#and he just... is really good hearted! its very refreshing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

begginmonty · 6 months

Text

working with mike

(this doesn't follow the plot directly and mike works like more than just 3 shifts, also this is legit 2k words long i got so so so carried away im just so in love with mike, apologies!! its also not been proofread sorry <3)

before mike is hired alongside you, steve raglan had given you the job a week or so ago after you had lost your last job over a silly customer dispute (the customer is never right) and steve was your last hope at job, and bingo he had one. here you are 2 weeks later, waiting by your car outside the rundown pizzeria, waiting to train the new guy whose supposed to help you

a car pulls up and out comes a very pretty, but very tired/drained, looking guy, you introduce yourself with a small smile and he doesn’t return it, and is like “im mike”, you give him the benefit of the doubt that he hasn't smiled at you, new jobs are stressful.

the first shift goes fine, you tell him the basics and show him the training video tape, which alongside your commentary of making fun of some of it and nit-picking little things finally gets an amused smile from him. you can see him ease up a little. he doesn’t talk as much as you do but he seems to enjoy your ramblings.

you show him the showtime performance after he looks confused about ‘animatronics’ . watching his reaction of the animatronics rendition of talking in your sleep by the romantics is a little amusing to you but you were the same way when vanessa had shown you originally.

“its something isn’t it?” he doesn't reply, he just stood looking in disbelief.

when morning rolls around, you show him how to lock up and then give him his own key that steve had given you.

“wasn’t so bad was it?”

“it was..different”

the second shift alongside mike is different but a good different. he’s running a little late and walks in on your blasting an 80s hot pop hits tape over the old speakers, vacuuming the main dining area. a smile, that melts his heart a little, lights up your face as you see him walk in.

“im sorry i’m late the babysi-”

“hey, dont stress it. you still made it!”

he is not used to someone being so nice and friendly to him?? its foreign but he finally cracks you a small smile, watching you as you turn on the vacuum and continue listening to the music. (i need to hug him i stg)

he hasn't met anyone as nice as you in a long long time, it’s refreshing for him

and not in a creepy way !!!!!!!!!!! but he watches the cameras and watches as you just listen to the music as if the world isn’t there and continue to clean the area.

“need a hand?”

mike speaks up as you take a break leaning against a table, facing the main stage, the curtains open (as your next task is going to clean around the animatronics, it’s getting too dusty), music turned down quietly. he comes and leans against the table with you. you start small talk, saying something about the animatronics and you guys talk a little.

“so, you said something about a babysitter, do you have, like, a kid or something? sorry if im being too nosy, please tell me to shut up or something” mike cannot get over how nice you are

and then mike explains his living situation, and then the two of you get into a discussion about how families can suck and be shitty ect

and mike really likes how you don't pry or ask him lots of questions like others have done in the past, this man is really liking you and he’s only know you for two days

“this guy…must’ve been on something to make this place” and mike laughs a little !!! for the first time you got him to laugh !!

“yeah it’s something isn’t it..” both of you are sat against a table just staring at the animatronics in front of you

the two of you make small talk as you wipe down the dust covered tables but you can see how tired he is, he’s yawning a little bit.

“hey, you know, you can like sleep on the job by the way?” he looks up at you from the table, “sometimes i take a good couple hours nap in the office, no ones breaking into this place anytime soon”

he tries to protest and mentions towards the cleaning products and you brush him off, “go, you need it”

mike feels a strange warmth in his heart the hasn't felt, maybe ever? and he naps for a few hours whilst you continue to clean around. cleaning isn't in your job description but honestly you’re worried about the level of dust entering your lungs y'know

a loud thud and chair scraping noise comes from the office and you run to it and see mike on the floor, he looks confused and you help him to sit up. you ask if he’s okay but he seems out of it, “mike, whats wrong?”

sitting on the floor together, mike explains everything to you and opens up to you about a little brother he had, and tells you about his dream issues and sleep issues and you can see he’s upset and shaken by this dream. He shows you the sleeping pills and he explains the dream theory he’s been reading about.

“this is the part where somebody usually calls me crazy”

“you aren’t crazy, mike” mike notices how kind you eyes are and how warm your voice is, “i’ve seen crazy. you are far from it” you joke a little and he has the faintest smile tug at his lips.

finally home time woo !! as you lock up the gate, you watch as mike goes to his car, “mike wait!”

he turns around almost instantly at your voice as you run up to him, you pull something out from your hoodie a fazbear security badge and hand it to him, “you’re officially security now” he takes it from you and thanks you with that small smile.

3rd shift passes (you could’ve sworn foxy was standing in a different spot and bonnie’s hand placement looked completely different) and vanessa comes for her weekly visit and meets mike. when you aren’t with them, vanessa brings up the fact that you’re one of the kindest and nicest people she’s ever met and mike agrees.

next shift goes by and another and you guys have a long conversation about everything and you tell him more about yourself. hes never really been romantically involved with anyone but somebodysss got a crush (its him and well, you do too). and then you let him sleep and decide to tackle the old kitchen. (you could’ve sworn you heard someone walk down the hallway but you double check and no ones there)

mike dreams again and you swear you hear a groan and you walk to the office to see him, out of breath, breathing, clutching his arm and theres blood coming from it and he looks up at you trembling. “oh my god mike, what happened?”

you sit opposite him, patch him up and make him a hot drink, and he's explaining everything to you and you can tell he’s really getting bothered by these dreams. (you also think hes hurt himself from falling off the chair somehow..unbeknownst to you)

he’s tearing up a little and you just hold his hand in yours, and he's looking at your kind eyes and he doesn’t know how to react to being touched, he stops talking (mike is incredibly touch starved oh my god) and, carefully, you lean forward and hug him very gently.

he’s stiff at first but you can feel him relax into the hug and he wraps his non-injured arm around you and grips onto your back, “its okay mike. you’re okay” you can tell he really needs this hug and you can tell no one has really hugged him in a long time.

when the shift ends and you say goodbye for the day, your car just refuses to start. you cannot start it at all. you get out the car and look at it in a huff, but lucky for you mike hasnt driven a way yet

he gets out his car and you explain to him about your car, and he offers if you want a lift home or at least back to his house (his house is much closer than yours) and you can call someone about the car and you agree.

the drive is nice, you notice he has a great taste in music

meeting abby!! mike excuses himself for a shower whilst you're ringing the mechanics for your car, and he accidentally falls asleep on his bed after. when he wakes up (a good hour or so later, which you really don't mind) he walks into the living room to see you and abby sat on the floor colouring together with a cartoon on the tv, and you guys are really getting along and she’s wearing your security guard vest and badge. (her friends told her to trust you)

“uh abby, why dont you get ready for school?” mike speaks up, causing you both to look in his direction.

you can't fight the fact that he looks hot with joggers and shirt on, looking sleepy as hell aHHH

“okay” abby smiles and gives you back your stuff and runs off to her room to get ready for school.

he walks over to you and sits down on the couch, “im sorry for falling asleep-”

you sit next to him and place your hand on his arm and smile, “its fine, mike, really. your sister is lovely”

mike looks up from your hand and looks at your face. he looks sleepy and gorgeous and you look gorgeous to him and your eyes are so kind and theres a moment. some sort of magnetic force kinda pulls your faces closer together.

“im gonna be late!” says abby running into the room.

mike drops abby to school and you stay in his house, waiting for the mechanic to eventually call you back like he says he will. you feel a little awkward sitting on his couch watching tv but you have nothing better to do.

he comes back he offers you a shower and some of his clothes as he feels bad for you having to sit in work clothes.

the way his heart feels when he see’s you walk out to the bathroom and back to the couch next to him wearing one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his joggers as well hMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmm (too early for love?)

he smells good

you must both drop off to sleep, as a few hours later mike opens his eyes for a minute to the TV showing some drama show, and then he notices a heavy feeling on his chest. there you are, passed out, in his clothes, head on his chest peacefully asleep.

this is something he’s never felt before !1!!1

he blushes (thank god you’re asleep) and brushes a hair out of your face, staring down at your sleeping face (uh oh someones in love) before grabbing the worn blanket from behind him and throwing it over your exposed legs.

you stirr a little, your arm wrapping around his lower half and he's so flustered and sleepy and aHHHH

he wraps his arm around your shoulders gently and passes out again (PART 2??)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie imagine #mike schmidt imagine #five nights at freddy's imagine #william afton #movie ver

3K notes · View notes

mrfoox · 1 year

Text

Uh.... Love how.... Instead of gently reassuring me or such whenever I say something really bad about myself Oliver just sigh loudly/grunt and then go to argue against me and finally gently tell me the opposite :')

#miranda talking shit #Me: no one cares about what i think...#Oliver: -loud groan-🙄 ok who said that except you? No one. I care about your opinions. I want to hear what you think #I meam then he went on a little side note to clarify 'oh i dont care that much about hearing it but i want to hear it bc i want to have an #Discussion with you' (very on brand. Cant just say something like caring about someone without adding not like i care after lol)#Hes probably tired of my insecure shit but he still goes so hard every time i say something. Ive said im fat/similar three times and all #Times he took it as an personal attack i honestly love it. Not met anyone who goes through all kinds of tones in one ... Time #Its refreshing. I know ive known him for soon three years but i would say we've only been friends for two #But hes still so refreshing in his way of thinking and talking. I think i like how he's not treating me... Intentionally softer/gently bc #Of how i am or bc of our situation? If he thinks im wrong or say something stupid he'll say so straight up. Im used to people being too #Scared to do that because they know i cry easily or something similar. No he's just like ... I'll say whatever i think. Yet hes also way #Too nice. The amount of patience in that lil guy is big. If i was more brave and gave less shits about what others thinks id tell him this #Stuff. But i know hes not... Good with that sort of things. Technically no one im close with is really lmao. So i just scream lovingly #About them on here. Everyone is so nice to me and its just something i wish i could express clearly to others #Instead id probably ramble and start to cry if i try to put it into words. My heart just big and im luv people thanks

0 notes

fuckyeahgoodomens · 1 month

Text

The Assembly sees a cast of thirty-five interviewers who are autistic, neurodivergent or learning disabled, question an A-list celebrity for one extraordinary TV interview.

In this half-hour special, it's multi-award-winning actor and director, Michael Sheen, who is to face the grilling of a lifetime from the unique collective. No subject is out of bounds, no question is off the table.

On subjects as diverse as ex-girlfriends and on-screen kisses, to the OBE he gave back or his favourite motorway, how will the Good Omens star fare as The Assembly bring their unique approach to the celebrity interview?

The Assembly cast is a diverse cast ranging in age from eighteen to seventy-seven, amongst the group are musicians, artists, writers and students. Each will take their own approach in their attempt to get to the truth of Michael Sheen like nobody before has- whether that’s finding out his favourite sandwich filling or how he felt when his daughter was born.

The format is an adaptation of French show Les Rencontres Du Papotin, which saw the likes of Emmanuel Macron and Camille Cotin (Call My Agent) face the neurodivergent journalists of the Papotin. Gone was the flattery of the usual celeb fare – in its place, a mix of mischievous prodding, leftfield quizzing and profound exchanges. The superstars left completely off guard: actors asked about a driving ban or the death of a parent, the President asked if it’s really the behaviour of a role model to marry one’s teacher.

The show comes from Michelle Singer and Stu Richards' Rockerdale Studios, creators of mischievous content which seeks to put disabled agency at its heart. Stu is also known for co-creating and writing the BBC Three comedy, Jerk, and Rockerdale are most known for Channel 4’s Mission: Accessible.

Rockerdale Studios has worked closely with the BBC’s Creative Diversity Team, to ensure every element of the series works for and with autistic and neurodivergent voices.

The Assembly is a half-hour special to celebrate Autism Acceptance Week. Expect profound revelation, glorious chaos, and a lot of laughs.

The Assembly airs Friday 5 April, 10:40pm on BBC One and iPlayer

Interview with Michael Sheen

What made you say yes to being a part of The Assembly?

I said yes to being a part of The Assembly because it was just such an extraordinary and interesting idea. Then reading about the original French series, it just sounded so extraordinary, different and potentially a very revealing way to approach the tried and tested interview process, but obviously it is a lot more than just being an interview. The interview part of it is just one aspect of the project and I think there is still a lot of confusion, ignorance and fear around people with any kind of difference. I think being able to be involved in a project like this could maybe break down some of those barriers.

How is this different from any other TV show you’ve been a part of?

It’s very much unfiltered and that’s really exciting and quite nerve wracking for that reason! So much on TV is sort of smoothed out and filtered and made safe and this, certainly in the making of it, felt very not that! All the better and more refreshing for it too. I know a lot of work is put into the research and preparation for a show like this, but in terms of the actual questions being asked and the experience that you have in all being together when you’re filming, it feels very unpredictable in a really good way and really lead by the people taking part, which is terrific.

How did you feel going into filming?

Well I didn’t really have anything to go on, so I was excited. Sometimes when I’m going to be interviewed, I know what the interview is going to be about, I have a vague idea of the questions that will come up, I know the sort of things that I need to get across about what I’m there to talk about. But with this, I really had no idea what I was going to be asked, so I had to be prepared for everything and anything, there was a kind of freedom in that I suppose. Because of the unfiltered nature of what was going to happen and not being able to anticipate what might be asked, it was a little nerve wracking yes, but I was mainly just very excited!

Did your experience differ from what you were expecting and if so how?

Well I didn’t know what to expect really, so it’s not that it wasn’t what I was expecting because you can’t expect anything! There's no way you can expect anything because you just don’t know what’s going to happen, and because it is so unfiltered and unpredictable in terms of what might happen, where things might go, how people might be feeling on the day. For all the difficult questions that got asked at times, it just felt very loving and joyful and that everyone was very happy and excited to be there even though people were nervous or had anxiety at different times. There was a genuine feeling of community and I felt very welcomed into that community and ready to play so to speak, and you have to be ready to play. I felt very safe and looked after and it was just really, very funny as well – there was lots of laughter and wonderful things that people asked, responded to and performed, I mean I wasn’t expecting all of that, that was just wonderful! So many moments that I’ll never forget.

How does this compare to any other interview you’ve experienced?

It’s so unfiltered! The closest thing I can say is The One Show, where you go on to talk about one thing and then they ask you about everything else that’s going on on the show, so you get a question about your favourite bus route, then they ask you about otters! There’s an extraordinary pinball effect of questions and that’s the closest I could describe, but The Assembly is that x100. It really is extraordinary and that’s very unlike any other interview I’ve done really, usually everything is meant to follow on logically and have a kind of smoothness and polish to it, and this is just really raw and unfiltered and uncensored and I love that, I thought that was wonderful.

What can viewers expect from the show?

I imagine it will be very funny and I think quite moving. I was quite moved at times by seeing how much people had to struggle to overcome certain things they were dealing with in order to ask questions at times. That was uplifting. I think it will be different, it will be thought provoking I hope, and challenging in certain ways; challenging certain kinds of myths and stereotypes I think and ultimately just really entertaining and fun and joyful. I can’t really remember what I said, so I don’t know what people will learn about me... but it’s not about me, it’s about that fantastic group of people, but I certainly got a huge amount out of it too and I hope an audience will as well.

#michael sheen #the assembly #interview #michael interview #sounds great! :) <3

404 notes · View notes

clerc16 · 5 months

Text

✯ music? date? both ; charles leclerc

a/n: based on a tiktok i saw earlier, by teilhard_ :)

summary: she listens to music when getting ready. he loves it. she sends him a note - he asks her out.

warnings: none.

── ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You were a major music lover.

Getting ready? Listen to music. Reading? Listen to music. Driving? Listen to music. Bored? You guessed it.

Everyone knew that about you - you were unbelievably passionate about music. Any type of music.

“Y/NNNN, can we hang out today? iʼm bored” said a text from your friend. Naturally, you agreed - why not? It was a Saturday night and you had no plans whatsoever.

Like always, you turned on your regular playlist, making sure the volume is suitable only for your ears to hear, not to disturb any of your neighbors. Unbeknownst to you, your next door neighbor could listen to every sound coming out of your speakers. He was a nice guy - you interacted a few times, little “hello”s and “how are you”s every time you would randomly bump into each other. Despite being famous worldwide, he was extremely humble.

He was also devilishly handsome. But you never actually admitted that.

As you swiftly moved around your apartment to grab little bits and bobs needed to get ready, occasionally humming or singing along with the music, Charles Leclerc was sitting in the apartment right next to yours, attempting to read.

If he was bothered by your music, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you - but he wasnʼt. It gave his currently dull and dead apartment a lively feel to it. Plus, your music taste was unmatchable.

