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muletia · 2 days ago

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[tfp] obsessed!orion pax x human!reader

summary: what if optimus' obsession bypassed his memory loss? what if he was so infatuated that even his past self yearned for you?

cw: fluff, pinch of angst, canon divergence: orion is taken by the autobots, obsessive thoughts, clinginess, orion literally cannot be left alone for one(1) second, tbh nothing happens in this, i just wanted to write obsessed!orion interacting with you, bad writing, silliness

an: i wanted to implement more ideas, but it came out as it did. i will definitely write some more fics with orion, maybe some smut??? ;)) who knows

word count: 4700

"Come to the base. It's urgent."

As you stare at the terse message from Ratchet, your chewing slows and stops. A storm of questions whirls in your mind, panic creeping into your body. Before you can even type a single letter, your phone rings. The caller is none other than the Autobot medic himself. You answer in less than a second.

"Hello? Ratchet, please don't scare me—what exactly happened?"

"It's about Optimus." Your heart skips a beat. "During the last mission, he was... injured. Or, to be precise, damaged."

"Is it serious?" you ask, pacing nervously around the break room. Lunch now long forgotten. "Will he be all right?"

"Physically—he's never looked or felt better. Mentally, however... that's a different story. I'll explain the details when you get here. And make it quick."

"Hold on, wait—I can't just leave work early like that. There's a whole procedure for this. I can't just waltz out, even though I’d love to leave right now."

"...In an hour and a half, I expect to see you here at the base. See you then."

He hangs up. You stare at your phone screen for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head. Something serious must have happened—Ratchet wouldn’t disturb you at work otherwise. And it involved Optimus... You bite your lip, torn by indecision. You need to at least make sure he's okay, to see with your own eyes what Ratchet was talking about. Otherwise, you'll regret your negligence and spend the rest of the day worrying.

Shoving the half-eaten sandwich into your bag, you rush to your computer to draft a request for early leave, praying fervently that your boss will grant it.

You kept pressing the gas, speeding toward the base, trying to balance obeying traffic laws with worrying about the Autobot. You knew he had been preparing for a mission recently, he had told you about it during a ride you shared, but you didn’t expect it to end like this. Maybe you should have, considering you were associated with a race of aliens deeply embroiled in a centuries-long war, but you always pushed such unpleasant thoughts to the back of your mind, wishing your friends the best. Now, though, all the worst scenarios were coming to the surface. Had he fallen into a coma? Was his processor damaged? Had he died? You didn’t want to think about such an ending. Optimus was alive. You were sure of that.

Seeing the familiar red rock, a tight knot of anxiety gripped your throat. In a few moments, you were about to drive into what was practically your second home, not knowing what awaited you. You glanced at the clock. You were half an hour late—well beyond the time Ratchet had given you.

As if on cue, the medic called you again.

“Don’t enter the hangar. Leave the vehicle at the entrance.”

He hung up before you could say a word, and you sighed. The situation had grown even more worrying.

Before you could say a word, he hung up, leaving you to sigh in frustration.

Following his instructions, you parked at the main entrance and made the rest of the journey on foot. The lights seemed especially harsh, glaring into your eyes as the tunnel stretched endlessly ahead of you, as if warning you, giving you one last chance to turn back. But no force on Earth could stop you now. Determined, you marched forward, needing to know what had happened to your friend.

The hangar was full of Autobots, their sheer presence intimidating. You had thought you were over the feeling of smallness that came with being one of the humans among them, but now it hit you again, hard, dredging up memories of when humans in their midst were still a novelty. You froze for a moment, your courage momentarily disappearing in the shadows of giants.

It wasn’t until your eyes landed on the reason you had left work early that you began to breathe again. Optimus stood there, seemingly whole and healthy, facing the platform where the kids likely were. Relief washed over you. He was alive. Your heart was still racing, but the weight of dread lifted slightly, leaving you braced for the next wave of bad news.

"Hey, sorry I’m late. Work took longer than I expected," you called out.

Your voice immediately caught his attention. Optimus turned to you so abruptly that it shocked everyone present, abandoning the conversation he had been engaged in. Tilting your head back to meet his gaze, you were surprised when he knelt down on one knee, making himself more accessible. You still had to look up, but now his face wasn’t obscured by his… windshields.

The first hint that something was off was his smile—wide, cheerful, and curious. Optimus didn’t smile like that, not even when something genuinely delighted him. Worry started gnawing at you again. Something was wrong.

"Greetings. You must be our next human ally, correct?"

At first, you were at a loss for words. Of all the scenarios you had imagined, memory loss hadn’t even crossed your mind. But before the conversation could veer into awkward territory or panic could take hold, you managed to reply, mirroring his smile.

"That’s right."

"You seem… familiar. As though we have met before."

The hangar fell silent, the atmosphere thickening.

"Of course he would remember her," Ratchet hissed under his breath. You shot him a glare filled with venom.

Focusing back on the mech before you, you forced a calm smile, masking the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You felt like you were on the verge of exploding—uncertain whether to jog his memories or pretend this was truly your first meeting. Why hadn’t anyone given you guidance on how to handle this?

"Erm, well…" you began, only for Ratchet to step in and spare you.

"Humans can look quite similar at first glance," the medic interjected. "Orion, this is [Name], the last human who should know of our existence."

A flicker of something lit up in his cyan optics—something indefinable, known only to him.

"Greetings, [Name]. It is a great pleasure to meet you."

He extended a servo toward you. Tentatively, you clasped one of his digits, ignoring the ache in your heart. This shouldn’t have been happening. You shouldn’t have to forge a new relationship with someone so dear to you. It felt uncanny—like he was wearing Optimus’s skin but was someone entirely different inside. It was unnerving, disorienting. Yet this stranger had knelt before you, reduced himself to your scale to show respect, just as Optimus always had. It was a glimpse of his alternate self, a sign of the inherent honor and kindness he still carried.

"Hello, Orion. The pleasure is all mine."

Letting go of his servo, you gave him an apologetic smile, signaling the end of the conversation. You needed answers, clarity about the situation, before you could decide how to proceed. As Orion straightened up, you stepped past him toward the platform. You could feel curious optics on you, particularly his, as you fist-bumped the kids. Unbeknownst to you, Orion clenched his servo in the same way you had during your handshake.

"So," you said to Ratchet, "what happened?"

The medic sighed, clearly weary of recounting the story yet again. But you had to know. You listened intently, the details unsettling and at times horrifying, but you felt a growing sense of calm. At least now you knew what you were dealing with—what topics to avoid, how to act. The relief faded, however, when you learned that the first attempt to restore Optimus’s memories had failed, and no date had been set for the next.

As Ratchet spoke, most of the team dispersed, leaving only you, the medic, and Orion in the hangar. Taking a moment to process everything, you glanced at Orion, catching his curious gaze.

This was your new reality. Optimus was gone, yet not entirely, standing just a few meters away, watching you intently. It was too much to dwell on. You needed something to distract yourself.

Standing from the couch, you headed down the stairs. You figured you’d be here for the rest of the evening, so you might as well find something productive to do.

"[Name]?" Orion’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He looked genuinely concerned. "Are you leaving already?"

His behavior puzzled you.

"I’m just going to grab my things. I’ll be right back."

"I see. May I accompany you?"

Oh, that was adorable—especially with the hopeful tone in his voice.

"I’m not sure you’ll fit in the tunnel in your current form," you teased with a laugh. "It won’t take long. I’ll be back in a minute."

This time, you quickened your pace.

For several hours, Orion's life had been filled with uncertainty. He didn’t know how he had ended up on this planet, who the Autobots around him were, or why they called him "Prime" when he felt he was unworthy of the title. And now, another enigma had appeared—you. Orion could not rationalize the overwhelming need to be near you. He had felt it the moment he laid his optics on you. The need to stay close, to converse, to observe. The need to know you better. Never before had such intense emotions stirred within him for anyone, let alone a stranger. But you weren’t a stranger. This may have been your first meeting, and he may have spoken to you for the first time, but you were not unfamiliar. Of that, he was absolutely certain.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes into hours since you had disappeared into the tunnel. He regretted not following you, even if it meant transforming into his alt-form. At least he would have kept an optic on you, preventing the gnawing feelings of confusion and longing from devouring him from inside.

Ratchet watched his friend closely. He recognized that look, that body language. He knew what it signified, what storm was brewing in Orion’s processor. Optimus had been the same when it came to you. For a brief moment, his friend was back. Too bad it was under such circumstances.

"Do you really remember that woman?" he asked.

"I am not certain," Orion replied, still gazing toward the tunnel. "I feel like she is not a stranger, even though I know this was our first encounter. And as… Prime, if I indeed held that title, was she close to me?"

Primus.

"Perhaps closer than any human, but only Optimus knew to what extent. That might explain why you recognized her."

"Then she is special."

"Everything points to that."

Orion glanced at him, offering a faint smile. For reasons Ratchet couldn’t quite explain, the gesture was hard to look at. Fortunately, you emerged from the tunnel, giving him an excuse to start working again.

"See? I told you it’d only take a minute," you laughed, a black backpack slung over your shoulder.

Orion didn’t confess the truth—that by his reckoning, you had been gone an eternity. He watched intently as you climbed the stairs and took a seat on the couch.

"So, Orion," you began, "what did you do on Cybertron?"

Oh. You were curious about him? Truly? He had never thought of himself as particularly interesting.

It was fortunate that you were not looking at him because his body language betrayed his embarrassment.

"I was an archivist. Do humans on Earth have similar professions?"

"Of course. You know, I’ve always admired archivists. It’s meticulous work, requiring patience and nerves of steel—if you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s an important job, and anyone who takes it up is very cool in my book."

"Cool?"

"You know, fascinating, impressive, admirable."

"Does that mean that... in your optics, I am… cool?"

He asked without thinking and immediately regretted it when you gave him an amused look. Embarrassed, he tilted his helm downward. For such a towering and formidable being, he was also astonishingly skittish. It was peculiar to see a former Prime in such a light, but it made him more relatable, more emotionally accessible. Even so, you couldn’t deny that you missed Optimus.

"Of course, you’re cool to me."

That answer brightened him. A spectacle of stars dances in his optics.

You returned to typing on your laptop, but Orion had other plans for you.

"It seems I still have much to learn about this planet."

"I think you’ll catch on quickly. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, the other bots don’t know everything either. If you’re ever unsure, just ask. I’ll do my best to help."

"Thank you, [Name]. Your kindness is very important to me."

"Anytime. If you’d like, you could also explore our literature—it’ll give you a good insight into what humanity is all about. That sounds like a fitting activity for an archivist, doesn’t it?"

He would much rather have you as his sole source of knowledge about your species, as it meant spending more time with you. He wanted to know not just what you were but who you were—your interests, where you worked, how you spent your free time, your philosophy, beliefs, and hobbies. Everything you were willing to share. He wanted to know you inside and out, to solidify this sense of connection and make it real. And if you wished, he would bare his own secrets, reveal his spark, and show you every part of himself. Perhaps then you might look at him just for a second longer.

"Yes, I believe that would be an enjoyable activity. And what is it that you do?"

He asked question after question, each answer adding a new layer of understanding about you. He shared a little in return, preferring listening to you—your opinions, your perspective.

Time passed swiftly in your company. Relentless and unforgiving, it waited for no one. Orion realized this when you set aside your device and began stretching. It was a mesmerizing sight—your movements were so different from those of Cybertronians, fluid, and light. That was until the air was pierced by the loud crack coming from your back.

Energon froze in his fuel lines, and his spark leaped to his intake.

"[Name]? Are you alright? Are you harmed?"

"Hm?" you hummed, confused. He looked as though calamity had befallen him, as though you’d been beheaded. Then you remembered—it was Orion, not Optimus, and the human body was weird. "Oh, that. Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s perfectly normal." To prove your point, you began cracking your knuckles, stopping quickly when you saw his horrified expression. "Okay, sorry about that. But really, I’m fine. I just need to stretch."

"Alright…" he replied, though he didn’t seem convinced. You couldn’t blame him.

You rose from the couch and stepped down from the platform, intending to take a short walk. Panic erupted in his spark. Oh no. No, no, no. He didn’t want to be left alone, not after such a jarring experience. He wouldn’t let you out of his optics now—not even for a moment.

"May I accompany you?"

"Of course!" you replied without hesitation, smiling—a gesture he immediately mirrored. "It won’t be very exciting, though."

"On the contrary, I find you to be a most intriguing individual."

"Oh, thank you," you said, clearing your throat, embarrassed. Compliments delivered in that baritone still flustered you.

Together, you ventured deeper into the base, bypassing various sections. In the training room, Arcee worked on her speed, while Bulkhead struck a makeshift punching bag fashioned from an old car. The children watched the spectacle, occasionally entertaining themselves. You both quickly slipped past the always-open entryway and continued on your way.

“[Name]?” Orion inquires. You turn into an empty hangar with a high platform, starting to ascend the stairs.

“Hm?”

“How do humans attempt to court their partners?”

You hadn't expected that kind of question. You stop mid-step, pondering your answer. When you look at him, his expression is dead serious, though his optics betray a determination. Why would he want to know this? You decide it’s probably mere curiosity.

“It depends on the person.” You continue climbing the stairs until you finally reach the top, now level with his faceplate. “Some buy gifts like flowers, others go on elaborate dates. But the common factor is spending time together, and getting to know one another. Feelings tend to develop naturally that way,” you explain. “Actually, that’s an interesting topic. How did it work on Cybertron?”

“Similarly. However, instead of exchanging ‘flowers,’ we presented rare metals or crystals to leave the best impression. To demonstrate strength and potential as a partner.”

“I know a few people who would totally fall for that approach. Heh, I’d be thrilled to get a geode myself.”

