunate coincidence he gives you that command because you were about two swipes of his tongue away from doing it on your own. You melt against the bed, eyes fluttering and body jerking and quivering as rushes of pleasure sweep through you.

Your fingers grip the blankets so tight they threaten to tear into them, but then they loosen completely and go lax next to your hips. He licks your cunt through the entire thing, not letting you come down until the euphoria has thoroughly washed through you.

While you're lying there, dazed and blissed out, he untangles himself from your legs and stands at the edge of the bed. He wipes your nectar from his facial hair before pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants.

"I think daddy deserves a little reward for making you feel so good, pretty girl. What do you say?" he asks.

Of course, you nod. There was no way you would reject him while still so close to the high of your last release. He grins at your hazy movement and shoves down his pants, jerking his cock a few times and crawling on the bed to hover over you.

"You're such a good girl for me. Better than I ever thought you'd be," he says while looking down at your face.

"Wanna be good for you, daddy," you say softly, blinking at him with your misty doe eyes.

His grin spreads even wider. In your sane mind, you probably would have thought it looked like some creature out of hell. But right now, the look just makes you giggle and squirm.

Down below, he lines up at your entrance. He slides his tip through your arousal a few times, getting it nice and wet before he sinks in. A smile of your own rises on your face, and he groans at the deep satisfaction of having your cunt embrace him so readily.

"Perfect little pussy, fuck," he grunts, "Think it's the best I've ever had."

You preen at that compliment. He balances his forearms on each side of your head as he begins to thrust. Your legs rise up and lazily wrap around his waist, which he loves. He can't get enough of the fact that you want him, that you're pushing him deeper and not letting him pull out too much.

His head falls beside yours, letting you hear every pant and grunt that falls from his lips. Your walls squeeze around him every so often. The noises make your tummy flutter for him. It drives you wild to know you brought him to such a state of lust.

"Christ, you're so fucking tight," he mumbles.

You giggle again and drape your arms around his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. You just get lost in the feeling of him inside you, his cock battering all your sweet spots just right. He leans in and kisses at your neck. His hips pump deeper, ramming his shaft further into the warm depth of you.

In this moment, everything feels so good and pure. You can't even imagine any of the pain he inflicted on you before. It all feels like a distant dream. Memories that belonged to someone else, not you. At this second, it feels as though this bliss will last forever. Just you and him tangled in the throes of passion without a concern for anything else happening beyond the privacy of his room.

When you open your eyes, they're a little watery from all the stimulation and how good it feels mixed with your saccharine thoughts. You arch off the bed a few inches, pushing your pert breasts against the warmth of his chest. He pushes you back down with ease, keeping you angled exactly where he wants you.

Pulling back a little to look at your face, he smiles when he sees the water gathering in your eyes.

"Oh, those are the tears I like to see," he croons.

You moan, a little shiver coursing through you. It only encourages him to pound his hips harder against you, in and out, in and out, until you're both approaching the edge.

"You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Show daddy how good he's making you feel?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, mhm, ah-" you whimper, "I wanna cum daddy, wanna cum for you."

"I know you do," he chuckles, "I can feel it."

Your cunt contracts and releases around him with increased frequency now. He knows you're moments away from reaching the peak. Swiveling his hips, he tries to strike that chord and bring you crashing down.

You whimper, the pitch getting higher as the glass gets closer to shattering. Finally, with one good jerk of his pelvis, you tense up and cry out. A couple tears trickle from your eyes. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Your body trembles and rolls with the feeling. He fucks you through it, savoring every delicious squeeze of your cunt around him. A few breathless groans rumble out of him. He gets every last second in your hole he can before he has to pull out.

He snaps his hips back, replacing the tightness of your pussy with his hand. It's not the same, but it will do. He gives it a few quick strokes before he explodes and spills on your belly. You lift your head and watch as the ropes of hot, sticky cum land on your skin.

His hips jerk with each surge of release firing from him. When he finishes, his head hangs, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. He scoots off of you and cools down beside your body on the bed. It's quiet for a few moments; though, he's never one to be vulnerable, so he doesn't let the silence linger for too long.

"You feeling better?" he asks and rotates his head to look at you.

You nod, visibly more relaxed than before.

"Thank you, daddy," you say, sweet as can be, before leaning in and pecking his lips.

He stares at you for a few moments in fond satisfaction. Then he gets up, and pulls you to your feet with him.

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up," he says.

You follow obediently to the bathroom where he wipes you off with a damp rag and makes sure you're all set to get some rest after. Both of you make your way to the dresser next. He pulls another set of those panties out and slips you into them. They don't feel so horrible this time around, but in the back of your mind, you're sure that won't be the case tomorrow morning. A soft, thin shirt covers your upper body next. It's the same baby pink color as the dress, but you don't mind since it's much more comfortable.

On your own, you tuck yourself to his side for the short walk back to the bed. He climbs in first and then tugs you into your spot next to him.

"I want you to try and get some rest," he tells you, stroking down the side of your face, "When you wake up, I'll get you something to eat, but for now, I want you to take a nap, ok?"

You aren't particularly tired, but while living here, sleep has become your greatest method of escape. You never reject a chance at it. The only thing is, right now, you don't really want to escape. You don't feel a horrible gnawing sensation from being so close to him.

However, you agree anyways because daddy knows best for you, and you don't want to make him upset.

You lie your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He holds you close, rewarding the compliance by rubbing your back.

"Sweet dreams, babydoll," he murmurs.

You shut your eyes, allowing your mind to recede into visions of the life and people you had before this. The life you still hoped one day you would get back, even as it became more and more like a fantasy rather than a realistic future.

#negan x reader #negan smut #negan x you #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan smith smut #twd x reader #twd smut #twd imagine #twd x you #twd x y/n

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hellenhighwater · 9 months ago

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Mildly weird question for story research purposes: when your cats ride on your shoulder, what does it feel like for you?

Context: My main character has a cat who likes to ride around on her shoulder, and since it's a thing that happens frequently, I'm trying to make sure I write about it well. And, unfortunately, I do not have a cat to even attempt to test it with, so I'm going to the one person I KNOW has experience with this situation.

Specific things that would be helpful to know:

Do you have to be careful not to upset their balance, or can you more or less walk normally once they're up there?

How are they keeping themselves up there? Are there claws involved? Or just good balance?

Where's most of their weight? I looked back at some pictures/vids, and it looks like they typically ride with their front paws on the shoulder and their back paws somewhere a bit below and beside your neck, but I could be wrong.

How long can they stay on your shoulder before one of you has to take a break? Is the weight of the cat tiring, or is it pretty easy to deal with?

Anything else I should be aware of regarding shoulder cats?

Thank you SO MUCH for your help!

Oh, I can definitely answer that! One: It's waaay easier to shoulder a small cat than a big one.

For the most part, they kind of drape themselves over the shoulder; this is specifically what I've trained them to do. Cats will also "shoulder" by draping across both shoulders/back of neck, but this forces your head forward to allow room for them, and it's not comfy. Hence the trained posture. (Malice, in the early days:)

I taught Mal to jump up when I bent forward for her, and circle to face front while I stood up. She can actually do that pretty quickly. Their weight is pretty evenly distributed across the top of the shoulder and down on the pectoral, not really on the back at all. Mal sometimes hooks her back claws into my shirt near the shoulderblade, which is more about balance than weight support. Nim, who was significantly smaller, actually kept her back feet tucked up so that her feet were on the top of my shoulder. This is a significantly more ready posture than Mal's--she would have to readjust for a better foothold to jump down; Nim could leap directly off at a moment's notice. Overall, Nim had far superior shouldering skills to Mal. Malice rides like the meatball she is; I'm hoping she'll learn with age. Here's some pictures of Nim:

To give them a stable position, I do keep my back straight and shoulders back; if I have to pick something up, I will crouch down instead of bending over. If I have to bend forwards, I will put my palm up flat so that they can stand with their front paws on it and keep their body on my shoulder. Generally, I can move, walk, and even work normally. I've cooked, painted, done chores, even run. Both hands are free to use, though generally you can't lift the arm the cat is on above a T position. They don't need to use their claws for balance unless I am doing something really active. I do shoulder almost exclusively on my left shoulder, so that my dominant hand is more free.

The weight is not significant--Nim was only about 8 lbs, Mal is about 11, and because there's no grip to maintain them and they're naturally situated on the shoulder, it's easy to carry them for a long time. I used to walk miles with Nim on my shoulder. It's actually more the heat--cats run hot, and it's a lot of fur on your neck and shoulder if it's warm out. Great in the winter, though!

Notable things you might not realize--their head is in front of yours, so you can still see ear positions, what they're looking at, etc. Nim's night vision/hearing/sense of smell was better than mine, so I could tell if we were sneaking on wildlife based on her reactions and responses to things. You can also feel them tense or adjust posture before they jump or try to get down, and you can feel their tail moving. You can also feel if they're growling or purring, even if you can't hear it. If you're used to paying attention to those cues, you'll notice them while just carrying the cat normally too--Nobody could sneak up behind me if I was carrying Nim facing over my shoulder to the back.

They can jump from shoulder height but it's a hard landing. Usually if I want them down, I just kneel with a knee up, or lift a leg flat while standing so they can jump to the top of my leg and then to the ground.

If I was in a fictional setting and traveling with them long term, I would be investing in a really weird piece of leather armor, that goes to the edge of the neck/crest of shoulder, and down past the bottom of the shoulderblade, with little easy-to-grip leather loops or chainmail on the back of the shoulder.

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cupidkenji · 8 months ago

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Doctor, Doctor, please listen!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!reader Cw; Tension (I tried), cursing, the smallest physical description of reader in the last portion (just mentions their stomach going over their pants), reader has scars from previous cases, rivals to lovers?, lmk if i'm missing smth Summary: 3 times you called him doctor, 3 times he wonders why. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but I don't really ever describe their bodies that much cause it's x READER and every body has a different body <3 WC: 3,596 I am literally so obsessed with criminal minds somebody save my soul OBLIVOUS IDIOTS WHO WANT EACH OTHER MY BELOVED. Title from mad hatter by Melanie Martinez don't even @ me for that

“...she will be an important part of making your team function quicker. We fought hard to get her here. I ask that you all treat her with respect and not make me intervene.”

Strauss finished her introductory spiel with a familiar “mom-glare” towards the team, walking away once she finished her speech. Unfortunately, her departure left you standing alone in front of the most intimidating man you’ve ever seen and four of his team members. You had been practically still until now. You hated the pressure of everyone’s eyes on you, causing a general freeze response to the stress of a new team. Fawn, you thought, the newest addition to the fight or flight categories and also the lovely thing forcing you to practically disassociate in front of your new boss and co-workers.

“Welcome, Dr. L/N. We’ve heard good things. I’m Aaron Hotchner, I supervise the team.” He was leaning on the table before he stepped forward to shake your hand as he spoke. “This is Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid.” He pointed towards the corresponding people as he spoke of them. “Agent Rossi is away right now, and you’ll meet our T.I. later…she’s been excited.” If you hadn’t been good at your job, you’re sure you would have missed the way his lips turned up slightly at the edges when mentioning the woman. He didn’t seem so scary anymore, more like a father of the team. You’d been expecting a drill sergeant - your last team leader could have given a bull a run for it’s money with how much aggression that guy had. You welcomed the rush of excitement you felt at the discovery, mentally shaking off the stiffness you were carrying.

“I’m happy to be here, sir. I’ve heard good things about the team, too. Your boss seems to think highly of your capabilities.” You addressed the room as you spoke. Public speaking was a skill you were still trying to master, so you practiced whenever you could.

Your statement earned a chuckle from the table. Nobody bothered to explain the reason. You figured it was too much history to sum up on the spot. Your eyes wanted to linger on Reid. He seemed so young, and you wondered if he’d been told that his entire career - lord knows you had too. A fellow doctor. You assumed he was a bit of a stickler about the title, as even his boss kept it tacked onto his name when introducing him. You’d originally hoped to find some comfort in the man, on the surface he seemed a lot like you. He was probably too smart for his own good as well. Given the way he was staring at you, though, you felt the realization sink in that the man had no intention of welcoming you.

“Why exactly do we need another profiler?” His voice held no malice as he spoke in the direction of his boss. There was more curiosity in his voice than anything, however you did pick up on the sense of superiority that sat just beneath the surface of his words. You guessed that’s how he behaved generally - as though he was superior. Still, your head tilted slightly to the side at the question.

Damn. Tough crowd.

You saw the intake of breath in Hotchner as he prepared to defend your place here but you spoke before he could start. “While I am a profiler, sir, first and foremost I am a psychiatrist - a doctor. As I’m sure you heard from Strauss, the board is unhappy with your recent efficiency rates and would also like to aid your team in dealing with mental health crises. I’ve spent my entire life studying the effects and conditions of the mentally diseased brain. I’ll be able to tell you the most efficient and effective way of interacting with these individuals, along with more accurately predicting their actions and methodology. I’m an agent, I took the same oath everyone here did but I was brought here for my expertise.” You were on a bit of a tangent, you knew that, but something about the smug feel of the man forced an emergence of competitiveness. He looked at you so indifferent, and you couldn’t help the tiny sparks of anger lighting beneath your skin. You kept a friendly disposition towards the man - you were a professional, after all, not a teenager - but you sensed a rivalry sprouting it’s roots.

The others at the table suppressed their smiles or looked down to hide it. Nobody had ever challenged Spencer like that. They could all feel he was a tad bit territorial. He was the guy people went to when they needed to know something. He was the Doctor of the group. They didn’t think he would take too kindly to another one encroaching his land. They saw the way he was tense, even more so after you responded. It was a riveting sight, though. The lot of them saw Spencer as a younger brother, and him meeting his match was something they were all so excited to see.

“Play nice, pretty boy.” Derek muttered to him, Spencer was slightly slouched in his chair now, not losing sight of you. Derek followed suit, turning his attention towards you. “We’re glad to have you, Doctor. We’ve spoken about an addition like you before, I’m glad to see the higher ups finally listened. I look forward to working with you - excuse me.” He left once his phone rang.

The others took his exit as an excuse for their own, everyone giving you a warm welcome as they left. You reciprocated happily, telling everyone they could just call you by your first name, never having been one for titles. ‘There’s one difference.’ You thought, even your internal dialogue was bitter. Aside from him, there was a warmth here that you had been desperate to find in your last team. If you had to work passive aggressively with one uptight man in exchange for a team like this - you were going to take that deal.

He refused to leave it seemed. He just sat looking inquisitively at the table, occasionally extending his stare to look at you before returning. How did you two end up alone in this room?

“Are you gonna have a problem with me, Doctor?” You shifted slightly on your feet. A notoriously nervous sign, one he definitely picked up on.

He stared again. It was his mind that kept him rooted in his seat. You were fucking alluring. He’d never met someone so like himself in his line of work. He was being a dick and he knew it but it seemed to be instinctual - some type of precaution, maybe. He didn’t know why you were being so respectful. Doctor. God, he didn’t know if the title had ever sounded so good being directed at him. His frustration only rose as he thought on the issue more. He wasn’t welcoming, it would be so easy to drop the formality, something he knew you knew would get on his nerves. But you didn’t. It didn’t seem like a question of dignity. You didn’t seem like the type to refuse a little pettiness - he sure wasn’t the type either. A thought stirred, an unsafe one he wanted to squash immediately but one he also couldn’t help but lean into. Did you want a power imbalance?

“No.” He stood abruptly, obviously still focused on the thoughts in his head. “Welcome to the team.” He addressed you one last time and then walked out of the room.

You followed shortly after, ready to make home on your couch and be done with being the newbie for the day. Your stress would follow you home, though, as the last thing you heard before you left the building was “Oh my god they’re perfect for each other.”

The first few weeks were always the hardest. This was something you knew and were prepared for but it did nothing to calm your nerves. You’d been on countless missions having worked this job for a while now, but this was an entirely new dynamic to learn. You were an outsider for the first time in four years and it was scary. This case was shaping up to be a rough one, too. A man was having delusions telling him to kill. An extremely rare manifestation of his Schizophrenia, only elevated by the newly acquired aspect of him being an insomniac.

Spencer hadn’t ceased being headstrong in cases either. Every time you wanted to help he made it his mission to overcompensate in order to snuff you out. On the contrary, he’d warmed up to you a little. It wasn’t major, he barely held any positive feelings toward you, but barely was better than not at all, so you coped. You two had managed a couple small talk conversations outside the battle of one-upping that you were currently losing. You absolutely hated it, but you liked him. You liked him a lot, actually. You don’t know when in the past few days that anger morphed into fondness but it had shifted hard. The casual dominance he exuded drew you in like a porchlight lures a moth. You doubted the opposite proved true for him, and that stung. You came to enjoy the banter, the competition, even if you were always playing the losing hand. It was the only way to get his undivided attention and the feeling of his eyes on you started to follow you home.

You thought a lot about how you could get the relationship to pivot into something better. You didn’t want to be the girl he bickered with at work. You didn’t know what it was you wanted but you knew that your current fate sounded horrid. He was an ass, though, and he did not make it easy to admit those feelings. Every time he undermined you, you grew more attached and also more angry at yourself for doing so. It was because he’s so much like you, you thought. You knew from the way he interacted with his team that he wasn’t a cold guy, didn’t hold malice towards people for no reason. He needs time. He needs to know you, and God how badly you wanted to know him.

You had sustained good relations with everyone the past few weeks you’ve been here. Meeting Garcia and Rossi had been a treat - both of them being delightful company. You’d heard them whispering about you and Spencer when they thought you weren’t around. The whole team seems to think that you’re basically fated to be together. It was unnerving how comforting that thought was to you. You hoped they were right.

Spencer hoped they were right too. He’d heard the same whispers you had, chastising the team when he got the chance as if he didn’t think about you every moment he could. His eyes seemed to naturally land on you if you were around. He watched you walk around the bureau more and more lately, enjoying the gained confidence in your step as you cemented your place in the team. The sway of your hips or the swing of your arms. You mesmerized him no matter what you did. One time he got so caught up in his thoughts of you that Prentiss had to check he wasn’t having a silent panic attack. He clung to his sense of resentment, tried so hard to remind himself of the feelings he had when he first met you - you were beautiful, of course you were - but you were on claimed land and he was anything but eager for you to make home on it. That had faded fast, seeing how kind you were, scrambling to help and earn respect from everyone. The only reason he kept up the act of “man who wants you gone” was so that he could keep talking to you. Spencer was a genius but he didn’t know how to handle someone like you. He’d been interested in girls before, hell he’d had girlfriends before but it had never felt like this in such little time. Such intense infatuation was crippling for someone who’s brain worked in patterns - this was new ground for him.