As you put on some final touches, you paused your music and turned off your speakers. You grabbed your purse, phone and keys and left your apartment, shutting your door with a soft thud.

It wasn’t the first time Charles heard your music - in fact, ever since he moved in, he’d be hearing various music genres at various times of the day. This almost seemed like his final straw; he wanted to get to know you more.

He didn’t know how to approach you - he didn’t have your number, your social media, not even an email. So he channeled his inner creativity and decided to talk to you in a special way.

The special way was by leaving you a note by your doorstep. Not very original, eh?

As you were out with your friend enjoying your night, Charles was tapping his pen on the desk trying to think of what to write. After a few long hours, Charles had written the perfect note and placed it by your doorstep, hoping to see a response in the morning.

You stumbled back into your apartment complex, trying not to make a noise. You werenʼt drunk, just tired, your body begging you to fall asleep. You paid little to no attention as to what you were stepping on as you approached your door, keys in hand. As you were about to walk in, something felt stiff underneath your shoes. Looking down, you saw a small cream envelope with your name written on it in fancy cursive writing.

You bent down to pick it up and walked inside your apartment, your eyes still on the envelope. What is this?

You sit down on your couch and carefully open the letter, not wanting to rip the envelope.

“Bonjour -

Je voulais juste dire que tu écoutes de la très bonne musique, jʼadore ça!

PS: écoute “This Charming Man” de The Smiths, tu devrais aimer...

- Charles (ton voisin, n°28)”

[ Hello -

I just wanted to say that you listen to really good music, I love it!

PS: listen to “This Charming Man” by The Smiths, you should like it...

- Charles (your neighbor, n°28) ]

You immediately smiled at the note, your heart bursting with pride. If someone compliments your music taste and recommends a song, they are immediately very dear to you.

You placed the note back into its envelope and got up to change and refresh. Youʼll make sure to write back - you just donʼt really know how.

The next day, the first thing Charles did when he got up was to check for a note. He didn’t find anything. Nothing.

He sighed and decided to get on with his day. He shouldnʼt have expected a lot, really. As he left his apartment, he checked for one last time - still, nothing.

Little did he know you were just writing his name on an envelope to place on his doorstep.

The day passed, both of you anxiously waiting for a reply from each other. When Charles finally came home and saw a pink envelope on his doorstep, he smiled so hard his cheeks must have been screaming. He grabbed the envelope and rushed inside, the smile never leaving his face.

“Bonjour!

Merci beaucoup! Cela signifie beaucoup. La chanson est incroyable, The Smiths ne déçoivent jamais.

PS: écoute de “Good Looking” de Suki Waterhouse :)

- Y/N”

[ Hello!

Thank you so much! It means a lot! The song is amazing, The Smiths never disappoint.

PS: listen to “Good Looking” by Suki Waterhouse :) ]

Charles immediately opens the song on his phone, listening to it. Your music taste never disappoints, either.

It was like that for a few days - notes filled with song suggestions being passed back and forth. Every time you played music, you made sure to turn it up just a notch so he can listen to it with you.

Eventually, phone numbers were exchanged too, so notes on doorsteps were replaced by texts. Despite all this, you two didn’t actually talk in real life - even though you were literally next door neighbors.

One day, you were doing your usual, listening to music while cooking dinner. Your doorbell rang, and you walked over to the door to see who it was. Funnily enough, no one was there - but a small envelope on the doorstep was. You were confused; you and Charles text now, so why another envelope?

You brought it inside and sat down, opening it swiftly. Your hands grasped at the paper and pulled it out, curiously reading.

“Bonjour!

I feel like itʼs appropriate to ask to see you in real life now. Talking to you has been lovely. What do you say, coming by my house tomorrow at 6PM for dinner?

☐ Oui

☐ Non

- One last letter from Charles :)”

You grinned from ear to ear as you grabbed a pen and ticket the oui box, placing the note back in its envelope and by his doorstep.

Hopefully he lets you play your music on that dinner.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc x you #fanfics

561 notes · View notes

hyperactively-me · 7 months

Text

king!ghost x reader -- attack

warnings: physical violence, blood, stitches, torture tactics

The village bustled with activity as you and King Simon strolled through its narrow cobblestone streets. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the local bakery, and the vibrant colors of market stalls caught your eye. It was a very rare occasion for the both of you to venture into the heart of the village, usually both preoccupied with matters within the palace. It was even more rare that you two were out in the village without an entourage of knights. No, it just you and Simon, Simon and you.

Every so often, you had ventured into the village, but you were always accompanied by Soap and another lower-rank knight, usually one that was in training. You never really minded their company, but every so often you had a quiet yearning to be able to go out into the village by yourself. A queen can dream.

“Are you sure about this, love?” Simon asked, a protective instinct flickering in his eyes. “I usually have a knight accompany you for a reason.”

You grinned, wrapping your arm around Simon’s. “Oh, stop worrying. I just want to be here like any other person. No need for all the fanfare today. Besides, I have you by my side.”

Simon chuckled, his concern easing as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. You were right, after all. He was perfectly capable of protecting you.

As you and Simon continued your leisurely walk through the village, the atmosphere felt light, and the people, recognizing you both, greeted you warmly. As you wandered deeper into the village, absorbing its sights and sounds, the simplicity of the day felt refreshing.

As you and Simon continue your leisurely walk through the village, you both come across a path leading into a more secluded area of the village.

“Never been this way before,” you hum before dragging him down the street.

Intrigued by the path less traveled, you decided to explore the more secluded corners of the village. The sounds of the bustling market gradually faded away, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of villagers going about their daily chores.

The path meandered through quaint cottages adorned with colorful flowers. It was a picturesque scene, and you couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of it. Simon, too, seemed to enjoy the view, humming with pleasure at the landscape.

However, just as you were immersed in the tranquil surroundings, the peace dissipated. From the shadows emerged a figure, their face obscured by a hood. In a flash, the hooded figure unsheathed a sword, charging toward you and Simon with alarming speed.

Simon’s eyes narrowed, his instincts kicking in. He swiftly stepped in front of you and pushed you back, drawing his sword. The villagers, noticing the danger, scattered in a panicked frenzy.

But before Simon could fully react, driven by an instinctual need to protect, you pushed him aside, placing yourself directly between him and the charging assailant. The sword struck you on your lower right side, the pain instantaneous and sharp.

Your breath catches in your throat as the pain erupts across your abdomen. You let out a cry, collapsing to the ground. The world around you blurred, and the anguished yell of Simon pierced through the haze.

The hooded assailant, realizing their attack had been foiled by you jumping in front of Simon, attempted to flee. However, some good samaritans rushed over and tackled the attacker to the ground, apprehending the spy before they could escape.

Without second thought, Simon dropped to the ground, kneeling beside you, his hands stained with your blood as he moved to flip you on your back. Panic surges through his whole being, his face growing pale.

“No, no, no,” he whispered, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a million pounds.

His hands tremble as he applies pressure to your wound, the blood seeping through the rip in your dress.

“Simon, it hurts,” you mutter, your voice hoarse, pain flooding your senses like never before.

Simon’s eyes filled with terror as he desperately tried to assess the extent of your injury.

“I know, I know,” he mutters.

The villagers, now realizing the gravity of the situation, called for a doctor. Simon’s usually composed demeanor cracked, and his voice wavered with fear.

“Stay with me, keep your eyes open,” he pleaded, his hands frantically working to stop the bleeding. His hands trembled as he applied pressure to your wound in an attempt to stop blood loss.

“We need help here!” he yells over his shoulder, voice angry and desperate.

“Simon,” you slur, trying your best to keep your eyes open for him. Your head is pounding. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Simon's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

Within moments, a village doctor rushed to your side, their expression grave as they took in the scene. The villagers who had detained the assailant handed them off to a few palace guards who had been called to the scene.

“Your majesty, I’m a doctor!” they clarified.

Simon's anger simmered beneath the surface as the doctor took over, their skilled hands quickly assessing the wound. The villagers, sensing the tension, gave the king a wide berth as he struggled to contain his emotions.

“Do what you have to do,” he pleaded, now moving to grab onto your hand. He was trying his best to not look at your blood on his hands. It made his stomach lurch with disgust.

Once the doctor looked over your wound, they looked up and spoke.

“It’s not fatal, your majesty. It is a deep wound, though.”

Simon didn’t budge the moment the doctor began to examine you, watching them extremely carefully as they pulled out some bandages. A ragged gasp escapes your throat as the doctor starts to apply some of the bandages to the wound.

“Careful,” Simon’s voice dropped in warning. The doctor froze for a moment, then gulped.

“Your majesty, I don’t have adequate supplies with me to fully dress the wound, but it will hold for now. She needs stitches. Your best course of action would be taking her back to the palace,” the doctor said steadily as they wrapped makeshift bandages around your lower abdomen.

Simon squeezes your hand tighter. His gaze never left you. His heart pounded in his chest, hearing your whimpers and small cries.

“It hurts,” you sniffle, your cloudy vision not helping you to stay calm.

Simon’s grip on your hand tightened even more, his jaw clenched in frustration. The helplessness gnawed at him as he watched you endure the pain. He nodded at the doctor, determination etched on his face.

“We're going back to the palace, now,” he declared, his voice a low growl.

Simon carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you protectively against his chest. The pain shot through your body, and you winced, clutching onto him.

"I've got you," he whispered, his tone a mix of reassurance and worry.

Another gaggle of palace guards, followed by Soap, came bursting through the clearing.

Simon looked up, his eyes meeting Soap’s with a silent understanding. There was no need for words—the urgency of the situation was evident.

“Soap, you know what to do.”

Soap nods, and starts ordering guards to secure the perimeter of the village.

“We're heading back to the palace. Clear the way,” Simon ordered, his voice cutting through the air. The guards swiftly formed a protective perimeter, ensuring a safe path through the village.

The journey back to the palace was a blur of agony and urgency. Simon navigated the streets with swift determination, his eyes always bouncing back down to your form to make sure you were comfortable, or as comfortable as you could be.

Upon reaching the palace, you were rushed into the infirmary, where the palace doctors and a team of medical staff awaited. The infirmary was a hive of activity as they readied themselves for you. Simon, with a steely resolve, carried you through the palace corridors, his eyes fixed on making it to the infirmary.

The medical team quickly took over, gently transferring you to a comfortable bed. Simon was reluctant to let go, but he knew it would be better for you if the medical professionals handled it.

“Tell me she'll be alright.” The doctor turned to him, a solemn expression on their face.

“Yes, her majesty will.”

The palace doctor, with a calm and steady demeanor, began assessing the extent of your injuries. Simon, his gaze unwavering, stood by your side, refusing to step away for even a moment.

Soap, having followed closely behind, approached Simon, concern etched on his face. “We’ve secured the village and increased patrols. The assailant is being interrogated. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Simon nodded, his attention still focused on you. “Make sure every corner of Kastron is searched for any potential threats. I want answers.”

Soap saluted and swiftly left to carry out the orders.

The palace doctor turned to Simon, their expression grave. “Your majesty, we need to perform a more thorough examination and proceed with additional treatment. If you could give us some space…”

Simon hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to stay by your side and the need to trust the medical professionals. Eventually, he reluctantly stepped back, his eyes never leaving you. The doctor and their team worked diligently to address your injuries. The process of stitching was refined, additional measures were taken to ensure your comfort, and Simon paced the room anxiously, his mind filled with a storm of emotions.

After what seemed like an eternity, the medical team stepped back, signaling that the immediate crisis had passed. The palace doctor approached Simon, her expression softer now.

“She's stable. She'll need time to recover, but with proper care, she should regain her strength.”

Simon let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. His gaze softened as he looked at you, still vulnerable in the bed.

“I'll be here,” he stated, his promise echoing in the quiet infirmary.

. . .

A few hours later, Soap had returned back to the infirmary. You were now peacefully asleep, breathing even and steady.

“Ghost, we’re ready whenever you are.”

Simon nods solemnly, then presses a soft kiss on your cheek before standing up.

“Let’s go.”

. . .

Ghost followed Soap through the winding corridors of the palace towards the dungeons. The air grew colder with each step, mirroring the steel in Ghost’s gaze. As they reached the secure chambers, guards acknowledged the king and granted them passage.

The dungeon was a damp, dimly lit maze of cells. The captured assailant, hood removed, sat in a corner, their eyes defiant. Ghost’s arrival cast a shadow across the dank space, his frame blocking out the light of the torches. His expression is cold and hard; unwavering, and unrelenting.

“Who sent you?” Ghost’s voice cut through the oppressive silence.

The assailant remained silent, a thin smile playing on their lips. Ghost’s jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. He glanced at Soap, who nodded in encouragement.

Ghost stepped closer.

“I asked you a question. Who sent you?”

The assailant's gaze remained fixed on the stone floor, an infuriating smirk playing on their lips. Ghost’s fists clenched at his sides, his patience strained.

Soap, standing beside Ghost, spoke up. “We've got ways to make you talk, one way or another. It’s your choice whether you want this to be easy or hard.”

The assailant finally spoke, their voice a low, mocking tone, “You can't stop what's coming. Kastron will crumble, and there's nothing you can do.”

Ghost’s nostrils flared with barely contained fury, but he took a steadying breath. “Tell me who is behind this. What is their motive?”

The assailant chuckled. “You'll find out soon enough. You and your precious kingdom are in for a reckoning.”

Another bout of anger flared up in Ghost’s chest. “Who. Fuckin’. Sent. You?”

The assailant was silent.

Ghost’s patience disappeared.

He marches forward and uppercuts the assailant. Ghost’s knuckles cracked against the assailant's jaw, the blow echoing through the damp dungeon. The assailant's head snapped back, and a thin line of blood trickled from the corner of their mouth. Ghost glared down at them.

“I will not tolerate threats against my home,” Ghost seethed, his voice low and dangerous.

The assailant, despite the blood on their lip, maintained their defiant smile. Ghost’s frustration surged. He leaned down, gripping the assailant's collar, his eyes ablaze with intensity.

“You're playin’ a dangerous game. I suggest you start talking before you find out just how dangerous it can get.”

The assailant's gaze flickered for a moment, yet, they remained tight-lipped.

Ghost straightened, releasing his grip. “Fine. We’ll do it the hard way.”

Ghost motioned to the guards, who approached with shackles in hand. The assailant was restrained and pulled to their feet, but still, they didn't speak. The guards exchanged knowing glances. The assailant was dragged out of the cell and into a room containing a singular barrel full of ice cold water. The assailant’s knees were kicked out from behind them, causing them to drop in front of the barrel.

“Talk.” Ghost says simply, a dangerous air to his voice. He sounded calm. Too calm.

“You nearly killed my wife, you invaded my land, so talk.”

“She- she was never the target. You were! That girl ruined the plan!”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed at the revelation. The assailant's words hung in the air, a chilling revelation. Simon gripped the back of the assailant’s head, pushing them closer to the water.

“Explain,” Ghost demanded, his voice low and commanding.

The assailant, seemingly satisfied with the chaos they caused, smirked. “The real target was always you, Ghost. The chaos, the fear—it's all a means to an end.”

Ghost’s fists clenched. “Who is behind this? Why target me?”

The assailant chuckled, a sound that grated on Simon's nerves. “You're not as untouchable as you think. There are forces at play beyond your knowledge.”

Ghost shot a glance at Soap, who shared his confusion and frustration.

“You’re from the southern kingdom.” Ghost states plainly.

The assailant is silent.

“No one gets away clean after hurting my wife.”

And with that, Ghost dunks their head in the barrel.

. . .

Back in the infirmary, you began to stir. The pain, though dulled by the medication, was still present. You opened your eyes to find the soft glow of candles and the concerned gaze of a nurse attending to you.

“Easy now,” the nurse said, their voice soothing. “You're in the infirmary. The king is tending to other matters currently.”

You nod your head, settling back into the plush pillows propping you up. All you want is Simon.

As the nurse finished their tasks, you asked, “How bad is it?”

The nurse offered a reassuring smile. “The wound is deep, but the doctors took care of you. You’ll need some time to heal.”

You nodded, grateful for the hands that had tended to you. Still, the weight of the recent events pressed on your mind.

"How long has he been gone?" you asked, a hint of urgency in your voice. You knew he would be here with you any moment he could.

The nurse sighed gently. “His majesty is busy right now. But I'm sure he'll be here as soon as he can.”

Restlessness settled over you. You couldn't shake the feeling that something much larger than the wound on your side was at play. The nurse, sensing your unease, offered a small comfort.

“The palace guards are on high alert. Whatever threat there was, they won't let it near you. Focus on getting better, and the king will be here when he can.”

