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noemilivv · 9 months ago

Note

Hello! how is it going? I’m so happy to see your requests are back open and that you also write for Helluva Boss now, so I wanted to request something for that! One of my favorite works of yours are the Hazbin Hotel things of reader finding the characters crying and comforting them, so I was thinking I’d love to request the same thing but for Helluva Boss characters. Maybe Blitzø, Stolas, Fizz and Moxxie x gn reader (either platonic or romantic is fine) where reader find them crying and comforts them? ❤️

also sorry if I messed up my english, it’s not my first language :)

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳ø, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐳𝐳 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: MY FIRST HELLUVA REQUEST LETS GOOO. my first few requests for helluva might be a bit ooc due to the fact that i’m much more of a hazbin girly lol. i literally almost started crying writing blitzø’s part so PLSPLSPLSPLS enjoy that one esp 😋 i think this is one of the longest things i’ve ever wrote tbh LOL but okay enough of my yapping, enjoy

warnings: possible angst(?), platonic!moxxie, profanity, mentions of sex in blitzø and fizzarolli’s part, use of yn in moxxie’s part, ooc writing in all 4 parts😭

proofread: yessir 😎

tags: helluva boss, stolas, fanfic, blitzø, moxxie, fizzarolli, hb, x reader

𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳ø

…always felt so trapped, despite the fact that maybe, just maybe, it was because of his own doing. and deep down, he knew that, whether he said it aloud or not.

he never thought the voices in his head could sound so real, he never thought his closest loved ones could seem so far, he never thought that his spirits could be so low, especially when those around him thought that they were so high.

when his daughter, his precious, his world, slammed her bedroom door in his face before screaming, “i fucking hate you!” against the clash of things being thrown from the other side of the door, he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears.

blitzø didn’t know what in all of hell was up with him today, something mentally, that’s for sure.

he couldn’t help but feel a curl in his stomach watching millie and moxxie be all lovey throughout their shared shift, and not a good kind of ‘curl’, he couldn’t scroll through sinsta for three minutes without seeing a verosika-related post, either by her, or one of her sex deprived fans, and he had just gotten home from a meeting with stolas for their…monthly activities — and he couldn’t help but feeling like a shit boyfriend to the one he loved most, and fuck, even his loonie is mad at him now too??

the imp sluggishly moved across to the other side of his apartment and slumped onto the couch, his face being taken in by the warmth of the rough pillow, with his phone in his hands, he felt it vibrate.

if he got lucky, it might be an apology call from loona, as she was probably already out bitching with her friends at those stupid hound parties, thanks to vortex.

but no, it was a call, from you, normally he loved your late night conversations you both had with one another, but tonight? eh… it really wasn’t the time.

he stared at his screen for a moment, his eyes fixating on your contact info, the name displaying ‘babe’ with a red heart emoji, and the picture was a selfie you guys took together.

in the miniature version of the photo, it showed blitzø in a band t-shirt, sticking his tongue out with a ‘v’ to his lips, as you grinned at the camera, as you cuddled into his horns, it was the morning after your first time together, your bed head looked adorable, it could kill him.

he sighed softly, before pressing the ‘call’ button, putting the phone to his ear. “hey, babe!” you spoke from the other side, your voice slightly muffled from the quality of the mic in your phone.

that alone caused him to start sobbing all over again, ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck fuck.’ he thought to himself, but that wasn’t what mattered now. you just sounded so happy, when he felt so shit, that’s one of the many things he loved about you, you were so strong, always saw the light.

“hey hey, shhh, blitzø, what happened??” you cooed through the phone, your heart ached for him, you rolled over onto your side while you laid in bed, curling up to the blankets, as you would to your boyfriend, if he were there with you.

all you got as a response were whimpers from the other line, a few hiccups here and there. “i need words, love.” you said, softly.

blitzø sniffled, “bad day..” his voice cracked as he spoke, although he did so, so softly, well obviously you’d seen him upset before, but never like this.