Orion suddenly lights up. Were you suggesting something or just sharing an opinion? Whatever it was, he felt compelled to try. To prove himself worthy. Perhaps he could even find the ‘flowers’ you mentioned.

“I see. Thank you for enlightening me.”

“You’re welcome?” you reply, unsure exactly how you’ve helped, but the sight of his broad smile and bright optics makes it all worthwhile. He was utterly adorable.

The two of you chat casually until you’re forced to check the time. You inhale sharply, and Orion tilts his head slightly, curious about your reaction.

“It was great talking to you, but I really need to go. I have work tomorrow and I’d like to get some sleep.”

Panic flashes across his face. He had enjoyed your company so much. He didn’t feel alienated or alone when he was with you. The sense of connection played a significant role, but Orion had already let you into his spark. He had found a safe harbor in you and wasn’t ready to drift away just yet. He wasn’t ready to let go, even if the world around him were to crumble.

“May I accompany you?” he asks, desperation seeping into his tone.

“Excuse me?”

“May I accompany you?” he repeats, now begging.

“My home isn’t exactly designed to host a giant robot. Besides, it’s dangerous and... wait, do you even know the traffic regulations?”

His expression answers the question, but he still attempts to defend himself.

“I have acquainted myself with them partially.”

“Who has the right of way at an uncontrolled intersection?”

He opens his mouth but quickly closes it again, visibly crestfallen. He looks as though he might cry.

“Orion, we’ll see each other tomorrow,” you reassure him. “The first thing I’ll do after work is come here.”

He frantically searches for an argument to keep you with him—anything to prolong your company. Then he remembers his first encounter with human children.

“Every child was assigned a guardian who escorted them home and ensured their safety,” he states, refusing to give up. “Do you have a protector?”

“Unofficially, that was Optimus…”

“Then I would like to carry on his mission.”

“I’m not a child, Orion.”

“I understand that. I merely wish for your safety, [Name],” he explains earnestly. “And… I would prefer not to part from the company most dear to me.”

Your thoughts drift back to something he said earlier—how he recognized the bond you once shared, even though this was your first conversation. He hadn’t recognized Ratchet or anyone from his team—only you.

You tried to put yourself in his position. To suddenly find yourself in a foreign place, surrounded by strangers addressing you by a false name and feeding you information that might as well be fiction. And then, in a world where nothing is familiar, someone steps in—someone you vaguely recognize. You might not know their name, but you know there was once a connection. Wouldn’t you cling to that tiny thread, desperately pulling it closer if someone tried to take it away?

Orion had found solid ground, and you were unintentionally trying to undermine it. You exhale softly. You already knew you’d be saying goodbye to sleep tonight.

“Alright.” His smile makes it all worth it. It’s as though you’ve handed him a star from the sky. “Let’s see what Ratchet has to say about all this.”

"I see no objections."

Orion looks at you with excitement sparkling in his optics.

"Wow, that was quick."

"It's a good excuse for Orion to explore the area and get accustomed to his alt mode."

The medic refrains from adding that if the former leader remained at the base, he would likely have wasted away in longing for you, lamenting to every sentient being that he couldn't wait to see you again. Though the comment teeters on the edge of his glossa, he opts for discretion. Optimus, at least, had never vocalized his peculiar obsession with you quite so openly.

"Should anything unusual occur, contact me immediately. Someone will come for you in the morning," Ratchet advises his friend before turning to you. "Good night, [Name]."

You thank the medic for his diligence and ask him to take some rest, earning a piercing glare that almost feels lethal, then retrieve your backpack and head toward the tunnel. Orion stays close by, not leaving your side even after transforming. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you, visibly delighted at the prospect of your first shared drive together. In his mind, this was more than a mere drive—it was a deeply intimate act, almost akin to inviting a partner into one’s private space.

But his dreams are promptly shattered when you inform him that you have your own car.

The journey is uneventful but nerve-wracking; you constantly check your side mirror to ensure Orion is still following you. Thankfully, there are no issues, and he even remembers to use his turn signals when necessary. Everything proceeds smoothly until you pull into your driveway and are struck by a dreadful realization: Will a Peterbilt even fit in my garage?

You park your car to the side, leaving Orion enough space to drive safely. Exiting your vehicle, you open the garage door and wave at him to proceed. You nervously bite your thumb, watching the massive truck carefully edge into the space. There are barely three centimeters between the roof of the truck and the ceiling. When you close the garage door, the already limited space shrinks further.

"So, do you regret your decision now?" you ask, stepping around to the front of the truck.

Orion transforms with meticulous precision, carefully positioning his limbs and helm to avoid damaging the walls. The process goes well until his helm grazes the ceiling with an audible thud, dislodging a few small pieces of debris. He winces slightly and rubs his helm but offers you a warm smile.

"I do not regret my decision."

"Pfff, well, that's good. Are you all right?"

"I am unharmed."

You can’t help but feel guilty for confining him to such a cramped space, but it was his choice. If he insisted, he would simply have to endure it. Of course, that meant you would have to endure it, too, as the issues began almost immediately.

"All right, I’m going to grab my things. I’ll be back in a moment."

He panics again—something you’re beginning to expect from him.

"Please, do not leave me."

His voice is unchanging. A deep and thick baritone that permeates your body, speaking straight to your soul. It is strange to hear the same voice coming out of a shamed and uncertain being, begging you for company.

"I’ll only be gone for two minutes."

You reach for the door handle, but his servo shoots forward, blocking your exit.

"Orion," you chide, your tone sharp and reprimanding.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, his apprehension laid bare.

"Please, I do not wish to be alone."

"Two minutes," you say firmly, though your annoyance falters when you see the raw emotion in his optics. Sighing, you place a hand on the edge of his digit, catching his attention. "I’ll be back. I promise."

He believes you, of course he does. He trusts you to return, yes, he even knows it. It doesn't change the fact that he is frightened, he feels alone, and your proximity calms the storm raging through his processor. His whole body is clamoring for you, screaming for you to stay with him. He craves bodily contact, he wants your soft hands to stroke his metal and your lips to whisper sweet nothings. He wants more, he wants to feel the softness, more, more, more.

He takes his servo away.

"Good mech."

As you disappear through the door, Orion buries his face in his hands. Despite his embarrassment, he can’t suppress a grin. He had enjoyed that moment—far too much.

He wants to hear you say it again.

When you return, you’re carrying a blanket, a deck of UNO cards, some snacks, and your laptop. Orion beams at the sight of you but frowns when he notices you shivering.

"Are you cold?" he asks with concern.

"Hmm? A little, but I’ll warm up soon."

Without warning, he gently scoops you up in his servo, handling you with the utmost care. The shock is brief—you don’t even have time to protest before he places you on his chassis. His servo remains loosely wrapped around you as a precaution, but your back presses against his warm metal frame. Tilting your head up to glare at him for pulling such a stunt, you find him already watching you, amusement dancing in his optics.

"Ask next time before you do something like that," you scold lightly.

"I make no promises," he teases, earning a playful flick to his digit.

"I was planning to play UNO, but since you pulled that move, let’s watch a movie instead. Unless you’d rather do something else?"

"I leave myself entirely at your mercy."

He would have been content doing nothing as long as he could hold you close.

"All right, then. A movie it is."

It's hard for him to keep up with the plot when he's overstimulated, but he tries, because your questions encouraging discussion come out of nowhere. And it was just at moments when he started to drift off, when the optics shifted from the tiny screen to you; when there was only you and him in the world. Sometimes, however, he would focus for longer, especially during the romantic scenes. He longs to experience something similar with you, an indestructible, sappy love. To recite poetry into your ear and watch you blush, to announce to everyone how much you mean to him. To bestow expensive gifts, the geodes you mentioned earlier. He needs your tender words, your praise, your touch. You could do whatever you liked with him, and he would give you his spark.

He worries when you fall silent for too long.

"[Name]?" he calls softly, leaning closer to check on you. Relief washes over him when he sees you’ve simply fallen asleep. Poor thing—you must have been exhausted.

Still, a part of him resents it. He wanted to talk to you longer, watch more films, learn more about human romance to win your favor. But he knows his thoughts are selfish. Setting the laptop aside, he carefully covers you with his other servo, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety.

He's not sure he'll be able to recharge. At least not now, when he was too absorbed in devouring you with his optics. You felt safe with him. You gave him your trust. You chose him.

A spark of possessiveness sweeps through his processor. He doesn't want to let you go. He doesn't want you to go to work tomorrow and leave him for eternity. He also knows he shouldn't think that way. The spark goes out.

Watching you sleep, his processor churns with thoughts. You trusted him. He vows to prove his worth tomorrow, to show you just how deep his feelings run.

Because he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be himself. How much longer he will remain as Orion Pax.

#transformers #transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #tfp #obsessed!optimus #orion pax x reader #obsessed!orion

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astrcmoni · 3 days ago

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★ᯓ say you trust my loveᯓ★

pairing: billie eilish x fem!reader

MASTERLIST

synopsis: In the quiet tension of a rainy evening, you and Billie navigate the fragile cracks in your relationship, her unspoken fears and your quiet persistence threatening to collide. Through tender words and honest vulnerability, you begin to bridge the emotional distance, proving that love—yours and hers—is worth the effort.

warnings: cussing here and there …

wc: 2.4k

authors note: finally caught a break to write again. this is inspired by the songs ‘trustworthy’ and ‘bending my rules’ by flo (literally in love with their entire discography) anyways hope you enjoy this💋

the faint plink of the faucet echoed through the quiet room, irregular but persistent. each droplet hit the metal sink with a sharp, hollow ring, like a tiny clock ticking in no set rhythm. the sound seemed louder in the stillness, a soft but nagging reminder of something left unresolved. Occasionally, a bead of water would gather on the edge, hanging for a moment before falling with a heavier, more deliberate splash. It was the kind of noise that got under your skin, subtle at first, then impossible to ignore.

the air around you felt heavy, as if an invisible weight pressed against your chest. every breath came shallow, as if the room itself had grown too small to contain the silence. the space between you two buzzed with unspoken words, each one sharp and electric, but stuck just out of reach. It was the kind of tension that settled in your stomach, coiling tight like a spring, leaving you both restless and paralyzed. Every little sound—the creak of a chair, the faint hum of the fridge—felt magnified, filling the void where conversation should’ve been. The longer it stretched on, the more unbearable it became, like holding your breath and waiting for a storm that might never break.

the distance had been growing between you for weeks. it was subtle at first — billie canceling plans here and there, zoning out mid-conversation, brushing off your attempts at figuring out what’s wrong with simple “i’m fine’s”. But now it’s undeniable, overtime you’ve grown to be sick of the bullshit. something in your gut was telling you that something was up and you weren’t going to let her run away this time.

your head was held up by your closed fist as you sat on the end of the couch. the hairs on your skin stood up slightly as the cold air washed over you. the mugs of tea sat on the coffee table, untouched and long gone cold. the faint film on its surface shimmering under the dim light. outside, raindrops trickled down the windowpane, their slow erratic paths leaving streaks that blurred the world beyond. the dark clouds above hung heavy, threatening to burst at any moment but for now they held back— just like the words between you two. the air in the room felt damp, not from the weather but from everything that’s been left unsaid. even the clock on the wall seemed hesitant, its ticking faint and uneven, as if time itself were unsure whether to move forward or to stop entirely.

her eyes bore into her phone as she curled into herself in the corner of the couch, phone illuminating her face and casting a faint glow in the dim light. she’d been sitting like that for nearly an hour, scrolling through her screen as though it could distract her from whatever was on her mind. and all you could do was watch, watch as she avoided you—avoided the conversation that clearly needed to be held.

It wasn’t unusual for her to retreat in to herself when she was overwhelmed. It’s something that you’ve come to learn as the deeper your relationship developed. learning that her walls weren’t going to be the easiest to break down and you weren’t one to force them either. but this time it was different. this wasn’t just some stress or a bad day. it was bigger than that and you both knew it. it was a fear…a fear that she wasn’t ready to face, even when it ate away at your relationship the more the problem was ignored and you were determined to figure it out.

‘this can’t keep happening’ you thought as you let out a tired sigh.

“what?” billie responded, not caring enough to look up at you. “you’ve been quiet all day. what’s going on?”

“i’m fine” she murmured. her tone flat and words unconvincing.

“my god- here you go.” you sucked in a sharp breath as your eyes shut, trying to calm down your building frustration.

“what?” her brows quirked up in confusion as she finally looked at you. eyes as blue as the seven seas bore into your own, for what felt like the first time in forever.

“you’re giving me the same rehearsed bullshit billie..that’s what. you shut me out and you hope that I don’t notice but I do.”

perplexity flickered across her face, as she set her phone down. brows knitted together as her eyes widened slightly, darting back and forth searching for a plausible explanation. her lips parted, but no words came out at first, just a shallow breath, as though she were trying to catch up to the accusation. The furrow in her brow deepened, and her head tilted just enough to show disbelief, like they were trying to piece together how things had gone so wrong. “Wait, what?” she finally stammered, their voice shaky, as if the accusation itself had knocked the wind out of them.

“just tell me what’s wrong.” your words left your mouth, ending off in a small plea as you scooted on the couch. close enough to give you comfort but far enough to give her her wanted space.

billie shifted her weight, discomfort written all on herself. “nothing i’m just tired”

“you’ve been “tired” all week babe. just talk to me…please.”

Billie’s gaze flickered briefly, like a shadow passing across the room, before she quickly turned away. Her lips pressed together, tight and unreadable, as if the words she wanted to say had been swallowed whole. A slight shift in her posture—shoulders drawn in, a subtle retreat—spoke louder than any denial. When her eyes met yours again, it was only for an instant, a look heavy with something unspoken, a silent plea. Her brows lifted for just a fraction of a second.