Their words did little to ease your worry, but you acknowledged the truth in them. Simon was a more than capable ruler, and he would do everything in his power to protect Kastron. The nurse left the room, leaving you to the quietness of the infirmary. Time passed slowly as you lay there, your thoughts a whirlwind. Eventually, the door opened, and Simon entered, his face bearing the weight of the recent events. His eyes softened when they met yours, and he hurried to your side.

You tried to sit up, a smile breaking through the pain. “Simon…”

He gently pressed you back into the pillows. “Easy, love. How are you feelin’?”

“I'm okay,” you assured him, though the concern in his eyes mirrored your own. You watched intently as he sat down in the chair next to your bed.

“I'm sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said, his voice filled with regret.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “It’s okay, I understand.”

Simon takes a breath. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Your gaze met his, determination and concern in your eyes. “I couldn't let anything happen to you,” you whispered.

Simon’s grip on your hand tightened. “I don’t want you fighting my battles.”

“We're a team, Simon. Your battles are mine, just as much as mine are yours.”

Simon’s eyes softened at your words, gratitude and concern still lingering in his gaze. “I can't bear the thought of losing you,” he admitted, his voice a raw whisper.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded, his forehead leaning against yours. “I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling the weight of the words practically echo in the quietness of the infirmary.

You sit in silence for a bit, just basking in each other’s presence. After a moment, Simon stands from his chair. Wordlessly, he ever so gently moves you to the side. You let him. You’d let him do anything. After he makes sure you’re still comfortable, he slots himself next to you in the bed.

“What happened to them?” you ask as you lean your head on his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter. You're safe now,” he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance. You don’t need to know about the violence he inflicted on them. And you were smart, you could pull the pieces together.

The infirmary remained quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of curtains and the distant murmur of activity from the palace. Simon held you close, his arm wrapped protectively around you, as if shielding you from the world outside.

Your question lingered in the air, the unspoken understanding that some details were better left untouched. Simon’s jaw tightened briefly, a fleeting sign of his struggle beneath his composed exterior. His fingers traced absent-minded patterns on your arm as he spoke.

“I won't let anything happen to you or Kastron.”

You nodded, knowing that Simon’s dedication is unwavering. As the night progressed, the infirmary dimmed, and Simon’s gaze drifted to the window. A soft glow from the moon illuminated the room, casting a tranquil ambiance, a stark contrast to how the next few months would pan out. The events of the day had taken a toll, but in this moment, there was peace.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

taglist: @analyseeeesworld @dragonstoneshortcake

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

440 notes · View notes

whitedarkmoonflower · 8 months

Note

hello

Can I request a sihtric x reader fic where she doesn’t know how to braid, so sihtric teaches her. and when she’s good enough he lets her braid his hair for battle saying it would bring him luck(?)

this is the main idea but you can change & do whatever you like with it! Thank you!

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: I think I have never written a fic so quickly as this one. It just touched a string within me. Thank you so much for this absolutely lovely request! I hope you'll enjoy it!

Warnings: fluff, tons of fluff and such a tiny bit of angst, that it doesn't really count

Word Count: 4,5K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

The first light of dawn painted the horizon in delicate hues of pink and orange, casting a soft reflection on the tranquil river below. The water flowed very calm in this part of the river, the gentle lapping of the current seamlessly melding with the melodies of the first birds, praising the awakening of a new day.

As Sihtric walked, he felt a sense of peace enveloping him. The riverside always had this calming effect, a place where he could gather his thoughts before the day's chaos ensued. Especially now, with Coocham buzzing with warriors gearing up for battle.

Soon, he reached a secluded bend in the river, framed by tall reeds from the side of the river, while nearby a sprawling willow provided shade, shielding this corner from both the sun's gaze and curious onlookers. The air here was cooler, tinged with the refreshing scent of wet soil and the distant fragrance of blooming wildflowers.

Rounding the bend, Sihtric halted, an unexpected sight meeting his eyes – amidst the curtain of reeds and morning's embrace, you were dressing after what appeared to be a refreshing river bath. Droplets of water still clung to your naked arms, glistening in the faint sunlight. You reached for your leather jerkin, slipping it over your undergarment and breeches, then tugged on your boots and fastened your sword. Your damp hair, darker than its usual shade, clung to your neck, small streamlets running down your back.

Even from where he stood, Sihtric could see the focus in your stance, reminding him instantly of how you looked in the heat of training. He smirked remembering the unexpected twist his first sparring session with you had taken.

It had been a mystery to him why Uhtred had taken you in as a warrior. A woman – a small and delicate creature, looking like you would break into two from wielding that long and heavy blade of yours. The way you danced around the hay dolls in the sparring grounds, as if playing some intricate game, made Sihtric just wrinkle his nose and rolle his eyes, even as Finan approvingly chuckled with his tongue, hinting at a different perspective.

Until that one day.

—-----------------------------------------------

It was a late afternoon and the training grounds resonated with the rhythmic clang of metal clashing and the shuffling of feet on dry ground. Sihtric, along with Finan and Osfert, stood slightly off, their gazes fixed once again on you as you flowed through a series of maneuvers with your blade.

"She's got a knack for this," Finan observed, admiration evident in his voice. "See her footwork? Swift and sharp."

Osferth nodded, adding, "She's trained well. That much is clear."

"Since when have you turned into an expert in sword skill?” Sihtric scoffed, “Besides training and actual battle are worlds apart. Dancing around here is one thing, but facing seasoned warriors? Doubt she'd last a minute."

Finan shot him a sidelong glance. "Don't be so quick to dismiss, Sihtric. She might surprise you."

"She might be good," Sihtric conceded, his tone laced with sarcasm, "for training sessions with stray dolls. They don’t fight back. Let's be real; when swords clash in earnest, it's a different game."

Osferth countered, "You're not giving her enough credit. It's evident she has the heart of a warrior."

Sihtric's lips curled into a smirk, "Heart won't stand a chance against seasoned Dane fighters."

Finan, growing frustrated, retorted, "Like you, you mean? There's something else that bothers you about her, and it's not her skills. Spit it out."

“In the shield wall, every man counts. I want my flanks secured by real warriors, not this dancing doll.” Sihtric sneered with disdain.

Sihtric turned to look at you just to realise that you had approached the trio, having caught the tail end of their conversation. Blade resting on your shoulder, you met Sihtric's gaze squarely. "Shall we see? Care for a spar, Sihtric?"

The challenge hung in the air, and the attention of everybody on the grounds was suddenly focused on both of you.

"Perhaps we should use sticks, not steel. Wouldn't want to mar that pretty face of yours," Sihtric jested.

Your retort was swift, "Scared I might leave a mark?" With a confident stride, you took your stance, eyes locked onto Sihtric, awaiting his move.

Amid the expectant gazes of his friends and other warriors now coming closer, Sihtric drew his blade and slowly stepped into the training ground, every muscle radiating the confidence of years of experience and countless battles.

Without hesitation, Sihtric made the first move, lunging forward with a powerful strike, expecting to overwhelm you and end the bout swiftly. To his astonishment, he was met with empty air as you sidestepped evading him gracefully. His initial smugness was replaced with a furrowed brow.

The dance continued, with Sihtric trying to leverage his strength, but you remained elusive. Like a leaf caught in a whirl of wind, you ducked, swirled, and danced around him, evading each of his strikes. Each of your movements, precise and fluid, confounded him, taunting him with feints, luring him in with the promise of an opening in your defences, only to change direction at the last moment, leaving him off-balance. Each time, the crowd's gasps and murmurs grew louder, Sihtric's frustration evidently increased.

The defining moment came when you feigned a low strike, prompting Sihtric to lower his defence. In a split second, you changed your trajectory, using his momentum against him. He stumbled, caught off guard, and with a deft move, you closed in, swirling around, striking his blade hand and burying your shoulder in his stomach. Sihtric could only gasp watching his blade flying out of his grasp, himself landing roughly on the dusty ground.

A wave of cheers washed over the grounds. Standing tall, you extended a hand to a visibly dazed Sihtric, sitting in the dirt.

Finan's smirk was hard to miss as he chuckled, "Told you so. You just wouldn't listen."

The next morning as you arrived at the training grounds, Sihtric was already there, engrossed in sharpening his sword. Every stroke showed his focus, so much so that he didn't seem to notice you approaching. You hesitated for a moment before turning away to begin your own regimen, keenly aware of Sihtric's discreet glances in your direction as you practiced.

Finan approached, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Waiting for someone, Sihtric?"

Sihtric shot him an annoyed look. "Just making sure my blade is sharp."

Osferth, joining them, chuckled. "He's been 'making sure' that for the past hour, you can use that blade for shaving!"

Sihtric sighed, "Alright, alright. I was thinking of...you know...asking her to spar. But..."

"But you're too chicken to ask?" Finan teased.

"It's not that. It's just... What if she feels I'm challenging her? Or worse, trying to show off?" Sihtric shifted uneasily.

"Why don't you just be direct?" Osferth suggested. "Ask her if she'd like to train with you. Simple."

Before Sihtric could reply, you approached, having noticed the trio's discussion. "Something interesting you're talking about?"

Finan, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked, "Sihtric here was just about to ask you something."

Sihtric shot Finan a glare but took a deep breath, "I was...uh...wondering if you'd be interested in...you know, sparring with me? No challenges, just...training."

You looked at him, a playful smile forming on your lips, "Took you long enough to ask. Let's see what you've got."

And so it began. Soon your sparring sessions became a regularity, a steady part of each day.

Despite Sihtric's prowess and experience, he found himself continuously challenged by your fluidity and swiftness. Every parry, every counter-attack showcased your undeniable skill and he dug deep into his experience and strength to avoid repeating his previous mistake.

And while the warrior in him thrived in the challenge, the man in him was captivated by you in a way he had not expected.

The effortless elegance of your movements, the way your hair swayed synchronously with your strikes, glinting in the sunlight, were hypnotic. Your lean body, a perfect fusion of strength and grace, resembled an alerted wild creature, ever vigilant and prepared.

The way your cheeks turned rosy from exertion, the never fading spark in your eyes, full of determination, yet always bright with mischief and joy, your contagious laughter – all this and a thousand other small subtle things captured Sihtric's heart and endeared you to him.

Your wit, as sharp as your blade, was an allure in its own right. The fire with which you defended your views and opinions only deepened Sihtric's respect for you. And the way you never missed a chance to playfully tease those around you placed you at the same level as Finan. In between rounds, even out of breath and exhausted, you would always find a strength to throw a joke, your laughter infectious, lighting up the surroundings. Sihtric often found himself anticipating these moments more than the actual sparring.

Sihtric clearly recalled that one day, after a particularly intense round with both of you breathless and drenched in sweat, his eyes had scanned your form, an unfamiliar sensation washing over him. Unbeknownst to him, he had found himself admiring you – undeniably a skilled and formidable warrior, but also a woman, such a beautiful woman, radiating passion, intelligence, and resilience. In that instant, a warmth spread through his chest, an undeniable pull that made his heartbeat quicken.

—--------------------------------------------------

Lost in his memories, Sihtric failed to see a stray branch on the ground. It snapped sharply under Sihtric’s foot, its sound carrying in the stillness of dawn. Startled, your eyes met his visibly sheepish expression.

There was a lingering pause, stretching a bit too long. With a mischievous smirk, you finally broke it. "Do the riverside reeds make for good hiding spots, Sihtric? Or are you merely lost?"

Taken aback, Sihtric stumbled over his words. "I... I didn't mean to intrude. I was just—"

"Sightseeing?" you teased, arching an eyebrow playfully.

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. "Honestly, I didn't expect anyone to be here. My apologies."

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to see the usually composed Dane flustered. "Next time, maybe announce your presence with a song or dance. At least then I can join in the fun."

He laughed, the tension easing a bit. "Noted. I'll work on my riverside entrance."

You flashed him a grin. "See to it. And perhaps, I'll give you a show worth watching."

The mortified look, appearing on Sihtric’s face, made you laugh.

“Since you’re here, maybe you can help?” you asked, showing him a small blade in your hand.

Sihtric’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Help you? How?”

"These," you tug at your locks, "get in the way and that can be an unnecessary distraction during a battle. It might look less disastrous if you’d help cut them."

Sihtric looked surprised, “It’s just hair. Why not simply braid them?"

Your eyes darted away, "Never learned that skill. Gisela, Hild, and others always do it for me. But they won't be accompanying us. I'm left with few options."

Sihtric chuckled. "So, the master of swords is defeated by braiding?"

You shrugged with your shoulders. "We all have our weaknesses."

Sihtric's gaze lingered on you, his heart's tempo subtly quickening. "Well, lucky for you, I've been braiding my hair for years. If you'd trust me, I could assist."

Amusement glinted in your eyes. "Sihtric, the fierce warrior, a hairdresser? That's an unexpected turn."

Feigning affront, he winked, "Hey, a man can have many talents!"

Nodding, you handed him a comb. "Then, let's give it a whirl."

"Come," Sihtric gestured, spreading his cloak by a willow's expansive root.

How attentive, you mused, not with surprise, but merely acknowledging what you already knew. That’s how he was. Beneath the rough and reserved exterior of the stern warrior you had long discovered the tender inner core of an exceptionally warmhearted man – always loyal, ever attentive and a deeply caring friend.

With an amused smile on your face you settled down onto the cloak, with Sihtric positioning himself behind you, his legs framing you supportively. The touch of his fingers, as he began combing and later skillfully weaving your hair, sent a frisson down your spine. And you let yourself drift away in memories as you listened to him humming a soft tune.

—-------------------------------------------------

You loved the sparring sessions with Sihtric, which became routine soon after your first encounter. Every time you squared off against him on the training ground, a thrill surged through you. It wasn't just the sparring, but the challenge he presented. He was a formidable opponent, hardened in countless battles. Every stance, every move, every counter spoke of his experience.

Your initial easy victory against him was a sweet memory, but the more you trained with him, the more you realised that it had been quite a stroke of luck. Sihtric had underestimated you, causing him to be less vigilant and overly hasty. Now, with every session, it became clearer that keeping up with him demanded all of your skill and focus.

Sihtric's unique combat rhythm was unpredictable. His strength was palpable, not just in his powerful strikes but also in his unwavering stance, making it challenging to catch him off guard as you had during your initial spar. Every session was a blend of instruction, challenge, and exhilaration, all of which you embraced wholeheartedly.

One particular day remained etched in your memory. After an intense bout, with both of you drenched in sweat and panting for breath, you leaned against a tree to recover. Your gaze naturally drifted to Sihtric. He was bent over, hands on his knees, his chest heaving, catching his breath, every muscle defined beneath his sweat-soaked tunic. While you had always respected his martial prowess, that day, an unfamiliar warmth spread within you, accompanied by a flutter you couldn't identify.

You watched as he straightened up, brushing off the dirt and sweat. A stray strand of hair fell onto his forehead. An unexpected urge overcame you—to reach out and tuck it away, brushing your fingers against his skin. You were taken aback by this newfound sentiment. What was that?

Your heart raced, not only from the exhaustion of the spar, but from this unexpected surge of emotion. Memories flooded your mind — flashbacks of your shared laughs, the lingering, hidden glances, the melodic timbre of his soft voice as he shared stories by the fireplace.

You shook your head, trying to dispel these thoughts. It was just the exhaustion playing tricks on your mind. And yet, you couldn’t resist stealing another glance, captivated by the way his lips curved into a smile as his eyes locked onto yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you both wrapped up, the typical teasing that was so common between you both seemed charged with a new energy. Was it just you, or did he feel it too? Something deep within you had shifted giving way to emotions unknown and unintelligible for you, something you weren't quite ready to admit, even to yourself.

—--------------------------------------------------

Now, as you sat nestled between his legs, Sihtric almost regretted his impulsive offer to braid your hair. Had he overstepped? Yet, the allure of the moment was undeniable and too compelling to resist.

His fingers gently caressed your hair, the silky locks gliding seamlessly through his grasp. Every touch sent an electrifying jolt through his entire body, the strange feeling both excited and unnerved him. This closeness was a strong contrast to your sparring sessions—no blades, no shields, just the two of you, closer than a hand's reach.

His heart pounded loudly in his chest. Every sweep of his fingers, every touch of your hair sent a thrill coursing through him, stirring emotions and making his fingers tremble slightly.

The world around slowly faded. Every twist, every intertwining strand tightened an unexplainable knot in his stomach, every occasional brush of his hands against your neck made him yearn for more. The warmth of your back against his torso, the subtle scent that lingered, the softness of your hair—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

He leaned in slightly, his breath uneven, lips mere inches from your head. Every second stretched, deepening his yearning.