“Everybody suit up. We have Foster’s location and we need to move quickly. He’s going after the source of his rage and we don’t have time to spare.” Hotch came down the stairs two at a time, spurring the team into action.

“This man is highly dangerous but also highly deluded. The cases I’ve read similar to this say it’s best to speak gently. He’s sick but he can be reasoned with.” Spencer pulls from his memory as he sets his ‘FBI’ vest into place on his chest.

“No, not this time. This man is too severe, his mind is too far gone. If these hallucinations of his are strong enough for him to touch them it’ll be extremely easy for him to rearrange or imagine your words differently. You need to be loud, direct, and assertive. Speak as little as possible. The quieter you are, the easier it will be for him to change what you’re saying in his head.” You also spoke while putting your vest on. You didn’t carry a weapon - a personal vow of yours, as you were more than classified to - so there were no holsters to fill. The contradictions between the two doctors of the team made everyone hesitate even though they lacked the time to do so.

Spencer looked at you, slightly out of breath from working so quickly. “You’re questioning my memory?”

“I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor. I’m questioning your sources. There’s a higher risk level if we do what you’re suggesting. Let me do my job.” You made the final adjustments to your attire as you finished speaking. You returned his eye contact for just a beat too long, letting the others rush out of the building while you stood your ground, the two of you begrudgingly following after them a moment later.

You had been assigned a different car than him for the ride over. ‘Thank God’ was the only thing you could think when you saw him heading to the other SUV. After another confrontation - another public one, at that - you weren’t sure you could handle being pressed leg to leg with him in the backseat. Your words were a looping record in his head as he rode towards Foster. They were about to attempt a hostage negotiation with a man seeing people who weren’t there but all he could think about was that fucking word you refused to drop.

I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor

You had to be doing this on purpose, he thought. He originally believed this had started because you knew stripping him of his beloved title would cause irritation. Now he suspected you knew how badly he wanted his name in your mouth and this was your way of torturing him. ‘It’s working.’ He thought. God was it working. He agreed with his team, you were perfect for him. You had knowledge to match his, kept him on his toes. One time the start of a ramble slipped through his “I don’t like you” façade and he felt his heart speed up at the genuine interest that roused in your eyes. You wanted to know him and he was an idiot for all the shit he was doing.

He wasn’t surprised when your strategy worked and Ben Foster was taken into custody. You were the one to talk him down, and if you hadn’t already been accepted to the team, he knew then and there that they needed you. You were flawless. He knew you’d been doing this as long as he had and it showed. He pleaded with himself to stay focused, zeroed in on the weight of the gun in his hand to save face. His mind never left you, though, much like his eyes. This was the expertise you spoke of - no wonder they fought hard to get you here.

“You were excellent in there.” It was just the two of you now. Even in the dull, flashing police lights, you were breathtaking. “Good job.” He said. Then he walked away because he was on the brink of kissing you and didn’t feel like breaking about 18 workplace rules while at the scene of a crime. You wouldn’t have been complaining if he did.

Every time something like this happened it was difficult to remind yourself that not carrying a weapon was a choice you made willingly. You were currently sitting in the back of an open ambulance, about to be hoisted onto a stretcher and driven to the ER for stitches. You’ve been with the BAU for almost 3 months now and have miraculously managed to avoid injury in that time. This had been one of the easier cases. No chases or clues to follow, just a sick man who left a fairly obvious paper trail. You were the speaker on almost all cases. You were in charge of de-escalating a situation, making sure the bomb didn’t blow. You’ve never carried a weapon, always preferring to take the wounds of a job over using a gun to back up your words. You were a psychiatrist, you wanted to make people better, not vilify them. It worked, usually. People did tend to trust you more when you were unarmed. This time, though, it got you stabbed.

It wasn’t a bad injury, the blood had already stopped and was mildly dry by the time Spencer was joining you. Just one more scar to your collection. It was to the side of your quad, missing any artery by miles and just serving as a pain source at this point. A little numbing and some stitches and you’d be right as rain is what the doctor in the ambulance had said.

“What happened?” He spoke softly to you. There wasn’t a rivalry between you two, not really. The banter hadn’t stopped, but it changed. It was playful and actually fun now. The both of you weren’t obsessed with outdoing the other anymore. Some casual boastfulness and a budding friendship is where you were at with him currently.

“I got stabbed.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

He exhaled like he couldn’t comprehend the stupidity of your answer. You laughed at that. One enjoyable pastime you’d picked up in the past month was trying to bewilder him. The EMT said he needed to check the rest of your body for injury despite your protest of such a procedure. It was typical and you knew that, but you held onto the fear of your own body that middle school gave you. There was a man you liked here, and the thought of him seeing the bit of stomach that hung outside the waistline of your pants scared you more than you thought it would. You forced yourself to be rational in spite of this. It was Spencer, you wanted to be seen by him.

“Holy shit.”

You chuckled at that. You forgot that maybe a warning was in order for the amount of scars that littered your stomach.

“Probably should have told you about those.” There were dozens. You amassed a countless amount of scars over the course of your job. Stab wounds, bullet grazes, burn marks. Unsubs, as much as you tried to empathize, were often violent at the end of the day and usually lashed out before they could be helped.

He was staring - well, gazing more like. Not like someone stares at a car accident on the freeway but instead how someone stares at the moon - awe. He was in awe of you. Your strength, your courage, the fact that you went through all these individual events and still chose not to arm yourself. Some of these were in places that could have been fatal, and he thanked whatever entity may be listening that you persevered, begged them to continue that streak. He crashed hard into the desire to touch you, to run his hands over what little of your past he could see. He wondered if you would let him. If you’d fit into his palms the way he thought you would - if that was something you even wanted. The EMT was gone by now, having moved to the passenger seat for the ride to the hospital.

“Could I - " He hesitated for a moment, this was definitely the wrong question to ask. “Can I touch you?”

Your eyes glazed over slightly. Jesus. You felt your lips part a little.

“You want to?” Genuine surprise. You didn’t think you looked particularly desirable in your current state. He wanted to touch your fucking scars. Who does he think he is?

“Please.” He was looking at you in a way you hadn’t seen before. His eyes were glazed over too. You held his eyes as you nodded. The heat was so stifling that you laughed just a little at the tension.

“Fucking hell, Spence.”

Blood shot to his ears when you said his name. It had been well worth the wait to hear you say it like that - breathy and confused and so fucking pretty that he wondered how he ever lived before you said it.

“Will you tell me about them?” He was breathy too, but he wouldn’t have you here, not like this. He just needed to feel you.

“I’ll tell you anything you want, Doc.”

His hands were warm. It wouldn’t be the last time you felt them.

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jymwahuwu · 6 months ago

Text

Content warnings: yandere, angst(?), some descriptions of capitalism, you're locked up

Summary: You are a bakery owner and you and your shop are going to be evicted by the IPC. Unfortunately, Aventurine is the one handling the plans.

Note: I suddenly want to write this very much...sorry, I don't know what I am writing...🥹

According to the calendar of your home planet, you spent all your savings and bought a bakery three years ago.

Once upon a time, you had your own ideals, which were woven into unrealistic dreams in your childhood paintings. When you become an adult, you realize that adults use lies to pile up in school and blow up beautiful bubbles. Those lies are probably the beginning of your idealized misfortune. Your dream goes from unrealistic to another. Under consumerism, you want a property of your own, with one room, a large living room, an open kitchen, and a ceiling where you can sleep while looking at the stars. Approximately 8,000,000 credits. You deposit money into the Cosmic Bank. Staring at the rising numbers in the bank account with tired eyes, health has been replaced by some slowly rising numbers and countless nights.

Then, you collapse. Your ideal transforms into a spaceship for 1,200,000 credits. However, classmates and friends of Universe University in the same year shared on social media that they had gotten married step by step, had children, and had a lovely next generation from the artificial womb. The venue for their proposal was on a romantic planet with endless sea, sky and seagulls. A growing sense of comparison creates unnecessary suffering. Others tell you, go ahead, just like others, work, save money, buy a house, buy a car, get married, have children, bring new blessings to the universe, and believe in an Aeon you like.

Best is Qlipoth. They said. Everyone said so.

That's the Aeon that IPC fervently believes in. They may not necessarily know about the walls and protections made by Qlipoth, but people must know that IPC is a huge company involved in the economy of the entire universe. Their golden bodies symbolize enviable wealth in people's eyes.

But spacecraft are out of reach. You figured this out through a cheap and unpalatable 10-credit lunch and a scolding from your boss. You know you should set a more realistic goal.

Then let’s get a car with 30,000 credits. There are also jewelry for 50,000 credits. I'll go shopping after get off work. you said so.

You walked into the store and bought a car that met your expectations despite the salesperson's inner eye rolls and eager sales. Stroking its shell, eager joy surges into your heart, as if your hard work has been transformed into a visible reward. This is valuable. And jewelry, you buy a necklace that sparkles around your neck.

Your face was hot with excitement. There is value in this, keep it to yourself and it will appreciate in value!

Trembling with excitement, there is endless emptiness behind the joyful smile. Cosmic Express is responsible for delivering express delivery to your home. You browse the Internet and buy a list of unnecessary things to fill your misery and pain and stop the bleeding that might come out.

Then one day you quit your job after another scolding, knowing that you are just a cog in the functioning of society. You don't want to live like this anymore, but you don't know how to live without money and without getting married like others. You buy a spaceship ticket and wander off randomly. Romantic, casual and comfortable life. You think idealistically again to cheer yourself up. No matter where you go, you have to start a new life.

You arrive on a new planet, a beautiful and highly developed space society. The dome has a transparent dome woven from Qlipoth that envelopes the entire planet. You have heard that IPC has its headquarters here, but some say it is just one of its branches. Regardless, they obsessively imitated the architecture of Aeon Qlipoth, constructing a towering building with a beautiful transparent glass dome. It is stationed on the planet like a banyan tree, tirelessly absorbing money and energy.

You bought a small, independent bakery on one of the shopping streets, renovated it and prepared it for opening and used up almost all the credit in your bank account. But, you are happy, from the bottom of your heart, practicing your baking recipes and thinking about a bright future. On opening day, you put up a sign with a design on it. And greets all guests warmly. They smell the aroma of bread, follow the traces and step into your store, buying this and that bread and drinks. The aroma of food, warm bread, that is the breath of life.

One month after opening, Aventurine stepped into your bakery. When socializing at work, he accompanied his clients to drink and enjoy haute cuisine, with a charming smile. During lunch, he would choose a coffee shop or an elegant restaurant to sit and browse the stock market and invest. Those tens of millions of money came and went, only in exchange for a smile or a sip of coffee from him. Wonderful afternoon. Beautiful gamble. But that day, he smelled a different aroma of bread, and realized that a new store had opened in the commercial street.

He walked into the store and browsed the golden bread. Aventurine spent 2 minutes choosing toast and croissants, listening to the sound of money arriving on his phone. He glanced at you, who was in uniform and busy. It was inevitable that he thought from a professional and utilitarian perspective, wondering how this narrow store did not meet the requirements of modern business. Decoration, bread production, marketing, and store staffing. It would be foolish to hire just one clerk. Hiring just one more clerk can lead to more revenue. You obviously have your hands full.

He spent 2 minutes in line. When it was Aventurine's turn to pay, you gave him a warm smile, as warm as sunshine. These days, you remember some familiar faces of your customers. You're a little surprised by the new-faced customers arriving at the store.

You greet him and ask if he wants a takeout or just enjoy it in the store.

"Right here, thank you." Aventurine replied.

So Aventurine sat down, right in the bakery. He munched his bread and invested his money, living his daily life. Day after day, weeks and months passed. Occasionally, he pays attention to you. You always do all the work in the store, packing the bread, putting it on the shelves, and doing the cashiering. So one day, He asked out of curiosity. “Isn’t the bakery owner going to hire an extra employee?”

You opened your eyes wide and smiled awkwardly. "I-I'm the owner of this bakery."

Ah, so here's the answer. Aventurine nodded, you may not have more funds, but he accidentally started to invest and play, just like the play he had not completed in childhood. He loved investing, which was like finding a pearl in the ocean, playing Monopoly, playing with his assets. A desire arose spontaneously, satisfying his heart. "Have you considered expanding the store and staff? I see your bakery is very popular. I've witnessed many, but none like this, and swear there's some potential here."

"Really?" You were a little shy in the compliment. He was surprised at your naivety. "Thank you, but I have no plans yet."

"Oh, you're eating Brioche today." You looked down at the bread he selected. "You are a familiar face. Let me give you a discount. It only costs 200 credits."

Aventurine was about to refuse, but heard your question. "If you don't mind, could you tell me what you do for a living?"

He didn't understand the specific reason. Aventurine didn't want to reveal his work in front of you, so he muttered vaguely. "I'm in the gambling business."

"You mean the casino?" You blinked.

"Yeah, yes," he replied.

"That must be hard…" You recalled the casino in the drama, where the gamblers seemed likely to fight. He must have been mediating frequently there. After thinking about it, you gave him extra drinks and bread. “Here’s today’s special offer!”

Aventurine held the drink at a loss, feeling that the cold drink was radiating heat.

On a rainy and windy afternoon, Aventurine won't sit at your outdoor table. He returned to the IPC with the bread and pressed the button for the lift. One of the members of Ten Stonehearts saw him and asked caringly. "I can't see you eating in the office lately. Can you be full just by eating bread?"

"It's okay. I fill up easily." He smiled politely, even though he had eaten some more bread… He didn't refuse your offer.

He finished chewing the bread while scrolling through your bakery’s social media feeds on his phone. You like to update the bakery's social media and have accumulated about a few hundred likes per post. In the photo, you shared a new type of bread, and your passion for life is reflected in your eyebrows and eyes.

The department meeting is just after lunch. The holographic screen fluttered IPC's business plans and developments. IPC announced that one of its small plans was to acquire a new commercial street and all the businesses would have to move out. His eyes reflected the glowing words- your bakery is on that commercial street.

Gradually, that friendly customer who works at the casino becomes too busy to visit your bakery, or he finds a new restaurant. There's something empty inside you, like a piece is missing.

New signs were posted in the neighborhood, and other store owners who often borrowed flour and other supplies from each other knocked on your door and told you that the Interastral Peace Corporation was buying the street and that every store was going to be evicted. This will be the place where a new type of space commercial city will be built. Many companies will settle in and open stores. It will be beautiful and modern, just like other space commercial cities. You'd better discuss a compensation plan with IPC now and strive for better terms.

IPC may compromise, but with other economic systems of the entire planet, not with a small commercial street. They do what they say they will do.

Like a bolt from the blue, you repeatedly confirmed and asked questions. Why does it have to be here? Why? What are their plans? How much will the compensation be? The IPC wants the compensation to be as small as possible, and the shop owners will fight for it, but the court is on their side. So don’t be too tough in your attitude, be more diplomatic, be more worldly, and seek more benefits for you. they said.

Many shop owners have signed up for the compensation plan. You are one of the few shop owners who are too stubborn to embrace the world. Guard this shop like a dragon guarding the last treasure. As the deadline gets closer, you notice more rude customers, the ingredient supplier says they can no longer serve you, and some negative messages and reviews appear to smear you. There are also people in all-black uniforms looking outside your store. That's downright creepy.

But you are not afraid, what you are afraid of is that something will be taken away from you again. Those capitalists are used to taking something from you and then giving you something in compensation. Before it was salary, now it's compensation plans.

Occasionally, you bow to reality and pay attention to some new stores, but those prices cannot be bought with compensation.

One night, before you close the shop, you hear the sound of construction work, destroying the original shops. It's not loud and noisy, it's a new space construction technology, but you're terrified and just want to pack up and go home. You have filed a complaint with the court. Once again, you place your hopes on the ethereal, and then you see a figure appear at the window of the bakery.

Ah, it's that customer. He must be here to support you and buy bread.

You maintained your smile and greeted him, "I haven't seen you recently. Where have you been?"

Aventurine just stared. There was some compassion in his expression, and his features were soft. He knew that the gentlest of measures would not work. “…let me talk to you about the new compensation plan.”

You were stunned for a while. "…What do you mean?"

He hands you a card with neatly printed handwriting and the IPC logo.

“Aventurine, Senior Manager in the IPC Strategic Investment Department”

You held the card and read it for a while before looking up at him. Your throat was dry but tears were streaming down your face. The holographic screen projects a new plan, specially prepared for you stubborn, idealistic people, to provide better compensation.

"…Go away, I don't want to see you!" You paused for half a minute before getting angry and pushing him out of the store. What flows inside is anger at the betrayal, even though you know he doesn't have to support you. Aventurine's arms opened up to embrace you. You were shocked, struggling, and sobbing. "I don't want to see you…you are with them…I have nothing, and you still want to take it away…"

Halted like an emotional kitten, you whimpered, tired from sobbing, sleep overtook you and darkness enveloped you.

You opened your eyes and found yourself in a luxurious room, with stars visible on the ceiling and a soft quilt covering you. Pillow supports your head. You adjusted to the light for a few seconds, frowned, and moved your hands, but the sound of the chain sounded. You looked at the chains on your hands, stunned, shaking and struggling. "What-what's going on?"

"Ah, you're awake." Aventurine opened the door and came in. He touched your forehead, and you realized that the clothes you were wearing had also been changed. They were a set of pajamas. "What happened?" You shook the chain in your hand in confusion. "Someone attacked us last night?" "Um, it's not like that actually."

Aventurine comforted you and shushed you. "You're locked in. Shhh...shhh, don't scream. I know this may be hard to accept at first, but you'll see the benefits."

He explained, to your expression like a frightened little animal. "…For business purposes, I looked into your background. You've been having a hard time, haven't you? Now you finally have time to relax. This is one of my houses, and it's yours, too."

"I didn't ask you..." Tears welled up in your eyes. Are you going to be locked up? "I know." Aventurine stroked your head gently. "I know, now just relax. I'll take care of the bakery. We'll open a new one somewhere with the ocean, you know, new plans."