“Can we not?” she muttered softly under her breath, before her gaze darted back down, focusing intently on her hands or anything but the conversation. The space between you stretched taut, and with a delicate sigh, her gaze dropped, focusing on anything but you—a quiet invitation to let the silence speak for her, to walk away from the subject before it unraveled any further.

“no. we’re going to have this conversation. wether you want to or not, it’s as if you keep waiting for me to fuck up.”

you knew her to well, if you didn’t address this right now it’ll only worsen until it’s too late. instead of letting it go you decided to come up with a compromise, subsiding your frustrations and coming with a softer approach. “look people have bad days, i get it. you’re allowed to have them but don’t act like you have to deal with it all by yourself anymore. i’m right here”

she reached for her phone once more as she swallowed hard, eyes flicking back to the screen. “you always say that,” billie’s voice barely audible, the sound so soft as if they weren’t meant for you to hear. words caught in the space between you two. fragile and vulnerable, like glass. as if she was testing the air before allowing them to fully fall open. “But what if you don’t mean it? What if one day, you wake up and decide that we’re…that i’m not worth the trouble anymore?”. the weight of her question lingered in the air like a quiet storm, too heavy to ignore.

your eyes slowly blink as you take in her mere confession. surprised at her honesty but not the fear behind it, because you understood it, you once lived it.

her gaze flickered around the room before landing on you once more. “it’s not you..believe me it’s not. you’re doing everything right, and that scares me. I’m not used to this—someone being so steady. I keep waiting for you to prove me right, to show me I was stupid for thinking I could trust you.”

Your chest tightens, a sharp ache slicing through your heart as Billie’s words settle between you. It’s sudden, unexpected, the kind of pain that makes your breath catch, like something fragile inside you has just been cracked open. You knew she was afraid, but hearing it—hearing her voice, trembling with vulnerability—hits harder than you imagined.

a frown etched itself onto your face as you finally spoke up, your words gentle but firm. “now baby that’s not fair. i’ve bent my rules for you—things i said i’d never do, i’ve done because of how much i care about you. i’ve bent over backwards to show you i have no plans on going anywhere. what do i have to do to make you believe that? doesn’t it mean anything?”

reaching out you took her hand into your own. thumb mindlessly caressing the ink that was etched into her skin. it was an act of comfort, for hers or your own? that you weren’t sure of.

“It does. but it’s like everytime I start to believe you, something in my head is telling me to just not trust this. like maybe i’m fooling myself again.” looking down at your intertwined hands she grabbed them and placed them in her lap, opting to play with your fingers as she spoke. this subtle gesture letting you know that although nervous— she felt safe enough to let you in.

“I don’t know…it’s not something you can necessarily fix. it’s….me. I’ve been let down so much, i don’t even know what it feels like to completely trust someone.”

your fingers lifted to her head, brushing back strands of auburn hair that fell astray behind her hair. lifting her chin with your knuckle causing her eyes to meet with your own. “I get that. And i’m not magically stop feeling like that overnight. But I need you to meet me halfway, billie. I’ve changed how I do things because I want this to work out. Because I want you, all that i’m asking is that you at least…try”.

“and what if I can’t give you everything that you need?”

you breathed out, words falling from your soft lips. “then i’ll stay here and prove you wrong…” you leaned in closer, voice steady. “I’ve never done this with anyone but i’m willing to for you, just let me in a little more. I don’t need perfect billie— I just need you to be honest.” the words came out with ease, the weight of them grounding you both. making you feel more certain than you had in days.

Billie’s gaze flickered to yours, her eyes softening just a fraction, but her lips remained pressed together, caught somewhere between doubt and hope. You could see the hesitation in the way she inhaled, as if every breath she took was a decision. She opened her mouth, but the words faltered. A small sigh escaped her, her shoulders slumping slightly as she leaned back, hand covering her eyes acting as another wall and shielding her from everything, as if the fight had drained from her.

“You think you can just… wait for me to change?” Her voice was quieter now, almost lost in the space between you. She didn’t look away this time, though. “I’m not sure I can be what you need.”

You felt the sting of her words, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, scooted closer, your hand reaching for the one covering her face without thinking, needing to make that connection. “You don’t have to be perfect,” you repeated, your thumb brushing against her knuckles. “Just be real with me. I can’t make you trust me, but I’ll show you that you can. All I need is the chance.”

For a long moment, she didn’t speak. Then, slowly, as if testing the waters, she squeezed your hand just slightly, a quiet admission that she might be ready to believe.

“you’re so…steady. It’s like you’re this constant— and i’m just chaos. How are you so sure?”

“Because I know what I want. and I want you, chaos and all.”

“you really think i’m worth all this effort?” billie’s eyes soften as she looks at you but she’s still hesitant. the hue of her eyes reminding you of swimming pools. so full of emotions that you can drown in it.

your head moved on its own without hesitation. “yes. i wouldn’t be with you if i didn’t. To be honest…I get scared too, sometimes i wonder if you’ll ever trust me the way i do you? but then i look and i know you’re the one for me. i’ll do whatever it takes to show you that.”

for the first time in days billie relaxes just a little. letting herself fall into you, allowing you to truly connect with her. a few beats pass by as you both fell into a comfortable silence. your hand combed through her hair over and over while you watched the rain.

The soft pecks on your neck pull you out of your thoughts, and you feel her smile against your skin. It’s a quiet, unspoken apology—a gentle way of saying she’s finally letting go, letting herself be here with you. You turn slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, and for the first time in days, there’s a softness in her eyes that you haven’t seen in a while.

“I’m not perfect,” she says, her voice almost too quiet, but it doesn’t feel like a confession anymore. It’s more like a surrender, like she’s finally giving herself the permission to just be—to let you in without the weight of all her walls.

“I never needed you to be,” you reply, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I just need you to be here, with me, right now. That’s enough.”

Billie exhales, her body relaxing into yours once more, and this time it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no fear creeping back in. She’s just here, in this moment, with you. For the first time in a while, there’s peace in her touch, the steady warmth of her presence grounding you both.

The rain outside has softened into a light drizzle, the world outside feeling distant and muted, as if nothing else matters but the quiet connection you share now. You press a soft kiss to her temple, and her eyes flutter closed for a moment, the weight of everything finally lifting.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice small but sincere. “For being patient with me.”

You smile, a soft, tender curve of your lips. “I’ll always wait for you, Billie. As long as you need.”

And in that moment, everything feels like it’s finally falling into place. There’s no more rushing, no more wondering if things will work out. For the first time, you both just exist together—imperfect, but real—and that’s enough.

#billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish gf #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x you #astrcmoni

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nixthelapin · 2 days ago

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Hi, fellow ace here!

For me, I do actually notice some of that stuff, beyond the super tight skin suits, probably because I feel very conscious of my own body and how others may perceive it- I grew up very determined to not appear “sexy” at all because it disgusted me to think a person would think my body was attractive in that way (I didn’t mind people thinking I was pretty or cute, it was specifically the sexual kind that bugged me).

I think this mostly happened due to me getting to anime, which has a… reputation… for portraying women in a sexual way.

Now, Miraculous is definitely not doing anything as bad as most animes I’ve seen by a long shot. But it does make me think about the little ways portrayals of characters can make people think about themselves and others. I’m not saying Miraculous has enough power over the minds of little girls (or boys) to change their views that much, but I think it’s worth discussing why these design choices were made- why are the girls in these basic skin-tight suits while the boys get add ons and layers, even when their outfits are tight? Why does the main character, a 14 year old girl, have so much emphasis on her butt?

Because one thing we need to keep in mind is: these are adults making these design and visual choices about how to portray these teen characters. While it may not be an overt message, or even something they intended to convey, biases and views enter both the writing and the design and can sometimes say things that are not good. Why are adults putting all these young girls in skin-tight body suits? Why are adults putting emphasized shading on a 14 year old’s butt? (And you can do this with the writing too- why are adults portraying obsession as a healthy romance? (For both main characters)) Because to them, it’s an acceptable thing to do. Why? Because the sexualisation of women and girls is, sadly, fairly normalized (especially more so now I think- younger girls are dressing older more and more now, which is so scary to see, I’m very concerned for their mental health).

Will the kids watching notice? Maybe, maybe not. But since those types of things are normalized, it just becomes another example they’ll see of women and girls looking like that, like they’re on display. It adds to the pile of exposure, even if it’s small.

(Though I will say that person in the comments bringing up that comic of Marinette being in New York naked is totally right- that was incredibly disturbing and I hope no child reads that hot garbage. That was an intentional choice and it feels so filthy. That one does actually feel like it came out of an anime because some pervert writer wanted to slap in it for his own fun.)

Is it true that Miraculous often sexualizes its characters? Because I see other people say this and want to know if it’s correct

I have not picked up on anything like that in Miraculous, but I'm ace, so sexualization has to be pretty overt for me to notice it on my own. It's entirely possible that there's something subtle that I'm missing. Until someone gives me specific examples, my stance is that this is incorrect. It's not an element that even crosses my mind when it comes to the reasons why I would discourage adults from introducing this show to kids. I am concerned about the quality of the romance between the leads, but that concern comes from a psychological standpoint about modeling what healthy relationships should look like. The love square is way too teen drama for a family show! However, from a purely physical standpoint, it's appropriate for all ages.

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majesty31 · 3 days ago

Note

Could you write a fic where the reader gets the flare instead of Newt and pls make it really angsty

𝙻𝚘��𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞 | 𝙽𝚎𝚠𝚝 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒂/𝒏: 𝒀𝒆𝒔 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒏𝒈𝒍, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒕, 𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒔.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓/𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕? 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉�� 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚, 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎?

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆. 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔, 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫, 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒚. 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍.

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟑.𝟕𝒌

It had been a couple of weeks since you all had gotten rescued from the maze, and since you found out that WICKED were the ones to do just that. Being on the run was no picnic, one of the reasons being because you were an awful runner or more so you had almost zero stamina, and also the fact that everything that was wrong with the world was running through your veins as well.

You had noticed it almost instantly, the way you wouldn't be able to catch your breathing, sure you had bad stamina but it was never that bad, you felt dizzier rather fast and your mood swings were all over the place. You didn't think much of it until you saw your arms, the black veins were a clear sign of how far gone you were.

It did scare you, maybe more than you let yourself believe but you were also so tired. So tired of running from one bad person to the next, it felt as if this world was full of nothing but bad people, you truly didn't know if you'd find what the other gladers were searching for. A safe place. Away from the people who wanted you for nothing other than what was in your blood.

You hadn't told anyone what was going on. You knew if you did they would do anything to keep you from dying this way. Maybe even postpone getting back Minho. And you couldn't let them do that, he was the one person who gave you hope in the glade, who told you he would get you out alive. And you believed him. He kept that promise, and now you'd do anything to get him out alive as well, even if that meant sacrificing yourself.

But the thing was, if you did do just that, there would be one person who would never forgive you. He would do just about anything for you, he would even take this flare if it meant you would get to live. He had always talked about how it would be if you finally got out of the maze, but you knew it had nothing to do with the life he wanted. No, it was your life he was so worried about. He said that you deserved a life far beyond the glade walls, a normal life.

But nothing was normal about this life, in fact the glade walls gave you more normality than this dump. In all honesty you missed the glade, missed the laughs, the friends you had to leave behind. At least there were times when life felt okay, but now it always felt like a struggle to keep moving, and there were no times when life felt okay.

The only times life felt just a little bit better was with him. You could tell Newt felt the same you did, in fact they all did, but he never showed it. He would always try to make you smile, laugh, distract you from the world you all came to know. Your feelings for him would grow just that much more when he would do that. And you hated it.

Newt was the one person that you had to tell, but he was also the only person you couldn't. He would drag you off to find a cure, back to Vince and force him to heal you. But you couldn't do that, Minho needed you all, and you couldn't just leave him in that place to rot.

"You know this isn't what I thought the world would be like," Newt's voice cut through the silence. "I thought the maze was the worst it could get. You know," He turned to face you, his dark eyes meeting yours, a half smile on his face. "I actually thought our parents would be out here, looking for us."

"Maybe they are," You replied, your gaze moving over the broken down buildings, wondering how everything used to look before the world went to shit.

"I don't think things work out like that for us," His voice grew soft, his hand coming up to tuck away a stray hair behind your ear which caused your whole body to warm. "But they should, at least for some of us," you turned to face him, the look in his eyes causing your heart to flutter. It was as if every time you looked into his eyes, they would just automatically grow soft. When you first met him you thought that was just the person he was, but then you saw how they shown different for you. You never knew why.

And you were starting to hate the way he would look at you, as if you were the only person in the world, the only one who he would not just die for, but kill for. Soon enough you would be gone, and he would blame himself endlessly. You knew you had a deep love for Newt, one that you would never feel for anyone else, but those feelings would fade away with your soul.

"You need to stop looking at me as if you're in love with me," And there it was, the words you never wanted to say. But you just couldn't keep them to yourself anymore, someone had to know, and if you didn't tell him then did you truly love him at all.

"What?" His expression switched like a blink of an eye. He pulled away a little, his eyes turning concerned. For a second he looked as if he was about to deny it, tell you it was all in your head, that he wasn't in love with you, you were just a good friend. But then he sighed, and it looked as if he was about to confess to something you already knew. "How can I not,"

The words were so soft, and for some odd reason they hit deeper than they should have. You were silent for a little, your eyes locked on his as he poured out his feelings through that gaze alone. But you shook your head, your hands covering his eyes. He wasn't allowed to look at you like that when you could very well become a monster next week.