The braid was almost complete, but Sihtric took his time, savouring the moment, cherishing each touch. He was in love, deeply so, and while he was not yet ready to speak it out loudly, the intimacy of this moment seemingly spoke volumes.

“You are ready, fair warrior,” he finally whispered, his voice bringing you back from your reverie.

Your fingers gently touched your head, where your ever dishevelled locks had been transformed into three neat strands, overflowing into one braid trailing down your back. Springing up, you dashed to the water to glimpse your reflection.

"Guess I won't need this blade for a haircut after all," you mused clearly impressed, sliding the knife back into its sheath.

Sihtric's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and mischief. "I did say I had a knack for it."

You chuckled, "Thanks, Sihtric. I’m in your debt."

He shrugged, his casual demeanour back in place. "Just promise to show me a new sword move or something. That would square us, right?"

You grinned, "I've got a better idea. Teach me to braid, and someday, I might offer the same service to you."

"My lady, braiding isn't as straightforward as swordplay. It's an art form. If you wish to have the privilege of braiding my locks, you've got a lot to learn,” Sihtric smirked in response.

And so, the remaining week before departure a new dimension was added to your training sessions – Sihtric became your braiding instructor. You profoundly wondered how he had managed to persuade almost all the small girls in the whole village to sit patiently as his fingers, interlaced with yours, guided you through the intricate process, showing you the weaves and twists, demonstrating how to put pearls and beans in the hair and fasten the braids.

You were amazed by the delicacy and deftness of his rugged hands, contrasting sharply with your own efforts that often left stray hairs or twisted sections that unravelled the entire braid. And one day, the mystery surrounding the patience of the small villagers was unravelled when you saw Sihtric remove one of his silver rings, handing it to one of the girls. A smile played on your lips at the sight as you realised he was actually paying in silver to have you taught to braid.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

You sat beside a crackling fireplace, the camp sprawling amidst the trees with tents everywhere around you. An unmistakable tension permeated the air, as it always did on the eve of battle. Some warriors sought solace in ale, others meticulously sharpened their already perfect blades, while some gathered around the fires, sharing stories and seeking comfort in the company, driven sleepless by anticipation. There was no one else at your fire, sitting alone on a fallen log, you hugged your knees, immersed in thoughts, when a warm hand settled on your shoulder.

“Ever fought in a battle before?” Sihtric asked, taking a seat beside you, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Don’t take me wrong. I know how good you are with the blade. But fighting one to one is different.”

“I know, you’re right and yes, I have. And I will not pretend that it doesn’t scare me. Only a fool would pretend to not fear the chaos of the battle,” you looked up to meet Sihtric’s gaze. “But don’t mistake my fear for weakness. Don’t think I will waver just because I’m a woman. I proved you wrong once and I’ll do it again, if needed.”

“You’ve nothing to prove to me. I just… I…” Sihtric struggled to find the right words. He wanted to ask you to stay by his side, so that he could protect you, shield you from harm, but he couldn’t find the right words to express that without insulting you. He understood that especially now after you had voiced your suspicion that he still didn’t trust you enough, there was no way of saying what he had intended to. You were a warrior, and he had learned his lesson not to doubt it, he respected that. And yet you were a woman. A woman he loved and cherished so deeply that the mere thought of harm befalling you was agonising and driving him to the brink of madness.

You looked expectantly at Sihtric, waiting for him to finish his saying.

"Could you... braid my hair for the battle tomorrow?" he finally blurted out, his cheeks warm, silently grateful that the fire's shadows hid his flush.

The surprise in your voice was evident. "You'd entrust me with that?"

Sihtric didn’t answer, his eyes full of strange anxiety didn’t leave yours and you swallowed back the joke that was already almost rolling over your lips.

His eyes, swirling with a mix of vulnerability and intensity, never left yours. He hesitated, before answering, "Among the Danes, there's an old belief. Having your hair braided by someone you truly trust… brings good luck in battle."

The meaning of the words slowly sank into your mind, making a genuine smile appear on your lips. "Trust me, this will be my finest braid," you replied, gesturing for him to sit down in front of you.

Sihtric slid down from the branch and settled between your legs. You reached out to touch his hair – dark, thick and curly and so pleasantly soft against your fingers, the sensation of the touch so unexpectedly stirring.

You began separating the strands, your fingers working with utmost care and concentration, as you started to pull and twist, enjoying the electrifying feeling of Sihtric’s hair brushing against your fingers. Each strand you took, twisted and wove into the pattern of your choice reminded you of the time you both spent together the last few days. His strong arms wielding the blade like a toy, his face covered with sweat, his concentrated gaze and furrowed eyebrows, as he looked for a weak point in your defences, his genuine laugh at your jokes, his fingers intertwined with yours, teaching you to braid.

Sihtric shuffled between your legs and you felt a warm flush rising to your cheeks as he leaned back nestling more comfortably between your thighs.

Your eyes, usually so sharp and observant, softened as they concentrated on the task and you unconsciously bit your lower lip. First small braids on the sides, then some more a bit higher and then the middle one – twist after twist the braids started to take shape, as you meticulously weaved each strand, ensuring not a single one was overlooked or twisted wrongly.

You tied off the ends and marvelled at your own work, not wanting to let go, to allow this magical moment to end, your fingers remained lingering, tangled in the free curls on the back, and you brushed them gently against the nape of his neck. The touch was fleeting, almost too tender to be noticed, as your fingers slid over his skin for the briefest moment in an unconscious attempt to communicate feelings you were not yet ready to express in words.

Drawing back, pride filled your gaze, your hands resting on Sihtric’s shoulders. "There," you whispered. “You’re ready for the battle.”

You felt Sihtric shudder under your touch, his arms lifting to clasp your hands, pulling them gently to his face and placing a soft kiss on your right palm.

"Thank you," his voice was husky with emotion, though he didn't turn around to face you. You felt like there was something in the air, something electrical, something unspeakable and indescribable, and you wondered whether it was the looming battle or the accumulation of the suppressed feelings and emotions or maybe both.

Sihtric slowly touched his braids, a hint of smile playing on his lips. He had finally found the right words.

“Promise me something,” he murmured, finally turning to face you. “Promise to stay by my side tomorrow. I need to know my left is guarded by such a skilled and formidable warrior as you.”

You looked in his mismatched eyes, feeling a warmth enveloping you.

“I promise,” you whispered, lowering yourself down next to Sihtric and almost melting at the feeling of Sihtric’s strong arm enveloping your shoulders, pulling you closer and wrapping his warm fur coat around you both. You leaned against him, the warmth of the fur, combined with Sihtric's steady heartbeat, making the world outside seem to blur. There were no words needed as he held you in his unwavering embrace, the silence between you both and the profound comfort of simply being speaking volumes on their own.

As the night wore on and the camp around you finally slowly drifted into sleep, you both remained wrapped in the coat, holding onto each other and the softness of the moment. His arm, strong and secure, held you close, while your head rested on his shoulder. It was a solace, a reprieve from the world outside, and a reminder of what is worth fighting for, the embrace becoming a silent promise—to stand by each other, come what may.

—----------------------------------------

The battle was over. Sihtric rose to his feet pulling his axe from the dead body, his eyes searching his surroundings for another enemy to release his anger over, but none remained. The ground, once firm and unyielding, was now a morass of muddied, trampled grass, blood, and the footprints of countless boots and hooves.

Abandoned weapons littered the field, gleaming dully. Swords, spears, and shields lay strewn around, some half-buried in the earth, others still clutched by lifeless hands. Bodies of the fallen were strewn across the landscape, and vultures were already circling overhead. Small groups of men searched the field for survivors.

Sihtric looked around and a pang of dread constricted his heart. He still remembered you beside him when the enemy's shield wall shattered. He remembered the fierce look in your eyes, the way you leaped at some random man swinging his axe at you. You had looked like a goddess of war, stabbing, chopping, parring, dancing around your enemies with an ease only you were capable of. But then Sihtric had lost you out of his sight. He had turned to face a big, red faced Dane swinging his impressive war axe at him and when he turned back, his hands smeared with blood pouring out of the Dane’s neck, you were gone.

The air was thick with a mixture of smoke, blood and filth, as Sihtric roamed the battlefield, shouting your name, his face pale and eyes darkening in despair with each moment there was no answer, his breathing growing laboured and hope waning. In the very moment when despair threatened to consume him entirely, he finally spotted you, sitting on a fallen tree at the rand of the battlefield. You sat there with your face, hands and your whole armour smeared with blood, breathing hard, your sword driven into the ground and serving as a support for your arms.

Rushing to your side, Sihtric knelt before you, his hands framing your face. "Are you hurt? Is that your blood?" he asked, his eyes wide, anxiety plainly written on his face.

“I’m fine. Just a few scratches. Nothing that won’t heal by the next new moon.”

“Don't ever do that again.” Sihtric murmured, his voice just a hush, pressing his forehead against yours. “For a short moment I thought I’d lost you. Believe me, I’ve never been so scared in my whole life.”

Your fingers slowly touched Sihtric’s face, tracing the lines and scars on his face, your eyes locked. Sihtric’s thumbs gently caressed your cheeks as he slowly, deliberately began to lean in. The space between you both diminished, charged with an electrifying tension, as you felt the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

His fingers brushed your neck, and as you closed your eyes, you felt the tender, hesitant pressure of his lips meeting yours.

“I love you, my fierce warrior,” Sihtric whispered against your lips, “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“And I love you too,” you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible, melting against the gentle touch of his lips against yours.

It wasn't a fiery, passionate kiss. It was a gentle, lingering one, full of unspoken words and emotions, a culmination of all the shared glances, soft touches and unspoken feelings that had built up between you. It was a deliberate melding, like two flames coming together to form one and every nuance of the kiss spoke volumes—the delicate way Sihtric’s fingers cradled your jaw, the soft brush of his thumb across your cheek, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer.

“Hey, your braids are still intact. I did well, didn’t I” you laughed as you both pulled back, gasping for air.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fanfic #sihtric fic #the last kingdom #tlk #arnas fedaravicius #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #arnas fedaravičius

255 notes · View notes

chosoniisan · 6 months

Text

A risk worth messy reward ↠ kamo choso

↠alternative title: swapping spit with choso, literally

↠pairing: kamo choso | sorceress!reader

↠setting: post canon, not at all compliant

↠genre: nasty, nasty fluff

↠caution: suggestive; height/size difference ("my" choso is over 6ft); unhealthy-ish/complicated relationship; kinda owner/pet dynamics; coercion (?); lots of tongue

↠summary: after yet another rural-steeped mission, your first priority is finding the nearest bed to fall into; conversely, choso has other things on his mind

↠authoress' notes: my initial plan had been to write a hc about the oddities of choso, how he has some bizarre and inexplicable habits, but writing hcs (without plot) isn't my strength, so I opted for what could be considered "snapshots" instead :')

also, the context, setting-wise, for this is that once the dusts settles post canon, the high-ups (the smattering of them still kicking), let choso live conditioned on you acting as his controller at all times, lest you risk ending up on the execution chopping block, too. . .

A ripely full moon, and the air’s refreshed with a slight chill:

by all means the sort of mid-autumn night you’d want to bottle up and take with you.

You might just have to overlook the chunks of entrails sticking to your soles, though. And maybe you can pretend that it’s the crickets droning in the grass and not the crisping of bone dissolving into nothingness. As if on cue, you resist the urge to sigh to keep the tang of death, thoroughly worn over, from invading your lungs any more than it already has.

It’s not quite how you’d envision your evening—but beggars can’t be choosers. And on the bright side, at least you’re fully intact, all your limbs present and accounted for despite enough close calls to last you a lifetime. Sure, you might have said the very same thing last time (i.e. a handful of days ago), and you’ll no doubt mirror that sentiment next time too (i.e. in another day or so), though you take your blessings when you can get them.

Granted, your good luck quickly runs its course since there’s hardly anything fortunate about the strain of curses the far-flung reaches of the countryside seem to breed to no end. Who would have thought that the higher you climbed the rankings the more acquainted you’d become with woodland critters the size of your hand (excluding cursed spirits, mind you). Then there’s the persistent feeling of otherness crawling over you like a second skin the longer those prying eyes rake and rove over you. (If only they knew that a city girl and her dutiful charge were the last bit out of place in these parts.)

“I mean it when I say that you’re a lifesaver, Choso.” Your poignant ring is all the encouragement he needs to scrap making sure that dead is actually dead this time around and squeeze himself back into your sphere again. Crunch, crunch, crunch goes the tall grass giving way to your missing piece because obviously solace by another name is your side. Leave it to him to be over 190 centimeters of delicately endearing. “I wasn’t expecting that other special-grade, but, of course, you’re always covering for me in a pinch—I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

In that moment, you’re the stargazer of him; a face lighting up the pearly night beyond measure. “I’m always following your lead, though. You’re a lot more experienced than me, too, so the best I can do is try to keep up. Because I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” A dash of sheepishness colors the downward wisp of lashes brushing against his cheeks, but that isn’t enough to distract him from the sway of you in his shadow (even if he has to really drop his head to horde that eyeful for himself). “I’m glad we make a good team,” his brief lull is beseeching, the tilted head even more so, “at least I think so.”

For the sake of his tenderly bleeding heart, your nodding doesn’t miss a beat. “Yep, we sure do. . .! And every good team needs some rest, so I should go ahead and text our supervisor and let him know we’re finished up here.” Another thwarted attempt at a sigh, so you settle for a mild quirk of your lips amidst reaching into your pocket for your phone spared from the fray. “We’ll have to stay the night in town, which isn’t ideal, but we can take the first train back home in the morning.”

The faster you can confirm the rendezvous spot, the faster you can sink into a warm bath and then beneath a cozy comforter, so you’re already a few rapid-fire texts deep when Choso pulls on your sleeve.

“Wait. Before that. . .” he begins, slow, measured as if he’s taking the time to taste every word before it leaves his lips. Like that’s not enough to prod at your attention, you’re especially perceptive to rose stain swashed across the expanse of his face, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think him too innocent to sell his soul to the devil for a life of strife alongside you. Though perhaps innocence in its purest state is wetting his hands in blood, bearing your burden of nocturnal calamity with the occasional slip of diffidence. “Can I. . .” Gulping down that lump in his throat. “Can I have my reward now?”

It's your turn to sound things out for good measure.

“Your. . .reward?” (Emphasis on the furrowed brows there.)

He bobs his head once, meanwhile you’re rifling through the pages of your mental archives in search of this reward, whatever it is. A contemplative hum sifts through you at the recollection of saying something in the realm of treating him once this mission wrapped up; admittedly, it was the sort of remark made in passing, but if it’s Choso, you don’t mind staying true to your word. Besides, you have an inkling of what he might have in mind (or you hope you know him well enough to make that guess. . .there’s only one way to find out).

“You’re talking about the souvenirs near the station; I think you were looking at the sweet dumplings, yeah? I don’t know if that shop is open this late, but we can go over and check—”

“No, not that.” Vehemence strums in his tone, so much so that you start a bit, setting off the ripple effect of him offering you a repentant look in return, one that’s still very clearly brimming with fervor. “I did a good job, right? And you promised I could have a reward if I was really good.” As a matter of fact, he’s not wrong, but his moonstruck gaze, expanding, plants an unnamed sensation between the open spaces in your chest. (You’re not daunted by him, it’s just that unpredictability has never been your forte.) “. . .So I was thinking that I wanted you.”

Doesn’t have a chance to click together in your brain until the warmed heart of his palm envelops your entire cheek, and even then you’re still too many steps behind by the time he’s level with you: face-to-face, eye-to-eye, lips. . .dangerously close. Inhaling a mingling of dried copper and powdery musk doesn’t help you figure out what he means by wanting you, having you; rather, with each fanning of his breath over you in crests, you’re gradually unraveling into something entirely unlike you. Something a lot more nerve-ridden.

If you had intended to chime in after scrambling to make sense of the situation (or not), the reality is that you’re simply opening the door for him to carve a place inside you. Literally. Considering it’s not the sound of a mildly articulated concern that echoes in the air, but a muffled squeak when he catches his lips on yours, inviting himself into the niche of your mouth before you can try to recoil. Even when you do think to reel away, his arm is already circled around your waist, seizing you into the bulk of him to the point that you can’t tell where one of you begins and the other ends.

You’ve long given consideration to the fact that Choso’s spent more time sealed than unsealed, that to this very day he’s still working out the kinks of what it means to be mostly human—but this. This goes beyond his idiosyncrasies of not knowing the particulars of kissing. No, this is nothing of a kiss and everything of devouring you whole.