You noticed that he used the word "we," which made your heart feel strangely warm. You were speechless, closed your eyes, turned around, a tear flowed down your cheek, and the chain creaked.

This is your new reality, but at least you can rest, right?

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x you

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lure-of-writing · 8 months ago

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His little sister

Summary: Azriel point of view of the things you do as Rhysands little sister (This should be read only after reading all in a days work and knock before you enter otherwise it probably won't make any sense as you need the know what happened in the other two for this to make sense )

word count: 2.5 k

Note: Hello! For a while I was stumped on how to continue the little sister series so boom! I present to you Azriel's pov. I would love to hear what you guys think about having things from this perspective also! please don't be shy and let me know!

The playful touches and not so subtle glances across the room paired with the seductive bit of your lip as it lifts into a forbidden smile is not lost upon the spymaster of the night court. In fact everything you did never went unnoticed by him. As Rhysands little sister he was more or less forbidden from having any relationship with you that was purely platonic or sibling-like. Much to the high lord's irritation, once you learned of the rules set in place for the general and the shadow singer, you had made it your own personal mission to see just how much you could get away with. Just how far could you bend the rules before your older brother snapped?

Azriel was well aware of the game you played in hopes of causing your brother a small amount of distress. Unfortunately for him, he respected his high lord and his wishes to much to counter your advances with some of his own but that doesn’t mean he can’t help you accomplish your lifes works of making your brother rub his temples with a long sigh and a shot of whiskey or which ever bottle of alcohol appeared before him first.

It had been just a few short weeks after your fifteenth birthday when you had learned about the guidelines Rhys had set for the two other males in your family. Being told what to do never sat well with you, neither did being told who you can and can’t do things with. At first your reaction was to find your brother and argue with him until he couldn’t think straight but when you were on the way to his office you bumped into your favorite member of the bat boys. Azriel was leaning against the wall of Rhysands office waiting for his meeting with Helion when you were stuck with a brilliant idea. “Az?” his hazel eyes shifted from the dark oak doors to where you stood in the middle of the hall. “Yes?” as soon as the word had left his mouth he knew you were up to something. It was the way your eyes lit up in excitement and you shuffled over to him with hurried steps. Huddled close to his body you beaconed him to lean down so you could whisper in his ears. Wordlessly he follows your commands. “Would you like to help me make Rhys question why he was blessed with being my brother?”

The sly smile and trouble that brewed in your eyes was enough to get him to say yes. Not like he could ever say no to you in the first place but that wasn’t important. From that moment on he would allow you to flirt with him and crawl into his lap with no rejection. This drove Rhysand up a wall. He said that they could not try to flirt with you but you never said anything about it being the other way around and you had taken full advantage of that each and every single time the opportunity presented itself.

Family dinners amongst the inner circle were never an uncommon thing but since everything that transpired over the last fifty something years had the family dinners becoming a more common tradition. After dinner talks and catching up had been moved to the living room. Silently Azriel sat by himself, listening to his family talk. Perfectly content with listening rather than speaking. While Cassian went on this third rant about why he was certain that he could fight Bryaxis, if and big if here, they weren’t so scary looking, when you had gotten up from where you were sat next to Mor on the floor. He watched as you left the room and not even a second later his shadows informed him that you were getting another wine.

His attention shifted from his brother onto you when you had reentered the room with a glass full of wine and strutted over to him and made yourself comfortable in his lap. Az would never admit it but the feeling of your arm draped over his shoulder and playing with his hair was one of his favorite feelings in the world. As your body leaned into his, the temperate difference between the two of you became very apparent to the shadowsinger. Without thinking he placed his much warmer hand on your freezing and goosebump covered leg to help warm you back up. The slit in your dress had done nothing to help keep you warm.

Without saying anything he watched as his brother marched his way over to where you had chosen to sit, also known as Azriels lap. He watched as Rhys reached his hand out in hopes of pulling you off of closest friend and he watched as Rhysands face morphed into one of confusion to anger as Azriels wings furled around you to keep your brother from grabbing you from him. If there was one thing that the shadowsinger knew with one hundred percent certainty, it was that you could handle yourself. The context didn’t matter, you could always handle yourself. So while you and your brother went back and front he mindlessly began to rub comforting circles where his hand had found purchase on your leg. And once Rhysand had made his way back to his mate, he had leaned down and pressed his lips against your hairline. “You are a menace” giggling you smile up at him before shrugging and taking a sip of your forgotten wine.

Visiting the court of nightmares was never something that brought Azriel much joy. More often than not he was watching for any threats against his high lord's life, now he had to worry about his high lady also. It wasn’t as if Azriel wasn’t capable of handling such a task but when you had revealed that you would also be in attendance, it brought Azriel another level of stress. He knew that you could handle the court politics and the volleyball of words sent back and forth with hidden messages. Hell you had even been trained by all three males and Morrgian. You were more than capable of looking out for yourself but there has always been a part of Azriel that couldn’t rest when he knew you could be in danger at any moment.

Now the notoriously quiet male, while known for not saying much, always had something to say when it came to you. There was no comment too small that you made that didn’t get an answer from Az in return. As you finally made your way down the staircase to your awaiting family Azriel had just about a thousand thoughts and compliments he could give you at any moment. While your brother had a meltdown in the background all Azriel could focus on was you and as you made your way down the last few steps he reached his hand out helping you the rest of the way down. Shamelessly he looked you up and down not caring that your brother just might beat his ass for looking at you in such an outfit. Once his eyes reached your, you sent him a wink and beaming smile. Az could tell that you had wanted to ask him what he thought of your clothing choices but decided that dealing with your brother would be the best idea before he dragged you back up the stairs himself and forced you to change.

While at the place of nightmares the shadows that sung to Azriel hung close to his body, only leaving to secretly watch over you and make sure you were ok. For most of the night all was well, at least as well as things can get in the court of nightmares. That was until his shadow came back to inform their master of the predicament that had presented itself to you. He watched from afar as you pushed your way out of the crowd and towards himself. Pushing off of the pillar he was once perched against he made his way towards you. Az’s blood began to boil when he watched the random fae male wrap his arms around your waist and pulled your body into his. In two long strides he was in front of the strange male and yourself, demanding he release his grip on you or he would do it for him. There wasn’t a part of Azriel that enjoyed the violence he brings upon those he was tasked with gathering information from but holding truth teller to the male's neck did in fact bring him joy.

Upon your release he guided you back to where he was previously standing to make sure you were ok and that the random male didn’t inflict any harm to you. After his thorough evaluation of your body met his standards he returned his gaze to meet your and suddenly your cold hand was pressed against his warm cheek and the burn of the two temperatures had never felt so nice before. Once again your hand had found its resting place in his hair and your lips on his and Azriel swore hes never felt something as soft as your lips on his. As soon as your lips had met his, Az knew he was in for a whole world of pain when Rhysand got his hands on him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Az recently pulled away when he felt the anger of his high lord coming at him with the purpose of making him bow to the power radiating off of Rhysand. “We should probably get out of here before he kills you.” looking down he saw the mischief twinkling in your eyes and he positive nobody can pull off that look quite like you can. The wink you sent over your shoulder as you grab his hand pulls him out of the trance you had put him in. Willingly Azriel followed your lead out of the ball room while you bumped into his arm periodically. “Honestly he just might kill us both.” he felt you mumble into his shoulder as you hid your face and laughter in his body. Chuckling he couldn’t help but agree before winnowing you back to the house of wind.

After Rhyand had actually considered beating the shadowsinger to a pulp your usual antics had dwindled in frequency which saddened Azriel more than he was willing to admit. During training you kept clear of him in case your brother didn’t approve of you even looking in his general direction and it had been almost two weeks since he had last talked to you for more then five minutes and honestly it was starting to drive him crazy. After a family dinner consisting of you, Nesta, Cassiand and himself he finally approached you. “You're going to the Summer court tomorrow right?” As the resident know-it-all he already knew your answer but he waited nonetheless “Yes?” Azriel watches as you place your book in your lap to give him your full attention and he swears he could bask in it forever. “I’m not doing anything for the next week, would you like me to go with you?” The beaming smile you sent him was confirmation enough.

That's how he found himself in your room the next morning helping you get ready. You had asked his opinion on basically every piece of your outfit and Azriel had never been so happy to assist someone put together their clothes for the day. After you had pulled all the needed pieces of clothing from your closest you held up the corset you picked for him to see. “I’ll need your help putting this on.” And that's how once again Azriel feared Rhys would consider pummeling him once more.

Not once during Rhysands withering glare did Azriel stop pulling the strings of your corset until they were tight enough and only then did he gently pull the strings into a bow before removing his hands from your body. After finishing his assigned task Az thought it was best to leave the siblings to deal with each other and he would wait for you on the rooftop to begin your journey to the summer court. Only after he could assume was a long lecture from your older brother on being safe did the two of you join him on the roof. “I swear if a single hair on her head is out of place I will kill you.” As much as Azriel wanted to laugh at the worn out sound of his friend he simply nodded his head before acknowledging what he said.

The week in the summer court with you felt more like two days. Any time with you never felt like enough. On the way back Rhysand had talked to him and you that he wanted a debrief before you did anything upon your return. Gently he set you back on the ground once he had landed in front of the river house and he already missed the feeling of your body on his. He really wished and in that moment that he never agreed to those rules Rhysand had set for him and Cassian all those hundred of years ago.

The silence that engulfed the room would make anyone who didn’t know the two males squirm from how uncomfortable it was, but these two males had dealt with much more stressful problems and had sat in more silence than the average people did. Azriel knew that lately your antic had been pushing the line but he had never stopped you nor had he ever thought too. Mainly because he didn’t want you too but also in fear that if he asked you to stop you would never come to him again. “Truly Rhys there is nothing going on between me and your sister. You and I both know she only does this to get under your skin and she does that very well. As long as it bothers you then she will keep doing it. You know this.”

After a long and much needed talk Azriel made his way to the stand outside of the river house collecting a much needed breath of fresh air while he came to terms with his conversation with his oldest friend. A few moments pass before you come waltzing out of the house as if you had accomplished some great mission. “Maybe next time he’ll knock” Azriel knew exactly what you were talking about and couldn’t help but laugh at what you said. He didn’t need to ask you what you did as the one shadow that always kept you company told him all about what you had just done to your brother and his poor unsuspecting mate. Without another word Azriel scooped you into his arm while pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. Gods he wished this wouldn’t be the last time he felt your skin against his lips.

Rhysand had asked him to put a stop to your behavior towards him. Not that you made the shadowsinger uncomfortable, gods no, you could never do that. It was just you were your brother's pride and joy and he refused to let the males he considered his brothers to be the reason your heart broke. Rhysand would never be able to forgive or look at Azriel the same and he knew that. Azriel just wished the golden string tying the two of you together didn’t have to be hidden from everyone including you.

Taglist: @kemillyfreitas @gorlillaglue25 @willowpains

#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #rhysand x sister!reader

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captain-joongz · 2 months ago

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The moon hangs heavy; Dragonheart ch.2

Pairing: OT7 dragon!BTS x knightess!reader

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

Chapter summary: The depth of mistrust between dragons and humans is tried when Jungkook attempts to welcome a new addition to his life. Meanwhile his rider fights her own demons in her own home.

Word count: cca 13.8k

Warnings: there's pov switches beware!! first person is reader pov, third person is bangtan pov!!, a bit of toxic family, slight angst, otherwise not much

Series masterlist | Previous Part | Next part

Lore | Dictionary | Character studies

A/N: alrighty folks! here we go, the next chapter of dragonheart is here! things are picking up and now we'll spend a lot more time with all of the dragons! i always love to hear what you think, so don't hesitate to let me know! i hope you enjoy yourselves <3

I couldn’t even remember when I first started putting together the plan to dismantle this empire brick by fucking brick, but I’ve carried hatred against it for as long as I knew what an empire was. Maybe it was my father’s fault, maybe I saw his ways and I wanted to go against that, maybe it was because ever since I was small he dragged me with him between all these dinners and balls and banquets, and I saw all that depravity, all that mold, the rotten heart of the beast.

Wars, suffering, endless toil and loss, and for what? For spoiled nobility and cruel kings? For an empire that saw its people as endless supplies of weapons in battles that they didn’t want and that brought back nothing? The Li Dynasty in its thousand years of reign only brought terror onto the land, into the hearts of its people, and onto anyone who ever dared to go against it.

Once upon a time, this was nothing more than a small struggling kingdom, Wuyun nothing more than a little town with barely a fortress, and now it spanned across half the continent. It devoured everything around it and squeezed it dry, pulled it into its machine of death. War after a war, battle after a battle, until there was nothing left to conquer, but still wanting for more.

Around us kingdoms rose and fell, and the only reason Gong-li didn’t also hit its expiration date was the endless exploitation of the dragonkind. If the emperor didn’t have them to fall back onto, if dragons weren’t too dangerous to fight against and other still surviving lands weren’t too afraid to invite war with such beasts against them, this dynasty would have died a long time ago.

But with such powerful dangerous weapons (it does pain me to say that, but unfortunately that is what dragons have become) in the hands of children (because that’s what we were in their eyes), we still sat at the top of the food chain and became practically impossible to dismount.

Hubris was a terrible thing. And it would always lead to a downfall. I vowed myself to be that downfall.

Tightening my training attire one more time and giving myself last look in the silver mirror, I gave myself a firm nod and left to join the family at breakfast.

As soon as I entered the dining area, my father gave me a curt smile and gestured to the seat to his left side. My brother was sitting to his right, silently eating and reading through a stack of documents. Unlike the older male, he barely even acknowledged my presence and continued on expressionlessly in his task.

I tensely returned the smile and folded myself to the dark comfortable pillow, immediately hungrily digging in. The General lightly patted me on my shoulder, his good mood reflected in the way he happily ate his food and interacted with us calmly, which made me fight the scowl off my face to not accidentally aggravate him.

Ever since I returned from the banquet, I’d been in my father’s good graces. Somehow word has already travelled to him that I had been around the Bangtan thunder and I returned to a suspiciously pleased father sitting in the drawing room area waiting for me with praises. He’s been more open to me since, now that he had a chance to peacock about my accomplishments again, and it was putting me on edge. I was more used to being on his wrong side, and through the years I learnt that it was safer to skirt the grey area, as he tended to be more infuriated when we disappointed him after we’d “been so good”.

“You’ll come to the castle with me tomorrow,” the man simply stated, in a manner that revealed he was used to being obeyed. It took me a moment of silence to realise he was speaking to me and not my brother, and I looked up surprised, meeting his dark eyes.

“Yes, father,” slipped the automatic answer through my lips, “Why am I needed?” I needed to ride this good wave for as long as it was possible, so I’d also been playing it safe with him and was being more agreeable than usual. If he thought it suspicious, he said nothing about it.

“You will meet the emperor. He’s curious about Bangtan’s new rider.” The older man satisfiedly licked his lips, like a lazy spoiled cat getting cream, while I froze in my seat with a spoon halfway to my lips. Dread like no other gripped me, spreading through my body in cold currents and turning my stomach to lead. I almost felt a little dizzy with the impact of the statement.

“Yes, father,” this time it came out only a shaky whisper, but the man didn’t care, didn’t look my way again, only nodded and left us siblings sitting there.

When I finally managed to tear my gaze away from the spot our father occupied just a moment ago, I looked straight into my brother’s blank eyes. He regarded me wordlessly for a few long seconds and then stood up as well, food left unfinished on his plate.

“Don’t do anything stupid, please,” he muttered and walked away.

I looked after him almost mournfully, but in the end forced myself to get back to my own breakfast. A lump in my throat made it somewhat harder to swallow, but I did my best to push those feelings away and not dwell on how my brother’s dismissal was always a bigger gut punch than our father’s.

I didn’t remember the older man as ever being gentle, but the memories from my childhood, before we were both ruined by the General, plagued me every time I was faced with this new cold version of the once happy boy. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. How far into our hearts did our ruin reach?

When finished, I quickly moved through the house to collect all needed belongings and got on my way to the training grounds. The nervous shake in my hands started up again, and in panic I tried to go over some strategies in my head over how I wanted the noon to go. Chances were it wasn’t going to go according to any of them, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Jungkook was already waiting by the training area, leaning into the wooden pole fencing off the sandy duel ring where one on one sword training usually took place. Coming closer, I had to temp down some evident excitement suddenly coursing through my veins, and I internally scolded myself. Now wasn’t the time to lose it, I had to keep it together.

Just as I was about to shout my greeting, I realised there was actually another person with him. His dark blue hair shined under the sun, and the silvery scales on his beautiful face made the light reflect in a way that almost seemed to be too stunning to be real. By the blush that immediately arrived on my face and made me stutter in the light jog, I knew I was once again in the company of the one and only Jimin.

But out of the corner of my eye I saw another presence.

Jungkook already spotted me and waved me over. There were some awkward greetings and smiles before uncomfortable silence stretched around us. Jimin was watching me with a spark of amused curiosity, but I saw a shadow of something darker in his gaze. Something mistrustful and wary. Which, dragons had every right to be apprehensive at first, but something about him put me on edge, like it was about more than just the usual gap between our kinds.

The third person finally joined us, jogging happily to us with a wide smile stretching across his face. I saw both of the dragons’ faces immediately relax and soften, and I realised it must be another member of their thunder.

With a wildly beating heart and clammy palms I fully took him in, still feeling a little star-struck in the presence of such a powerful pack. His hair was wavy, falling into his eyes and around his ears in artful arches, the sun reflecting powerfully off of the copper reddish colour of the locks. I noticed some beads weaved into them as they bounced with his movement. But the most prominent feature were the beautiful horns sprouting from his hairline – they were curved back slightly, following the shape of his head, and antler-like. They were as long as the top of his head, cutting off above the crown of it. I tried not to gawk at them too obviously, but they were beautiful, so I probably failed miserably. Not that he seemed to mind.

His lithe form was brimming with energy and the man seemed to have a joyous personality, face shining with a smile and eyes full of mirth. I understood immediately why just looking at him set the boys more at ease, even I felt myself getting more comfortable and loose under the rays of his happiness.

“Hobi-hyung!” Jungkook shouted out, nearly vibrating and full of toothy grins. Based on his reaction (to which I didn’t secretly smile at all, I was cold as stone definitely) it was probable that the older dragon decided to drop in unannounced.