"Stop it Newt-"

"Why? You know that I've loved you for years. I never tried to hide it," He took your hand off his face, holding it more gently than you even thought possible. "And I know you feel the same. Why would that ever be a bad thing-"

"Because," You couldn't seem to finish the sentence, you wanted to, your mouth was open but the words were stuck in your throat, refusing to come out, refusing to destroy the only boy you had ever come to love.

"You can't even give a reason-"

"I can! But you won't understand why I kept it from you!" This caught his attention, worry and fear coating his whole face.

"What… what are you talking about?" He knew. Of course he did, it was obvious, especially to him, someone who spent as much time with you as he has. But he was to scared to uncover it for what it really was, and you didn't want to be the one to spell it out for him.

Your eyes turned sad causing his breathing to get faster. "I'm sorry Newt," He shook his head slightly, looking as if he was about to have some kind of panic attack. But before he got the chance to do that, someone bursted through the roof door.

"We have a way in,"

~~~

"Okay this is crazy," You whisper yelled to Gally as your eyes frantically snapped to a bound Tressa, who had a bag over her head. You didn't even know how they got her here without causing some big commotion, it was a ridiculous plan that would most likely not work. None of you should trust her, she was the reason you were all in this mess to begin with. Why on earth would she agree to help if she didn't agree from the start. She was the one who got Minho captured, and who knew what she was doing to him behind closed doors.

"This is the only way in Y/N. Do you want this whole trip to be for nothing? Or do you wanna get Minho back?" Gally whisper yelled back, his finger pointing to your face, as it always was when he tried to prove a point. At any other time you would've grabbed it and tried to break it, but you stayed quiet because this did seem like the only way in. "If you’ve got a better plan, I’m all ears. Otherwise, shut it and let me handle this.”

"Fine, but don't say anything stupid. If that's even possible for you," Without waiting for his response, you turned on your heel and stalked back toward the group. The others were seated in a loose semi-circle, all eyes fixed on Tressa like she might explode at any second. They looked as wary as you felt, but none of them said a word as Gally asked Newt to remove the bag from her head.

You and Gally had a strained relationship and never really got along in the glade, maybe because you were the first girl and he hated change, but you knew it was only because you had accidentally broken three of his fingers while training to become a builder.

You felt Newts glare before you even turned your eyes up, you could feel how mad he was at you from miles away, and Newt was rarely mad—especially at you.

Newt tugged the bag from Teresa's head, she blinked, adjusting to the sudden light, but your eyes stayed on Newt as he stalked back towards you.

He clutched the bag as if it would turn back time to the day you found out, as if he held it any tighter it would've made you gone straight to him with the news. But it didn't, and Newt could be as mad as he wanted, it wouldn't turn back time, and even if it did, you would've done the same thing over again.

You turned away when he took a seat next to you, his anger radiating off of his form, almost sucking out the air in your lungs. But you didn't say a word, and just watched as Gally spoke to Teresa, a little surprised that he threatened to cut her finger off but you didn't much care if he did. So long as you got Minho back.

Soon enough she agreed, and one by one you all got the chips out of your necks with a lot of reassurance from Thomas that she wouldn't just cut your throats while she was at it. Newts harsh stare was on you the whole time Teresa was cutting you open, a cloth in his hand as he dabbing the place where she took his chip.

You didn't know weather to glare back or just ignore him, you could understand why he was mad, you knew you would be furious if he did the same to you but it was over and done with, his anger would only make it worse from here. So you opted to just give him a blank stare, but that only seemed to make it worse.

Because after you were done, and began getting ready to go into the city, Newt came rushing towards you. No one was in the room, so it was just the two of you. Which let Newt almost yell at you from his place in front of you.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He asked, grabbing the gun you were just about to reload out of your grasp, his stare almost as piercing as a sward.

"I was reloading my gun," You snipped back, trying to grab it out of his hands.

"No you're not," He said as he moved the gun further out so you wouldn't be able to grab it. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying hard not to lose your temper. "You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you aren't coming with us-"

"Oh please Newt don't make me laugh. I'm not just gonna sit here while you idiots go into WICKED alone-"

"Yes you are. You aren't fit to go out there-"

"Fit?"

"Yes fit. Look at your state, you can barely keep up with the rest of us, you would only be putting yourself in danger if you come-"

"I'm not gonna let you all go without me understand? The only way I'm staying is if you tie me to a chair, otherwise I'm shucking coming!" Newt's anger seemed to grow like a wildfire, fems looked to be coming out of his ears, and his eyes looked almost as if he would be the one to kill you before the flare even had the chance too.

"You are one of the most selfish people I've ever met," Your brows furrowed, anger slowly coming into your blood as well.

"Me?" You yelled, slamming down the bullets you had in your hands on the table, causing a load sound to ripple throughout the room.

"Yes you!" Newt yelled back, stepping closer as he pointed to your chest. "You are so shucking self centred you that don't see the rest of us who have to deal with your bloody decisions," you were about to yell back but he cut you off real quick. "No it's my turn to talk and you will keep your mouth shut until I'm done,"

You were shocked, he had never spoken to you, or anyone else like this before, and to be honest it scared you a little bit. Newt was always such a calm person, he almost never got angry, he was always the voice of reason, the one to tell the others to calm down. But it was as if he finally exploded.

"How do you think I felt when you told me that you got the flare? That you had it this whole time, and that if you told us before we left we could've gotten you cured like Brenda. How can you be so selfish that you kept this from not just me but everyone else." He got closer the more he spoke, his anger only getting worse, but you kept your mouth shut. "You know I always thought you were this perfect person, someone who didn't have flaws, which always seemed impossible because everyone had them but for some reason you never did. That was until right now, you wanna know what your problem is?" It was silent, as if he was really asking you, and even if he was, you for once didn't know what to say.

"Your problem is that you don't care about getting hurt. But you know how I'll feel? I'll be devastated. And if you die I will go out of my bloody mind!" He was so close that you debated on weather you should take a step back or not. "you see death doesn't happen to you Y/N it happens to everyone around you. To all the people left standing at your funeral, if you'll even be able to have one, but we'll all still be trying to figure out how we're gonna live the rest of our lives without you in it!"

"Newt-"

"No! You don't understand how much I love you, if you did you wouldn't never kept such a thing from me. You would've never left me here to live without you!" You flinched, his words hitting you like a blow as tears threatened to slip down your face. At your reaction his face softened, his eyes turning warm as he slowly shook his head. "No I'm sorry I didn't mean…" He trailed off, taking a step closer, watching your reactions to see if you'd step away. And when you didn't he took your face in his hands, turning it up so your eyes would meet with his.

"I'm sorry," They were the only words that seemed to come out, the only words that would mean anything right now. You couldn't say much else, you couldn't go back, you could only make him forgive you before everything would go to shit. Before it was too late.

He didn't say anything else, his eyes holding so much love you thought you'd drown from just looking into them. When he moved, it was sudden, you didn't even get the change to catch your breath before his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t gentle, not even close. His lips moved against yours with a desperation you’d never felt before, his hands sliding from your face to thread into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. It was like he was pouring every unspoken word, every ounce of his love, anger, and fear, into this one moment. There was no hesitation, no gentleness.

You couldn't stop yourself. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hands gripping his shirt tightly as if letting go would make him disappear. He groaned into the kiss, a sound low and husky that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips parted against yours, his breath hot and ragged. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the way his breath hitched against your lips, like he was terrified this might be the last time he’d get to do this. And maybe it would be.

When his hands slid down your sides, his grip firm, your knees buckled. He caught you effortlessly, lifting you from your thighs as though you weighed nothing, causing you to gasp softly into his lips.

For a second, you thought he might slam you against the wall, let the weight of all that anger explode into something even more uncontrollable. But instead, he carried you with a steady stride and sat you down in a chair.

The open mouthed kiss broke for a moment, just long enough for you to draw in a shaky breath, your lips swollen and tingling. Your heart pounded as he hovered over you, he had never looked so irresistible before with his hair messy and that look in his eyes that made your core burn.

His eyes locked onto yours, the love and anger swirling together into something almost unbearable. “You have no idea how much you mean to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, trembling. “No idea how much it kills me to think I might lose you.”

Your heart pounded so hard you thought it might burst. You reached for him again, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him back to you. This time, the kiss was slower but no less desperate, a mixture of apology and promise, of everything you couldn’t find the words to say.

But then his hands moved again, and you felt the rough brush of rope against your wrist. You pulled back, blinking up at him in confusion, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Newt…" you started, your voice weak and breathless. But before you could even try to stand, he tied it quickly to the armrest of the chair.

"Don’t," he said, his voice low but firm, almost breaking. "Don’t make this harder than it has to be."

You snapped out of your haze then, tugging at your wrist, anger bubbling up inside you. "Newt, what the hell are you doing? Let me go right now!"

His hands didn’t falter, even as you fought against him. He moved quickly, tying your other wrist down, and then crouched to secure your ankles. You thrashed in the chair, rage filling every inch of your body. "Newt! Stop this right now! You can’t leave me here!"

"You’re not coming with us," he said, his voice strained but unyielding. His hands moved with purpose, tying the knots securely despite your struggles. "You can hate me for it if you want. I don’t bloody care."

"You can’t do this! Newt, please!" Your voice cracked as you tried to pull free, but he’d made sure you wouldn’t be able to. "I swear to God, if you leave me here—"

"You gave me this idea, you know." His voice wavered slightly, and he glanced up at you, his eyes full of something that looked heartbreakingly like regret. "Told me yourself the only way you’d stay was if someone tied you down. So here we are."

"Newt, no," you begged, your tone shifting to desperation. "Please don’t do this. I need to help. I can’t just stay here—"

"I’m not losing you!" he snapped, his voice louder then you’d ever heard it, making you freeze. He leaned closer, his face just inches from yours, his eyes blazing. "I won’t bloody lose you. Not to the Flare, not to WICKED, not to anything. Do you hear me? I can’t."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "You don’t get to make this choice for me," you spat, your voice trembling with rage.

"You made your choice when you kept this from me," he shot back, his words cutting deep. "Now it’s my turn." He stepped back, his hands still shaking as he tied the last knot. He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenched tightly. Then, softer, barely audible: "I love you too much to let you kill yourself for us. You’re staying here."

"Newt, please!" you screamed, thrashing against the ropes as he turned to leave. "Don’t do this! Don’t you dare walk out that door!"

But he didn’t look back. He was already gone. And with him, the rest of the group. The door slammed shut, leaving you alone, your screams echoing in the empty room. You struggled against the bindings until your wrists burned, but they wouldn’t budge.

You were furious—at him, at yourself, at the whole damn world. But beneath all that rage, buried so deep it hurt to admit, was the smallest flicker of something else. Love. Desperation. And a fear so raw you couldn’t breathe. Because you knew, as much as you hated him for it, that Newt had tied you up because he loved you. And you couldn’t hate him for that. Not really.

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littlestpersimmon · 2 days ago

Text

Need advice.

I currently work 3 jobs. Fine. Same story. I plan to open commissions again in December. I know how bad things are, there is a recession. I want to keep it 35 usd. The reason it is so cheap- is because I am disabled now. I feel immense pain from rsis, sometimes even ruptured blood vessels along my wrist, knuckles and thumb pads- from drawing so much-

Being disabled = work takes longer to finish. I am only earning 350 usd a month through commissions because of PayPal enormous transaction fees. I been working nonstop all year. My longtime followers can vouch for me that I've rarely made personal art this year. The problem is that I genuinely, I simply cannot draw fast anymore. It is beyond my capabilities. But I also no longer get customers if I charge more than 30 usd. What do I do. What can I write on my TOS that customers can read so they know what they are getting into when they hire me- that I am disabled- therefore slow. And is honesty enough? I just saw someone on Instagram complain that their 15 usd commission took the artist 10 days. To me that is obscenely fast. All the other artists I've hired to do commissions for me would take a month. And I paid them 75 usd I believe. Please don't tell me I am fucked. I want to have the time to draw personal projects while also being able to take In commissions. What can I do to work around this?

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grinsgrimmy · 2 days ago

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Hi! This is my first time ever requesting anything so sorry if this is bad. 😣😣

Can you do a Izek van omertà from how to win my husband over? (I love him so much 😭) Like we’re Ruby’s younger sister, we go to visit her, and while we’re there we get to know Izek. Can this also be platonic? Please and thank you! I love your work as well! ☺️

ＬＩＴＴＬＥＳＩＳＴＥＲ .

ㅤᯓᡣ𐭩 𝖨𝖲𝖪𝖤 𝖵𝖠𝖭 𝖮𝖬𝖤𝖱𝖳𝖠 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖠𝖥𝖠𝖡!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

HOW TO GET MY HUSBAND ON MY SIDE

๋࣭⭑ֶֶֶָָָ֢֢֢𖹭 drabble . (1013 words)

sum. ruby's little sister decided to visit her one day, only to judge iske platonic