As susceptible as you are, he has no trouble crowding his tongue against yours, which is the difference between tasting him and choking on him. Testing the waters is the last thing on his mind (you suspect it had never been there in the first place) when he’s using the anchor of his hand to steer you right where he wants you, because how else could he map the ridges of your palate without you shrinking like the violet you’re steadily flowering into. Intrusive is him eating away at your lips like a man starved, but it’s also the blooming of heat curled through your insides with a particular penchant for the midst of your tummy.

The compulsion to stagger back is second nature to you, except he’s unnaturally folded into you, so there’s really nowhere for you to skitter off to, especially not with the fixation given to a mesh of sticky pink. And it feels foreign, sinfully so, as he overwhelms you with broad, saliva-rife sweeps of his tongue, undeterred by your stagnate self, too paralyzed by the knotting in your core, the blistering up of sweat at your temples, and the uncut wildness—or is that obsession?—of him before your very eyes. Either way, it’s just the push needed to send you over the edge of quiet bleating. . .that finds its premature end swallowed into him for safekeeping at the bottom of his stomach, just like every other morsel of you.

Heady appreciation is quick to follow on your heels by way of a long-winded moan from him, to you by virtue of his snare. The stammering in your chest is the clear mark of being caught off guard, and Choso in all his fevered glory capitalizes on your lapse of self to plunge his tongue as deeply as it’ll reach. Nevermind the fact that there’s no stifling the stuttered heave around him or the full-bodied quaking against him, either, he’s still singularly focused on partaking in the mess of you. Willingly or not, you can’t help but indulge him when you’re varying shades of fluster, and it’s the gilt reflection of your disarray that has you clamping your eyes shut. Too bad for you, darkness doesn’t temper the dizzying sensation clambering through your veins that’s becoming more, and more, and more intertwined with him.

(You don’t know how much longer you can weather the storm of him, or if you’ll even be able to mend what he’s already bitten through, and maybe it would have been preferrable if he had taken your skin & tissue with him. He took something far more softly perverse.)

Though in the end, it’s of his accord, only, that he spares you of the kind of smothering that’ll have you icesheet cold against him in no time flat. And you use spare loosely because he simply moves to sucking and nibbling on your bottom lip as if parting from you means imminent death. If he’d give you a chance, you could assure him that his fears of relenting are unwarranted, but in the thick of hungry fascination, he’d rather stripe his tongue along the corner of your mouth to gather up a stray bead of slick. Whether yours or his, you don’t know—you do know that when he’s done, it’s every bit of his tacky memento etched on your skin.

His gift to you for letting him have one of your deepest intimacies.

As expected, he doesn’t keen over from unlacing himself from you—truthfully, his hand is still palming at your cheek, so it’s not a full untethering—though you’re certainly not boasting a modicum of stability yourself. If that unyielding hold around your middle is anything to go on, you suspect that he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest; you might even say that he’s savoring in the ruby-rich reliance of his handler.

“Uhm,” Reticence returns with a vengeance despite having just rooted through you mere moments ago; the moonlight glancing off traces smeared across his lips a testament to that. “. . .Do you we could see about those dumplings now?”

And of course you’ll oblige him—even knowing you’re complicit in preserving his devotion.

#choso x reader #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #choso #choso kamo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

110 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Text

I've been dreaming of the Rose-Red Ruler.

Happy birthday, our most beloved Queen of Hearts.

May your smile be like a never fading flower.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

A soft knock is at his door.

Riddle tears away from his current textbook--a volume of advanced potions, open to Recipe for Happiness. On the list of ingredients were faith, trust, a little pixie dust, and...

"Come in," he calls, letting the contents of the book fall from his memory.

His mother enters, bearing a tray with a tall pitcher and a glass. As usual, her hair is pulled back into a tight bun and she is dressed impeccably: a scarlet pantsuit, heels, black lace gloves, and a necklace drawn tight across her neck, creating the illusion of beading blood. Mrs. Rosehearts gives her son a stern yet warm smile.

"Happy birthday, Riddle. You're still studying, even on your big day?"

"Yes, mother. This will be the year I apply for internships, so I cannot afford to slack off in my studies. I want to ensure I am the strongest possible candidate for the law and medical internships I'm interested in."

She nods approvingly, setting the tray upon his desk. "It's good to be thinking about your future now--but be sure to take breaks when appropriate. I've brought you some Darjeeling, first flush. Its light and delicate flavor is perfectly refreshing for a sweltering day."

Mrs. Rosehearts starts to pour the chilled tea for him. Right as the aromatic, golden brown stream ceases, she lets out a small gasp. "Ah, yes--your schedule is open tonight, correct? Your father will be fetching a strawberry tart on his way home from work, and I've prepared all your favorite foods. You can eat as much as you like!"

Riddle's stomach flutters.

There are so many things wrong with what she has said, but he exclaims the first question to emerge in his mind.

"We're having a celebration? Together?"

"Of course we are. It's your birthday," his mom replies plainly. "Why wouldn't we celebrate our special little boy?"

"I... I don't know," Riddle confesses. For reasons he cannot explain, his head suddenly feels foggy. "I just can't recall the last time we did something like this as a family."

You've never seemed happy with one another.

He does not dare say it out loud.

Mrs. Rosehearts carefully regards her child.

"Certainly, your father and I have very busy schedules on account of our work at the hospital. You've immersed yourself in your schoolwork. It can be difficult making plans that align with all three of us--but we make time to spend with our loved ones."

Mrs. Rosehearts leans down and plants a feathery kiss on his head, a hand lovingly stroking his hair. So soft, so tender. She smells of roses on a bed of vanilla and amber, the same heady comfort as the exhilaration of collapsing, out of breath, after spinning in circles in the summertime.

The frantic thudding in Riddle's chest slows. He leans into her touch, her fragrance.

"Okay," he says quietly. A slight wetness prickles his vision. "I think... I'd really like that, mom."

He stays there, in her embrace, for longer than he thinks he should. The minutes are slipping away from him, but Riddle cannot bring himself to pull away. The cradle of roses is enchanting, spilling wool over his eyes.

He is completely, utterly, certifiably entranced.

Ding-dong!

Mrs. Rosehearts lifts her head. "Hm? That's strange. That can't be your father. He doesn't get out of work for at least another hour--and he wouldn't need to ring the doorbell, he has his keys."

"It is odd," Riddle agrees.

"Excuse me, it will take just a moment to check. Perhaps it's the mailman."

Mrs. Rosehearts gathers herself and departs. From the study, Riddle can hear the front door swinging open, followed by muffled chatter. Excited, boyish.

His mother's voice, raising.

Dread fills him.

He abruptly stands, his chair harshly skidding back with an unpleasant whine.

Riddle races into the hallway and to the foyer. He's not sure which is faster: his heart, or his feet? His mind struggles to catch up, to process everything--

The front door is ajar.

His mother, on one side. And on the other...

Two young men.

One with short hair in dark green and bright yellow eyes peering out from behind thick frames. He holds a hefty cake in his hands--a shortcake iced in whipped cream frosting. The strawberries piled on top shine like forbidden jewels.

Beside him is a boy with choppy bangs, a pair of feline ears bearing a plethora of earrings pokes out from his head. He has a lazy grin and disheveled clothes, reclining like a sunbathing cat against the first visitor.

His friends spot him before his mom does, and their faces light up.

"Uh-oh, guess the cat's out of the bag now," Che'nya giggles.

"Wh-What are you two doing here?!" Riddle demands. Not angry, but fearful. He nervously glances at Trey--Trey, whom his mother had angrily banished from their home until the end of time.

"We wanted to drop by and surprise you," Trey explains. He's too calm for this situation--especially when Mrs. Rosehearts is standing right there.

Any minute now, Riddle suspects she will explode. She will scream at Trey and Che'nya until she is a darker red than her hair. She will slam the door in their faces. She will threaten to call the police. She will--

"Riddle, you didn't tell me your friends would be joining us this evening!" Mrs. Rosehearts beams, stepping aside and waving for the boys to enter. "Please, come in! You can spend some time together before dinner.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Myaaa-uch appreciated!”

Trey and Che’nya cross the threshold with ease.

Riddle blinks. “But what about my studies…?”

“Studies? At a time like this?” Trey gives a light laugh. “We’re not at school, Riddle. You can relax a little. Just let me put this cake away and then we can all hang out, okay?”

“My father is already going to be bringing a tart later…”

“Oooh, double the desserts? Don’t mind if I do! I’ll swipe two slices of both.”

“Don’t be greedy, Che’nya! You have to save some for the rest of us, especially the birthday boy.”

“Me?” Riddle’s brows crease. “I…”

“It’s fine,” his mother coaxes. “Go and be with your friends.”

“Is that okay? Is that… really, really okay?”

Mrs. Rosehearts steps toward him, taking his hands in hers. Her eyes are dewey, and her face looks more gentle than he has ever seen it.

“Yes. This is your youth, Riddle. You only live once—so live this life to its fullest. If you could promise me that, then nothing would make me happier.”

“Mother…!”

Riddle tugs her into a hug. It is fast, it is fleeting, it is a flicker of light peeking through a keyhole. He opens that locked door and emerges on the other end.

He chokes out his response.

Two simple words, carrying all his hopes and dreams.

“I promise.”

And for the first time in forever, he smiles with all of his heart.

But beyond the happy boy, cheeks streaked with tears, beyond the door that divided him from the world... a shadow hides in the shade of a rose tree.

It looks on, and smiles too.

"... It appears as though Rosehearts has have found his happily ever after at long last, fufu. How wonderful.”

139 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 2 months

Text

Assisting In Deception (Part 10)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Jokes

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: Can Rafe do whatever he can to get his happily ever after with Y/N?

A/N: This is the final part and I hope you enjoy it! I am going to miss writing for these two because I love their dynamic.

Masterlist

The news had gotten out, not only about Y/N and Rafe’s break up but also about their relationship being only for the media and wedding. A lower-level lawyer at Cameron Development had found their contract and after the breakup was made public by someone at the company, she thought it was a good time for a payday. In true media fashion, Y/N was crucified for being a whore and materialistic, while Rafe was praised for being such a great boyfriend to her even when the relationship was fake. The double standard bothers Rafe way more than it did Y/N. She has finally learned not to take anything to heart. Rafe on the other hand knows how much those labels sunk into her skin, especially since he called her those exact same things. He has done every single possible interview he could to clear her name, but no outlet would really listen to his words.

Not to mention, his father’s anger just adds to his feeling of guilt. Ward screamed about how Rafe could treat her that way and he should’ve made the relationship real as soon as he knew he was falling for her. Ward wasn’t upset at the lie; instead, his feelings were more focused on the fact that his son had let love go.

Rafe is going to get her back though and this is the only thing he has ever been a hundred percent sure about in his entire life. The long days without the refreshing smell of strawberry shampoo and the long nights without the soft whispers from her sleeping lips are driving him insane. Every morning and night he reaches out to pull her into his warmth, always being left empty-handed.

He thinks of a thousand ways to make it up to her, but he doesn’t know what to do. He decides to go to the one person who he knows could help him with her. “Juni, please talk to me. I need your help,” he begs, wedging his foot between the door and its frame to stop it from shutting in his face. The shorter girl shakes her head, “She is very angry at you. I don’t know what I can do for you. We both know she doesn’t mess around and that’s exactly what you did, Big C” His eyes flicker to the carpeted floors of the hallway, dragging his left foot back and forth across it. “You don’t need to think about anything. I just need you to send her food every week. I’ll give you my card number so you can charge it to me because I know she won’t take it if I put my name on it,” he states. His hand reaches into his pocket to pull out his card. Her head tilts and her eyebrows frow together to become one.

“If this is about getting her back, then what’s the point of sending her the food without your name?”

“It’s not about her forgiving me or taking me back. I just want to make sure that she can still eat out. I know she’ll get frugal about her money while she is figuring out a new budget with her new income and she won’t factor in getting take-out into her budget until everything else is taken care of. Her accountant degree will definitely kick in.”

“That’s really sweet. And I know what you mean, she’s already started cutting her own expenses on groceries. I’ve never seen her go more than a day without having coffee from the shop downstairs. It’s weird.”

“Exactly, so do it for me, please. I just want her to be happy and cared for.”

“Fine, you are lucky that I was rooting for you guys.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much! Let me know if you guys need anything else, okay? Nothing is too big.”

“I know Y/N needs a trip to Cabo, but under my name.”

He gives her a playful smile with the tilt of his head. She shrugs, “I tried. Let me know if you need any help with your plan.” Rafe nods at her offer. “I will. Thank you again,” he says, walking away from the apartment after their goodbyes.

——

Y/N sits at her desk looking at the number on her screen. They start to merge together and she wants to bang her head against the wall. She got a job as an accountant’s assistant and she is not exactly thrilled with it, but it made the most sense because of her degree. She needed a job and she didn’t have the time to try to figure out what is the right career for her. Her boss has gone to lunch but needed her to stay behind to finish up this budget.

The noise from the door draws her focus to Lydia, the secretary for the office. Nutmeg and parsley fill the room with its aroma. Her mouth salivates as it smells exactly like her favourite creamy mushroom gnocchi. The brown bag with a familiar logo sits in Lydia’s hand. “A delivery guy brought this over. Said it was from Juni,” she explains, placing it on her desk before exiting. Y/N grins at the bag and her hands draw together near her chest. Her shoulders sway from side to side in a little dance. She opens the bag, letting the food overwhelm her senses. With her phone in hand, she takes a selfie of herself hovering over the food and sends it to Juni with a thank you. The food hits her taste buds and she wants to melt as the creamy goodness settles in.

——

“Sir, all of your meetings, appointments and business dinners are on your calendar. I took the liberty of decolour-coding the calendar and rearranged it in a manner that each happens in the same time frame every day. It makes more sense like that. All your meetings are arranged in the afternoon. Appointments in the mornings. And obviously the business dinners in the evening,” Ricardo debriefs, showing Rafe with his tablet what he meant. Rafe isn’t too pleased that Ricardo changed Y/N’s system, but he knows it’s because he is holding on to any piece of her he can. It isn’t Ricardo’s fault that she left. Rafe acknowledges he heard his assistant, “Okay, sounds good. Thank you. You may go back to your desk now.”

Ricardo does as he is told and heads to his desk. The ding from Rafe’s phone immediately attracts his attention. He scrambles to pull it out of his pocket and opens the text from Juni. The screenshot she sent makes the clock stop spinning for just a second. The smile on Y/N’s face is enchanting and he wishes he saw the little dance he knew she did after taking the food out. He sends a thank you back and practically begs her to send him the actual photo so that he can save it to his camera roll. Once she does, he lets out a sigh of happiness. This is who he is trying to fight to get back.

——

How do you make up for pushing your not-real girlfriend, but the girl you are totally in love with, away is not a Google search that has a lot of results. Something big and grand would scare her away. Something small and intimate doesn’t feel like enough. And there really isn’t a middle ground when it comes to gestures. He always defaults to food, so he wants to do something different from his norm. The sounds of his socked feet dragging against the hardwood floor bounce off of the walls as he paces the room. His head darts to the space over his bed and he stops. He takes in the painting he bought from Nancy. Each stroke comes together to show the emotions he felt at that moment and he knows the perfect way to prove to Y/N what he feels for her.

——

When she opens the door, Nancy isn’t expecting to see her sister’s fake ex-boyfriend standing behind it. “What do you want?” she growls, crossing her arms. It is clear that her crush on him is gone with the way he upset Y/N. He looks at her with pleading eyes, “Hey Little Artist, I need your help. Please.” Her cheeks start to redden, but he can tell that it isn’t because of embarrassment or her small crush.

“Why should I help you? You called my sister a gold digger. Do you know how much she is hurting right now? If anything I should be trying to figure out how to hide your body.”

“I know. I’m sorry that I hurt her and I want to tell her this too. I just need your help with how I execute this apology.”

“Well, I don’t want to.”

“Little Artist, please. I love your sister so much and I can’t handle knowing that I’ve made her feel bad about herself. I just want to apologize and show her her worth again. If she tells me to get lost after I do, then I promise she will never hear or see me again. I just want her to be happy.”

Nancy looks him in the eyes and her anger lessens at what she sees. Rafe is practically in tears at the thought of what he has done. His words have really hit home for her. “Fine, I’ll help you. But you are buying me food.”

“Wow, you really do take after your sister.”

——

Nancy watches over his shoulder as he sketches onto the canvas. The look she makes at the outline causes him to turn towards him. “What did I do wrong?” he asks, immediately erasing the mark he just made. Her hand stops his movement, “No, it’s not that. It’s just that this is great and all, but you aren’t capturing anything deep. I don’t feel the emotion you are trying to convey right now. Just make sure when you are painting to try to bring what you are trying to say to life. But don’t worry about it for now.” He takes in her advice and keeps doing what he is told.