“wanna talk about it?” you asked, more than hesitant to do so, you knew blitzø was by no means good with his feelings, and you were lucky you got this far with him, considering some failed attempts from the past of you trying to ease him into opening up, but you had to try, it just felt right.

on the other hand, blitzø was just as nervous as you were, if not more, he had been through it all before, and for him, it had never ended pretty, but he loved you more than anything, and he knew he had to do this.

“yeah..”

you listened to every word he said, for hours, 9pm turned to 11pm, 11pm turned to 2am, and 2am turned to kicking down his apartment door at 3:19am to cuddle him to sleep on the couch.

and as tired as she was, as well as annoyed, loona couldn’t stay mad at her father after seeing him snuggled up next to you on the couch asleep.

especially when she snapped a picture and posted it all over sinsta…

guess who’s mad now, bitch?

𝐟𝐢𝐳𝐳

…never felt like he had gotten home so exhausted before. he didn’t even have the energy to sling himself across the palace to get to his bed quicker

he wanted to see you, he wanted to be with you, he wanted to be against you and your nice warm body, with your beautiful smile…

after walking up a few flights of stairs, taking an elevator here and there, walking down a hallway that was way too long to be one to begin with, he reached your shared room. he was home.

“hi, baby!” you exclaimed, happy to see your partner at last, pausing your show that was displayed on the big screen T.V in your room, hoping out of bed to peck your boyfriend on his cheek. “i missed you!”

he managed a tired smile, “i missed you too, sweetie.” fizz paused for a moment, looking away from your gaze before asking, “can i hug you?”

fizz had a lazy, but goofy grin on his face, extending his arms out to you, doing grabby hands. you give a pouty smile, your partner was so cute you couldn’t deal with it, “of courseee, froggyyy.” you said, babying your tone, pulling him in by the waist.

“you don’t gotta ask, y’know, we’ve been together too long to do that.” you joke with a chuckle, fizz laughs along with you, softer than yours, but still, he sinks into your arms before replying, “mammon’s business, despite its stressors, has taught me the importance of consent, and not just when it comes to sex”

fizz chuckled, his tired but soft tone still remained, as he pulled away from you just slightly to peck your nose, “i’d never wanna hurt you, honey, it’s better to ask, then to be sorry, y’know?”

you blink momentarily, you were not expecting that response out of him, you recover quickly, however, smiling at him, “you are just the sweetest.” you say, pulling him in for another hug, placing a peck to his neck, snuggling your face in it as you do so.

before you can even get another word out, fizz starts crying, attempting to sniffle back the tears.

you pull away instantly, “froggy? are you okay?” scanning him for any signs of harm or discomfort.

your boyfriend nods, makeup dripping down his face, “y-yes…” his lips trembling softly as he spoke. “did something happen at work today?”

fizz shook his head, “not really” he sniffled again, “just missed you.”

“awww fizzie, cmon!” you take his hand, pulling him the bathroom,

“let’s take a nice, warm bath, and then we can do skincare and watch that one show you like, and then we can go to bed, does that sound nice?”

“that sounds really nice… thank you…”

𝐦𝐨𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐞

…was your good friend since your early childhood years, his father had a business connection with your parents, which led to you both being babysat together a lot.

both of you were grown adults now, he was married to your gal-pal from your high school days, and you were engaged to one of the kids from your friend group back when you were in college, well, before dropping out.

other than your separate significant others, you were eachothers ride-or-dies, your for-lifers. you both went to eachother for practically everything.

so when moxxie knocks on your door while your spouse is out with friends, asking for help, you don’t hesitate to let him in.

you sit him down asking him what was the matter, and he gets fidgety immediately, stuttering out an attempted response before the tears start flowing, he starts crying about how he got into an argument with millie, and how scared he was that this might ruin their marriage.

instantly, as it was second nature to you, you scoot closer to him the couch, rubbing his back as he sobbed, still venting to you about the argument and how much he misses millie.

“look, mox, here’s what ya gotta do. just call her, and tell her everything you’ve told me, i’ve known millie since we were just freshies, she’s bound to understand!”

“i guess so.. thanks, yn.”