note : thank you for the request and nice words, anonie!! my first platonic fic, so idk if i did well but i tried! i also tried my best to write beyond just meeting iske so im REALLY REALLY sorry for changing the prompt. i wish i can write more but this is suppose to be a drabble, so i had to shorten the ending...

drabble request slots

ㅤ⪩⪨ m.list

“ruby, i don't like him.”

you muttered under your breath almost immediately after stepping out of your carriage, greeted by your sister and her imposing husband.

it had not been a minute, but you were absolutely certain that you did not like duke iske van omerta.

ruby's eyes widened, a mix of embarrassment and amusement flashing across her face as she glanced at iske, who stood baffled by your blunt words, but his expression remained unreadable (much to your annoyance).

ruby let out a nervous laugh, pulling you to her to give a quick hug. “you little—! you just got here,” she whispered sharply, her wobbly, embarrassed smile betraying her amusement. “you haven't even talked to him, and you already decided that he's the bad guy.”

“he looks mean.” you glanced up at the towering man with an icy glare of your own as you furrowed your brows, “and kind of ugly.” you could hear the screech of disbelief from ruby when those words left your mouth.

you yelped as ruby pulled you to her, as she covered your mouth with her hand. ruby gave a nervous and apologetic grin to iske, “she doesn't mean it! she's just tired from the journey—”

you struggled, attempting to protest against ruby's words, “no i'm not he's— mmph!” ruby's grip on your mouth tightened, keeping her stilling grin.

“she doesn't mean it!”

iske's eyes narrowed slightly, his bewilderment shifting to something more unreadable. iske did not know whether to be offended or stunned by the audacity of ruby's sister.

he could not exactly be angry since, well, you are ruby's sister.

iske was quite confident about himself as a duke and commander, who often instilled fear and rumors— however, being called mean and ugly by his wife's teenage sister was certainly a humbling experience.

though he did not show it, he was genuinely bothered by it.

iske raised a brow, folding his arms across his chest. “does she always introduce herself like this?” ruby let out another nervous laugh, still holding your mouth shut, “oh, she's usually much, much worse.”

“am not!” you managed to squeak out as you wriggled free from her grasps. as you stumbled on your steps, you quickly jabbed a finger to iske, “i'm being honest! you look scary! why does ruby always sing praises about yo— ow! ruby!”

despite iske's stoic demeanour while watching the exchange between ruby and her sister, something about your words seemed to pierce through iske's unshakeable confidence. his stature had stiffened since you called him ugly, and so did his sharp gaze.

when hearing that you were visiting ruby, iske actually put in a whole lot of effort to look neat, tidy, and sophisticated to have your approval after ruby said that you were a cranky teen that did not really like people.

ruby managed to calm you down from your crankiness of disliking iske, she turned her head back to iske—

only to find him leaning against a pillar of the manor, as if sulking. well, ruby assumed he was sulking, judging by his faltered shoulders and contemplating expression.

if anything, he looked troubled.

ruby could barely hear the mumbles coming from him

ruby paled to see iske having an existential crisis. she shot you a warning glare before walking to iske, trying to comfort him, “iske, don't let my sister's words get into your head! you're fine the way you are!”

iske is a duke, a commander, a man accustomed to respect and feared by many.

yet here he was, troubled by the blunt opinion of a teenager.

his wife's little sister.

it made him extra bothered when you really liked iske's sister, but not him.

during the duration of your stay, iske tried to appeal to you. somehow, that was. he always struck up conversations with you whenever you were around, which you found completely awkward and weird of him, unfortunately.

then he tried to appeal to your taste palette. he made sure that every meal from breakfast to dinner had meals that you were fond of, which ruby thankfully told him what you did like. that still did not make you like him at all.

iske had also attempted to give you tiny gifts. this was a strategy that ruby herself had told iske to try since you were quite fond of gifts.

he had started to look like a kicked puppy due to not having ruby's little sister's approval.

“this isn't actually bad.” you admitted to ruby as you raised the toy plush of an animal you were fond of, gazing at it with satisfaction. “see, he's not that bad, right?” ruby mused with a strange sympathy for her husband, who's been in turmoil for two days due to you.

you gave her a look before sighing, “i'm surprised he's doing all of this. the attempts to talk to me, the food, and now the gifts. he's a real weirdo.” you huffed out.

you returned your eyes back to the plush. after a long while of thinking, you pouted, “ugh, fine... he's not that bad. i guess he's better than the rest of the other choices father had for you.” you grumbled out, embarrassed to admit that iske is actually a good man for your sister.

as you prepared to leave, you decided to apologise to iske about your behaviour. despite your irritation and resistance (and probably protectiveness over your sister), you could not ignore that iske had genuinely tried.

you also had seen the way he looked at ruby. genuine love and care.

he was unlike those disgusting men.

you only gave a curt apology to iske. there was no need for grand gestures or for it to be lengthy before hopping into your carriage.

when you glanced out at the window, you noticed that iske's eyes brightened, like a dog. he looked at ruby with disbelief and pride. iske finally got your approval after three days of trying.

you could not help but feel a quiet sense of happiness, knowing that your sister will be fine with that weirdo.

・❥ want a hc / oneshot? please consider commissioning in ko-fi !

#⌞୨ৎ⌝ . fics #⌞୨ৎ⌝ . request #how to get my husband on my side #manhwa x reader #iske van omerta x reader #iske x reader #izek van omerta x reader #how do i tag a platonic fic #i love imagining iske trying his best to get ruby's sister's blessing #izek x reader #i forgot one more tag lol #PLATONIC THIS IS PLATONIC

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mikuni14 · 3 days ago

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15 Day BL Challenge - Day 4

Day 4: Fave Ship Dynamic

Since I can't choose one favorite dynamic, I'll allow myself to write a few:

EQUALITY in a relationship will always be my top priority, which I understand as a situation where no one is exploited, or led like a child in the relationship, or dominated, even if one of them is naturally dominant. To make it more complicated, I actually like relationships in which one is clearly more dominant, for example stronger physically, or in the hierarchy, is richer, has power, BUT NOT OVER THEIR LOVED ONE, is actually even dependent on him. The point is that both have the same power over each other, are equally dependent on each other, both support each other to the best of their abilities, no one gives more or less. It is ideal when the seamingly "weaker" one has even a slight advantage in the relationship, to make it more fair. A good example of this relationship is Hannibal or Nagron 😋 There are many BL series with equal characters, most of them will appear below (but I'll start with a gif of these guys, equal in everything, and that widening of Zhou Zi Shu's eyes at the sight of Wen Ke Xing is one of the best things in BLs I've ever seen 💖)

most often, equality in a relationship goes hand in hand with my second favorite dynamic: when both are mature. I LOVE it when a couple is made up of adults, mature people who know who they are, know that they are interested in each other and the only obstacles in their relationship are external. From BL series, these are: Laws of Attraction, Manner of Death, Jun & Jun (excellent examples 10/10) as well as The Untamed, Word of Honor, KinnPorsche, 4 Minutes, Our Dating Sim, To Sir, With Love. This equality and maturity can just as well appear in series with young characters as in The On1y One

my other favorite dynamic also goes hand in hand with equality: when both are smart, they are professionals in what they do, like in The Sign, Laws of Attraction, The On1y One, Be Loved In House: I Do, Jun & Jun (see the gif above) and of course The Untamed and Word of Honor (I can't help but mention Beyond Evil, The Devil Judge, Killer and Healer, not BLs we all know better 😎)

when both are good at communication, I love it when characters TALK to each other, even when they argue, as long as they COMMUNICATE

the best and the rarest: when they trust each other and believe in each other, that the other person will handle the truth, the problems, that they will help, that TOGETHER THEY WILL DEAL with whatever life throws at them, when they talk about what's going on in their lives including the bad stuff, no noble sacrifice and keeping the loved one in the dark "for their own good". It's very possible that in all the BLs I've watched there was a couple who was honest with each other from the beginning until the end, but I can't remember one now... (Beyond Evil, Love in Translation started doing it by the end)

but I also like it when someone in the couple is unhinged, crazy, like Sahashi in Cosmetic Playlover, or a himbo like Sprite in Twins, or a golden retriever type but a real one like in Sing My Crush, especially when the other one is a bit grumpy and gloomy, like in those series, I love it!

I also like calm, stoic, solid types, at the same time totally whipped for their loved ones 🥰 such as the characters played by Noh in Nitiman and Oh! My Sunshine Night. Special mention should be made of someone similar to this type, but also noble and old-fashioned in a charming way, like San from Century of Love, and the guys from To Sir, With Love

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sunnycanvas · 1 day ago

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Can you write about a scenario, where, Baldwin loses yn, and gets incredibly upset over it, tries to find her (but secretly because people can't know he's actually seeing someone because of his leprosy) only to find out she was killed ? Maybe he finds her body too/retrieves it

Adiuva nos, Domine,

In tribulatione nostra.

Te clamamus, Sancte Deus,

Exaudi preces nostras

O Maria, Mater Gratiae,

Tu es refugium nostrum.

In tenebris et angustia,

Sustenta nos, o dulcis Virgo.

Sancte Michael, protector noster,

Defende nos in proelio.

Contra insidias diaboli,

Fidei nostrae fortitudo.

Gloria Patri et Filio,

Et Spiritui Sancto.

Sicut erat in principio,

Et nunc et semper.

Baldwin IV gripped his rosary with trembling hands, his knuckles white as he prayed fervently. He prayed for your safety. It had been days since you vanished, and he was drowning in helplessness. He couldn't launch a full investigation, not without risking exposure of the bond between you. The very thought of anyone discovering what you meant to him sent a cold shiver down his spine. Baldwin understood the dangers of being associated with him. Especially now, as a leper. His condition, his cursed existence, only amplified the peril for anyone close to him. He had kept you hidden. Your presence, your existence and shielded from the world, all to protect both of you. But now, the silence stretched on, and Baldwin could feel his sanity slipping. The thought of anything happening to you, of you being hurt or worse, twisted inside him like a sharp knife. Baldwin could feel his heartbeat beating so hard that it was painful. Baldwin never knew what fear was until he met you. The thought of you being injured or worse, Baldwin wouldn't know how to live.

"No," he whispered, trying to force away the dread that clawed at his insides. "You’re safe. You have to be safe."

Just as he finished his prayer and turned around, his eyes fell upon his mother, Agnes de Courtenay. She approached him with hesitant steps, her face drawn tight with worry. Baldwin didn’t need to see her expression to know it was bad news.

"Any word?" His voice was colder than he meant it to be, a harsh edge creeping into his words.

Agnes paused, her hands wringing together as she looked down. "No, my son," she stammered, her voice faltering. "I’m doing everything I can. I swear, I—"

"Everything you can?" Baldwin cut her off, his words sharp and cutting. His frustration was boiling over, the fear for you overwhelming everything else. "Your best isn’t enough, Mother. Not when her life is on the line!". His gaze was relentless, piercing through her with the weight of his anger. "I entrusted you with this. I trusted you to keep her safe, and now look where we are no answers, no progress". "How many days must pass before you start doing what you promised?" Agnes flinched, her eyes wide with the sting of his words, but Baldwin’s gaze didn’t soften. He was beyond patience. Baldwin IV continued with his voice that cut through the air like a blade. "So, it seems her presence was discovered after all," he said, his tone ice-cold. "Mother, you’ve failed utterly in keeping her hidden, just as I entrusted you to do. Is this truly the best you can manage?" He paused, his eyes narrowing, fury flickering in them. "Perhaps I was a fool to trust you at all. I should have given the task to my uncle, someone who might actually be competent. Clearly, you can't even manage something as simple as this." His words were like a slap, and the venom in his gaze made it clear he had no room for excuses.

Agnes flinched at the sharpness in her son’s tone. She had braced herself for his wrath, but the sheer intensity still struck a chord deep within her. Yet, she wasn’t going to retreat without a fight. Gathering her courage, she straightened and replied with calm defiance. “Of course,” she began, her voice firm despite the tension in the air, “a mere noblewoman like me is no match for the Dowager Queen, your stepmother, who has been quietly maneuvering to place your half-sister Isabella on the throne. Let us not forget that Isabella holds a claim through your father.” Baldwin’s brows furrowed, confusion momentarily softening the fury etched into his features. The sudden mention of Maria Komnene was unexpected. Agnes caught the subtle shift in his demeanor, recognizing the spark of intrigue. She pressed forward without hesitation. “I have evidence,” she continued, her voice steady and deliberate, “that a woman matching (Y/N)’s description was seen in Nablus. And where does your stepmother reside? Nablus. It’s no coincidence, Baldwin.” His eyes widened, a mix of shock and desperate hope flashing across his face. Without waiting for his mother to elaborate further, he barked out a command. “Prepare the horses! We’re leaving at once.” Agnes started, alarmed by his abrupt reaction. “Baldwin, wait! The evidence we have, it’s flimsy at best. It only hints at her presence, nothing certain—”

“I don’t care!” Baldwin cut her off, his voice trembling with emotion. “If there is even the slightest chance (Y/N) is there, I will go. No matter how faint the trail may be.” Determined to avoid unnecessary attention, Baldwin insisted on going alone, without knights or a retinue. Agnes, unwilling to let her son journey into potential danger alone, argued until he relented. Exhausted from the emotional storm, Baldwin agreed with little resistance. Both mother and son disguised themselves as common travelers, cloaked in simple garb with hoods obscuring their faces.

As they rode under the cover of blazing hot sun, Baldwin’s thoughts churned in turmoil. His stepmother, Maria Komnene, had always been ambitious, but would she truly act so brazenly? He scowled beneath his hood, considering the other players in the shadowy game of politics. Could Raymond of Tripoli, his calculating cousin, be involved? Or the Ibelin brothers, notorious for their scheming alliances? His instincts told him 'No, they wouldn’t dare'. That left only one man: Guy of Lusignan, his reckless and power-hungry brother-in-law. The very thought of Guy made Baldwin’s grip tighten on the reins, rage building in his chest.