The next day he starts painting. He is a lot more nervous about making the first mark than he thought he would be. “Would you stop being a big baby and just start?” Nancy complains, trying to push the paintbrush in his hand onto the canvas. His strength halts her attempt, “No, I can’t. I have to make this perfect, Little Artist. I need to show your sister how sorry I am.” “Trying to make it perfect isn’t going to work. The raw emotion you put into it is what is going to make it perfect. So turn your brain off and start,” she commands. She goes over to her own canvas to do some work. He takes a deep breath and takes a leap of fate in himself by completing the first stroke.

——

For weeks, Juni has been sending Y/N food every single day at the office. Y/N has tried to tell her that leftovers are okay to eat for lunch, but she doesn’t appear to listen. Y/N questioned how Juni could’ve gotten the money and was met with the promise that her work has added a lunch plan for two in her contract. This doesn’t sound any bit true to Y/N, but she goes along with the lie. The headphones over her ears make her oblivious to the world around her. She opens the door to the dark apartment, grooving to the music. The routine she moves through when she gets home goes smoothly until she gets to her bedroom.

The thin large square package leaning against her bed is not a part of that routine. She approaches the gift, looking for any indication of who sent it or how it got into her room. Her first thought is to ask Juni if she knows anything and is met with the answer to her question. You got a package this morning when you left. I brought it into your room, Sweetie. This eases her worry that someone has broken into her room. She puts her purse away and starts tearing into the wrapping paper. The painting she finds brings tears to her eyes. Years of living with Nancy means Y/N knows a little bit about painting, so she knows the technique is nowhere near perfect. Yet, the meaning it is trying to convey is clear to the woman. She can feel the emotion he felt while he painted it. There could only be one person who made this for her.

The subject of the painting: her, specifically from a picture of her when they went to Greece. They had found a little cafe near the beach and she was completely in love with the saragli and baklava he bought her. She was too occupied enjoying the nutty and sticky pastry to notice him taking her picture. The painting isn’t a good likeness to her. Her nose is a little too close to her lips and her eyes are wider apart than in actuality, but the lighting tells her everything she needs to know. She remembers the picture vividly and knows that it isn’t accurate to the day. Instead, the light paints her in a golden light that makes her look ethereal. The love he feels for her comes across with every golden stroke on the canvas. Her anger starts to vanish.

She doesn’t know how she knows, but she heads to the front door. Y/N opens the door to find Rafe waiting with bubble tea in his hand. “The painting was amazing. It doesn’t make up for what you said though,” she comments, moving out of the way for him to come in. He does and sets the drinks on the kitchen island, “I know. I was hoping the bubble tea would make up for the rest of it.”

“You and I both know that’s not what I am waiting for, Boss.”

“I know… I’m sorry, Butterfly. I have never thought that you were a gold digger. I was hurting because I didn’t like seeing you with another guy.”

“Just because you are hurting, it doesn’t mean you get to hurt me.”

“That’s true. And I want to prove to you that I don’t truly think those things. But I’m going to have to be around you for that to happen. So if you feel the same way about me as I think you do, then please let me back into your life. I missed your excited squeals about food or watching you play with Dax. He misses you too you know.”

“I miss him too. I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you.”

He steps toward her, reaching for her hand. His fingertips graze hers before she lets his large hand envelop hers. His lips brush the shell of her ear, “I am prepared to wait for eternity to get you back.” Her eyebrows form a caterpillar as she gives him a trying look. “What if it takes an eternity and one day?” she pushes. His other arm pulls her flush against his chest by the waist, “I’d beg on my knees an eternity and a hundred days if you want.” “On your knees, huh? How about on your knees between my thighs?” Y/N whispers, lips ghosting his. She can basically feel his lips on hers. “I thought I was apologizing to you? But I’ll be on my knees between wherever you want. So, are we going to give me another chance?”

“I think I have to think about it.”

He chuckles at her playful tone, “Well, I hope you don’t mind me doing this.” She takes the lead and brings his lips to hers. Their lips move in tandem like a well-oiled machine. Her hands twist in his hair and he plays with the bottom of hers. This is where they are meant to be. She is who he is meant to be with.

——

A year. A year of bliss as her official boyfriend. Although Rafe likes to count the time they spent faking dating as the start of their relationship, he knows Y/N likes the beginning of their relationship to be the day she found his painting in her room. She believes it’s more romantic that way. Now, she’s spent the last six months living in his apartment with him. He gets to wake up every day with her and go to sleep beside her every night.

After they got together, Y/N didn’t go back to work for him and he completely understood why. She wanted to find someplace for herself in the world, which she did. Her love of food turned into an Instagram account reviewing different places around the city. It’s grown quite the following, but nothing so great that she would quit her job as an assistant accountant. Rafe insisted that he would take care of her while she pursued this passion, but ever the planner she is, she said that she wants a steady income to make some savings for herself first. Plus, accounting is a little more bearable when she can devour delicious food for money after work.

Y/N is away at a work conference for the week and the empty house makes Rafe feel a little lonely. Dax keeps him company, but waking up the first day she is away is normally the hardest for him. Over the last six months of living together, they have grown into a well-synced routine with each other that is currently broken. Rafe would normally wake up earlier than needed so they could get ready for work together and he could drive her to her office before he gets to work himself. He tried offering to buy her a car, but she is very keen on saving up for one herself and he is not about to take away her independence. He sadly walks to the bathroom, getting ready to brush his teeth by himself. His hand reaches for the toothbrush and is met with the sound of paper rustling against his finger. He looks down to see a Post-it note on his toothbrush: I’m sorry I had to go away for work, but I love you, always, Boss. He smiles at the little note and feels his mood start to lift immediately.

The next note he finds is in his car. The sun was in his eyes while he was getting ready to pull out of the parking spot, so he put down the sun visor, only for a small paper square to float down onto his lap. Did you know that 90% of drivers sing behind the wheel? So sing your heart out to Call Me Maybe, Boss. He loves it when she gives him random facts. He opens his phone case so he can keep it safe to put it with all the others. He’s kept every single Post-it note she has ever written for him, even the ones she wrote when she started as his assistant.

By the third note, he guesses that the rest of the time that Y/N is away he is just going to be finding them everywhere. Ricardo walks in like he normally does every morning to give him a detailed rundown of his day. “The last thing of note is that Ms. Y/L/N has ordered me to give you this today,” Ricardo finishes, handing Rafe a blue piece of paper. He waits for Ricardo to leave before reading it. What do you call a butterfly that can fly faster than any other butterfly? A betterfly. He laughs at the horrible joke and texts her the laughing emoji. He knows she’ll know why without any context. He waits for a response and receives the kissy face emoji.

He gets home from work and is getting ready to feed Dax when he finds the next one. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice the note sticking to the jar when he fed Dax this morning but he shrugs it off. Confusion crosses his face when he reads it though. Hi Daddy, Mommy wanted to let you know that I’m not going to be an only child soon. Love, Dax. Why in the world would Dax not be an only child soon? Is this her way of telling him she is adopting another dog? Dax whines for the food and snaps him out of his thoughts. He’ll just have to call her later to ask.

The phone call he plans to make gets quickly forgotten and he is watching TV at the moment. However, Dax’s scratching at one of the guest bedroom doors removes Rafe from the couch. He goes upstairs to see what is going on, opening the door to see what Dax wants. The dog immediately enters the room and hops on the bed to his favourite chew toy that has somehow got in there. He heads over to take the toy into the living room so he can keep an eye on Dax. He stops at the contrast of the bright pink sticky notes against the light gray sheets. “Huh, why would mommy leave a note here? We never go in here,” he asks the occupied dog. Rafe takes a second and remembers the last time this room was used. It was the first-night Y/N had ever stayed over at his house. His hand hesitantly picks up the note and this time he isn’t met with words but a drawing.

The drawing is of a woman without a clear view of her face because her hair is blocking it. She is looking down at her round belly with her hands placed lovingly on it. Rafe’s first thought is that there is no way Y/N drew this because she can barely draw stick figures this well. Then the dots start to connect. The note before this one. The complaints that her favourite foods are repulsing her. The crying at every animal commercial. The little belly weight she gained that he just chalked up to being because he read in one article that the extra weight gained at the beginning of a new relationship means they are happy and he isn’t displeased by that fact. His happiness quickly turns to upset that she isn’t here to celebrate the news with her.

His hands clumsily fish for his phone in his pocket and he goes to dial her number. When the ringing comes from behind, he freezes all movement. He slowly turns around to see her standing with a massive grin on her face. His phone drops to the floor and he doesn’t care that a massive crack noise sounds throughout the room. He runs to her, taking her into his arms. He lifts her up from the ground and spins her in excitement. Her giggles send pure joy through him. “We are having a baby!” he exclaims, finally letting her two feet find the ground again. She takes his chin into her hand so she can look into his eyes, “We are.”

“I can’t believe it. We have so much to do. I have to go to the store so we can repaint this room. Actually, we should hire someone to paint a mural. And we have to pick out the crib, a new dresser, a diaper gen-”

“Woah, woah, woah, Boss. Slow down a little. The baby isn’t coming for another nine months. And I thought I was supposed to be the planner.”

“You are right. I’m just really excited. I literally just found out about them and they are just the size of like a pea, but I already love them as much as I love their mommy. I can’t help it.”

“I love you too and I can’t wait to meet them too.”

The couple takes a moment to just look at each other in their eyes, conveying all their emotions and thoughts. The baby was not planned, but it is clear to both of them that the baby is still very much wanted. They smile at this communication and kiss each other for the first time since she got home. For once in her life, Y/N Y/L/N took a chance on love and look where she is now. She never looked back on that decision to let go of her fear of commitment because it led her to not only her first love of her life but to her second one as well.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @aprilrudgate @loving-and-dreaming @thepatriarchykeychain @maybankslover @abbybarnesstuff @wh0reforbucknasty @spencereidbasis @drewsmusee @starkowswife @mskezza @h34rtsformilli @ijustwanttoreadlols @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @bellbottombaby @jaydaaasworld

96 notes · View notes

beskarandblasters · 5 months

Text

Hi everyone!! Erin and I compiled all the fics that were submitted into one big list and split the reading! So if you don’t see your fic here check out @perotovar’s post that will be coming soon! Also, for any multi chapter fics that were submitted we only read the first chapters for them! Thank you to everyone who submitted fics for this and made this celebration such a hit! If you’d like to see more events like this please let either Erin or myself know!

@trulybetty Strings

What a strong start!! The part where he was dealing with his nightmare in his sleep was so heartbreaking. And the reader contemplating comforting him or respecting the boundaries of their relationship and minding her business was a struggle you really felt.

@pascalispretty Leading Blindly

Oh man love me some shy, submissive Din 🥵 And Canto Bight is the perfect place to put a brothel in Star Wars!!!

@chronically-ghosted Recovery Road

Wow, what a beautiful depiction of struggling with addiction and anxiety. As someone who suffers from anxiety myself (as I’m sure a lot of you guys do too!), I found myself really emphasizing with Dieter. Precious lil guy 🥺

@theywhowriteandknowthings Catch Me If You Can

This fic is such a good capture capture of the chase 🤌 The last chapter was posted as a part of Kinktober but if you want to find out just how Din and the Reader got there, read this!!! It’s going to take place on several Star Wars planets and as a Star Wars nerd that makes my heart happy

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin The Clink

💳💳PRISON GUARD JAVI💳💳 What more do I need to say?!?!? No but fr this is not only extremely hot but also very very well done. Prison Guard Javi wasn’t something I knew I needed until Ang put it out 💅

@jenna-ortega Vertigo

The premise of this is so scandalous 🤭 I’m a sucker for infidelity fics for some reason so you know this just has a hold on me!!! And I love the warning “unpleasant!Joel” 🥵💀😭

@milla-frenchy Smack My Bitch Up

I’m a slut for rough sex and even though I’m not personally into anal I still really enjoyed this! A great take on Raider!Joel and Raider!Tommy 👀

@katiexpunk Reporting For Duty

THE PREMISE I’M SCREAMING and the smut was soooooo fucking hot. I love Air Marshal Peña!!! Something about joining the Mile High Club is just 🥵🥵

@dark-scape The Vagabond Gladiator

This is by far the most interesting and unique Joel AU I’ve ever seen. The world building in this is just great!!!

@novemberrain-writes Daggers to Dust

A MANDALORIAN WESTERN AU ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!! I enjoyed this so much omfg!!!

@decembermidnight Ner Mircet'ad

First of all, two words: GLOVE KINK!! Love the Mando’a title, love dom!Din. Seriously what is there not to love about this!!

@soft-persephone Scattered Promises

“My name is Din, he whispered lowly in her face, and if I made a promise to never leave your side, I intend to keep it.” Oh my god!!! I love Din and the MC’s dynamic so much!!!

@nothoughtsjustmeds Tip Your Server

NOT THEM LOSING THE OSCAR 😭😭 I love wife!reader fics and this was seriously so sweet and hot at the same time!!

@scarerjh Love Machine

Dieter is so sweet and devoted in this!!! So fluffy and sweet it makes my heart explode!!!

@grogusmum Conversations with Dead People

This was so sad and impactful!! I just wanted them to get back together so bad!!!!

@marisferasiop Paklalat

This was such a treat, literally the group sex/polyamorous relationship of my DREAMS 😍😍

@idolatrybarbie The World Tipped On Its Side

(Chapter 1) I really love the characterization of the reader in this. Frankie as a stunt pilot is a really cool idea for him. And the reader is disabled, which is really refreshing to see that being represented here in this community🤍

@romana-after-dark Blessed Be The Fruit

If you like the Handmaid’s Tale and TLOU then boy do I have the fic for you!! The first chapter was so interesting and the world building was insane!! I’ve never watched or read Handmaid’s Tale and I was easily able to fall into this universe!

@ladamedusoif Visiting

One of the most well thought out Mr. Ben fics I’ve ever seen!! I love the ofc and I love that her age is relatively close to Ben’s!!

@chaithetics A Cinematic Lover

Dieter having a crush is so fucking cute!!! And I love chronic illness/pain representation here 🥺🤍

@aurorawritestoescape The Helping Hand

I love somnophilia!! This was so hot and I love the idea that Joel’s loud snoring keeps you from falling asleep at night 😭💀

@pimosworld Tango

Love the premise, loooove the TF boys being protective and of course, I love dom!Frankie + the aftercare 🥹

@beecastle Chocolate Cake

This was so cute!!! I love first meeting fics and there’s something so sweet and so normal about it happening at a grocery store! And of course I love dad!Frankie!!

@frenchiereading The Parents That Are Left

I don’t really have much to say about this besides the fact that the writing is beautiful. And that this is such an interesting premise!!!

@ohforficsake You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Fourth of July in Jackson?!?!?! Sign me UP!!! I love the title of the series. I love the first chapter title. I love the OFC! There’s so much to love about this!!

@healmydesires I Wanna Hear You Say My Name

I loved this so much!! I don’t typically read period sec fics but wow!! I started my period the day before I read this and now I have a whole new appreciation for fics like this!! The smut was so hot and I loved the dynamic between Joel and the reader!

@604to647 Lingerie

I have never read a modern AU for Din before and I have to say, this was so interesting and hot at the same time!!

#dieter bravo fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #ezra prospect fanfiction

134 notes · View notes

in-hav3n · 9 months

Note

heyy

i just had this idea:

imagine current james hiring a young woman as his personal assistant, to help him organize his schedule and stuff like that.

she's good at her job but she's a dynamic and kind of stubborn person. one day james misunderstands something so he thinks that she messed up even tho HE was the one who actually messed up.

he started complaining about what he thinks she did wrong but then she manages to prove that she was right all along and that he had misunderstood the situation.

he gets turned on by her dynamism and the way she defended herself and proved him wrong so he ends up fucking her on his desk.

(please, write how you imagine the argument and of course the last part when he fucks her 🤭)

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ?

Warnings : NSFW - sex scene - rough sex - age gap

"(X/Y) ? Can you come in my office, now ?".

James' voice interrupted you as you were sitting at the kitchen table, talking about a new vegetarian restaurant in town with Kirk. Your eyes landed on your boss and you nodded professionally.

"Yes, sure".

His appearance was enough to change the atmosphere of the room. Curiously, all the conversations stopped and everyone looked at James. Kirk looked at you with a curious frown too, wondering why his buddy adopted this particular tone to ask. You answered him with a shrug. You had no idea what he wanted since it was near the end of the day and you were all about to leave. Maybe he wanted to ask you one more important task that had to be done now ? Who knows with James...