“Hello younglins,” the man greeted us with, extending the expression to me as well, which… fair. His smiley face turned to me, eyes scanning me head to toe with a calculating gaze, a sliver of seriousness surfacing through.

“My name is Hoseok. Nice to meet you, potential rider,” he introduced himself in the end. Whatever he saw when looking at me, I nervously hoped it wouldn’t make him get Jungkook to reject the bond.

With anxious eyes flitting around, I bowed to him which he reciprocated and then shook his offered hand, both of ours gloves firmly on. Jungkook and Jimin were both watching us with sharp eyes and bated breath, Jungkook hopeful and Jimin with that strange darkness I couldn’t fully place.

“Nice to meet you too, Sir Hoseok,” my voice wavered slightly, but I hoped they’d disregard it as usual nervousness when people met them, and wouldn’t read too much into it. That they wouldn’t find out just how desperate I was for this to work out.

“No sir here, young mistress, dragons don’t get titles,” he said it teasingly, but a little bitterness still wormed its way into his voice. I swallowed, finally taking my hand back after realising I’d been shaking it for a suspiciously long time and gave him my own wonky smile.

“I will call you Hoseok-ssi then,” I insisted, carefully toeing the line between polite and smarmy, “My name is Kang Y/N, of the northern clan.” I saw clearly how Hoseok tried and failed to keep his face neutral, how his smile froze and his eyebrows pulled together in a frown the moment he realised what family I belonged to. I tried not to let it hurt me. Tried not to panic that this was the end for me, and he’d never allow me near his thunder again.

“Neither of you rascals mentioned she is General Kang’s daughter,” he gritted through his teeth and stiff grin, eyes shooting daggers towards the two younger dragons. Both of them watched him with wide eyes, guilty and innocent all at once, trying to buy themselves some leeway.

I had no idea whether they didn’t mention on purpose or whether they forgot, but I had to quickly get on top of this.

“You know my father, huh?” I chuckled awkwardly, jumping in panicked before anything else could be said, “He does have quite the reputation.”

When Hoseok turned his gaze back to me, it was a lot less warm even though he was still grinning at me. I felt the shiver run through me at the change, my instincts suddenly kicking in now that he looked significantly less friendly.

“I fear there isn’t a single person in this city, maybe even in this empire, who doesn’t know your father,” came his stilted reply. And it made sense really, all of the dragons must have known my father for all his life. They’ve probably had to deal with him ever since he himself entered the Academy some 30 years ago. Yikes.

What does one say in a situation like this? Sorry about that? I would have killed him years ago if I didn’t need him alive still?

Another bout of extremely awkward silence blanketed over us, and with every second stretching I felt the dread pull me deeper and deeper into the mud, mind racing and trying to come up with a way to save this. My chest hurt from how fast my heart beat and I felt the panic licking at the seams of my mind, but in the end the atmosphere was saved by Jungkook himself.

“Don’t be too scared, hyung just has a personal vendetta against him,” the young dragon suddenly blurted out, immediately flushing as Jimin barely covered how he burst out laughing. Hoseok also froze and in wonder I saw some of the coldness melt away into embarrassment, the man rubbing at his neck awkwardly.

“You shouldn’t be saying things like that in front of her,” he whined lightly, and it was both a tease and a warning, but finally I shook myself out of my stupor and laughed as well.

“Don’t worry about it, as his daughter I’m more than used to people having grudges against him,” I said amicably, playing it as cool as I could with my hands shaking and tongue stuttering me up, “as I said – he has quite the reputation.”

Hoseok laughed politely, but his gaze was stuck on Jungkook, promising some kind of a dressing down later when they’re alone, which the young dragon steadily ignored with an easy smile, but in a way that made me queasy. It was foolish of me to forget the weight of tossing my surname around like that.

And I knew that tomorrow I’d meet the emperor and he’d give me his blessing, and then the thunder would have to accept me as Jungkook’s rider whether they wanted to or not. And I wouldn’t blame them for hating me.

“Hyung’s just stopping by,” Jungkook stated to me, turning from the red-head’s burning stare, “He had some of his own errands to run. He works with the infirmary.” It felt both like a weak attempt to ease my nerves and a careful nudge in the direction of the dragon’s abilities, as it was considered rude to ask.

He was a healer then, a nature magick gifted dragon. I took him in once more, ignoring the way he was now more wary of me and concluded that it fit him very well. In those brief few moments he didn’t yet know me he seemed to be the kind of person to heal you just by their presence, and stupidly I felt a pang of sadness at having lost that, no matter how fake of an attempt to be friendly it was.

Instead I turned to the tattooed dragon and smiled, falling down the polite small-talk rabbit hole for a few more sentences before Jimin took a seat at the top of the wooden fence and Hoseok eventually jogged a few steps away to lean against a stone archway of the building nearby to feel the relief of the shadow.

I was stuck in the blaring sun with Jungkook, already feeling the uncomfortable heat and sweat gathering under my black training clothes. It was hard to gauge what was Jungkook’s tolerance, but he seemed fine with a pep in his step and an easy grin on his face. I would almost call him excited.

He led us inside the ring, but no swords were in sight, leaving me to wonder what he had in mind. We stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Jungkook looked increasingly more and more amused, watching me struggle in the silence and unsure of what was in store for me, and admittedly I did want to smack him a little for it, but I swallowed the urge down with a little crooked grin.

Then suddenly the dragon flew into action. My first instinct was to bring my arms up in defence, expecting him to try and land a blow. Meetings like these usually consisted of some more fighting and duels to allow the dragons to check the strength and abilities of their potential bondeds, but Jungkook didn’t do any of that sort. He started warming up with jumping jacks.

A little confused, I caught onto the agenda and started imitating him, casting unsure glances towards the two packmates that were watching us jump in the middle of a sandy ring, but their expressions gave me nothing. The pack probably must have gone through this specific thing millions of times and have since settled into a routine.

“Do you know what my magick is?” he asked suddenly, mischief dripping off of him like this was a cheeky first date and not a military affair. I shook my head, but as the silence stretched and his eyes watched me expectantly, he was clearly waiting for some sort of verbal explanation.

“I only knew of Jimin-ssi’s powers,” even through clearing my throat my voice still came out scratchy and unsure, gaze nervously flitting to the mentioned dragon to catch whether he was upset or not. Jimin still gave me nothing, silvery blue eyes just as stormy and closed off as before.

I reasoned with myself that he was less flirty and playful because this was a serious matter, but he still unnerved me, and I faced similar looking rejection way too many times to not immediately recognise the beginning stages of it. He displayed mistrust beyond the usual reasons, and I had no idea why.

“I-I know you have a fire dragon in your thunder. And an atmokinetic,” the stutter came from me scrambling to keep up with Jungkook when he dropped to the ground and seamlessly transitioned into a squatting without any warning, but it was no less embarrassing. He hummed. Jimin and Hoseok looked on. I sweated. It was a mess.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly public knowledge what most of their powers were. Since the curse was first laid, dragons have learnt to be quite secretive when it came to the full extent of their special abilities and tended to choke the information so that only what they wanted was known. As such, I was only sure of three of their abilities – Namjoon’s fiery magick that often came into the public eye during battles, Jimin’s water magick that he was known for due to the worrying line of admirals who liked to bond him temporarily to gain upper hand in naval skirmishes and Yoongi’s darker and scarier powers that allowed him to bring rains and storms and pull black clouds and strong winds to us that made all our days just the more wearier.

There were rumours of course – whispers about a dangerous dragon capable of mind control and manipulation, or tales about one who shone as bright as a dying star, as the sun itself, who commanded light in a way that both warmed and hurt. But those were just that, rumours. I had no names to those, and the thunder certainly wasn’t forthcoming with anything, just as the emperor liked to control what we knew about them.

Bangtan was powerful and mysterious and that was it. That’s where it started and ended.

Jimin’s sudden chuckle brought me back to a pouting Jungkook doing squats like his life depended on it while I did my best to keep up.

“Nobody knows what our baby does yet,” he teased him, “Don’t worry Kook, you’ll put the seed of terror into all their hearts by the end of this year.” It was the kind of mocking that wasn’t meant to hurt and flew between people who actually liked each other and knew the limits of other’s senses of humour, and I curiously watched as Jungkook played up the pout even more before bursting into a toothy grin.

Then it caught up to me what the blue-haired dragon said and I stopped dead in my tracks, shocking Jungkook into freezing too. There was a suspicion at my heart that would explain everything that was happening right now, and I didn’t hesitate to speak it into the universe.

“Wait… is this your first year participating in the unit?” I blurted out and saw Hoseok tense up out of the corner of my eye. Jungkook spiritedly nodded and I felt both relief and horror.

“Kookie’s never had a rider,” Jimin supplied, really speaking to me for the first time since I arrived, “He’s only reached adulthood sixty years ago.”

A myriad of questions suddenly had answers in my mind – Jungkook fumbling the polite traditions at the banquet, the overprotective hovering that Jimin and Hoseok were exhibiting right now, the combative energy both of them lowkey exuded while Jungkook himself was a ball of excitement. Stepping into the unknown, for the first time.

At the bottom of it all was a huge boulder falling off of my chest at the thought that I wasn’t completely alone in this frightening and exhilarating new experience we had in front of us. Now, looking at us both be clueless and anxious and eager, I found myself relaxing considerably. We could be stupid about this together, and that was a relieving thought.

Jungkook was staring daggers into his hyung and whining that he was more adult than he made it sound, but his ears were red. Hoseok in the background fondly watched on, and suddenly I felt like too much of an intruder.

Clearing my throat, I called for his attention again and asked: “So what is your power?”

Jungkook’s big dark innocent eyes were back at me and he straightened up, only to start doing lunges. I scrambled to follow his lead, warming up with him with no idea what he was planning to do today.

I wondered whether he had any other potentials, but thinking back I haven’t seen him interact with any other of the first years. I hoped that whatever trials he prepared for me, I’d be able to successfully get through them.

“My magick is elemental,” the tatted dragon started explaining, “much like Jimin-hyung’s. But mine is earth.” I itched to ask more questions and get more details out of him, but I didn’t want to overstep. Jungkook may have looked like he’d gladly answer everything, but generally dragons didn’t like it and didn’t think it proper to probe, and I didn’t want to aggravate the two high strung hyungs stepping around the training grounds and watching their younger packmate with hawk eyes.

I watched them out of the corner of my eyes, and their warning gazes were already glued to me, but Jungkook looked at me with expectant eyes just begging to be asked for more details. Sweating bullets, I swallowed my silent tears and opened my dumb mouth. This is going to be more challenging than I thought, but in a way I could have never anticipated.

“How does that work?” I gritted through my teeth, trying to ignore Hoseok’s narrowed eyes or Jimin’s outright stare. Jungkook, though, brightened and changed back to jumping jacks for ease of talking.

“Much like hyung manipulates water, I can manipulate earth,” he begun cheerily, “tear it apart, tear chunks out and throw them, cause a chasm to open or small-scale earthquakes. I can also work with and manipulate stones and ore, not just dirt.” I gave him a wide-eyed stare, surprised to learn the extent of his powers, though some things were still a little vague. But I didn’t dare to ask more questions, I’ve already tried their patience too much.

“It also means he has tough skin. Impenetrable. And it makes him very strong, like a boulder,” to my surprise it was Jimin who volunteered this information, his curious eyes flittering cautiously between me, Jungkook and Hoseok still standing a few steps away.

“There’s a downside though,” Jungkook continued, “every power has its downside. Like a weakness. It’s tied into the nature of our magick. Like fire magick’s weakness would be water and ice.” The horror that seeped into Hoseok’s face quickly clued me into the fact that Jungkook just shared something he wasn’t supposed to say.

“Yes, but that isn’t something we need to talk about right now,” Jimin jumped in, shaken and panicked, throwing the youngest dragon a stare that could only be interpreted as a warning. Unsure, I stopped and glanced between the three dragons locked into some sort of a silent battle. After a few beats I realised they must have been talking telepathically, as that was something mated dragons could do.

“She’ll have to know anyway, as my bonded,” Jungkook said finally, firmly looking from his hyungs and offering me a smile. Shakily, I attempted to returned it, but it was hard with the burning I felt from the other’s stares. I couldn’t even fully process the fact that Jungkook basically announced that we would bond, the statement barely registering in my anxious mind.

What in the hell was going on?

Then Jungkook took off, only looking behind to beckon me as he started on a lap around the training grounds. Giving one last nervous glance to the two tense dragons, I took a deep breath and ran off after him.

Jungkook was fast and it took me a moment to catch up to him, but after a lap or two we settled into a comfortable pace side by side, and I slowly came to realise what this was. Endurance test. He wanted to know how strong and trained I was. With one less unknown to worry about, I fell into step with him and steeled myself to keep up for as long as I was capable of.

The silence was comfortable between us, a nice change from the charged atmosphere around the older dragons, but I couldn’t blame them for being so cautious, especially since it seemed Jungkook’s enthusiasm was sometimes faster than the well-earned distrust towards humans that every dragon harboured deep inside their heart. I dreaded to think of someone else in my position, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of his true earnest nature.

But even I was a risk – even I could misstep, hurt him. Even I could end up being a danger to him and his thunder. I had to make sure I wouldn’t.

“Have you ever met a dragon before?” Jungkook’s quiet voice pulled me out of my troubling thoughts. It was an unusual question, one that I had no idea how to interpret the intentions behind. What was he really asking?

“Well, yes... I’ve been coming to the capital with father for quite some time,” I drawled out, weighing in my mind on how much to share, “but I really just saw them around. Didn’t really speak to anyone, I wasn’t allowed to.” Painful memories of a smiling brown-haired man resurfaced in my mind, just how they so often did ever since he left. I chanced a look at the tatted dragon, and he watched me like he knew there was more. He waited whether I would continue. A wave of strange unfamiliar emotion rose inside of me, and I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand. I was so confused. But then I spoke anyway because it felt right to do so.

“When I was little,” the words slowly trickled out of me, like I had to use force to push them out, “maybe eight or nine, a dragon-knight and his bonded came to our fief. They stayed with us for a little over a year. The knight was a merry man, full of laughs and jokes, and his dragon was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” The young dragon smiled gently and gestured for me to keep talking as we ran laps. I started becoming a little breathless now that I had a story to tell, but I pushed through.

“I spent a lot of time with him, to me he was the manifestation of all things magical and fantastical,” the soft laugh that tumbled out of me surprised me, but I carried on, “He took to teaching me. Brought me out to forests and meadows, taught me about magick and nature, about dragons, about kindness to living things and cooperating with the natural world. He always called it ‘the old philosophy’. That this is how dragons used to teach their young.”

Looking back at it now with the knowledge I have, it wasn’t that hard to understand why he was such a thorn in the emperor’s eye. Why he was running away from the palace, trying his luck away from the capital. It was rotten fate that he ended up on a land that belonged to my father out of all people.

Next to me Jungkook hummed, reminding me of his presence, and suddenly the exercise caught up with me and I realised I would need a break soon to catch my breath. The young dragon seemed fine though, as he jogged on by my side with a soft smile.

“What was his name?” he asked, with reverence I haven’t heard from him yet, the quiet wonder at this mythical teacher from my childhood visible in his eyes, and it warmed me to see it. With a smile of my own I answered: “Hwan.” As simple as that.

I didn’t tell him his real name. I couldn’t yet. My teacher was a controversial character, a forbidden topic, and these dragons were most definitely aware of him, as his sudden disappearance happened only something over a decade ago. He was the first dragon in centuries to openly go against the throne, and the first person I’ve ever met that was part of a resistance against the empire. Hwan was the name he went by while he stayed with us, when he pretended to be human while going to the town’s market with me.

I’ve already learned from my mistake once. I wouldn’t reveal his name until I was sure it was safe.

“I don’t remember a dragon with that name,” Jungkook thought out loud, contemplative expression taking over his youthful face, “do you know what his magick is?”

“I’m not sure where he is currently,” was all I answered with, shutting down the conversation with firm gentleness. Thankfully the man understood. He gave me one long curious silent look, eyes taking me in from head down to my toes, something a little unreadable settling into them. But an air of softness remained, one that made me comfortable in his presence against all facts and reason.

“Let’s go try horse riding now,” was all he finally said, a little more mischief bleeding into his features, “last time you barely even rode. I need to know you can keep yourself in the saddle.”

With a nod I followed after him, silently musing on whether the bond manifested in things deeper than just compatibility for magick. Things that would explain why the pull towards the younger dragon exceeded reason and strayed into the territory of complicated feelings of comfort and safety.

Jimin shuffled nervously right next to his hyung, shuddering under the barrage of negative emotions flowing into him from Hoseok’s side of the bond.

“You shouldn’t encourage him so much, you know,” Hoseok chided him softly, even though the water dragon felt the weight of his hyungs fears and anxieties. But he didn’t think he was deserving of a scolding nevertheless.

“What do you mean? I barely even did anything,” Jimin grumbled under his breath, eyes trained on the duo running side by side by the fence, one ear listening into the conversation and heart enquiringly checking on Jungkook’s emotions. Hope, curiousness, tender joy. All that shined through, and he knew that his hyung felt it too. And didn’t like it one bit. “He spilled everything all on his own,” Jimin added for good measure.

He subconsciously rubbed at the tender skin of his wrist, mind going back to the night of the banquet, as it so often did these days. He couldn’t shake off the buzz of the bond as it shocked through him with such intensity for a moment he thought she touched him and not Kookie. Sometimes, it would still run through his nervous system like a phantom pain, even days later.

“Kookie’s excited about his first bond,” Hoseok said, but his voice carried no happiness that would be normally present during such occasions, that was all taken away by the circumstance of the situation, “but this whole thing is rubbing me the wrong way. I just don’t want him to get hurt through this. Bonds have a way of influencing you, and especially the first ones can feel quite intense. I don’t want him to be blinded by it to what might be happening here.”

Jimin looked to his hyung with alarm, heart painfully contracting under the wave of freezing cold dread seeping through his bones.

“You think there’s an ulterior motive to the bond,” the younger dragon meant it as a question, but at that point it was useless to ask. Hoseok obviously thought something else was going on under all this, and the possibility of it lit some sort of primal fear in Jimin. Bonds used to be a sacred thing, thinking that they could be stripped from all their beauty and used so villainously, it never failed to tear him apart. Never failed to remind him of all that was taken from them.