Agnes, as if sensing her son’s thoughts, spoke softly. “Do not let your mind run wild, my son. This reeks of your stepmother’s hand. She has made alliances in the court, strengthening her position. Her marriage ties to the Ibelins have been... advantageous.”

Baldwin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his silence betraying the storm within.

As they neared their destination, something caught his attention. A familiar figure moving in the distance. Baldwin’s breath hitched. “Sibylla?” he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. His gaze snapped to his mother, who appeared just as stunned. Without a word, Baldwin motioned for silence, urging his horse to follow his sister at a safe distance. Agnes, still reeling, followed his lead.

Sibylla led them to a secluded area, where she dismounted and began speaking to a shadowy figure. Baldwin and Agnes dismounted as well, watching from a concealed position. “Make sure her body is disposed of in a way that it can’t be recognized,” Sibylla ordered, her voice cold and resolute. The man bowed slightly, replying grimly, “Of course, my lady. Anything else?”

Sibylla smiled, a cruel satisfied expression that sent a chill through Baldwin. “Oh no, you’ve done an absolutely fantastic job in killing (Y/N). My brother may mourn her now, but he will thank me later.”

Baldwin froze, the weight of her words crashing down on him like a tidal wave. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His vision blurred with a mix of fury and devastation. Then, without hesitation, he unsheathed his sword and spurred his horse forward.

"SIBYLLA!" His voice thundered, raw with fury, reverberating like a war cry that sent chills down the spines of even the most hardened knights. Agnes barely had time to reach out before her son was charging toward his sister, the blade in his hand glinting like justice itself.

Baldwin IV’s horse reared back, its hooves striking the air as his roar echoed through the desolate clearing. His blue eyes, ablaze with rage, locked onto his sister’s frozen figure. She stood trembling, her schemes exposed, with no crowd to shield her from her brother's wrath . The man standing beside Sibylla, realizing it was the king himself bearing down upon them, stumbled backward, stammering incoherent apologies before bolting into the shadows. Sibylla was left alone, her fear-stricken body rooted to the ground. Baldwin’s horse halted mere feet away from her, nostrils flaring, its king equally volatile. “I should kill you where you stand!” he bellowed about to striker her with his sword. Sybilla although fearful of her brother's wrath somehow narrowly escaped the sword stumbling backwards in fear by sheer luck. "You scheming, treacherous fool!" he growled, his voice low and deadly as he urged his horse forward ready to strike her again. "You dared to betray me?" His tone was laced with a venom that made Sibylla’s knees weaken. She stumbled backward again, her face pale, eyes wide with dread. She had never seen her brother like this, his normally composed demeanor shattered by pure, unrestrained fury. As Baldwin surged toward her, his expression promising retribution, Agnes’s voice cut through the chaos, her horse galloping into the scene as she placed herself squarely between her son and daughter. Her arms spread wide in a protective gesture, shielding Sibylla from Baldwin’s wrath.

"Baldwin, stop!" Agnes implored, her voice trembling with urgency. "You cannot do this!" “Please, Baldwin, don’t do this!”. Agnes reasoned, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her fear. She had seen her son angry before, but never like this—never so unhinged, so consumed.

Baldwin’s horse came to an abrupt halt, its hooves digging into the dirt as he glared down at his mother. His blue eyes burned with fury as he snarled, “Get out of my way, Mother.” His voice was low, trembling with restrained anger. “She doesn’t deserve your protection" "Not after what she’s done. None of you do.”

Agnes held her ground, her voice firm but laced with desperation.“(Y/N) wouldn’t want this,” she pleaded, her eyes softening.

Her words acted as a spark to dry tinder, igniting an even fiercer blaze of rage in her son. His horse snorted and shifted as he practically snarled in response. "DON’T YOU DARE BRING HER INTO THIS!" Baldwin’s voice boomed, his rage untethered. "Do not use her name to shield your guilt! You all killed her!" He gestured wildly toward Sibylla, his accusations cutting like daggers. "You, with your selfish schemes! You destroyed the only person who ever made this wretched existence tolerable!" he snapped, his voice cracking as he gestured sharply toward Sibylla. “You all killed her!

Agnes desperate in fear mumbled "Please Baldwin, you can't do this" "Killing your sister will start a civil war" "Our kingdom won't receive donations to survive by our own cousins" . Baldwin in anger retorted "Do not speak to me of what I can and cannot do, Mother! Do you think I care for appearances anymore? Do you think I care for laws or blood ties when my very own family killed her?" His voice cracked as it reached a crescendo, raw grief mingling with his fury.

Agnes's lips parted as if to argue, but Baldwin’s voice thundered again, silencing her. "She was the light of my life, the only light in this accursed kingdom of shadows. And you snuffed it out!" Sibylla, trembling and unable to meet his gaze, muttered something unintelligible, but Baldwin would not hear it. "Speak not a word to me!" he hissed, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl as he pulled his horse closer. "I should end you for what you’ve done."

His horse shifted uneasily beneath him, mirroring its master’s fury. Agnes held her ground, her hand gripping her saddle tightly to steady herself. “Baldwin, please!” she implored, her voice softer now, pleading. “Your anger won’t bring her back!” “No!” Baldwin’s shout tore through the night, his face contorting in agony. “But it will ensure justice is served! I will not let her memory be trampled on by the people who betrayed her.” Sibylla whimpered behind Agnes, tears streaming down her pale face, her voice barely audible as she tried to speak. But Baldwin ignored her, his gaze fixed on his mother as if daring her to move. “Step aside, Mother,” he warned, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. “Or I swear, I’ll ride through you.”

Agnes moved her horse with determination, shielding Sibylla fully. "You are King, Baldwin. Do not let your grief destroy what she loved in you." "Your sense of duty. I am asking you, for the sake of the kingdom, to control yourself' "You know right how stability is fragile because of complex court politics right now". Agnes knew Baldwin just like her late husband Almaric was man of duty. Luckily for Agnes her trick worked and Baldwin took long labored breath to calm down Baldwin’s chest heaved as he sucked in a long, ragged breath, his fingers trembling on the hilt of his sword. His smoldering eyes burned with suppressed fury, unshed tears glistening under the hood of his cloak. Agnes knew, as much as Baldwin hated to show weakness, had his leprosy not robbed him of tears, they would be falling freely now.

Once assured that Baldwin was reigning in his rage, Agnes turned her attention to Sibylla, her face hard with disgust. “Why did you do this to (Y/N)?” she demanded, her voice like ice.

Sibylla, though visibly shaken at first, straightened her posture. She squared her shoulders, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. “I acted for the good of the kingdom,” she declared, her tone resolute. “You yourself have said how precarious the court’s balance is, especially after Father’s second marriage. (Y/N) was a poison to this realm, indulging herself with my leprous brother and leading us all to sin.” Baldwin’s fists clenched tighter at her words, his jaw set in a way that made it clear he was barely containing his rage. His voice, low and dangerous, cut through the air. “(Y/N) had no interest in court politics,” he growled, his tone trembling with anger. Agnes added swiftly, her voice icy, “Whatever schemes you think she wove, they existed only in your mind, Sibylla.” Sibylla scoffed, her confidence growing as she met her mother’s glare. “That’s what she wanted you all to believe,” she replied, a sneer curling her lips. “That whore seduced my sinful brother, wrapping him around her finger. She made herself indispensable to him, and in doing so, she threatened the delicate peace we’ve tried so hard to maintain. So, I acted.” Her voice hardened, her gaze unrepentant. “I drowned her.” Agnes gasped, her revulsion barely concealed, while Baldwin’s body tensed like a coiled spring, his fury on the verge of erupting. “Sibylla,” he warned, his voice deadly calm, “choose your next words carefully, or I will claw the very tongue from your mouth.” Agnes, sensing the explosion brewing within her son, leaned forward and hissed in a low voice to Sibylla, ensuring Baldwin couldn’t hear. “Where did you get this vile notion? Who planted these ideas in your head?” For a brief moment, Sibylla faltered, her expression shifting into something unsettling. A lovestruck reverie. Her voice softened as she whispered, “My husband told me. Guy explained everything. He opened my eyes to her true nature.”. Agnes froze, but Baldwin let out a groan of exasperation, the sound a mix of fury and dismay. He had heard enough to piece together the whispered exchange. His eyes blazed as he locked his gaze on Sibylla. The crackling silence between them spoke volumes, Baldwin’s composure hanging by a thread as he stared down the sister who had shattered his world.

“Show us her body,” Agnes commanded, her voice sharp and leaving no room for argument. To her relief, Sibylla gave no protest, silently turning to lead them toward an abandoned house. The acrid stench of death grew stronger with every step, guiding them like a trail. Baldwin dismounted his horse in silence, his face an unreadable mask. Inside the house, the smell became suffocating. It led them to a small room where (Y/N)’s body lay on a rickety bed, her lifeless form bathed in the dim light filtering through the cracks in the walls. Though the odor was strong, the appearance of her body was hauntingly serene, as if death had only just brushed her. Baldwin froze in the doorway, staring at her still form as if unable to comprehend what he was seeing. “(Y/N),” he whispered, his voice trembling. Slowly, he stepped forward, each movement heavy with disbelief and agony, until he reached the bedside. He sank to his knees, his trembling hands hovering over her face before cradling her lifeless body in his arms. His breath hitched as he took in her features the faint curve of her lips, the delicate eyelashes resting against her cheeks. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “So beautiful. You don’t look dead... only asleep.” His hand caressed her cold cheek, his touch desperate, as if his warmth alone could bring her back. “Oh, (Y/N),” Baldwin whispered, his eyes stung with unshed tears, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs. “Please... wake up. You promised me,” he pleaded, his voice raw and thick with despair. “You swore you wouldn’t leave me, not as long as I lived. You lied to me, my love... you lied...” He clutched her closer, his shoulders shaking as the grief consumed him. “You were my light... my only light in this wretched world,” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of his sorrow. “How am I to go on without you? How am I to face the darkness without you beside me?” Wailed by his diseased dry eyes . He kissed her hair dampening by his lips. He pressed his lips to her temple, his trembling breath ghosting over her still form. Agnes stood nearby, her own heart heavy as she witnessed her son’s anguish. She had seen Baldwin face countless battles, seen him stand tall against unimaginable pain, but this, this broken man before her, was a sight she could barely bear. His grief was raw, unfiltered, and so profound it filled the room with its weight. Baldwin rocked (Y/N)’s body gently, his words becoming incoherent as sobs wracked his body. His fingers brushed through her hair as though soothing her to sleep. “Please... just one more moment,” he begged the heavens, his voice barely audible. “Let me hold her... let me hear her laugh again... her voice, her heartbeat...”His cries pierced the air, echoing through the empty house, a king brought to his knees by the unbearable loss of the woman who had been his everything. And as Baldwin cradled her lifeless form, it was as though his own heart had stopped beating alongside hers.

Sibylla watched her brother’s grief with an almost placating smile. "It’s okay, brother," she said softly, though her tone carried a trace of condescension. "Let out your grief. This sacrifice was necessary for the betterment of the kingdom." Baldwin’s trembling stopped abruptly as her words reached him. His reddened face lifted to meet her gaze, his expression hollow yet sharp, like a blade dulled by too much use but still capable of cutting. "Who else worked with you?" His voice, though low, carried the unmistakable edge of restrained fury. Sibylla straightened, confidence flickering in her anger as she retorted, "Me. I acted alone." Baldwin’s gaze didn’t waver. "So Mother didn’t know about this," he said, his words heavy with accusation. His tone made even Agnes flinch at the mention of her involvement. "No," Sibylla answered firmly. "Mother didn’t know about this." For a moment, Baldwin seemed to freeze. His grief contorted into something darker, something terrifying. His face, already ravaged by disease and despair, now carried an expression of such cold rage that even Sibylla, emboldened as she was, felt her confidence falter. When he spoke again, his voice was chilling, devoid of any humanity. "You’re going to feel what you’ve done to me. The same pain, the same torment" "You will suffer just as you made me suffer. I will make sure of it." Sibylla’s eyes narrowed, her anger surging forth like a storm. "You dare call me selfish?" she snapped. "You sit on that throne, clinging to your miserable life, bringing sin upon this kingdom by indulging in your lust for that woman! It’s you who’s selfish, Baldwin not me! You should step down and let my husband rule" "A man who is strong and capable, unlike you." Baldwin let out a bitter, humorless laugh that echoed in the small, decrepit room. "Capable? Your husband?" He sneered, his lip curling with disdain. "A coward who hides behind you to make his moves? Don’t worry, dear sister. He’ll have his time to shine" "In the dungeon. I’ll ensure he becomes intimately acquainted with every torture device we own before I execute him." Sibylla gasped, her fury boiling over. She raised a hand to strike him, but Agnes, weary of the madness around her, stepped forward and caught her wrist, shielding Baldwin with her body. "Enough!" Agnes’s voice carried the weight of her authority, silencing the escalating storm. Turning to her son, she placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, her expression softening. "Baldwin," she said gently, "this... this isn’t what (Y/N) would have wanted. Let us focus on her, not on revenge." Her voice cracked slightly as she continued, "We should give her a proper burial. She deserves that, if nothing else." Baldwin’s breathing slowed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her words. His rage momentarily abated, overtaken by his grief as he looked down at (Y/N)’s body once more. "A burial," he whispered, nodding slowly, his focus entirely on the woman he loved. "Yes. She deserves that." Sibylla scoffed loudly but said nothing else, her lips pressed into a tight line. The tension in the room simmered, unspoken words and unresolved hatred hanging heavy in the air as Baldwin’s attention remained solely on (Y/N), his sorrow drowning out all else.