You greeted goodbye to the guys and some management's member that were in the kitchen or in the recording room as following James through HQ's alleys. HQ was now a pretty big building the guys had fitted out through the years. Each rooms had its own purpose, going from recording room to instruments storage. They also thought to put a recreation room where they could play pool or have fun with a pinball machine when they needed to refresh their mind from talks and argues about the songs of the new album.

James' office was the last room at the end of the building, next to a tech room and the laundry room. You didn't know why he had chosen to have this one since the others were more close to the exit, on the other side of the building, but only assumed that it was his way to have his own personal space where he could be quiet. Which wouldn't surprised you considering his character.

James was a respectful, nice and empathic boss. When you were hired as his personal assistant, a year ago, you had fears since he was a big rockstar and seemed pretty intimidating but he was the exact opposite. He was really a gentle, down to earth man who let you do your job the best you could. He was very understanding and never complained. That's why his earlier attitude surprised you. He seemed concerned and his face showed no expressions. Which was even more stressful. But you had also learned that since his divorce, James seemed more introvert, sometimes quiet and with no expressions...

He opened his office door for you and moved to the side to let you in. You thanked him by passing by, still holding your agenda and your smart computer against your heart. As a good employee, you just stood in front of his desk and waited for him.

"Is there anything I can do ?", you finally asked, breaking the ice.

Usually he would have told you immediately what was the matter. His silence was uncomfortable. James closed the door when you got in and joined you, hands in his pocket. You follow each of his step with your glance, heart beating of anticipation.

"Actually yes. We have a problem", you frowned at his words.

The world "problem" was enough to feel even more nervous. You waited for an explanation he gave right away. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket and open his mails, still in silence. You started to breathe deeper, holding tighter your personal stuffs against your chest as waiting for the reason of his disappointment. But even after searching in your mind, you found no reasons for him to be disappointed.

"Cigar Aficionado sent me an mail to confirm the photoshoot on Wednesday the 6th", he started as looking at you. "We talked about it and we both agreed on the 8th. If you wanted to change the date to match with one of my another appointment you could have told me before (X/Y). Now I have to change all my schedule cause I had planned something else on this date".

His tone was professional, direct and serious. You didn't recognize the James you knew and it was really curious. You listened at his speech and waited to defend yourself.

"I'm sorry Mr Hetfield but...", you gulped, shaking your head. "The date never changed. When we talked about this interview and photoshoot, you told me you preferred a Wednesday and it was the only date available", you explained, not believing your ears. James was thinking you completely messed up but you did nothing wrong. As always, he was the one choosing the date first.

"A Wednesday? I doubt it", he replied back, with a chuckle. "Now it's scheduled for a day that doesn't suit me at all and I'm really disappointed".

His words hurt like a knife. "Disappointed". It hurt cause you always did your best, everyday. You always checked everything twice to be sure. You were always reachable, day and night, and you always fulfilled all his ask. You wanted to show him your value and this was you got in return. You had to fight back.

"I'm deeply sorry but I have nothing to do with this", you added with a convinced tone. "I can prove it to you", you quickly opened your agenda, holding it against you carefully. James joined you to see but he didn't seem to be ready to believe you. You held your breath for a short brief when you feel his stature next to you. You finally found the page and pointed out the info for him with a shaken finger.

"There. 6th April. Photoshoot and interview. I wrote this with you, we were in your office. I even told you they were particularly fussy concerning the schedule and you told me you didn't care. You also did a joke about the name of their press manager".

James frowned at your explanation, with an expression that seemed to say "I'm still searching if I should believe you or not", but kept a inner chuckle when he heard you remembered one of his stupid joke. He was surprised you paid attention to this. But he was also surprised that you dared to say he was the one to be wrong. He always thought you were a nice shy girl and he was witnessing another side of your personality...and he was enjoying it.

"Maybe but still", he replied back. He had now an idea in mind and wanted to see where this could lead..."You did wrong and I'm really disappointed. I don't want this to happen again", he conclued as turning his back to leave.

You opened your mouth. It was incredible. You placed your stuffs on his desk in a too much harsh movement but you couldn't contain your frustration anymore. He was really stubborn and you were sure to be right. He had to listen. It wasn't fair to accuse you.

"Listen. Once again I'm sorry if this date doesn't suit you but I tell you, once again, I'm not responsible. You asked me to plan this on the 8th April and as your personal assistant, I scheduled it as you asked", you explained.

James turned over and looked at you. His no expression face disturbed you for a while but your envy of justice was enough to give your courage. But deep inside, James was enjoying this moment. There you were finally showing what he wanted to see and he was pleased. You had the guts to defy him and he liked it.

"Are you sure of it ?", he asked, wanting to push you to the limit. He wanted to see what you could do and what you'd be ready to do to prove you were right.

"Of course I am", you gasped in disbelief. "I'm sorry but I'm doing my job the best I can since you hired me ! Within a year, I don't think I've ever done a misstep. I'm giving myself every day for this job because I really like it and with all due respect I don't like hearing that I did something wrong when I know I didn't".

James smiled, amused and more impressed by your determination. He had to admitted that he always found you really pretty and beautiful but this character you had now was really turning him on. Your white shirt slightly opened revealed a bit your pink skin near your breasts and it was enough to make him burn of excitement.

"Would you swear it ?", he asked, playing his game till the end, coming closer like a pretador. You didn't notice his play tough, neither what he was about to do. But stil, seeing him closer was enough to make you loose your breath a little.

"Of course, I-I'd", you said back, not understanding what was happening. "I swear... I- I din't nothing wrong. You misunderstood and...". You were cut off by James lips crashing on yours. You pulled away immediately, surprised, as placing your both palms on his strong chest.

Even with heels, you weren't tall enough to be face to face with him. You looked up at him, asking for an explanation but you only got a chuckle as James hands laid on your hips.

You were totally hypnotized by his beautiful blue eyes, his smirk and his delicate touch. But it was all wrong...Of course, you always found him really charming and gorgeous, who could resist to this man? Him holding you this way was a dream coming true. But you also remembered that he was older than you and most of all, he was your boss. It wasn't right at all.

Your butt landed against his desk and the air in the room became thick and extremely hot.

"You did wrong you know that...", James said with his husky voice. You didn't leave his gaze and shook your head. He wanted to get you on your nerves and it was working.

"I did not...", you challenged him with a more confident tone as diving into his beautiful blue eyes. One last corner smile and James bend again to kiss you, more hungrily, more deeper this time. And you let it go...One of your hand landed on his neck to push him further against your lips. They were soft, tasting sweetly cigar and mint and now that you tasted them, you wanted them more. You forgot all the previous thoughts you had and only focused on what was happening and how good this was.

James left your lips to devour your neck with wet kisses. You moaned shyly and closed your eyes, as one hand gripped his shirt whilst the other ran into his grey hair. James enjoyed your touch and let you know by a slight moan against your skin. His hungry fingers opened her shirt more and this made you looked at what he was doing in disbelief. You helped as putting off your shirt out of your skirt before he nearly ripped the last button. He opened the clothe in one movement to give attention to your breasts now.

"Oh god...", you moaned in a whisper as your head fell back and your hand gripped the edge of the desk to have a better support. No doubt James definitely knew what to do with his lips and tongue. He spread wet kisses on your skin whilst his fingers slowly pulled off your bra cup to expose your breast.

Being so exposed would had normally made you feel uncomfortable but with the adrenaline of the argument you had put you both in some sort of trance that couldn't stopped until the desire you felt would be fulfilled.

James looked up at you, while he was still feasting on your breasts, cupping them while he was sucking your already hard nipples. He was taking care of them like if it was a precious thing and this made you gasped of excitement as looking at him, caressing his face. He shifted into high gear without a word by pushing you on his desk to make you sit on it.

He knew what he wanted and you liked being conducted. But you also wanted to show him that you had guts for sex too and not only for argument. So your hands quickly found their way on his belt buckle and you opened his button, unzipped his jeans with shaking hands to reveal the huge bulge he was hiding in his boxer.

"In a hurry sweetheart?", he asked with a grin as he helped and pulled off his boxer along his thighs, his dick swinging proudly, hitting his lower belly. You bite your lower lip and looked at him with a grin. He played with you now it was time to play with him. Slowly, your palm embraced his hard member and your finger wrapped around his base as you gently started to stroke him. James groaned low and bend to kiss you softly.

"You seem to know what you want...", he whispered, adding another peck. You smiled and pecked him again while your hand was still working on him.

"I know I'm right...and I know what I want", you gasped in a sexy tone as using your other hand to stroke him better with two hands.

James eyes opened wilder and he chuckled at your answer.

"Then skirt up and take off that panties for me baby", he commanded again and as his nice and obedient employee, you did as he asked. You put your feet back on the ground, raised your skirt over your hips with your hands then sat again. James didn't stop looking, stroking himself as admiring the view. He didn't expect any of this but now he was craving for it. This argument and the guts you have showed were enough to awaken the beast.

With a swing, you roll on your butt and quickly pulled off your panties, your pussy shivering at the cold air of te room. You threw it somewhere, not caring, and opened your legs wide for him.

"You're ready for me sweetheart?", he asked and you checked on yourself on your own wetness, your fingers rubbing your wet lips. You were already wet and you've never been so wet so quickly before to be honest. This man really knew what he was doing and it was exciting as hell.

You nodded and James came closer, lining himself up with you. He pushed your pelvis further, with his hands gripping your butt to do so and you felt his tip hitting your entrance by surprise. You gasped a moan and looked beneath you whilst James giggled.

"Sensitive ?". He gently rubbed his tip on your wet lips with his right hand, collecting the wetness before he rubbed his tip on your clit. Another moan, louder this time, escaped your lips.

"Damn, fuck me!", you panted. You couldn't take this tease anymore and you needed him right now. James spat on his hand to add more wetness on his tip and then pushed inside you, with a slow but powerful thrust. His left hand gripped one of your thigh to keep you against him. He pushed enough to thrust deep and your hands had no choice but to grip his forearms. James pulled out and pushed in a few times to stretch you until he felt you were ready for a slow pace.

"Oh it's good...", you panted and moaned at the same time, your head rolling back and forth. You didn't want to miss any eye contact with him, noticing his pupils went darker, showing lust and excitement.

"Your pussy is so sweet and tight baby...", he groaned of pleasure and you grinned back at him, your nails digging inside his flesh.

"Faster please...fuck me harder", you commanded him as gripping one of his hips, pushing his lower back deeper inside you to show you the rhythm you want. He was so good at it that you couldn't resist to take the lead too. James moaned low and his hands gripped your both thighs, with a harder grip that would surely left marks tomorrow but you didn't care. You wanted him to ram into you now that he started this dance.

"FUCK yes! ", you moaned loud, not even thinking anymore that you were actually fucking your boss and this was real. Not even caring that someone might heard you behind the door. It was the end of the journey after all and everyone would left soon. No one was really coming in this side and maybe now you had found the reason why James' office was that far from the other rooms...

You started to move your pelvis at his pace, in unison, your hands now founding a better grip on his desk. His pubic hair were slightly scratching again your sensitive clit and it was extremely hot. But James didn't like sharing control and this attitude started to annoy him, but in a good way. It awakened the beast in him.

He suddenly pulled off in a move, his dick still hard and swollen from the fuck you just had. You whined of surprise, feeling completely empty.

"What's...?", you started to ask in a gasp, wondering what was happening. But James didn't let you finish your ask that he pushed you back on the ground and gently turned you over his desk. You have no other choice than to obey and this sudden change aroused you even more. He was taking control, he wanted to show you who was ruling.

"Ass up baby...", he groaned in a command tone. You moaned as doing what he asked, bending over the wooden table to grip the other edge of it, already anticipating what was about to come next. You felt your pussy pulsing of excitement, wanting him to fuck you again and more. James slapped your ass hard once and came behind you, his dick hitting your entrance from behind. You moaned and lifted a bit your ass to line up with him.

James bend his chest over your back, caught your throat with his palm as his face came closer. You felt his breath near your ear, making you shiver.

"I'm gonna fuck you so well...my dick is gonna pound into you so hard baby...", he whispered in a groan as slapping you again. You moaned loud.

"Oh yes please...I want it"

"Yes who?", he teased you, biting your earlobe as his catch around your throat tighten.

"Yes Mister Hetfield", you gasped of ecstasy, something deep inside you vibrating inside your entire body as you let out those words. This was turning you on in a level you've never experienced and you were sure you'd cum soon.

"That's better",he groaned before pulling away, pushing your lower back to line up properly. He rubbed his tip on your wet lips and you gasped again, waiting for the push. You wanted him more than anything. And in one deep thrust, James pushed inside you again. You moaned longer and higher, your fingers gripping the desk so hard it was hurtful.

"Look at you...", James groaned as spreading your ass to admire the view, "my cock is stretching your high pussy...you're so desperate for me...so wet for my cock". You whined hard and moved your body, fucking yourself against his cock. You desperately wanted to come since you felt you were over the edge. But James stopped when he felt your moves and slapped you again. You groaned low with an erotic moan.

"I command sweetheart...", he whispered with a strong tone, letting you know who was commanding again. His hand ran along your back, spreading the sweat drops that started to appear on your skin. You simply nodded and waited for your issuance. James hand went on his exploration as he thrusted very slow into you until this hand pushed you against him. Your back hit his chest and his strong inked arm wrapped around you to keep you there.

And now James gave you what you wanted. He started to ram into you, frantically. His pelvis hit your butt in harsh moves and this was providing good sensations too with his dick thrusting hard and deeper into you like this.

"Hold...on me...baby", he panted hard and you tried to hold on him the best you can to not fall.

"Oh my god yes...fuck me please", you begged as feeling a strong and powerful bund of energy blowing inside your lower belly, announcing your close orgasm. "I'm gonna cum", you panted and your eyes rolled back behind your eyes.

"Come on my cock baby, do it", James helped you with his dirty talk as going faster, the faster he could, gripping your both arms from behind to slam more inside you until he felt you losing control. He caught you before you fell and didn't stop moving until you finished to cum.

You moaned loud, gasping and mumbling incoherent words such as "fuck me", "feels good". Your bit your lips so hard that you hurt yourself but you didn't care. The pleasure invading you was beyond any you've experienced before. Your pussy contracted around his dick and James groaned, feeling he could be closer too.

He gave you one last deep pound that made you scream loud one last time before falling on the desk. You took your breath the best you can as he kept moving slowly inside you, working on his own orgasm now. Your pussy were more sensitive and tight and this felt good on his dick.

"Where do you want me to cum baby?", he asked as placing his palm on your butt, keeping the track. You turned your head over and looked at him with a mischievous grin.

"Inside me please...cum inside me", you asked as opening your ass cheeks for him. James moaned at the view and helped you, placing his hands on yours.

"I'm gonna cum... inside your pretty pussy", he said as his head fell back, feeling the fire coming inside him. He felt it blowing inside his lower belly and he closed his eyes to abandon himself at this pleasure he was feeling. He heard your moans and whines while he pounded a few more times before he felt this was the time. He stopped and let it go.

"Fucking god...", he groaned loud, with a deep manly grunt as his fingers gripped your butt cheeks skin harder, spreading them open as he poured in his load inside you. You moaned in return, feeling his hot cum and smiling big. You were still having the delicious effects of your orgasm running through your veins.

"Fuck...", James groaned again as pulling off from you in a move, carefully to not hurt you and just stood there, looking at his cum going out of your pussy. You looked over and caught his lustful glance. You grinned and bite your lip, as feeling his load coming out your pussy to glide along your swollen lips. He slapped your butt one last time, enjoying it and so did you. You saw his chest raising slowly as he caught his breath.

"Oh my god...", you said in a gasp as taking back a normal position. Your legs and arms were completely sore but you stretched a little to ease it. James quickly pulled on his boxer and jeans while you moved back your skirt on your hips to cover you. You had no idea where your panties was...

"My personal assistant should be wrong more often", James suggested as taking your hand to pull you against his chest. You accepted the gesture even if you never expected sucked kindness and aftercare after this intense sex you had. You giggled as well, gently snapping his chest.

"I was right Mister Hetfield ! You were the one who was wrong. And you better accept it now that I proved it to you", you grinned, happy to finally have the last word on this story. But it was worth it...

AN : Thank you anon for this perfect ask ! <3 I love this kind of idea, even more with current James who fits perfectly for this! I hope you'll enjoy this, cause I really had fun and as you'll see, I couldn't stop writing lol!