“Think about it,” Hoseok stated seriously, eyes similarly glued to Jungkook and watching his smiling face with a hint of despair, “We’ve never felt a bond similar to this one. Neither the hyungs nor Joonie have ever heard of something similar. She’s a daughter of a man as close to the throne as one can be. Is it really such a stretch to believe that he may have tampered with the bond?”

“But would that even be possible?” Jimin asked, voice quiet as the horrifying feasibility sunk into his mind, “It can’t, right?” That would change everything. It would take away more than they’ve already lost – it would warp the very nature of their souls. Haven’t they already destroyed enough? Would they go as far as to mess with natural magical bonds?

“He’s already done so much and he continues to want even more,” Hoseok argued firmly, no traces of the smiling man left in his demeanour, “I have no idea what Kangdae’s end goal is, but if there’s someone capable of this, it’s him. And she’s in his closest circle, her father serves him more than he serves his own family.” No matter how many times Jimin heard the emperor’s name flow out so effortlessly in conversation, he still got an uncomfortable feeling. His hyungs using it like that didn’t feel right – it made him too scared for them, like they were committing a grave sin. Yet they never budged.

Looking back to the young duo, a chilling sensation gripped Jimin’s insides. Could this be a trap? What would even be the purpose of manipulating a bond like that? Was she originally not meant for them?

“I worry for him too,” Jimin muttered finally, “We’ll have to keep an eye on him.” The things they needed to keep close eyes on just kept stacking up and Jimin was about to lose his mind if this continued. The threat hanging over all their heads somehow felt more present than ever. Not even the thought of his all-knowing hyungs made him feel better. Quite the opposite – feeling their quiet dismay, their wide eyes and hushed whispers when they thought they wouldn’t notice, it drove Jimin even more wild with panic.

“I wish we could consult the ancients on this,” the blue-haired dragon whispered quiet enough that had his companion not paid attention, he’d miss it, “the closest we got to that is Jin-hyung and he’s as lost as we are.” Hoseok’s tiny fond chuckle lifted some weight off of Jimin’s shoulders, the younger dragon turning to his hyung with a smile.

“Don’t let him hear that or we’ll never hear the end of it,” the healer teased softly, reaching out to mess with Jimin’s hair. Silence settled around them, but it was oppressive in a way he hadn’t felt for a long time, not around his mates. He shivered with it, tried to withstand it, but couldn’t without the warmth his lovers offered.

Reaching out for his hyung’s hand, they shuffled around until Hoseok was protectively holding him curled into his side as they both watched on, hearts heavy and minds racing a mile in a minute.

Jimin noted to himself all that she shared, vowing to ask Jin-hyung later about that dragon she spoke so highly of. He hoped, and Jungkook might never believe him this, but he really hoped she wasn’t deceiving them. Not because of her, but for Jungkook’s sake. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if this ended up hurting their youngest packmate.

Bonds cut deep, especially when they ended badly. Yoongi-hyung still carried those scars in him to prove that. He himself knew the pain of bonds that were forced on him – how oppressive they were to his own mind and heart, how every time he was used for a battle and then discarded, his soul wept for the loss of a bond that never really existed in the first place.

For all their might and power, dragons were tender beings. Easily swayed by shiny trinkets and a little kindness, they got attached so readily, and felt grief deeply when everything died in the end and they carried on.

Whether she betrayed him or died, that wound would stay with Jungkook for the rest of his nigh eternal life, and he so desperately wished he could protect him from that.

Jimin, in that moment of all-consuming terrifying despair and helplessness, knew he would give everything, even his own life, to ensure the crash and fall of the empire just to tear Jungkook out of the way of a sure tragedy in the form of his new potential rider.

“Has Taehyungie had any vision about this?” Hoseok’s voice suddenly cut through his spiralling thoughts, pulling Jimin from his little circle of doom, “Last I asked him he said he can’t see anything.” The blue-haired man thought back to the day before, to his younger mate with his dark red, heavy curls falling into his eyes, the worried frustrated expression on his face translating into the wobbling lip when he came to Jimin absolutely shattered that he can’t help his hyungs in any way, the fear dripping so thick off of him the water dragon almost tasted it in the air. Tae was devastated at his own inability to induce a vision on the young knightess, even though he privately shared with Jimin that it didn’t feel completely wrong, only that he wasn’t supposed to know yet (which according to him happened sometimes, but it still felt awful). Nonetheless it only added to the unsureness that hung about them when it came to this bond.

“No, he’s trying really hard but can’t see anything,” Jimin whispered towards his hyung, even though he was pretty sure Jungkook wasn’t listening he’d still rather he didn’t hear this on accident, “Please don’t ask him about it, hyung. He’s feeling terrible.”

Hoseok gave him a sad smile and nodded, his hands tightening on the younger worried man as he himself sunk into the troubling thoughts. Jimin hated the sudden air of uncertainty hanging over their heads that irritatingly everyone except for their youngest seemed to feel.

Jungkook kept his oblivious care-free aura while everyone around him panicked about the future of the pack, even future of dragons at all. His hyungs were running themselves thin trying to find out what this meant while he sat around the town house and talked about how he couldn’t wait for the bonding ritual.

Jimin was as angry with him as he was worried for him. But only time would tell which way this would go. And deep in his heart he knew that even if the world was falling apart, his hyungs would never let them get hurt.

Squeezing Hobi’s hand back, he finally allowed himself to relax into the warm man’s embrace.

Maybe somewhere in this country still were children who felt comforted and encouraged by their father’s presence by their side, but I certainly wasn’t one of them. The stifling aura of him hovering behind me put me on edge, the threat of ‘impress him or else’ hanging in the air over us. Father would never say it outright, no, that wasn’t his style. But it was always written into him, into his features, into the firm grip of his hand on my arm when he wanted me to check myself.

Brother stood next to him looking bored, doing his best to miss all of my pointed stares, so I redirected my attention back to the gold-plated doors in front of me, waiting for them to open and invite us in.

The emperor sometimes liked to keep people waiting. If it was just my father, he’d be let in immediately, but since it was our entire family he felt the need to show power and let us stand outside for a while. I felt the mounting wave of frustration and annoyance, pursing my lips together to keep myself in line. None of us spoke and it made the time tick by even slower. Two stripes guards flanked the door on each side and nervously evaded our eyes, no doubt wishing they were anywhere else than in front of the increasingly more displeased old general.

Then finally, after what felt like a whole hour, the door slowly creaked open and I suddenly found myself on the forefront of our little group, first to be seen, first to move and first to speak. It was unnerving.

It took a little shove to my lower back (I wasn’t sure which one of the men it was, but it was effective) to make me move into the room, and I did so sluggishly – focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and not on the man sitting leisurely on a sofa at the centre of the room. Subconsciously I straightened and adjusted my black and silver uniform, even though he didn’t look up. He actually looked like he couldn’t care less and for a moment I pondered over how my father managed decades of sucking up to a person like that. My patience would have run out so fast I’d be executed before my pillow even had the chance to permanently dent into the shape of my head.

Even though I knew the emperor was a few years older than my brother, he looked young, maybe even younger than me. He didn’t stand, and he didn’t have to, but we still kneeled on the little carpet and bowed to his uninterested form. It was humiliating and rage inducing, my hands curling into tight fists as if I was contemplating lunging at him and punching him. I wasn’t, I just wanted to go home mainly.

The emperor asked us to meet us in one of his salons that he sometimes used for official visits, so instead of the throne room we found ourselves in a pompously decorated room with a theme that I could only describe as “rubies”. The man himself sat on a sofa that was on a little platform, step above everyone else, and he stood out as a sore thumb with his golden aura in the sea of reds and crimsons.

I twitched towards one of the sofas, but a hand on my wrist immediately pulled me back into place, and so we just silently stood there some more, waiting for some command or a simple acknowledgement, but the golden man kept wordlessly scribbling something onto a stack of documents. After the fourth line I felt the frustration return with full force (and then some more), gritting my teeth as we humiliatingly waited with heads hung low in respect.

Then the sound stopped. The man clapped twice and everything set into motion. I was pulled by my father to a sofa, and I confusedly let myself be manhandled into place while I watched the flurry of servants run in with tea and sweets and carry the stack of documents out. A second later the emperor’s eyes were on me, for what felt like first time in my life.

For some reason I was surprised by his beauty. I didn’t know why, I’ve seen him before but always from much further away. I had a better idea of what his father looked like, and at the end of his life he turned into a bitter mean old man, therefore the youthful charm took the wind out of my sails lightly.

He was bathed in gold, from head to toe – from his attire and jewels to his skin, to his burning bright hair. Even his eyes had specks of gold swimming in the brown. But the longer I looked at him, the more I saw the signs of his cruelty, things that no amount of grace and allure could hide – his stare had no warmth in it despite his polite smile, instead it froze me down with its poorly hidden brutality; his sharp features didn’t as much add to his handsomeness as they brought out the shadows on his face, underlining the haunting savagery of his faux kind smile. When his lips stretched to reveal his white perfect teeth, I was almost expecting to see them pointy and sharp enough to tear flesh to shreds.

“Yeong-su, Man-young,” he greeted with a nod first my father, then my brother, before his eyes redirected to me, “and you must be Y/N then.” His voice was strong and firm, with a tone of courteousness so false it felt sleazy. I shuddered, barely managed to hide it from his inquisitive eyes and then shakily smiled back with my own nod.

“Your majesty,” father greeted, just as slimy and with a similar looking smile. I supressed the disgust crawling up the sides of my stomach and kept to myself. This might have been the first and only time I was happy about the general insisting I don’t speak so I don’t embarrass him.

“I hope your morning has gone well, our empire,” he continued, head bowed so deep his chin was digging into his breastbone, “we, your people, are joyous for the opportunity to meet with you.” Seeing Man-young going into a slight bow again, I scrambled to follow, not giving myself the space to inspect that pile of insincere grovelling bullshit.

“Thank you, general,” came a simple answer, “I hear you are here for the purpose of your daughter’s bonding. Your eyes are on Bangtan, general?” It felt both inquisitive and threatening, like a thinly-veiled warning. I curiously watched my father, the proud man that he was who would rather die than let anyone disrespect him, as he ducked his head in pretend humility. I’d never realised that he was such a damned good actor.

“Of course not, our empire, we wouldn’t dare to demand your dragons, we can simply hope and beg for your blessing.” That seemed to have satisfied the young sovereign, and I had to wonder whether he was genuinely stupid enough to believe it or whether he didn’t care because he knew his place of power and trusted in his invincibility. Surely, everyone could tell these were all fake sentiments, even the man that’s been listening to them since his birth?

A nudge broke me out of my reverie and I realised my father wanted me to grovel alongside with him, but before I could think of anything to say, a knock to the door interrupted us.

“Oh, perfect timing,” emperor exclaimed, for the first time with a real sense of excitement which put me off slightly, and then he was gesturing for the door to open. And the most curious group of people stood behind it.

The first to stroll leisurely into the room was Duke Lee, and I barely suppressed the obvious disgust on my face. He only shot me a single unfriendly glare before his expression melted into a similar smarminess of all the council members in the presence of the emperor. I tuned out his dick-sucking-esque monologue that the ruler seemed to eat up to take in the other three newcomers. Well, except that they weren’t truly new to me.

The silver-haired dragon I’ve seen a mere week ago when my father dragged me to the council meeting still had his signature cold expressionless mask on and he silently made his way through the room without acknowledging anyone to sit on a chair by the emperor’s sofa.

The other two were a surprise to me.

Jungkook wearing a uniform I’d never seen before (and that he seemed exceedingly uncomfortable in) and constantly squirming in place tried to greet me, but was promptly stopped by his companion. A dragon I knew very well despite the fact that I haven’t officially met him before. He was only slightly taller than Jungkook, but his muscular and wide form made him seem towering, alongside the power and authority that was pouring off of him in waves that attempted to drown me. His golden fiery eyes were fond yet firm on Jungkook’s squirming form, before they turned into the room and became as cold and hard as stone. I had to fight back the urge to kneel and bow to him just like we did to the emperor.

I was face to face with Namjoon, the head of Bangtan thunder, a fire dragon and one of the most easily recognisable faces of the dragonkind staying in or around the castle.

The second our eyes met I shot to my feet and bowed full 90 degrees to him, shocking the room into silence as everyone’s attention was suddenly drawn to me. When I straightened back up, Namjoon was giving me a strange look, but said nothing. He only pulled Jungkook with him to a sofa opposite of us and they made themselves comfortable.

“You’ve served me well since my coronation, general,” the emperor started again, “and my father for long years before that. You know it would be a pleasure to have my dragons in your family’s care.” Now it was my father who stood up and bowed fully, dragging me with him to extend the same courtesy, which I did with significantly more difficulty than when I bowed to Namjoon.

Duke Lee found his place on the same sofa as the two dragons, watching the exchange with fiery eyes, lips turned to a thin line. I didn’t even know what he was doing here, and his salty aura was really ruining the morning for me even further, so I did my best to ignore his very existence.

“Jungkook is your bonded, then?” this question was aimed at me, but the king was already eyeing the two Bangtan dragons sitting uncomfortably next to the slimy duke. They knew better than to speak and only inclined their heads, though I could see Namjoon fighting off words.

“Not yet, your majesty, though I hope for his acceptance,” I chose my words carefully, once again trying to dangerously toe the line of politeness and smarminess, desperately trying to please both sides and escape suspicion, but by the unhappy twitch of emperor’s lips and the cold expression on Namjoon’s face, I was failing at both.

“You have my approval, that’s more than law,” the gold-clad man stated firmly, voice void of the falseness it held before, “Do you want him to be yours?” This was the real man on the throne. Only now we truly had the pleasure of meeting him.

Now, that was the question, wasn’t it? Everything and more on the line with a single word – yes, of course I wanted to bond Jungkook. Did his thunder wish for the same? Would they ever forgive me for not giving them a choice? Those both had the same answer, one whose outcome I had to risk either way, and I hated it. Not more than them, though.

“Yes, your majesty,” I settled for, not wanting to drag it out. It was safer to stick to short answers and the man himself wasn’t interested in anything more. Namjoon sat in his place, frozen – not with shock, I don’t think at that point he had it in him to be surprised at this anymore. It felt more like resignation. Jungkook still looked the same, looked at me the same, but the heaviness in his shoulders spoke of his mate’s emotional turmoil.

“Very well,” were the next emperor’s words and with that it was decided. I sat back down and kept my head hung low. I was too guilt-ridden to look at the dragons anymore, the humiliation swirled in my stomach and made me sick, and all I wanted was to just have this all behind me. Once bonded, it would get easier – and then a whole lot more difficult.

“Duke, how is the rest of the unit?”

Well, that had my attention, but I pretended not to watch the exchange, keeping my gaze at the table and the variety of colourful chocolate sweets that still sat untouched on the beautiful decorative plate. I just saw Namjoon’s tense form and Jungkook’s squirming legs while he found it hard to settle down into the furnishing. The straight posture of my brother to my side told me he was also diligently keeping up, though I couldn’t understand why this would fall under the umbrella of his interests. My brother was a shadow, he had nothing to do with the horns.

But the most curious was that Lee seemed to be involved to this extent.

“Excellent, our empire, from what I’ve heard three others have already found their dragons as well,” the duke’s irksome voice replied, and I was minutely reminded of baron Kim and his overt friendliness, “Only two remain undecided.”

When did he become the spokesperson of Qinglong? As far as I was aware, he had nothing to do with the unit. I haven’t even really seen him around the dragon-knights, so how come he was suddenly being summoned like this to speak of the unit and the new arrivals? How has he managed to weasel his way in here, when just a few months back he was mostly whining about mining and gems?

“Splendid. I want the bonding ceremony to happen in three days,” the sovereign demanded, in the manner that he was used to – speaking it into existence, “It will be the full moon. Make sure the others are ready as well.” There was some more small-talk, mostly the duke bending over backwards to agree and promise he will make it happen, while the rest of us watched him with varying stages of appalment.

“Oh, that’s right duke, I’ve heard your son showed a brilliant performance with a sword,” it was a statement uttered thoughtlessly as part of the polite conversation, but just as the information sunk into my brain and I froze, I saw Jungkook do the same. Almost on instinct we looked to each other, similar sense of horror looming over us both, and I saw Namjoon’s eyes flit between us in alarm out of the corner of my eye.

The bad premonition got confirmed when the duke suddenly straightened in joy, and if he had a tail, it would be wagging wildly behind him at that moment, and he started prattling off about his son championing the banquet.

Peacock. His son was Peacock.

Well, that didn’t complicate anything at all! I should have fucking known the moment I looked at that bastard, this particular brand of being an awful person truly did run in the family. And it explained the duke being all salty and mad about me interacting with Bangtan. With him weaselling into the emperor’s graces and into the higher layers of the dragon unit, he most probably aimed for his son to be the one to snatch Jungkook or Jimin. I wondered whether his son was one of the two who still didn’t find their dragons or whether they managed to find someone pleasing enough. I thought back to the poor dragon with fire red hair and hoped that he wasn’t a potential connection to that ass.

It also explained the sudden change of the banquet activities and the fact that Peacock knew of the details before anyone else did. It wasn’t because Lord Kim was sucking up to his father, it was because Duke Lee somehow found a way to involve himself with the unit.

Oh, father would not be happy about that…

“Your majesty,” Namjoon’s deep rumbling voice cut through the duke’s uninteresting chatter, and immediately commanded the attention of the whole room, “If you don’t mind the suggestion, I had hoped that young mistress Kang would be first introduced to the thunder before we make the decision to bond with her. Three days is quite fast.” Clearly the date bothered him quite a lot, and I felt a pang in my heart at the closed off unhappy expression on his face when he spoke of me.

But before the emperor could answer him, and by the look on his face he wasn’t very happy with the dragon, Jungkook hurriedly interjected. “I have already made the decision to bond with Y/N-ssi,” tumbled out of his mouth in a rush and surprised both me and Namjoon. I felt a light blush rise to my cheeks and this time my heart hurt from the timid joy at such an earnest confession, while Namjoon watched his youngest mate with hard warning eyes.