All three rode in solemn silence, Baldwin insisting on carrying (Y/N)’s lifeless body on his horse. No one dared argue. As they traveled back, Agnes swore she could hear Baldwin murmuring soft, sweet words to (Y/N), as if she could still hear him. She had always admired her son’s resilience and the strength of his mind, his determination to lead even as his body battled the ravages of disease. But now, watching him, Agnes feared that (Y/N)’s death might shatter him entirely, driving him into the depths of madness. They arrived at a small, secluded church under the protection of Agnes’s allies. Baldwin dismounted, his movements stiff but deliberate, and cradled (Y/N)’s body in his arms as he entered the hallowed ground. His hollow, vacant eyes met those of Patriarch Heraclius, who quickly approached with an air of confusion. Baldwin addressed the archbishop in a voice devoid of life, yet carrying the weight of an unbreakable command. "Take her body," he said, his words measured and heavy. "Ensure she is given a proper burial. On her grave, inscribe the words: ‘Light of the world for the leper.’" Heraclius froze in stunned realization, his gaze falling to the woman in Baldwin’s arms realizing that she was the lover of the leper king . Before Heraclius could respond, Agnes quickly stepped forward, leaning in to whisper firmly, "Keep her presence here a secret. Let no one know." Her voice was quiet but sharp, leaving no room for argument. Heraclius nodded, too shocked to protest, and turned to oversee the arrangements as Baldwin reluctantly placed (Y/N) down for the last time. Once outside, Agnes found her son standing near the churchyard, staring blankly into the distance as if searching for something beyond the horizon. His voice broke the silence, low and filled with a crushing sorrow. "As much as I speak of revenge, I know it is impossible. My actions would destroy the kingdom." He paused, the grief in his tone cutting through Agnes like a blade. "I couldn’t protect her in life, and now I’ve failed her in death. But I will protect the kingdom she loved. At least... when I meet her again, I can tell her I wasn’t a complete failure." Agnes reached out and rested her hand gently on his shoulder, her voice soft but resolute. "The fault lies with me as well. We both failed her, my son. But for your sake and hers, I swear to you—I will ensure that Sibylla and her husband never sit on the throne. Her son, your nephew, will rule instead. I will see to it." For the first time since (Y/N)’s death, a faint glimmer of relief flickered in Baldwin’s eyes. He turned to his mother, his voice regaining a trace of its usual sharpness. "Yes, you are right. This kingdom must not be ruled by (Y/N)’s murderer." His expression hardened. "I entrust you with this, Mother. Convince the Haute Cour. Do not fail me as you did before."

Agnes straightened her posture, her voice carrying a quiet determination. "I won’t. I promise you that."

#kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fandom #baldwin iv imagine #king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven headcanons #leper king

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yuyuyunnie · 3 days ago

Text

Beyond Bag End | C.JH

pairings: hobbit! jongho x hobbit! reader (fem)

summary: Before heading on an adventure to rid of the ring that was meant to be ruined years ago, Jongho has some choice words, and actions, before you take off on your once-in-a-lifetime journey.

warnings: literally soft sex with jongho, unprotected sex (pls wrap up!), slight name calling from other characters and jongho, talks of dying but not crazy

word count: 5.2k

Author's note: If you are into The Hobbit or LOTR franchise at all, please—I beg of you—DO NOT imagine Jongho's feet as normal hobbit feet! That will be the one thing I don't do right 😭.

p.s. i also shamelessly listened to I Don't Understand But I Luv U by Seventeen and it changed me.

⁂𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽⁂

Your finger twirled the golden ring, the wind blowing your hair as you sat on the hill leading to the Shire. The ancient writing on the ring glowed, your eyes studying the small script. To your dismay, you came upon this ring after sifting through your cousin's home. Ironically, you were related to the Baggins, and you came from the Took side of the family.

Frodo left plenty of items in his home when he left with Bilbo for the Undying Lands. You were shocked to see the ring fall out of the book that Frodo had completed. The leather was worn, the edges ruffled as if Bilbo clung to the book for dear life. In the back few pages where Frodo had filled the rest of the book out of his adventures with Samwise, Merry, and Pippin, you came across a little hole, the perfect size of a ring carved with a small blade.

Everyone knew of the story. Bilbo went on his adventures with the dwarves and Gandalf. Years later Frodo went on a journey himself to destroy the ring that Bilbo stole from Gollum, and from what you heard, as years have passed, Frodo supposedly tossed the ring into the fires of Mount Doom, along with Gollum, but, here you were, sitting on the grassy fields with the ring sitting heavily in your hand.

You huffed, shoving the ring back into the pocket of your skirt. Why did Frodo keep the ring? You had so many questions and the one person to ask was miles away in the Undying Lands. You never knew if Bilbo passed—or even Frodo for that matter—but you had to figure out why the ring continues to haunt your family.

Pushing yourself off the ground, you trek back into the small town. The chatter was nonstop; Hobbits tending to their gardens, smoking pipes, having their second breakfasts, and living peaceful lives. You were tired of this mundane life; living the same day every single day and nothing new happening. You admired the stories of Bilbo and Frodo growing up, wishing you could experience what they did—and by that, you mean leaving the Shire.

You made your way back up to your home, your garden looking terrible compared to everyone around you. Your tulips were sulking, your daisies thirsty, and your vines curling into themselves. In all honesty, you needed to come out here and tend to the poor things but you had no motivation. Ever since finding the ring a month ago, your mind has stayed on the golden piece.

‘And there the ring went, down into the flaming mouth and Gollum along with it. I have done it, for now, we are safe and sound.’

“Gone down the mouth my butt,” You grumbled, pushing your door open.

The sun was hitting your stained windows perfectly, and your floors were different shades of color. Your home was quiet, the plants inside needing just as much tender care as the ones outside. Your eyes drifted to your kitchen, the thick red leather book on your table. If your mother knew that you had this book—had the ring at that—she would personally throw you into the flames of Mount Doom. Your mother was never too fond of the Baggins side of her family. She said all they did was cause trouble and bring bad luck with them wherever they went.

You thought differently.

You yearned for the life that Bilbo and Frodo endured. You longed for an adventure outside of the Shire and you yearned for friendship as they had. You have friends, just one to be exact. Jongho has been your friend since you were children and has never left your side. You two were inseparable and still are to this day.

You did have a slight crush on him, but only you knew.

Jongho was taller than the average Hobbit, his broad body towering over many. You’re not too sure what his mother fed him when he was young, but he definitely stood out from everyone else. However, with his larger frame, Jongho was the most tenderest Hobbit you have ever come across. He was sweet, helped in your garden, was by your side 24/7 when your mother passed, and helped you stay afloat. He was truly the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Tearing up at the thought, you plopped down in front of the book. Your fingers traced over the lettering, ‘Red Book of Westmarch’ trembles going through you. Flicking to the back of the book, your eyes bore into the perfectly cut circle before a loud BANG interrupted your thoughts.

“You know, you really need to tend to your garden or else everything will die,”

Jongho’s voice rang throughout your home. You let out a quiet squeal, dropping the ring back into the book before slamming it shut. Jongho walked into your dining room, his eyebrow flicked up, his eyes falling onto the book.

“How many more times are you going to read that book?”

“As many—“

“Honestly, you could probably relive everything that Bilbo and Frodo did with how many times you’ve read the book. Better yet, you could probably—“

“Jongho,” You cut him off, your eyes glaring at him as he plopped down in the chair beside you, “I feel very connected with my family when reading this,”

“A family line that ended,” He said quietly, his hand laying on top of yours gently.

Your heart fluttered at the contact. You and Jongho have held hands, hugged, and cuddled, your body should be used to his touch, but here recently sparks keep shooting throughout, making you feel warm.

“What’s so wrong with me reading up on my family history?” You retorted.

He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back into his chair, taking his warm hand with him.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, but you know how the Shire feels about your family. Especially Bilbo and Frodo. You know, sweet Mary-Ann is afraid that you’ll take off on an adventure yourself,” He chuckled.

If only, you thought to yourself. Letting out a loud huff, you prop your chin up on your hand, your eyes gazing at the book once more. Your hand itched where the ring sat for so long. Is this how Frodo felt when Bilbo left the ring for him after disappearing at his 111th birthday party? You were a mere child then, not too aware of who Bilbo and Frodo were. Your family kept their disappearances a secret, never telling you of the great adventures.

“Would it be so bad?” You mumbled, cutting your eyes to him.

He scoffed, “You? Going off frolicking in the fields, killings orcs and riding off with a wizard in the sunset? Yeah, no.” He shook his head, letting out a sweet laugh, “You’re much safer here, in the Shire, staying in Bag End with me,” He whispered the last part, his hand falling on top of yours again.

Your eyes fell onto your hands, your hand fitting so perfectly underneath his. Jongho was right but you would never let him know. You’ve longed for an adventure for so long, but could you do it? Could you manage leaving Bag End and going off to do god knows what?

“Jongho,” You whispered, turning your eyes back to him, “There something I have to show you.”

“Oh,” He quipped, “What is it?”

Your heart started pounding, your ears feeling like they’re on fire. You gently remove your hand from under his and grip the leather book. Your finger tips burned; pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you peeled the book back open and landed on the page where the ring sat comfortably, snug.

“A ring?” He quirked his eyebrow once again, “And I assume this is…”

“It’s the ring, Jongho,”

“The ring?” He sounded confused, dumb even. You wanted to smack your hand against your forehead, but you saved the dramatics.

“Jongho, the ring that Frodo supposedly tossed into the flames of Mount Doom and destroyed. This,” You grabbed the ring., “is the ring.”

Jongho gulped, his eyes enlarged at the sight of the ring. He knew of the stories, knew of Bilbo fighting off the dragon and Frodo riding Samwise’s back up to the top of Mount Doom. Everyone in the Shire knew of the tales in some shape or form. Could he believe that the ring was right here, in front of him? No, but here it was, twinkling in-between your little fingers.

“Are you sure?” He whispered, tugging at his shirt.

You nodded, eyes falling back onto the lettering that was now glowing a red shade. Your mind tingled, begging for you to slip the ring on and see what Bilbo and Frodo seen so many years ago, but you grunted, dropping the ring back into the book before shutting it closed.

“I thought Frodo tossed it into the fires of Mount Doom?” He gulped, eyeing the leather bound book.

You sighed, leaning back into your chair, “I thought so too, but clearly he didn’t.”

You both stared at the book, all you could hear were the birds chirping outside and the slight shuffling of Jongho as his mind went a thousand miles per hour.

Weeks have passed since you showed Jongho the ring. He left your place in a panic, stumbling over his words as he stumbled out. You've never seen Jongho so flustered, not since that one time he glanced at your naked body behind your home, but that was years ago! Jongho was your only person and now it feels like you have no one.

You pulled harshly at the weeds that flourished in your garden over the few weeks you neglected it—due to the Jongho incident of course—and small mutters left your mouth.

“This is why I stay to myself,” You grumbled, ripping another weed from the soil, “Mind my own business! That’s what I’ll do from here on out—“

“I'm afraid that won’t be happening,”

Your eyes widened, your head slowly turning around. A tall elder gentleman stood behind you, his body blocking the warm sun from your body. You cocked your head to the side, your eyes taking in his figure before everything clicked.

Oh, fuck me.

“And you are?” You could barely get that question out, your throat closing at the realization.

“I believe there is no reason for any introduction, but if I must, I am Gandalf the White.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Of course Gandalf would be here, at your doorstep; probably here to send you on a god forsaken quest, but that’s what you wanted right?

You huffed, pushing yourself up off the ground, wiping your hands off on your apron.

“YN Took,” You sent him a curt smile.

He smiled, “I know who you are. May I come in?”

Gandalf took it upon himself to let himself in your home, whether you wanted him in there or not. Your mouth gaped open, awed at the audacity of the older man. You rolled your eyes, followed behind, and shut the door, watching Gandalf take in his surroundings. You didn’t say anything, you didn’t know what to say. What if he unleashes some sort of spell on you for having the ring? It’s not like you went out and sought for the damned thing.

“I assume you know why I’m here,” His gaze fell onto you, his eyebrow quirked up.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

Before Gandalf could retaliate, your door flung open and Jongho stood there, panting and red in the face. Anger completely took over your body, wanting to cuss him out for ignoring you for weeks.

“YN you won’t believe it! There’s a weird, taller older man here that looks just like—oh,”

Jongho’s eyes laid on Gandalf who sent him a smile, a deep rumble of laughter leaving his chest. Jongho’s ears turned a deep shade of red, a small ‘sorry’ leaving his lips as he shut the door.

“Now where was I,” Gandalf hummed, “Don’t act stupid, YN Took, you know exactly why I’m here. Where is it? Where’s the ring?”

You fidgeted, your fingers picking at each other as you weighed out your options. If you give the ring to Gandalf, all your troubles will be gone! If you refuse to tell Gandalf, then what if he cast a spell on you? Or, what if he knows where the ring is but is seeing if you will cooperate? What if—

“It’s in that red book over there,” Jongho quipped, pointing over to your kitchen table.

“Jongho,” You hissed, swatting at him.

Gandalf turned swiftly, taking three large steps, grabbing the book, flipping through the pages before coming to a halt. His breath hitched, his fingers trembling as he pulled the ring out from its hiding spot. You gulped, your eyes frantically watching as Gandalf studied the gold piece. The air was thick with silence, nobody said anything, who could?

You took a tiny step forward, the feeling of Jongho’s eyes boring into your back. A wave of possessiveness overcame you, your body aching for the gold ring to stay here, with you, safe in Bag End.

“Alright,” Gandalf huffed, shutting the leather book and tucking the ring into his pocket, “I will be heading out now,”

With no goodbyes, Gandalf shoved past you and Jongho and made his way down your stone path. A low growl emitted through your throat, with clenched fist you followed behind Gandalf, faint calls of your name following behind you.

“You can’t just take that!” You erupted, “Frodo left that here with me for a reason!”