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

...was distraught, and even that was an understatement. his beloved octavia was lost, in los angeles, in the human realm.

you, stolas, and blitzø searched around what felt like all of fucking earth to find her, while millie and moxxie were off doing eachother who knows what.

stolas sighed, running a hand through his now human hair, his breath beginning to get noticeably more shaky, with blitzø walking ahead of the two of you.

“hey.” you say, putting a hand on his arm, “it’s gonna be okay.”

“but what if it’s not though? what she’s not okay? what if she’s in danger? or worse, what if someone took her?” his voice trembled more and more at the thought.

“no.” you start, turning stolas around to face you. “she’ll be okay.” you say, putting a hand onto his chest, “she’s smarter than you may think, she’s seventeen now! she’ll know what to do.”

“but what if something happens? and i’m not there to protect her?” stolas says, his movements going to a halt, blitzø looked at the two of you, before mouthing that he’ll meet up with the both of you later.

before you know it, tears well up in his eyes, without even thinking, he pulls you into a tight hug. “i just need to know my girl is okay…”

“she’ll be okay, sweetie.” you say, pecking his cheek, you pull back slightly, lovingly looking into his eyes, “and so will you..”

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

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entitled-fangirl · 10 months ago

Text

He may always be a demon from hell, but she still loves him.

Crowley x human!reader

Summary: The reader and Crowley discuss what she's reading. She says it reminds her of him, to which he panics.

Words: 1,784

Warnings: demon, heavy makeout session, angst, alcohol

Author's note: I don't own the character or the book mentioned in this! Eeeeek enjoy!

Masterlist <3

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Crowley looked up from the glass of bourbon in his hands as he sat in one of Aziraphale’s many chairs. There she sat across from him. The pretty little human.

Her legs were pulled up onto the couch, her body curled into itself as she held her book out in front of her to read.

She was quite pretty. He had always thought so. Of all his years on this earth, this one was by far the best he had seen. And her soul simply solidified it. Her mind, body, and soul were precious.

She was entirely focused on her book, not noticing Crowley’s gaze. He took that to his advantage, his eyes scanning her entire frame before finally resting on her face. He opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he would do anything to talk to her as much as he could in her lifetime.

“What are you reading, Flower?”

That was his name for her. Aziraphale was his angel, sure. And she seemed like an angel herself, the metaphorical kind, anyway. She was not like a real angel, which is annoying and dull. No, she wasn’t like that at all. He hadn’t read many books but knew how humans romanticized the term 'angel.' The innocence it carried in its title.

No, no, no. She was his flower. He spend many days searching for the right name, but once he came up with that one, it stuck like glue. He loved plants. He loved plants so much. And he loved her. She was his flower.

Now, her head perked up to let her eyes meet his. She held his gaze, admiring the snake-like pupils the demon had. She seemed to snap out of it quickly, regaining her composure. “Oh, uh…,” her voice soft, “it’s the Phantom of the Opera. Have… Have you read it, Angel?”

His eyes closed. He loved it when she called him that. He was no angel by any means, but she used the term every chance she could the day she learned that he had once been so. She had two angels as far as she was concerned. And while one had a significantly more gothic wardrobe, she still considered him just the same.

He nods, “I was around when it was written and published. Hated it then.”

Her lips slowly pull into an amused smile. “And now?”

He shrugs, looking back into her eyes, “…Do YOU like it, Flower?”

A soft breath comes from her lungs, “…Not sure, but I believe so. Won’t say until I finish it. You know how it ends, Angel?”

He shakes his head, “Can’t say I do. Didn’t care enough to finish it.”

She finds that quite amusing. She pulls her legs closer to her to get comfortable, trying to keep herself warm. “Well, I’ll let you know when I’m done, yeah? If it’s good enough, will you try to read it again?”

“Tell me why you like it so much, Flower.”

She considers his words carefully, “I… perhaps see similarities in it… sometimes. You know?”

His eyes move back down to the liquor glass in his hand. He remained quiet, a silent sigh for her elaborate on her findings.

“That was… stupid. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m… I’m sorry…”

He was much more intrigued than before. Sorry? For what? He wished sometimes he could just see what was going on in that funny little brain of hers. “No. Tell me.”