To everybody else in the room though it felt like a hasty attempt to smooth out the fire dragon’s uncompromising words, including the visibly displeased sovereign sitting above us like a ruler of the universe.

“The decision has been made, dragon,” the golden man spit out, a beastly sneer sneaking onto his face when he looked over the hundreds of years old magical being that he thought was beneath him, “You have two days to introduce her to the thunder.”

I was getting ready to intercept and try to save the situation a little, syphon away a little bit of that anger the man clearly felt at not being listened to unconditionally, and as much as that made me dislike him even more, I did have to suck up to him in situations like these. But then he scoffed and continued.

“Or better yet, do it today. That’s an order.” All the peace-making words died in my throat, and I nervously glanced towards the fire dragon, who was discreetly trying to hide the daggers in his eyes. He said nothing and nodded, holding Jungkook’s wrist. The younger dragon looked towards me with troubled eyes, and that was that. Stellar.

My irritation towards the emperor steadily rose, as he seemed to be adamant on making this as hard for me as possible, so I just quietly gulped everything down and sat patiently and politely by my father’s side.

The rest of the meeting flew by and I barely even paid attention, too busy trying to think through the buzz of nerves how to ease the tension, but ultimately deciding that I had to ride this one out, see and think quick on my feet based on their reactions. Namjoon, similar to Hoseok yesterday, had that air of gentleness when he looked to Jungkook, and while that all disappeared the moment his eyes weren’t on his mate, I still hoped he wouldn’t be unmovable. I’d learn what I’d have to do to earn his trust, all in good time.

In the meantime I let myself be comforted by the fact that Jungkook seemed to be fully in acceptance of this bond. I wondered whether he was able to feel anything from me. Maybe my genuinity shined through the connection, maybe deep down he felt he could trust me. I desperately didn’t want to let him down.

When the emperor finally sent us on our way, my family didn’t even waste time talking to me. With a curt nod both the men stepped through the door and set out towards the Academy, only my father pausing shortly to send me a distinctive warning look that screamed ‘don’t fuck this for us’ before he walked off.

Jungkook was cautiously smiling my way, but Namjoon next to him stood tensely, unreadable gaze glued to my father’s back. I hoped that there wasn’t much bad blood between them, but given my father’s personality you simply couldn’t spend the last 35 years in the same circles without inevitably ending up hating him, so that was probably a foolish wish.

When the golden gaze shifted to me it felt like a whole mountain was suddenly sitting on my shoulders, the weight and depth of his eyes pressing me into the ground. He was a respectable man, taking his place of standing between his thunder and the emperor very seriously, and it reflected all in his straight back and dark eyes. To me it was the first time I found myself firmly in the centre of his attention, and I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of that stare that felt like it was burning through me straight to the deepest most hidden and vulnerable places in my soul.

He wasn’t happy with me. He didn’t like me accepting on behalf of Jungkook. I could read it all there, and I felt deeply ashamed.

The silence stretching was weighing down heavily on me, I couldn’t help myself but shake in the tense atmosphere. Even Jungkook only quietly watched his thunder leader, not daring to speak out while Namjoon’s calculating gaze took me in.

Finally buckling under that stare I hesitantly bent at the waist, bowing to the man in the same manner I did to all the other dragons from this thunder I met, but inside I was second-guessing everything.

“Authority, it is an honour to meet you,” it was a miracle I didn’t stumble all over my words and stutter, that was the effect the dragon had on people around him. I saw the surprise written over his face at the title used, Jungkook smiling proudly next to him and trying to catch his eye in a ‘look at me, I was right!!’ way.

The term ‘authority’ was an old title (well, now it was an old title, just a few hundred years back it was completely normal) used for leaders of thunders. It was the correct way of addressing the dragons in positions of power among their peers, and while it was a little heavy-handed in the human language, it was a direct translation from draconic. It didn’t need to make perfect sense in the context of our speak. And it wasn’t really used here anymore.

I would bet that most didn’t even know a term like this existed – and I wouldn’t have known either if it wasn’t for Hwan who taught me a little about dragon history and hierarchy.

“No need to address me as such, I hardly am an authority anymore,” the man grumbled, but his energy was a lot less hostile. Now he just seemed resigned, which also wasn’t good. I didn’t want to argue with him, so I just decided to let it go.

“Namjoon-ssi, if today isn’t suitable for you, I can come a different day,” I offered him, head still humbly lowered, “Or I can come for dinner.” The man just waved his hand around like dismissing an annoying fly and set out, Jungkook scrambling to follow after him.

“There’s no reason to. Just come,” he said simply over his shoulder, not really looking back to see whether I went after or not. With a deep sigh I willed my feet to run after them, resigning myself to a cluster-fuck of an afternoon.

Their town house was on the other side of the castle, hidden in the shadow of the big black rock the structure sat on – maybe somewhat poetically. All in all it looked very similar to ours, which was slightly worrying given the fact that our household hosted only three people, while this thunder had seven. Though mated dragons would most probably have less need for individual bedrooms, but also there was absolutely no space for them to turn forms.

Which, unfortunately, was a thing that dragons rarely got to do unless humans commanded them to. Even though they needed to regularly spend time in both forms, people often got antsy around the massive beasts and didn’t like to see it. So dragons mostly turned only if they needed to fly or they left the city and spent a few hours out in the woods.

I took the dwelling in – it seemed quite ordinary and it was obvious on first glance that it wasn’t a place they considered home. The most beautiful and cared for part of the house was the little garden in the inner courtyard, which I supposed was Hoseok’s work.

The house was quiet as we stepped through the main gate, it seemed completely empty and for a moment I wondered whether I’d have to spent hours sitting here only with Jungkook and Namjoon, because I wasn’t so sure I was quite ready for that.

But it was an unnecessary fear as I came to realise when we stepped inside, heading towards the dining room – the thunder was already sitting ready around a traditional table with pillows strewn around and a warm feast waiting for us to dig in. Three pillows were empty – two at the opposite ends of the table and one to the right side of the closer empty one.

Both dragons left me standing unsure in the doorway into the room, heading straight for the table – Namjoon sat down at the head of the table, next to a broad-shouldered pink-haired man with massive wings spanning from his back and a very unfriendly looking man with long black hair and black horns curling around the crown of his head. That one I recognised – it was very hard to forget Yoongi once you’d seen him once. Especially when you’ve found yourself at the receiving end of that stare. Which I had before. It was not pleasant.

For the second time that day I found myself bowing respectfully, though now to considerably bigger number of dragons.

“Thank you for having me,” it was hard to say in a volume louder than a whisper – it felt like it should be whispered. It was useless politeness, given the fact that they were ordered to have me for lunch, but it was better than not saying anything.

Jungkook, who took the empty seat by the end of the table patted the pillow next to him and I slowly walked over to take it, folding myself down. No one spoke. When I chanced looking up, I found that their gazes seemed quite neutral and they were just taking me in. Well, except for Yoongi, who never gave much thought to pointless politeness – and strangely enough Hoseok, whose eyes had something unreadable but definitely not good in them.

This seat put me directly opposite of Namjoon, and much like before in the hall he left the silence stretch until I had time to spiral all the way down thinking I had already managed to fuck up a first meeting given the fact the cheerful nature dragon was looking at me like he’d need to protect his den from my murderous rage by the end of this meal.

“Let me properly introduce myself,” I started in the end, though at that point it already felt a little too late, but the quiet had a way of messing with my head. I had spent too many hours under my father’s wordless disappointment to keep my cool under such heavy gazes. “I am Kang Y/N of the northern clan.” Nothing more was needed to say.

Everybody already seemed to know though, so at least we saved ourselves that awkward realisation.

“Welcome to our house, Kang Y/N of the northern clan,” the pink-haired dragon spoke, and I was so relieved I could cry of happiness. The man had an aura of unnatural beauty about him and in my head I went through the packmates I still haven’t met trying to guess who he was. Taking in the air of maturity and a sense of duty that exuded from him, the firm yet gentle voice he spoke with and the wings that looked very uncomfortably folded over his back and bent over the ground, I was betting on the eldest.

“That’s Jin-hyung,” Jungkook whispered to me, though his voice was still loud enough to be heard through the whole room, drawing some smiles from the rest of the men. It broke the ice a little, draining away a bit of that tenseness from their shoulders, which I was infinitely grateful for.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Seokjin-ssi,” I greeted the dragon properly, bowing once more with a small smile – which he accepted graciously.

Turning to the two other dragons I’ve met before I gave each a small bow as well. “And nice to see you again, Jimin-ssi, Hoseok-ssi.” Their smiles were significantly less enthusiastic, but I’d take it. Better than nothing.

Now there were two dragons left – one that I recognised as Yoongi and one that had to be Taehyung, but neither of them seemed eager to introduce themselves. While Yoongi still kept his air of careful hostility, Taehyung looked at me curiously but with very obvious apprehension. I saw his hand tightly gripping onto Hoseok sitting next to him and given the fact that he sat at the end of the table, opposite of Jungkook, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. I tried not to take it personally.

Choosing to stop dancing around it, I took the moment to look into his eyes, hoping to convey as much genuineness as possible in that single glance and said: “It is an honour to meet you as well, Taehyung-ssi.”

The man didn’t look away, didn’t flinch, only turned his head slightly as if thinking. His eyes took me in, as if looking at me for the first time, before he finally straightened and leaned away from his older mate, instead choosing to watch me with intensity rivalling that of Namjoon. But while under the Authority’s eyes I felt like he was searching my soul for any wrongdoing, Taehyung’s eyes were like those of a curious child faced with an exciting experiment.

I had no idea whether that was a good thing, but it seemed better than before.

The last dragon didn’t even really give me a chance to speak, just nodded at me recognising that I knew him and to move on. So I did. Out of everyone here, the atmokinetic was the one I wanted to antagonise the least, so I just let it go and settled more into my seat.

“Well, let’s dig in,” Seokjin announced, still a little wooden, but the prospect of food worked like a charm to loosen up the atmosphere. Now we didn’t need to speak and the silence could be filled with sounds of eating, saving us from the inevitable awkward ‘what are your intentions with my son’ conversation.

“So, Y/N.” Or not.

I looked up to Namjoon, who sat tensely in his seat, something little pulled onto his plate just so he wouldn’t stand out, but both his hands were clasped together in front of his face and he peered at me over them.

“Yes, Authority,” I answered, hoping he wouldn’t take offence to me bringing back the title now that we were in the privacy of his home and thunder, and while he didn’t react much, at least he didn’t tell me to stop. Everyone else at the table though turned to look at me shocked, and I burned under those six gazes, rather choosing not to dissect the meanings behind their eyes for the sake of my own psyche.

Seokjin at least seemed somewhat appeased, though Yoongi started frowning even more if that was even possible. I felt the examining probing gaze of Taehyung, but I didn’t turn.

I wondered whether I was trying a little too hard a little too soon. I hoped that I was laying down the foundation of future partnerships. If nothing else, I knew that Jungkook strangely remained firmly on my side.

“Why Qinglong?” Namjoon asked, neutrally watching me over the rim of a glass he picked up. If possible, my heart sped up even more when all the dragons paused and looked towards me, eyes reflecting various stages of curiosity and mistrust.

“I…” I felt my throat go dry, thoughts racing in my head, all trying to come up with the best way to put this without antagonising anyone even more.

“I’ve honestly always wanted to work with dragons,” I settled on, giving them a shaky smile. No one reacted, their faces stayed passive and gazes inquisitive, waiting for me to continue. “I had a teacher, when I was younger-” I was prepared to launch into the whole explanation again, but Seokjin’s quick response stopped me.

“Oh, that’s right!” the pink-haired man exclaimed, “Jimin and Jungkook mentioned the dragon you knew. Hwan, am I right?” I nodded, a little shocked, hesitantly looking over to Jimin. Jungkook telling his thunder was expected, but Jimin wasn’t even a part of that conversation. What could he possibly had to say about it?

The water dragon in question stubbornly avoided my gaze though, watching his plate as he chased unruly vegetables around with his spoon. He had nothing more to add now. The anxiety of his sudden change in demeanour was haunting me – of course it was something different to joke around when we barely knew each other, but I would have lied if I pretended his new attitude didn’t sting.

“Yes, that was- is his name,” I stumbled through the sentence, dragging my eyes back to the eldest who was giving me a stunted polite smile. He tried really hard to maintain some sense of normalcy, and for that I was grateful, now that Jimin and Hoseok barely looked at me, Yoongi and Namjoon outright didn’t like me, Taehyung unsettled me and Jungkook awkwardly sat through it all with a smile on his face.

“Was? Is?” the dragon repeated with an uncomfortable confused smile, “I only met a single dragon named Hwan, and I doubt you met the same one. I don’t recall any other dragons of that name.”

“I am not sure where he is now,” I repeated the words I said to Jungkook yesterday noon, “He spent only a year at our fief. He and his knight-“

“Were travelling knights,” Seokjin jumped in, the smile a little more wooden, “Yes, Jimin mentioned you said that.” The atmosphere in the room was plunged into something more tense and uncomfortable, I could feel it charged between us.

“Therefore,” I forced out a little firmer than I wanted to, “I cannot say whether you knew him or not. I don’t know when and for how long they were in Wuyun, if even." Seokjin looked at me for few long moments, the table silent. No one was saying anything, all the dragons watching the interaction with bated breaths – especially Jungkook who for once actually squirmed with nerves, unsure of how the situation would spin.

But then Seokjin smiled again, digging back into his food with a polite expression. The others followed his example and the table rang with cutlery clinking against porcelain. I nervously followed suit. The stress took a toll on me, and I felt almost resignation settling into me. I was tired, and I was fighting a losing battle.

I knew I had to try harder, longer, and I was prepared for that. I’d earn it.

The dinner carried on, awkward small-talk springing up here or there between bouts of tense silence. None of the dragons tried to stray towards any conflicting topics again, choosing to talk about benign things, mostly with each other letting me tag along.

Yoongi didn’t say a single word the entire evening, and neither did Taehyung, though both of their energies varied strongly.

I desperately tried to hold on, letting the dragons speak and only occasionally adding something, eyes ever so often searching Jungkook’s, begging for the reassurance that I knew I’d find there. And he always delivered, smiling at me in a way that said ‘don’t worry, it’ll be okay’, and I so desperately wanted to believe that. Guess I’d have to give it time.

The first dinner could have gone better, could have been less charged, less infused with unsureness and fear, but that evening I still left filled with hope quivering in my heart, buzzing with resolve I hadn’t known for a long while.

“Duke Lee weaseled his way to the Emperor like the rat he is,” the general hissed, and I sighed into my cup knowing exactly what was coming next. “I made a mistake not paying attention to Qinglong. He thinks he can fuck me over, sneaking through the back like this. He’s always had it in for me.”

I stabbed my fork around my plate, chasing the food around and playing with it, trying not to catch the man’s attention. Whenever he got like this it was rough, and sometimes no matter what you did you still ended up at the receiving end of his fury.

He didn’t take well to any perceived competition, and Duke Lee sleazing his way into father’s personal meeting with the emperor definitely displeased him.

Even with the slight pride I was able to win him in these past few days, during the duration of this very uncomfortable lunch I felt his eyes stray to me more than once, an unreadable look on his face. I knew it quite well – he was planning something, and I didn’t like that somehow I seemed to be involved in that.

My brother sat opposite of me as usual, gaze curious and impassive all at once trained on the quietly raging man. He also seemed to be aware that he was in the clear for this one, given the relaxed nature of his usually tense form.

I was waiting for the shoe to drop, attempting to at least somewhat enjoy the food presented – after all, it wasn’t the cook’s fault the general chose this time to throw a temper tantrum and spin his evil plans.

“Y/N.”

I froze mid-bite, heart contracting painfully for an agonising moment before I untensed and turned to face the older man.

“Yes, father?” I hoped that bundle of nerves choking me wasn’t audible in my voice, that I didn’t sound as strained as I felt. I was hoping to escape this for now, though I knew I couldn’t keep the man off my back for long with just a few promises to fly Bangtan.

“There is a general leading the Qinglong unit, right?” he asked, far-away contemplative look in his eyes as he barely regarded me.

“Yes, father, Qinglong is led by General Yun and her dragoness Ha-rin,” I answered dutifully, a bad feeling settling into my stomach and weighing it down. The man only hummed, swirling the glass in hand. He minutely looked towards my brother, the two men holding eye contact for few gut-wrenching seconds before he turned back to me.

“I will look into the affiliations, but considering the size of the unit I cannot imagine there’s many ranked,” the general scoffed, something vile creeping into his eyes, “There’s at most two captain generals, which would mean around four corporals and four captains. Horns have always banked more on infamy then numbers.” The cruelty in his mocking sneer never failed to shock me, not when he always found a new way to remind me of all of his worst qualities. Just like today.

“Man-young is working hard to climb the shadows’ ranks,” father said and gestured towards my brother who still leisurely ate dinner, “I will not have you pull him down by not trying for the same. Bangtan is only the beginning.” I’ve already heard these demands before, but he’s never said them with so much undebatable conviction. There was no arguing – and I would not attempt to.

“Yes father,” I recited obediently, bowing my head in show of submission and satisfying his ego. What was it they said? Revenge tastes sweeter when the lamb trusts you with their very life? The betrayal never feels better than when they never thought you’d be the one to stab the knife in?

My father thought he knew me the best. He thought he knew how to control me the best. I fought to stifle my smile. I still had a surprise or two down my sleeves, general.

“I will pull some strings, they will not embarrass me by not having you promoted by the end of the year,” the man continued, lost to his own thoughts swirling around in that machine for destruction he called brain, hand carding through his greying black short hair and silver stubble, stormy grey eyes glazed as he already planned his next steps. “Once you become captain, you need to pull your own weight. I want you a corporal within the next year, Y/N. I hope you chose the right dragon for battle.”

I ignored the remark about Jungkook and nodded again, head still bowed politely as I agreed once more, the false promises falling out of my lips easily. My brother watched me, eyes inquisitive but none-the-wiser, and I smirked his way. I saw the exact moment disappointment ran through him, thinking I’m still nothing more than that rebellious kid hell-bent on making his life harder, and though it stung, it was the better option. He was not my friend and he would not be my ally, no matter what.

“You’ll be my tool to claiming Qinglong back to my favour. I will not stand for that vermin trying to run things on my turf.”