Gandalf came to a halt, his white hair flowing faintly in the wind. The air was thick with tension, your body growing hotter with the thought of Gandalf taking the ring away from you. Frodo left this ring for a reason and you’ve been taking care of it for months, not letting anyone know of the secret hidden inside your hobbit hole.

“You Took’s are quite bold at times,” He chuckled, turning around to face you, “Do you know what dangers you have had tucked away in your home, YN? Frodo was dumb to not let this go into the fires of Mount Doom. The journey itself almost killed Frodo. He’s a fool for leaving this in the hands of another family member. You Took’s are a fool,”

You were fuming, your nails digging into your palm as you bit your tongue. The faint touch of Jongho’s hand on the small of your back sent waves of calmness throughout your body. His thumb rubbed at your lower back gently.

Here we go, you thought.

“Let me go with you then, to Mount Doom, or wherever you plan on taking the ring,”

Your sentence felt rushed, and eager, and all this brought was a low chuckle from Gandalf and a quick shake of his head. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea of another trip, another journey with the same family. It’s like he couldn’t get rid of you hobbits. Gandalf has kept a keen eye on you, your family, and your surroundings for years. He knew Frodo didn’t toss the ring into the fire. He knew the dangers that Frodo brought along to his family, but he didn’t expect to see a feisty, young hobbit like yourself be the new bearer of the ring.

His fingers gripped his cane, “I’m sure you know of the dangers?”

You quickly nodded, stepping forward, the feeling of Jongho’s fingers leaving your back.

“YN,” He mumbled, taking a step forward, wrapping his hand around your wrist.

“I think you two need to do some talking,” Gandalf sent a small smile, “If you decide to come with me on this journey, meet me at the Prancing Pony Inn, and talk to Azo, he will know what to do,”

Tipping the brim of his hat, Gandalf set off, leaving you there with a fuming Jongho.

The air was thick, and silence hung between you and Jongho. Your fingers traced the rim of your cup, your eyes boring into the table as Jongho’s bore into you. You’ve never felt this kind of rage from your best friend, this thick tension. You could slice it with a knife, cutting through multiple layers. You’ve been waiting for a chance like this to come your way. You’ve been eager to leave the safety of Bag End to experience what your family did. You knew you made the right choice.

Jongho’s jaw clenched, his mind going a thousand miles per hour. He couldn’t stand thinking about you walking away to your death. What if you didn’t come back? What if you get caught by an orc and he’s not there to save you? There have been plenty of times when Jongho had to rescue you from some sort of situation that you put yourself in. Jongho felt like your protector whether you knew that or not.

His fingers twitched, your precious face seemed clueless to the dangers you were putting yourself in. Your cheeks were rosy, your eyes filled with wonder, the gentle waves of your hair cascading down your shoulders, your dress clinging to your chest tightly. How could someone as sweet and perfect as you go to the fiery pits of hell?

Letting out a slow breath, Jongho finally spoke, “I think this is a bad idea, YN”

Your eyes fell onto him, his brown eyes boring back into yours. His black hair fell messily into his eyes, his plump lips swollen from the constant nibbling while thoughts rampaged through his mind. Your heart fluttered at the sight, blushing at the intense stare-off between you two. If you didn’t know the anger that Jongho had with you right now, you’d pounce on him. You don’t know if the feelings are reciprocated, but something about Jongho being mad at you sends warmth throughout your body.

“Jongho,” You breathed out, “You know how bad I’ve been wanting to leave the Shire—“

“Not to go to your death, YN!” He yelled causing you to jump at the suddenness, “You’re absolutely stupid if you decide to go with Gandalf!”

“I’m not though,” You whispered, your feelings shattered at him calling you stupid. “I want to finish my family’s curse once and for all, can’t you understand that?”

You looked at him with pleading eyes. A soft grunt left his lips as he turned his fixated gaze onto something else in your home. He couldn’t stand hurting your feelings, let alone make you look at him the way you’re looking at him now. It caused his stomach to stir, his dick twitching at the thought of you looking at him like that underneath him, all sprawled out.

“Jongho, please,” You whispered, your hand resting on top of his.

His eyes jerked over, and his breath hitched in his throat. He felt like his body was going to explode. Taking a deep breath, Jongho finally looked up at you. Your bottom lip was slightly pouted, glistening from the afternoon sunlight. How could he say no?

“You’re reckless,” He whispered, his eyes twitched as they filled with tears.

You sighed, pushing yourself up from your chair, your legs taking you over to him. Taking in your body in front of him, Jongho stared up at you, licking his plump lips as he took you in. Fuck, he thought, his dick strained in his pants, your precious eyes not noticing the bulge growing.

“You know you love me,” You smiled at him, reaching your hands out, silently asking for a warm hung from him.

Jongho hissed, “I can’t,” He mumbled, gripping the side of his pants.

“What?”

You cocked your head to the side before your eyes fell down to where his eyes lingered. A small gasp left your lips, your eyes widening at the view before you.

“Jongho-“

“Fuck, YN,” He growled standing up, “I’ve loved you for years,” He started, his hands came to cup your face, your cheeks filling his hands perfectly, “I can’t sit here and watch the love of my life walk away to her possible death,” He breathed out, tears falling silently.

You didn’t know what to say, your words caught in the back of your throat. He felt the same way. Jongho felt the same way as you. You brought your hands up, cupping Jongho’s. You studied his face, the tip of his nose turning a slight rose color from him holding in his tears.

“You love me like that?” You asked quietly, letting a low giggle slip.

He rolled his eyes, “Please kiss me,” He whispered.

You couldn’t make the move first if you wanted to, Jongho slammed his lips against yours, moving rhythmically against yours. His plush lips felt so warm against yours, a soft moan rumbling through your throat, Jongho swallowing them. His hands fell down to your waist, pulling you into him, his growing bulge pressing against your tummy. You gasped at the feeling, Jongho took this opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, skimming your mouth.

“I need you now,” He whimpered, his hands gripping your waist, definitely leaving bruises.

You nodded swiftly, wrapping your hand with his, dragging him to your all too familiar bedroom. Jongho knew your home like the back of his hand. He’d move in if he could, stay here with you, forever. His body was burning with desire, his fingers tingling at the feeling of your hand wrapped around his. He couldn’t believe that you reciprocated, that you were dragging him to your bedroom, whimpering like that to him. His mind was fuzzy, his heart thumping, his ears loud with the beat.

Coming to a halt, you quickly kick off your boots, Jongho following right behind. Your body felt relief it was finally getting what it has been yearning for longer than the ring. You were finally making love with the man of your dreams. Granted you would have done this in different circumstances but, due to what has happened, this felt only right because what if he’s right? What if you don’t make it back alive?

“You’re so beautiful,” Jongho mumbled, his fingers untying your corset, your breast slightly falling as the corset came off.

Pulling your shirt off and tugging your skirt down, you were bare. You stood there, the afternoon sun beaming on your skin, soaking in the warmth. Jongho stopped breathing, his eyes soaking in your naked form. You were beautiful. Your wavy hair falling down to the middle of your back, your peach fuzz glistening in the light, goosebumps rising over your body at the mixture of warmth and cold.

You glanced back, taking in the shocked expression of Jongho before smirking, laying down on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Don’t act so shocked, Jongie,” You whispered, “You’ve seen me naked before,”

He blushed, tugging his shirt over his head, his torso coming into full view. You sighed, mesmerized at his form. Jongho helped around town lifting heavy objects, building doors, barns, all the heavy lifting. God did it showed.

“That was by mistake.” He smirked, climbing onto the bed, his large frame hovering over you, “And I thought about it for months,” He whispered, bringing his lips back down to yours.

Soft kisses were exchanged between you and quiet ‘I love you’s’ mixed in there. Taking his hand, Jongho traced down your body, feeling the smooth skin on his hands, his cock aching at the touch. Pushing his knee back, Jongho placed it between your thighs, wedging it in between the soft skin so his hand could finally find your soaking cunt.

You slung your head back, the feeling of his fingers tracing your slick folds sending you into oblivion. Jongho traced small circles around your lips, spreading the sticky wetness around.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, picking your head back up, staring at Jongho who was staring down at your soaking pussy.

“Fuck is right,” He mumbled, dipping his finger into your cunt.

A yelp escaped your lips, the feeling of his finger stroking your insides causing your brain to stir. Glancing up at you, Jongho smiled softly, pressing another finger into, scissoring his way in, stretching you out to fit your pretty pussy around his cock. His mouth salivated at the sight of your cunt sucking his fingers back in every time he pulled out. God, you were beautiful, ethereal, and here you were, all spread out for him.

“Want me to eat you out, baby?”

Your pussy clenched at the pet name, a quick nod and a soft whimpered followed. Jongho smirked before shuffling himself between your thighs. His nose skimmed your soft thighs, his lips pressing delicate kisses, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. Your nipples hardened at the feeling, your hands coming to rest in his soft, thick locks.

Jongho nuzzled his nose against your throbbing clit, your body jerking at the sudden touch.

“Relax, baby,” He whispered, peppering sweet kisses along your drenched lips, “Let me take care of you like I always do, like I was born to do,”

Your heart fluttered and so did your pussy at the obvious confession. Jongho licked his lips before pressing them against your clit, sucking on the sweet pearl. Gasping, your slightly arched your back, the feeling becoming too intense with Jongho softly fucking you with his fingers.

“Hold still,” He mumbled against your folds, bringing his arm up to hold your hips down.

Whimpering, you softly ground your wet pussy against his face, his lips sucking at you, loud slurps filled the room as he finger fucked you to your orgasm.

Loud moans fill the room, your eyes filled with black dots as you rode out your orgasm.

“That’s it, baby, use my face,” He mumbled, kitten licking your clit as his fingers came to a halt inside you.

Propping yourself up, you caught Jongho sucking on his fingers. His big, brown eyes gazing back at you as his tongue swirled around them.

“Oh fuck,” You whispered, in awe at the sight between your legs.

Pulling his fingers out with a loud pop, Jongho pushed himself off the bed, his dick suffocating in his pants. Smirking at you, Jongho pulled his pants down, his dick smacking against his stomach. Your mouth dropped open, your mouth salivating at the sight of him. His tip was scorching red, precum coating the tip, shining in the light. You sat up, ready to push yourself off the bed but Jongho stopped you, gently pushing you back.

“That can wait,” He breathed out, his hand gripping his throbbing cock, a faint whimper passing his lips, “I need to feel you around me, baby”

You licked your lips, nodding before laying back down. Jongho gazed down at you, his eyes filled with love and lust. You looked beautiful underneath him, just as he had imagined. Your breast rose with each breath you took, goosebumps surrounding your perked nipples. Bending down, Jongho took a nipple in his mouth, sucking on the sweet mounds, abandoning his dick to grip at the other breast. A soft moan passed your lips, your legs wrapped around his waist as he took his time with your nipples, switching back and forth from each one.

His dick twitched at your entrance, your legs wrapped around him bringing your soaking cunt closer to him. He couldn’t wait any longer, not when you were whiny and needy underneath him. Abandoning your breast, Jongho gripped his dick, swiping his dick up and down your folds, coating his tip in your essence.

“Want me to fuck you, baby?”

You nodded, wiggling your hips as he continued to circle your clit with his tip. He tsked, smacking the side of your thigh, “I need to hear you, sweet girl.”

“I-I want you to fuck me, Jongho,” You breathed out, your pussy fluttering at the smack.

“Good girl,” He whispered.

Wrapping an arm underneath the bend of your knee, Jongho pressed himself into your sopping entrance, pushing himself in slowly, your warmth surrounding him. A long, drawled out moan left his lips as your pussy swallowed him completely.

“Fuck,” He groaned, pushing himself all the way to your cervix, your pussy clenching at the feeling, “You feel so good around me.” He whined, his hips jerked.

You couldn’t respond, your body in full bliss at the feeling of being filled to the brim with his dick. As if on cue, Jongho started rocking his hips, slowly, and passionately as he soaked you all in. His eyes hazed, staring down at your body as it jumped with every thrust. He couldn’t handle himself. With the sight of your breast bouncing with each thrust, your lips parted and soft whines tumbling out, Jongho started ramming himself in you. The obscene sound of your pussy squelching around his cock filled the room.

Your body was overcome with goosebumps, all you could feel was intense pleasure as Jongho made love to you. Panting, Jongho brought his fingers down to your clit, rubbing quick but soft circles around your swollen pearl.

“Jongho,” You drawled out, your back slowly arching, “I’m about to cum,” You whined, gripping bicep.

Jongho smirked, leaning over slamming his lips against yours. Wrapping your hands around his neck, lacing your fingers in the hairs that settled in the back, Jongho groaned at the feeling and started speeding up, his thrusts and fingers going the same speed, sending you into a complete spiral.

“Come on, my sweet girl, cum for me. Cum around my cock and show me how much you love me, please,” He whined the last part, sending you into your orgasm.

Your back arched into his chest, a long, drawled out moan escaped your lips as Jongho pressed light kisses along your jawline.

“That’s it baby,” He grunted, trying to hold himself together, “Cum around my cock,”

With a few more thrust, Jongho moaned, his seed feeling you to the brim as you still rode out your own orgasm. Soft pants filled your room as you both came down from your high, Jongho’s body laid on top of yours, your hand softly caressing his head.

“Fuck,” You whispered, tucking a few of his longer hairs behind his ear, rubbing your thumb against his cheek.

“That was amazing,” He mumbled, staring up at you.

Jongho pulled out, his cum flowing out after. The sun has finally set, the moon now glowing on Jongho’s naked body. You were in awe of him and what just happened between you two. As if he didn’t notice, Jongho got dressed and headed to your bathroom, bringing a rag back to clean you up.

“You know,” He mumbled, tossing the rag to the side and folding your blanket onto your naked body, “If you go, I’m coming with you,”

He flopped down beside you, propping his head up on his hand as he stared down at you. You took in his rosy cheeks, his swollen lips, and messy hair. God he was beautiful.

“You sure?” You whispered, caressing his hand that was laying on top of your stomach.

“Looks like we’re going on an adventure,”

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