#james hetfield #papa het #james hetfield x oc #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield smut #sweet lord never expected this to be so damn hot #current james #but something took control of me I guess #I hope you'll love it my beloved readers #this was long than expected but it was needed #request5 #5

238 notes · View notes

ladywinterwitch · 2 years

Text

Game Of Thrones (Headcanon) - Crushing/Jealousy

Y'all I really hope this doesn't suck because the tumblr page literally refreshed as I was almost done writing so it saved NOTHING and I had to re-write every single word so. Ngl I might've shed a tear but we're not gonna talk about that :). I mixed the 'Them having a crush in you' and the 'Jealousy trope' for this one. Also. I don't know how many of these Headcanons I'll write but regardless even if I do switch up the characters or format for the posts every now and then, don't panic lmfao If I stopped I would tell you. Apologizing for any eventual errors! They'll be fixed.

Warnings: mentions of sex but nothing explicitly nsfw (okay maybe be aware for Oberyn idk), cursing, nothing much really

*I will try to keep the gender descriptions vague, just like the time periods and avoid subplots unlike the other two parts simply because I wouldn't want to make it seem like mini series or something that you kinda have to 'catch up on', I hope that makes sense.

Main masterlist and other headcanons

Lmk what you think if you feel like it :'D

ROBB STARK

Robb is painfully smitten with you from the beginning. This in the very first times made him almost quite shy, but once he gained some confidence and some desire made its way along with the platonic feelings, well. He could be very sweet one second, and make you blush on purpose the moment after. With the whole Winterfell heir/oldest Stark kid thing he never lacked much in the confidence department and it was clear in more ways than one. He is the literal defintion of prince charming. Probably the embodiement of those brave and handsome heroes his sister Sansa liked to read so much about.

Depending on the time of his life in which he met you, he would be more or less careful of showing his feelings. If he were still in Winterfell, with his family and friends around, he would allow himself to be a little more carefree, especially if his father was still the lord of the castle. Catelyn would be a mixture of anxiety and excitement, Robb being her first born and having his first actual experience with love. Ned on the other hand would be just heart warmed by seeing his son being such a good and caring young man, like he raised him to be. Arya would probably either be quite uninterested or befriend you, depending on how much she could relate to you. The same thing is worth for Sansa, even though she would still be quite interested in how things played out between you two. Theon would be annoyingly teasing him about his crush, meanwhile Jon would be more of a listener and give his support to his half brother (cousin).

Depending on how things would've gone with the whole Robert thing, you would've been probably left alone without too much talk of a strategic wedding.

If, on the other hand, we were talking about a slighlty older and king in the North Robb, the situation would probably be more difficult. Regardless, you wouldn't have been the right choice for him to marry, not necessarily for your rank, but because your family wouldn't be strategically strong enough to have important advantages in the war of the five kings. Which is what he needed, but not wanted. Catelyn knew it, he knew it and you knew it.

This Robb would've flirted in the same way more or less, just probably more on the intense and desire filled side than the 'sweet boy' one. And definetly more subtle, for war reasons but mainly because he wanted to keep you safe. Speaking of keeping you safe, he wasn't an overly jealous man by nature, especially if he knew that he was in no position to give you something better than endless pining. But if a man, or another person, were to offend you, or make you feel unsafe, he would definetly pay a little visit in a more appropriate time to the fool in question with his werewolf. He knew better than to not take precautions with the people that he cared about. And after a little scare, he would go to see you and make sure you were alright.

JON SNOW

If Jon has one issue, is how stupidly stubborn he is. Especially when he's younger. This man would rather pin over you for the rest of his life than be honest about his feelings. And you kinda hate him for it sometimes. Regardless of him being in Winterfell as the lord's bastard or a memeber of the Night's Watch, his brooding never changes. Obviously the bigger issue in the second case would be that he literally swore to not take wife or father no children, which made the whole 'being hopelessly in love with you' thing a tad more difficult. In any scenario, he would have that one person close to him to whom he just couldn't lie to. Wheter it was Robb or Sam, he knew that every time you came up in the conversation he could either blush and get out of the topic, or just blurt out his feelings.

Younger Jon would definetly be more awkward and less obvious than Robb, especially because he was nowhere near having the same confidence. He would still be very caring and sweet, just in a more subtle way. If Robb was the kind of guy that would ask you to dance with him or bring you flowers openly, Jon would offer you his fur coat if you were cold or help you get up and down a horse.

He also really enjoys people who kind of understand him as he is and don't try to pressure him that much into acting in a way that it's not himself, and this is honestly one of the things that makes him go crazy for you. He loves how interesting and funny and genuinely caring about him you are. He thinks about you all the time. But gods forbid if he was caught actually having feelings that weren't angsty. He didn't like people that much, but he liked you. Very much so.

You could see through him though, so while you didn't want to pressure him to say more than he wanted, you could get irritated about how stubborn he was sometimes. It happened more than once that other people flirted with you or apparently so, and Jon was never thrilled about that, at all. If you looked around hard enough you could probably spot him in a corner of the room, watching you from afar, brooding as usual. That made you quite sad at times, because you didn't fully understand why he just wouldn't let himself go completely with you. You sometimes played a bit into it, just a tiny bit, to get him riled up. But in the end, you were always going back to him, making sure that you would actually never betray him. He knew that, deep down.

But again, he didn't trust people much, and could get quite protective if he sensed that something wasn't quite right with someone. Before doing anything though, he would often keep an eye on them, and after that if his worries actually were proven somehow to be true, it wouldn't take him much to use a few tricks up his sleeve to scare people off.

Older Jon would be more straightforward, both in personal relationships and with the whole confronting thing. Young Jon liked the shadows, older Jon wasn't afraid to put himself on the spot if he had to.

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn having actual romantic feelings was news to him. Many times, especially when he was younger he had questioned himself, 'Am I just horny, or do I care?' and no, the answer is no. He thinks that he got really close at times, but mostly he ended up having great fuck-buddies and occasional dinner companions. Most times he wasn't even interested in actual non-married people, so it's not that it could've gone that far anyway unless he was ready to start an affair. But he didn't care enough for it, way too many problems.

With you though, it was new. You weren't much younger and definetly not completely inexperienced, so it's not long after that you met that you actually had sex. You seemed fine with just having this type of 'fun' relationship, so it was really just him finding himself wanting to spend time with you in other ways. Your relationships had blurred lines for a while to be honest. He was the rich spoiled prince with whom you had occasional sex with, and you were one of the lucky people to get into the prince of Dorne's graces.

Knowing his reputation and generally his personality, it took you a while to actually start to believe that he could be in love with you. Riding horses, dining and drinking together, having sex, spending time together and even painting for fun, to you only seemed the behaviour of a rich prince that had a new 'favorite' of the season. Things started to get a different tone when you noticed how possessive he could be. Not in a properly toxic way, but he did like to get you absolutely flustered in the most inappropriate places, to not so secretly show you off while dressing you with the most beautiful and expensive garments in the realm, putting you at his side at important events and even saying that he wanted you to be just his. Not that you were in the position nor desire to actually sleep around, but that statement definetly put a more defined label on your relationship.

Oberyn usually wouldn't get jealous, but he would be even more confident and showy when he wanted to warn someone off. And then usually get you in a dark spot of the palace and fuck you while he told you you were his. And if someone had some snarky things to say about you, he made sure they didn't do it ever again.

JAIME LANNISTER

Confused, insecure, protective, closed off, romantic, intense, quite jealous, vulnerable

Jaime is complicated. He just is. There's also very little chance that he could've managed to look at someone other than Cersei in his younger years, because their separation was very brief, and the immediate failure of her and Robert's marriage gave them the perfect opportunity to keep going with their toxic relationship. As soon as he gets away from her, and loses his hand in the process, he also starts to struggle with his own thoughts about who he is and who he wants to be.

When he meets you, he didn't even thought about your meeting twice. He observed you, as he always does with people, but thought nothing more of you except your beauty probably. The first time you actually talked though, he did think about it a little harder. It was news to him that someone would actually address him in a normal and respectful way, without being fake that is. He had roughed up during the years, especially since people had started to call him Kingslayer, traitor, backstabber. Any kind of degrading name. No one actually even bothered to make their own opinions or listen to his side. Robert and Ned and the whole lot of other people of the court chose a biased version and went with it.

You didn't. Wiredly enough it left him feeling quite wired, and definetly interested in you. If anything, he was curious to see if you were going to ever speak to him again, and you did. You made sure to acknowledge him every time that you saw him, even at the cost of getting the stink eye from whoever was accompanying you. Jaime started to get more interested, and wanting to know you better. Either of you had any malice in this whole thing. You were both genuinely curious to listen to what the other had to say. And slowly, Jaime started to get more and more distanced from his sister. It's like he was blind, or willingly chose not to see, what she really was. The difference was obvious when he interacted with you.

You did create a genuinely nice connections, and you didn't miss to stop and talk or even walk together when you had the chance. The real turning point for him was when he started to actually think about you. He felt confused and quite scared, to be honest. He was afraid of many things; of the fact that he could actually feel something that wasn't so wrong like what he felt for Cersei, of how worthy someone like him could be of you. These thoughts remained quite abstract, even in his own mind, until he actually felt like he was punched in the gut when you started to get courted by another person.

Now, that, was quite the wake up call. Before you actually became a thing, his general reaction to his own jealousy was sadness and self loathing. So when you got together, knowing that he could actually allow himself to be close to you, his love language definetly became touch. He just loved to touch you, whether it was in an innocnt way or not. It's like he needed it. He would also be quite affectionate and funny, definetly the cockly Lannister in him. Fortunately enough there weren't many times in which he became jealous, but when he did, he usually just fucked it right out of you both, to put it lightly. On the other way, if any type of harm should come your way, now in that case his Tywin genes would definetly come through.

TYRION LANNISTER

Insecure, not overly jealous but anxious about your well being, trusting, sweet, funny, has your back

Tyrion has trauma. He really fucking does. Love? Trust? not his forte, either of them. So was he scared when he realized that he could be falling for you? Shitless. Just the mere fact that he met you in King's Landing made him think the craziest possible scenarios of how either his father or sister could've just come to you and say 'Trick that stupid little monster again, he deserves it'. He lowkey knew that it would've been insane, and he was being paranoid but at the same time you never know with those people.

You definetly made fun of people at court together. You also liked to actually argue about some topics, too. You weren't particularly fond of sewing when you were little, so your father made sure that you were at least well spoken, and honestly you didn't mind reading at all. On that you two would relate a lot.

You actually spent so much time together, and he loved how similiar you were. Mentally, that is. He would never even imagine to compare himself with something that he considered as beautiful as you. And even after making sure that you gained his trust, that remained a big issue for him. When he did actually get a grip and you got exclusive, or at least with each other, your relationship didn't change that much, except the sex and the teasing obviously. Tyrion's version of jealousy was more similiar to Jaime's. He wasn't actually jealous, per se, but he doubted himself and what he could give you more than anything.

You never, ever, gave him reason to, though. In that sense, you probably took more care of him than he did, and he really really appreciated you for that. He would've gladly ran away with you, but you both knew better than be reckless in a place full of backstabbers like King's Landing. You kind of had each other's back, and this understanding between you two allowed you to actually live your relationship peacefully.

Now, if Tyrion did feel that someone on his reach could actually try to do any harm to your or your relationship, Bronn would've taken care of it pretty quickly for him.

2K notes · View notes

sugumii · 11 months

Text

Dan Heng x Reader: Never forget

TW: Angst, mentions of death.

A/N: I was talking to an AI and bro was SPITTING so I got inspiration from its poetry. Credits to that AI because WOW.

———————

Just a boy who met a girl.

Who both found a light that illuminates each other’s heart — someone who saw one another fully, and who they could see back.

It was strange.

The fact that someone could offer their utmost loyalty to another, to be together and to share each other’s heart… that's a kind of love that makes you look forward to tomorrow, isn't it?

Dan Heng reminisced on his first encounter with them. How their eyes sparkled with joy upon seeing him appear. How he offered his hand to aid them and how they took it almost instantly. He remembered how when their hands touched one another a jolt of electricity ran through him. Almost as if their touch seemed familiar to him.

Dan Heng remembered how beautiful/handsome they were when they first met. The way their e/c eyes sparkled with newfound curiosity and how their cheeks wrinkled from their beam. They looked surreal, so magnificent, and breathtaking. The male remembered how his heart skipped a beat and how he wished to befriend someone for the very first time on his own.

It was like it was meant to be.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted the dark haired male’s thoughts, causing him to flinch and drop his notes. He cursed silently, bending over to pick up his book. He paused upon reading the title, mouth turning into a frown. It wasn’t just any book, it’s cover had been labeled by his own hand.

A journal of memories of the both of you.

He picked up the book gently with trembling hands, resisting the temptation to open it and flip through its contents. He knew he had hid this away and would have to open it someday, but he didn’t feel ready to just yet.

But he missed you. Dearly.

He wanted to see your face and refresh his mind on the fond memories you two shared. The beauty in the smile you wore and the shine your eyes never failed to exhibit.

With shaky hands and a deep inhale, Dan Heng cautiously put his hand on the page to open it.

“Dan Heng!” A voice interrupted him once again, resulting in him placing the book down immediately. “Welt, Stelle, and I are going to Xianzhou Luofu! You should join us, we have to go investigate some Stellaron!”

He sighed, eyes with a hint of worry as he replied.

“Apologies, March… however, I’ll be staying on the express. Do be careful and have a safe journey.”

A whine was heard on the other side of the door as she voiced her complaints before being called by Welt and rushing off. Dan Heng went to lie down on his makeshift bed and sighed, eyes never leaving the book.

Love was truly an infinite subject. It was something we search for all our lives, in all the things we do and in the people we meet. A feeling that enriches our lives and enlightens our hearts.

Love is what makes life worth living. Being able to spend the rest of your lives together in pure bliss enjoying the comfort of each other’s companies. It is being able to believe in another. It's about supporting each other in the good times and the bad, about always being present for someone when they need you — and them the same for you.

Dan Heng’s eyes watered, tears slowly spilling down his cheeks. A sob threatened to spill from his throat, but he suffered in silence, refusing to even let out the smallest of noises.

Love was about never being alone. It was about knowing that someone is always there to support and believe in you even in the darkest hours of the night. But if that was really true… then where were you?

He cried. If only he could’ve done more for you.

If only he was there for you to protect you. Then maybe you still would’ve been here, with him. In his arms.

Then maybe you wouldn’t be gone from this world, leaving him all alone in this cruel world. To be tortured every hour of each waking day, haunted by the mere memory of your dying face. How your lips trembled as blood gushed out your wound. How you cried tears of sorrow and apologized for leaving him so soon.

He remembered the shock he felt upon seeing his lover in such a state. Never in a thousand years did he ever dream of seeing you taking your last dying breath before him. He remembered how tightly he held onto your hands with tears streaming down his cheeks nonstop. How he screamed for shouts for help and how everything was going to be okay. How he could fix this and take you to a doctor, but too much blood had already been lost.

He wouldn’t have made it.

He remembered picking you up as gently as he could, bolting to the Express. How he told you sweet nothings and how much he loved you and how everything was going to be alright. How you’d both be smiling tomorrow again joking about this incident in the future and being together forever.

He remembered looking down at your face as his heart dropped. How your eyes were closed and your chest stopped heaving up and down. He felt the coldness of your skin and slowed down, crumbling to his knees with you in his arms. It was then that he knew…

You were gone.

Dan Heng’s tears intensified as his heart rate quickened tremendously. His breathing got faster and faster as he clutched his chest, hand over his heart. He couldn’t bear this torture any longer. What life was worth living if it wasn’t with you? Why did you have to die? Why couldn’t he have gotten there sooner? Regrets filled him endlessly as he blamed himself for the incident over and over again.

Love was a source of immense joy and deep sorrow— the two sides of this precious treasure thing we call love.

Love is being willing to do anything for the sake of another. For that person to be happy, to protect and support them in every way you can. But why couldn’t he do that for you? He couldn’t save you…

Love is being lost in the memory of their warmth and touch. Their smile and eyes.

But what if the memory was of the bad things too? Being haunted by the picture of their death and never forgetting. Constantly being reminded of them and drowning in an endless amount of sorrow and pain. Missing them dearly every day for the rest of his life? Never being able to move on and forget their everything?

Yes… maybe that’s an example of love too.

#dan heng x reader angst #dan heng #dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #hsr dan heng #hsr #honkai dan heng #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #fanfic #light angst #astral express #dan heng x you #dan heng x mc #dan heng x y/n #dan heng x gender neutral reader

232 notes · View notes