This was between me and the goddess of creation, the mother of nature.

But one thing I did have to give to my father – there was one thing he was most definitely right about. Bangtan was only the beginning.

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r0-boat · 1 month ago

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People have been asking for it!

Since I already written dark!Whb headcannon for the kings that were out before it's time to come back with a part 2 for the rest of the seven deadly sins!

Read part 1 here

Dark!whb headcannons

Asmodeus&Belphegor update

Cw: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, whb!Asmodeus(I have a breeding kink but Asmo is fucking scares me), kidnapping, inappropriate boss/employee relationship, dark content.

Belphegor

He appreciates when you do things for him. But deep inside, He knows it's not quite enough. If only he could have you permanently taking care of his every whim like Beleth, but unfortunately, you'll also be used for more than just work. Beleth already has a lot on his plate running an entire kingdom... and poor Belphegor, it's all alone by himself. He needs a little companion.

Being his little maid, wouldn't that be nice? All you have to do is take care of him, and you don't have to worry about your pretty little head. You'll keep his room clean, You will dress him, bathe him, and keep him company. Maybe He can finally start playing games and watching anime now that he has someone beside him.

He has thought about it a lot... He even has touched himself to the idea of you wearing anything he desires. The only reason why he hasn't done it is because he can't... If He took you all of hell, it would wage civil war, and that just seems more of a waste of time.

Of course, you will be trained first. You have lots of potential to know exactly what he wants, but he doesn't think you're loyal enough to him to care about his desires. Nothing that nefleheim can't fix. By the time his subordinates and royals are done with you he'll be on your knees ready to serve his cock at any time.

Though he doesn't want you thoroughly broken, he wants his subordinates to do most of the work so he can be the one to shape you by the end. Of course, doing all this work for him, he'll reward you sweetly with his effort. Pitting you underneath him is the least he can do for all your hard work. He appreciates hard work.

Asmodeus

He wears all his desires on his sleeve, so it's hard to believe that he would have more depraved thoughts. And he would think You would be a fool to think otherwise. I think you know where this is going...

He hasn't had a wife in so long. And it just simply doesn't feel fair for a male such as himself to have no wife by his side. As much as he loves his late wife, He can't help but feel a little bitter for the stunt she pulled.

He has shown you he could be a good lover, yes? Then why don't you give yourself to him entirely? Then, the two of you will be married in matrimony. Where you will you by his side with everything he does... Everything.

You look good like this... Drunk on his natural scent, begging for more of his seed; even though you can't take anymore, He can tell by how swollen your belly is. You're about what? 4 months in? Once you finally have his spawn Your chest was well with a sweet nectar he had been craving for a long time.

And when you're done, he shall have you again and again, and the two of you will not stop until a new generation of Unholyc rises. This time, not even death will part the both of you. Granting you the gift and curse of immortality, you'll be his for eternity to come. The entire Red prison is your harem, as the world is his.

#smut #dark tw #dark writing #what in hell is bad #whb x reader #whb #whb asmodeus #what in “hell” is bad?#wihib #whb belphegor #whb x mc

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thefandomenchantress · 1 month ago

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DRDT Character Popularity Poll Results

The results have been tallied! It's finally time to find out who the most popular DRDT Character really is! (...According to this specific format on this specific website).

For those unaware, this poll was conducted by asking people to write down their top 5 favorite DRDT characters in no particular order. Each time that character's name was written, it counted as one vote towards them. And, without further ado, these were the results!

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18th Place: Elliot Cuevas/Felicity Giles/Unnamed Classmate

Elliot, Felicity, and Unnamed Classmate managed to receive exactly 1 vote each, putting them in last place. I can't say I'm too surprised, since there are so many excellent characters in the main cast to choose from. Still, Felicity, a character mentioned only in an ask game, managing to tie a character with a whole-ass MV dedicated to them as well as a character featured in two bonus episodes, is pretty impressive! So props to her!

(Someone wrote 'Relaxation Room Fish' in one of their slots, which I considered including to be funny, but I decided not to. One day the minnows will get the bonus episode they deserve).

17th Place: Mai Akasaki

Mai managed a whole 5 votes. I was a little surprised by that, since she only really has a hypothetical personality, but hooray for Mai! She's the most popular non-main cast member. I can totally see why people would be intrigued by the mystery surrounding her.

16th Place: MonoTV

MonoTV, self-proclaimed most popular DRDT character, is the least popular main cast member. How sad. With only 6 votes, it barely outranks Mai, and ties with her if you count Unnamed Classmate and Mai to be the same person. While it's silly emoticons and lore implications won a few people's hearts, it still can't compete with the human main cast members.

15th Place: Hu Jing

...I doubt many people are surprised by this. While Hu may have been one of the characters helped most by my decision to make people write down their top five characters instead of only their favorite, she still couldn't gather enough votes to get out of last place within the (human) main cast members.

Hu gathered 26 votes. While that came pretty close to 14th place's number, she ended up here. Like I said earlier, this isn't surprising. Hu's behavior is supposed to be flawed, but unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be the kind of behavior that most people enjoy watching as much as the more cartoonish character's antics. Still, she has her fans (including me, in case you couldn't tell haha).

Well, if there's one thing we can all agree on, it's that Hu should definitely slap the shit out of David next chapter. /j

14th Place: Min Jeung

Min barely managed to beat out Hu for 14th place with 28 votes. Her low placement, sadly, also isn't a surprise.

Min died in chapter one, and her screentime being limited definitely hurts her here. Not only did she have only a few mentions in chapter 2, but she also didn't haunt the narrative quite like Xander did. Xander managed to leave quite an impact on both David and Teruko. And to put it bluntly, Xander is a conventionally attractive male character with a ton of screentime during his time alive. With the way fandom is, he was almost definitely going to have more staying power than a female culprit, especially one with as little screentime as Min.

That doesn't mean she has no fans, though! There's a ton of cool Min content on this website, and she is one of few characters I have never seen anyone say they vehemently dislike. And how could they? She's such a charming little bookworm.

13th Place: Arturo Giles

Arturo received 33 votes. His relatively low placement isn't exactly something I didn't see coming, seeing as he spent all of chapter 2 stalking J and being generally pretty creepy.

That's not to say he's devoid of charm, of course. His backstory was also expanded on, and I don't think we'll ever forget "Shut your whore mouth!!!!". Arturo's a pretty interesting character, but until we see his full potential in chapter 3, this position in the ranking is pretty understandable. At least Aceturo was confirmed canon in the last five minutes of chapter 2 (/j).

12th Place: Levi Fontana

Oh, Levi. Such an interesting little guy who may or may not have committed multiple felonies.

Levi received 41 votes, beating out Arturo by a good margin. He seems to have gained a little popularity after his backstory was expanded on at the end of chapter 2, and I'm sure we're all excited to see where his character goes in chapter 3! Well, if he survives, but I refuse to admit him not surviving is a legitimate possibility haha.

Overall a decent showing, about what I expected for him! Our next character, however...

11th Place: Xander Matthews/Nico Hakobyan

Attentive readers may have noticed that, despite there being 16 main cast members not including MonoTV, there were only 15 slots when we started ranking them.

And that's because, against all odds, Nico and Xander managed to tie each other at 44 votes each, 3 votes above Levi.

Not only am I a little disappointed I managed to get a tie in these results, but I'm also rather surprised! I was always under the impression Xander was a rather popular character, so I was fully prepared for him to break the top ten. Seeing him underperform like this wasn't what I expected. I suppose the popularity of Xanvid may have always been what carried Xander's popularity, not Xander himself. After all, one of the few things keeping Xander relevant right now in canon is David.

As for Nico, they performed closer to my expectations. I was prepared for them to be somewhere in the middle ground when it came to popularity. I suppose them being alive longer than Xander was evened out by them almost committing murder...Except Xander also did that, but that's a whole other can of worms. A shame neither they nor Xander can make it to the top ten, but maybe next time.

10th Place: J Moreno

Woohoo, J makes it to the top ten! She got a total of 47 votes, and was one of the hardest to count since she has so many name variations haha.

J managed a pretty good showing. With more backstory details and her based-ness during the trial, I'm not surprised she was able to score a top ten spot. As someone who thinks non-violent tsunderes are very fun and amusing, I totally get the appeal.

9th Place: Eden Tobisa

Eden managed to also make it into the top ten with 49 votes, beating J by only 2 votes.

I'll be honest, I'm pretty impressed with Eden. I think she probably benefitted from the top five rule, since she got a lot of points from the 2nd to 5th slots. While the first slot didn't have to be your favorite character, most people probably did put their favorite there. So even if she isn't always people's most favorite, how could they possibly dislike such a sweet character?

8th Place: Arei Nageishi

Next up, Arei Nageishi, the Ultimate Bowler with 63 votes. That's quite a gap between her and Eden. But they still ended up next to each other, which can only mean one thing: Areden is canon /j.

Arei doing well is something I expected, since she's a bit of a wild card. If you like jerk characters, she's got you covered. If you like nice characters, she tried so hard to be good at the end. If you like crying, she died before she could achieve her dreams. Truly a character that pleases everyone, haha.

7th Place: David Chiem

...Holy shit. Seriously? Only 7th place? He barely made it into the top half of the main cast? Damn.

David got 64 votes, only beating Arei by one measly vote. Gotta say, David barely getting to the top half of the main cast in this list surprises me. I mean, he's so popular, right?!? Everyone was so obsessed with him right after chapter 2 ended! Who knows, maybe the hype died down a bit after people got used to his new act--I mean totally 100% real personality reveal.

6th Place: Rose Lacroix

After David shit-talked Rose, I'm sure we're all very amused to see her beating him, haha.

Rose gathered 66 votes, scoring 6th place by only 2 votes. Rather impressive, I didn't expect to see her up so high, but I'm pleased! After her little angsty speech during the second trial, I have to say I'm more endeared to her as well, so it's nice to see her defy my expectations. But then again, she's yet another character I've never seen a single person say they particularly dislike, so maybe I should've expected this.

5th Place: Whit Young

Whit makes it to the top five! Yay! He got here with 69 votes, a number I'm sure he'd have at least one joke about.

This is pretty expected, since I think most people are aware Whit is decently popular. A seemingly happy jokester who's secretly depressed is an archetype that usually endears a lot of people, in my experience.

Though I would like to give a shout-out to the person who wrote: "1. Whit, 2. Whit (mastermind version), 3. Whit (traitor version), 4. Whit (psychotic kanade version), 5. Whit (pinkie pie version)". I considered counting it as only 1 vote, since voting for the same character five times is against the rules, but I decided it was too funny to not count and counted it as 5 instead. So If you want to get technical, Whit is technically only 6th, without me breaking the rules. Sorry Rose.

4th Place: Charles Cuevas

See, my intervention allowed Whit to be next to Charles, it was meant to be. /j

Charles got 71 votes. I expected him to do well, but almost on the podium of top three? Wow! Congratulations, Charles. Like I said with Arei, people who like jerk characters and those who like nice characters are both appeased by characters like this, so it makes sense that he's rather popular. Especially since he has a bunch of cute sprites.

3rd Place: Veronika Grebenshchikova

Our top three begins with...Veronika, who got 72 votes! She barely managed to get past Charles by a singular vote!

I'm impressed with Veronika! I knew she was popular, but not top three popular! I suppose she is basically every Danganronpa fan to the extreme, so it makes sense most people like her at least a little bit. Not only does she have a super awesome design, but an interesting dynamic with many cast members as well.

2nd Place: Ace Markey

HOLY SHIT???? SECOND?!?!

Ace received a total of 77 votes, beating Veronika by a solid number, though not a crazy amount. And I'm...Super impressed with this! I knew more people started to like Ace after he died, but second? Wow! I guess I can never claim he's not one of the top three most popular characters ever again, haha.

Though...Since I hosted this poll, and I'm an Ace Markey-centric account, I should recognize Ace probably had a liiiiittle bit of an unfair advantage, since many of the people guaranteed to see the post the poll was in had to like him at least a little. Whoops! If a completely neutral party hosted this poll, maybe he would've ended up losing to Veronika or Charles, but I suppose we'll never know.

Anyways, Ace probably benefitted the least from this format, since he took an early lead in the first slot only to get closer to the others as time went on. A stark contrast from our champion, the most well-liked DRDT character...

1st Place: Teruko Tawaki

Congratulations, Teruko! She won by a HUGE landslide, getting a whopping 104 votes and blowing everyone else out of the water!

Teruko started out well, but not super well during the first slot, only to consistently get high numbers all the way through the 2nd to 5th slots. She was probably the character who benefitted the most from my top five system. While she may not be everyone's favorite, a lot of people still really like her! Making her the most well-liked, popular DRDT Character!

Since you see so many people saying that Teruko is hated on too much, it's nice to see her being able to pull out a victory on this one! There were 185 voters, which means more than half of the people who participated wrote down Teruko as one of their top five favorites. Her luck truly pulled through on this one!

---

And that's the end! Sorry this took so long, schoolwork has been mean to me lately. That's the reason I haven't posted in general that much either. But the results are finally complete! I hope you enjoyed this little experiment, and one of your top five did well!

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princessxt · 6 months ago

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hiii, i loved your hotch fic so much, could you maybe write a spencer reid x daughter one where he and the team interview y/n as a potential unsub and then reid finds out she's his daughter that he didn't know about, or any plot you want to write :) i hope you have an amazing day <3

You can make a request in the comments or by asking me a question!

You can see the list of who I write about here

like and follow to encourage me to keep posting<33

She Looks Like You

Pairing(s):Spencer Reid x Daugther Reader

Gender:Fluffy

Warning: none?

——————♥︎♥︎——————

Spencer never imagined himself in a family, with a wife, children, a dog and a house with a white picket fence. Contact with girls his age was embarrassing, as he generally couldn't stop talking about subjects that bored the girls. He had only two relationships in his life, and in both of them, the ending was devastating for Spencer. The first was in his last year at college. He met a lovely girl, dated her for a few months, but she disappeared from college. without telling Spencer. For a while he thought the worst could have happened to her, but when he contacted her family, they just told him she was fine and for the boy to leave her alone. And in his second relationship , well, we all know what happened to Mavie.those were the losses of Spencer's life.

He could get over it, after all, he didn't think he would have a family anyway.

He knew that his work took a lot of time, and that could strain a marriage, in addition to how dangerous it would be, considering what happened to Hotch's wife. He may have been shaken by his last relationship, but he didn't let it destroy him. , and now you're here, trying harder than ever to continue saving lives.

The case the team was on was not a case of a serial killer. A couple had been murdered, and the only evidence the local police had was a strand of hair, from the killer, which according to the tests was a woman.

It didn't take long for the team to put together a profile, which led to a young girl.

They didn't have the motivation, but they had in mind that during an interrogation she could say something that would be useful for the case. When the young woman was already in the interrogation room, the agents entered.

"Are you Y/N Y/L/N?" Hotch asks, sitting in front of the young woman, making the young woman look at him with contempt. Spencer was behind Hotch, just watching her, finding her face familiar.

"Unfortunately"She throws her body back and leans against the chair, bored.

"Do you know why you're here?" The older man looks at the files in front of her, waiting for the right moment to show them to the girl.

"It looks like I'm suspected of something." She looks at Hotch, staring at him.

"Do you recognize this couple?" He shows the photos of the crime scene, with the dead couple in one of the photos. Her reaction was not what the agents expected. In the profile, they said that when the killer saw the photos of the crime scene , she wouldn't have a negative reaction, and would just stare at the photos, without a sign of remorse, but Y/n, the moment she saw the photos, turned her face away, feeling her stomach turn and her lunch return to her throat. Place your hand over the photos and close the file.

"Look, am I going to get arrested?" She looks at Hotch, angry that he showed her those horrible photos.

"You can leave at any time. But first, we need a DNA sample." Hotch takes the folders off the table and places them on her lap.

"DNA? Don't you need a warrant for that?" She gets up and grabs the coat that was on the chair.

"Not if you let us collect it willingly and make everything easier." Hotch follows her with his eyes, watching her go to the door.

"Bad luck for you, I'm not the type to make things easy." He opens the door and leaves, without looking back, leaving Hotch and Reid alone in the room.

"Do you think she has something to do with murder?" Spencer finally speaks.

"Her reaction wasn't what we imagined. We need a mandate, we'll only know for sure when the results come out." Hotch gets up from his chair and leaves the room, going to provide the mandate.

A few hours later they were already at the door of Y/n's house, with the warrant in hand, ready to collect the DNA.

They knock on the door and the girl answers, looking disappointed by the agents at her door.

"Let me guess, they came to get my DNA?" The agents agree and she gives them space to enter.

"Mom, those agents are here!" She shouts towards the second floor of the house.

The agents deliver the warrant to the girl. A few minutes later, a woman, approaching 35 years old, appears. Spencer could recognize her from miles away. It was Melissa, her first love. The one who disappeared without telling him anything.

"Do you really think my daughter killed that couple? This has to be a joke." She sits next to her daughter and takes the warrant from her hand, reading it in a few seconds.

"I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid." Hotch follows the manual, and introduces himself to the girl. When she hears Reid's name, her body tenses, and being a profiler, Spencer notices it. .

"A saliva sample and a strand of hair. Get it over with." The girl gets up and comes face to face with Hotch, who takes all the materials needed to do the collection. He takes the saliva sample and the hair, leaving the house then.

They take the sample to the laboratory. The next day, the result went directly to Garcia.

"Guys, I have some bad news, the DNA is not compatible. I'm sorry" Garcia says on the other end of the phone, the team sighs in disappointment, knowing that whoever killed the couple was still out there.

"Wait, here in the files it says that she is compatible with an agent." Garcia says and everyone looks at each other.

"What do you mean compatible with an agent? Is there any document saying she's adopted?" JJ says and gets closer to the phone.

"It doesn't say anything, I'll try to get into the file, just a minute." She stays silent and everyone in the room can hear the keyboard making noise. A minute later, Garcia sees the last thing she could imagine on her screen. one "Oh no" and the whole team is confused.

"Garcia, what did you think?"Emily asks, crossing her arms.

"I'll send it to you" is the only thing she responds. After that, the agents received a file over the phone, and what was written left everyone in shock.

"Spencer, is she... is she your... daughter?" Derek asks, staring blankly at the document. Spencer didn't know what to say or how to react. This had crossed his mind when he found out that Y/n's mother was Melissa, but he believed that if she was pregnant she would have told him.

"Reid, is that possible?" Hotch looks at him, who was motionless.

"I dated her mother during college, maybe it is." He didn't know if he wanted that to be true or a lie. He started thinking about everything, and remembered the date of birth he saw in Y/n's file. a few months after Melissa disappeared. He no longer had any doubts.

"Thanks Garcia, if you find out anything else let us know"JJ hangs up.

"So, she's no longer a suspect." Emily tries to change the atmosphere in the room, drawing everyone's attention to the case.

"Spencer, can I talk to you?" Hotch calls him and they leave the room.

"This is something very important, Spencer. Go figure it out, take the rest of the day off and talk to Melissa and Y/n, you have a lot to discuss" Spencer agrees. He grabs his things and goes to Melissa's house, knocking on the door.

She opens the door and says "I was waiting for you. I knew that after Y/n's exams came out you would come here. You can come in." She gives Spencer space to enter.

"You knew, and you didn't tell me anything."Spencer stops in front of her, in disbelief at everything that was happening.

"Would you like something to drink? Water, juice, beer." She goes to the kitchen followed by Spencer.

"You can sit"She points to some benches on the kitchen counter. She goes to the fridge and takes out 2 beers.

"I don't drink." Spencer says dryly.

"Then some water"She takes a bottle of water.

"Where is Y/n?" he takes a sip of water, calming down.

"He's at a friend's house, he won't be back until night, we have all the time in the world to catch up." She mocks the last part.

"Does she know? That I'm her father?" He says.

"She don't even suspect it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He looks at her, remembering the past, the time when they were together.

"You were about to graduate and join the FBI, I knew that when that happened, she and I would be in the crosshairs of anyone who wanted revenge on you. I did it to protect my daughter."

"I would quit the FBI without thinking twice. I would graduate and look for a good job so I could take care of her. You should have told me, given me the chance to see my daughter grow up" At that moment, Spencer's eyes were about to look fills with tears, thinking about all the memories he missed in his daughter's life.

The silence in the kitchen was embarrassing. Neither of them knew what to say.

"I want to be part of her life from now on." Spencer breaks the silence.

"I don't know if she'll want to. Last night she spent the night talking about how idiots you and your colleague were." She laughs.

"I want to at least try, help me get her to support me." He looks at her, who avoids looking into her eyes.

"I can talk to her tonight, explain everything, and if she wants to see you, I'll call you." She says and finally looks the doctor in the eye.

"What is she like? Is she smart, kind?" He asks wanting to know more about her.

"She looks like you. She's smart, kind to people she likes, but she has my personality." She smiles remembering her daughter.

The rest of the afternoon was peaceful, they talked a little more about her the girl. When Spencer returns to the hotel, he waits for a response from Melissa, to find out whether or not Y/n wants to have contact with him. It doesn't take long until he receives a message from Melissa.

*Tomorrow, at 4 pm at the cafe in the center, she will meet you there*

He smiles reading the message, but feels nervous about having contact with the girl, now that he knows she is his daughter.

The other day, Spencer couldn't stop thinking about her date with Y/n, he thought about bringing something to please her, but he didn't know what she liked.

When it was time, Spencer went to the cafe, sitting at a table and waiting for Y/n. She arrived some time later, going directly to the table. Both, not knowing how to greet each other, just exchanged a "Hi".

"So, did your mother explain everything?" Spencer tries to calm the atmosphere. The girl only responds with a "Yes."

Spencer and Y/n knew that creating a father-daughter relationship would be a challenge, but they both liked being challenged.

——————♥︎♥︎——————

Hii, if you have a better idea for a title, you can tell me in the comments!

#x daughter!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #female reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #criminal minds oneshot #oneshot #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x daughter reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid x teen!reader #spencer x daughter!reader

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firegirl888101 · 4 months ago

Text

Insatiable Madness Intermission!

(Intermissions contain percentages for a certain point in the story! This Intermission is only accurate after View 10 and before View 11.)

Please keep in mind that these will change for better, or worse, as the story develops.

And remember, someone with a percentage of 50% could have the same feelings as someone with a percentage of 100%! Each character expresses, feels and thinks differently from eachother due to their different personalities.

It is important for you, the viewer, to decide whether a harbinger has turned yandere or not. I will not reveal much, for I mustn't disturb your own thoughts.

However, I can reveal that there are currently 2 Yanderes detected, and more will soon follow... In fact, I feel it might be sooner than you realise.

~ PIERRO AND PULCINELLA ARE PLATONIC ~

Pierro - 19%

He truly does see Y/N's value as a pawn to the Tsaritsa's plans back in Teyvat, but finds their behaviour appalling. Sometimes, The Jester questions whether the Tsaritsa would appreciate them dead rather than alive in her palace once they return home.

They're an eyesore. Not only that, but they constantly complain of his presence in their house. It's not his fault, the incompetent doctor didn't think of his machine only working one way. It's because of these very reasons he decided to take refuge in your father's office. Of course, you complained the following afternoon when you realised that's where he's settling. Unfortunately for you, he's indifferent to your complaining and just pushes you out the room if you distract him from his work. Don't you have better things to do? Go bother someone else, he's sure some of the other Harbinger's have been dying to ask you more questions.

'Always yapping in my ear. When are they going to repent their useless actions, be quiet, and stop resisting the fact I've taken the calmest room in the house? It's not my fault I brought my work with me unlike some of the others.'

Pierro doesn't care for this world. Although, the technology and freedom the people seem to have reminds him of Khaenri'ah, that thought alone helps him relax when he's alone in the evening. Perhaps when Dottore sorts out his defective machine, he'll return alone to reminisce of what could have been?

Capitano - 12%

He believes Y/N is weak, and unexpectedly powerless considering their intelligence within the fate of Teyvat. Before walking through Dottore's portal, The Captain was prepared for a noble battle. However, finding you shivering in fear was not what he was expecting.

They're pathetic. They make him feel useless in this world. He's a trained soldier, an army general, a legendary and respected tale among not only the Fatui but elsewhere in Teyvat. Without a battle or a conflict, there is physically nothing he can do here. Sure, he could always fight with Childe and give him the satisfaction he's been waiting for, but Capitano doesn't feel Tartaglia is worthy of such a spar yet. Not to mention the fact you've already professed your dislike of violence, Capitano believes people in this world are wimps.

'Once again I have been refused and turned away from the front door, how else should I spend my time today...? I'll ask Lohefalter for some advice.'

Capitano feels as if this world is stationary. It seems too safe for his liking, no monsters, no powers, nothing. But is it as it actually seems? Or is this world far more dangerous than he could ever imagine due to the disguise it covers itself in?

Dottore - 39%

He believes The Decider has untouched potential. Yet, The Doctor can’t help but feel as if experimenting on them would be fruitless. He feels conflicted, and often chooses to observe their behaviour from afar with a notepad he stole from their office and a pen he brought with him.

They’re quite interesting. Dottore can’t remember the last time he was forced to observe the behaviour of someone before cutting them open. This whole experience has been a massive realisation for him, and perhaps a sadistic awakening. From now on, he’s decided that when he gets a new lab rat he’ll torment them first to get inspiration for his experiments. After all, his younger clones aren’t the most… imaginative logic wise in terms of ideas. But, you refuse to answer his questions! How is he supposed to get results if you avoid him all the time? He doesn't understand, you don't seem to be avoiding anyone else, why are you excluding him solely? ...It seems as if he'll have to rely on the 'television' for now.

‘Their lips seem to be shaking at a faster pace. They must be feeling a rapidly increasing fear in our presence. How… strange. This is common behaviour among regular people, why would The Decider of all biological beings display the same patterns?’

Dottore is keen to discover more secrets about this world, and has no doubt in his mind that there is an important link between it and Teyvat. All he needs is more evidence to make his argument... that, and with the portal working in the first place of course. How is he supposed to record his results when his portal can't take him home?

Columbina - ???

She believes The Decider is special. Very, very, special. The Damselette doesn't recognise and cannot pinpoint why she feels the way she does, but what she does know is it feels exhilarating.

They're amusing, the way they struggle and how it's clear they want to protest the Harbinger's actions. Watching their realisation that fighting back is hopeless brings her great satisfaction, it feeds her sadism in a delightful way and is a good temporary source to get that kind of pleasure considering the fact that she can't tease any of her soldiers at the moment. Often, she'll find herself stood outside of your bedroom, unable to prevent her curiosity from leading her there. She hasn't decided to go in yet, respecting your privacy for the time being. But, if you keep leading her on she'll have no choice but to disrespect that privacy and do some investigating.

'Hmm, this room is awfully stuffy but it'll have to do. Does the Decider really spend their time in here? Oooh, what's that smaller television doing there? The Jester seems to have placed his papers all over this desk, how insulting for them. Pfuhuhu...~'

Columbina doesn't mind this world. In fact, she prefers it. Here, unlike in Teyvat, she has the freedom to do whatever she wants and has an interesting mortal to keep her company. What? She's not that stupid, unlike the other Harbingers she's fully aware just how powerless Y/N actually is. She wonders how long it will take for the others to notice, and looks forward to the chaos that will follow soon after.

Arlecchino - 25%

She knows her true feelings. The Knave simply doesn't care for The Decider, she's too busy fretting over the House of Hearth functioning appropriately whilst she's away in another world.

They annoy her a lot, however unlike some Harbingers, she covers it with disinterest as her annoyance could instill more fear into them. She's used to the look of fear, and has no intention of making them feel it due to her unable to control her temper. She's controlled her behaviour in front of others before, you shouldn't be any different. So why is it, whenever you look into her eyes, is it harder for her to remain uninterested with you? Before, it was noticeable and minor, therefore she could push it away. But now? It's getting harder to manage, she tries to stay away from you any time she can. She often warns you not to look into her eyes, just as she does for anyone else. And yet, you have made no effort to correct your mistakes. Arlecchino often wonders if you're just a very forgetful person, that, or you're just an idiot.

'I mustn't let the children stay in my mind for too long. For now, I have to focus on The Decider and returning them to The Tsaritsa for the mission.'

Arlecchino pays no attention to this world. She has seen The Jester feel emotional towards its progression but can not see it in the same light. All she wants is to finish the mission so she can return to the House of Hearth and focus on the Hydro Archon's Gnosis.

Pulcinella - 40%

He finds their behaviour appalling. Y/N in The Rooster's mind is incredibly childish, he finds their 'coping methods' blatantly rude and unforgiving.

They're impossible to deal with at times. Maybe, if they had a clear idea of their own predicament and the Harbingers predicament, they would understand that none of the harbingers want to be there in the first place! The very idea of you being in the same area as him riles him up... However, he has grown to appreciate your behaviour considering it reminds him of home. Yes, you can often act worse than a 7 year old, but he does understand that you're not in a good place right now. And you shouldn't be faulted for that. Would he ever explain that to you? No, definitely not. These feelings he harbours causes him to feel protective over you at times. Pulcinella can't explain it, there's something about you that makes him so angry yet so forgiving. If you ever make it out alive under the Tsaritsa's guise, he might consider making you a high ranking attendant under him. Perhaps you'll even rise to his right-hand? No, he mustn't get his hopes up. You're bound to die the second you enter Snezhnaya.

'Did they just prohibit us from entering in the garden? I have to interject, prohibiting us from entering their bedroom is completely expected, but the garden? Absolutely not.'

Pulcinella doesn't care about this world. As a mayor, he's more focused on the heap of work he'll have to do when he returns. The very thought sends uncomfortable shivers down his spine, considering the fact that he always completes his work on time in his schedule.

Scaramouche - 47%

He sees The Decider's existence as worthless. The Balladeer can't tell whether you're dim in the head or playing your cards weakly. You have clearly shown him you're powerless and unwilling to even try and escape your situation. Must he do everything for you?

They're too nice to the Harbingers in his opinion. Why, despite them murdering your family, do you show them kindness? Show him kindness? Not even a day later of being kidnapped and held hostage in your own home, you share your food with them. They didn't command you to do that - the majority of them don't even need to eat! You chose to give them your homecooked meal, and for that, you've somehow earned Scaramouche's respect. For the first time in almost 500 years, you caused him to hold his tongue and not point out the blatant truth, your cooking was disgusting. After following you to make sure you wouldn't run out of the house crying, he promised himself that you would never have to eat that food again. Why? Because he'll cook for you. It would be wise on The Decider's part not to question him about this though, he himself has no clue why he suddenly feels care for you despite only knowing you for a couple days. The thought disgusts him, has he not learnt his lesson?

'All of their struggling so far has done nothing for them, are they waiting for the right moment? Hm, maybe I should do something to... push them in the right direction.'

At first, Scaramouche despised this world. The people are useless here, the air he breathes in feels blotched, and the surplus of technology used is downright uncomfortable for him. Everywhere he goes, there's some kind of light staring back at him. Is there even a way to turn them off? How can you sleep when there's still light outside? He doesn't understand you. Now though, Scaramouche secretly can't bear the fact that he'll eventually have to leave you. Maybe this world isn't so bad after all...

Sandrone - 40%

She thinks that The Decider is lacking something important. The Marionette can't decide whether she likes them or not. On one hand, they're knowledgeable about this world and its beautiful technology, but on the other... they look so... plain.

They're too impractical, and display irrational behaviour. It seems to her you don't think before you speak, she despises that kind of person. Sandrone believes that the truest enemy of perfection is emotion, you support her beliefs by simply being yourself. Although, you have shown resilience, which did take her off guard at first. Despite throwing a tantrum and causing an emotional escapade, you seemed to shape up after. Perhaps you got everything out of your system? To her, this is marvellous progress. Now she can continue to ask you her own questions about this world and its discoveries.

'Ugh, that's not right either. I knew I should have drawn a diagram of the machine before taking each part away to inspect. What to do, The Decider seems too busy with the others to help me out here. Perhaps I should... deal with their problems so they can deal with mine.'

In the beginning, Sandrone despised this world. It felt weird, not to mention the possible danger of unexpected attacks. After awhile, she came to regret her outbursts at Dottore, and now enjoys every single day she gets to be here. Everyday, she has a new gadget to tinker with. The list never ends, it feels like being in her workshop! Despite wishing she could return to Teyvat as soon as possible, she definitely won't become bored anytime soon. From this unique experience, she's learnt to assess the situation more before giving a vocal opinion.

Signora - 20%

She knows something is wrong with The Decider, but she just can't put her finger on it. The Fair Lady doesn't really care either way, allowing her arrogance to control her interest.

Their immaturity got them in this mess; Signora really doesn't care what happens to them in the end. Sure, you gave them a roof to stay under during their stay in this world. But, she knows that if it were completely your choice, you'd kick all the Harbingers out the second you could. Other than that, she doesn't really have anything to say to you, and has no intention of choosing to talk to you. If she was ever forced to make conversation with you, she supposes she could give you some pointers for clothes.

'What are they wearing this time!? I can't do this anymore. If it weren't for me being stuck here, I could care less. But every single hour I have to see The Decider is pure torture! Seriously, what are they wearing?'

Signora doesn't really like this world, although, she's not that bothered either. All she wants is to get The Decider to the Tsaritsa and continue her mission in collecting the Gnoses. In fact, if Dottore fixed the machine, she would be in Inazuma right now with the Raiden Shogun's Gnosis in her very hands! ...Or so she estimates anyway.

Pantalone - 20%

He has nothing to say to The Decider. The Regrator honestly cannot be bothered to talk to them, considering the fact that he would have nothing to say. It could just be him, but he doesn't see anything special in you at all. Is Dottore sure he as the right person?

They truly are boring. If you were interested in banking, or had problems with money he could advise in some way. He's so bored just fiddling with his coins in the house. Give him something to do, anything. He would beg, but he feels that's beneath him. Do you seriously have nothing to do in your house? It's not too small, so he doesn't think you're poor, but the only thing he can do is watch the 'television'. Even then, he can't do that because Dottore's hogging it all day with a pen in hand! For the love of the Tsaritsa, get him out of this world before he dies of old age. That, or give him some work. He's itching to get back into his paperwork for the Northland Bank he put off before coming here.

'And that is the 20th time I've struck heads. Has Dottore left to bother The Decider yet? Ah, it seems he has not.'

Because of you, Pantalone is shivering in anticipation to leave this world and get back to Teyvat. However, from his conversations with the mad doctor, it seems like that won't be happening any time soon. He is this close to snapping, if Dottore won't find a solution to get them out of this world, Pantalone will have to turn to you instead. If you don't have the answers he wants, you'll have hell to pay.

Tartaglia - 42%

He enjoys Y/N's company. The Young Lord* likes spending time with you whenever he can, even if he can tell it annoys you sometimes... That doesn't matter though, because what's important is you haven't pushed him away yet!

They're funny, their behaviour to him is very amusing. He's spent hours by your side and somehow doesn't get bored! In the beginning, he only spent his time around you because he wanted to know about his future, to this day he curses his selfish behaviour. Now, he spends time with you because he wants to. Besides Capitano and Pulcinella, he hates all the Harbingers and physically can't be in the same room as them for more than an hour before feeling his Foul Legacy grow within him. But you? You nullify that feeling completely. In fact, Childe hasn't felt the abyss within him grow the entire time he's been in this world which is a miracle! Occasionally, he does feel bloodthirsty and asks you for a fight. But, after seeing you shrivel away in the mention of violence, he stops himself and goes to The Captain again. He'd rather be denied by the legendary captain compared to you. Childe can still feel electro jolt through his body when he sits down for a much needed rest, The Balladeer is too harsh on him sometimes.

'Where on earth are they? They're not in their bedroom, not in the garden, not in the kitchen, and not in their office! Did they... no, they can't have escaped. Perhaps they-- Oh, there they are! That's unusual, they never go to the bathroom at this time.'

Despite enjoying his time here with you, Childe knows that after awhile he'll begin to feel homesick and wish to see his family again. He also knows that when the time comes to return to Teyvat, he'll have to let you go and give you to the Tsaritsa. This is what is stopping him from getting to know you on a personal level, the thought makes his heart feel tight in worry for you.

*Note, I am using the meaning of 'Childe' as his official title because I cannot take 'Childe' seriously I'm sorry- I see it as a nickname since that is what Tartaglia seems to use himself.

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