She knew that wasn’t a reassurance that he wasn’t annoyed. It was more of a demand.

“I don’t know, Crowley…”

He grins, pulling the glass to his lips to take another sip.

“Tell me what you DO know, Flower.”

Her eyes wander around the room in thought. “I suppose I feel remorse for the Phantom…”

He hums.

“…and… everyone makes him out to be a horrid creature. A vile beast worth ending. And he believes it too about himself. That he’s awful and cruel. But they don’t know anything about him. Nothing. They even assume it’s a ghost sometimes…”

By now, he’s hooked on her words. Not that he cared for the plot much, but just her. She was beautiful like this, the sunlight from the windows behind her casting a light against her back, giving her body a glowing effect.

“…anyways, this girl falls in love with him. And she finds out he’s just a man. He’s a man like anyone else. He’s not the vile thing everyone makes him out to be.”

He’s taking in every word.

Her voice drops to a low volume, “They call him a demon from hell.”

Crowley felt his jaw clench at her words.

“…But, he’s not. Not at all. He’s just a man. A man who deserves much more than life handed him. He was no demon. He could’ve been an angel. He’s kind and fair. Honest and witty. He protects her with his life. And he’s loyal. He is quite admirable, honestly.”

She held this look. It was a loving look as she stared at Crowley. This time, he could read her like an open book. She was referencing him. That everyone believed Crowley was vile and cruel. But he was just like a man.

“…You’re awfully quiet, Angel.”

That sold it for him. Angel. Her angel. His eyes closed, taking in a deep breath.

He stood up quickly, setting his glass on the side table before approaching the sofa she occupied. She noticed, scooting over slightly to make room for him, but he didn’t sit. He kneeled in front of the couch, in front of her.

If his eyes could produce tears, they’d be running. “Flower? You truly think that of me? That I’m just a man?”

She nods, her breath quickening at his proximity.

He wanted to believe her. He truly did, but he couldn’t. He leaned in, making their faces inches apart.

“You think all this and you haven’t finished the book?”

She nods again, her gaze staring to settle on his lips.

His hand reached forward, grabbing her face gently. His voice became a low growl, “And what if this angel truly is a demon from hell? Would the girl stop loving him, Flower?”

She isn’t sure what to say. She’s not sure who they’re even talking about at this point. Her gut told her to say one thing, but her head said another. And his grip on her face was not helping her focus.

“I.. I don’t think… love takes what they are into con… consideration when it chooses them…”

Satan, she was perfect. She always knew exactly what to say, the sneaky thing. It stilled his vessel’s heart, his eyes still drilling into hers.

“And… will she truly listen to her heart?”

She nods. “She would be a fool not to, Angel.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Here she was, sitting so pretty for him, her words causing a fire to erupt in his stomach. He leaned forward, pulling her face towards his.

Their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It doesn’t last long because Crowley pulls away.

“Maybe you should finish the book before you make your conclusions, Flower. Perhaps he’ll always be that demon from hell.”

He stands, sliding his hands into his pockets with a sigh before exiting the bookshop.

…

Days pass and Crowley acts as if their interaction never happened. It broke her heart. Aziraphale couldn’t take the two ignoring each other and decided to fix it.

He told Crowley to be at the bookshop at a certain time. But Aziraphale wouldn’t be there. No, this was to get the demon alone with her to talk again, as they had before. And that plan worked perfectly.

This time, however, she was placing books on the bookshelf when he entered. He walked in confidently, but the confidence soon fell as he saw her pretty face.

“Oh. I… where’s Angel?”

She shrugs, “Haven’t seen him all day.”

Curse that blasted angel from his stupid plans that always work.

Crowley sighs, “I’m sorry I ran out on you.”

Her eyes finally move to find his. “I finished the book.”

His shoulders dropped somewhat at her sudden change of subject, but he went along with it nonetheless. “…Well, Flower?”

Her fingers lightly played with the spine of the book she had in her hand. “He may always be the demon from hell, but she still loves him.”

He was so stupid to leave her. To abandon his sweet Christine like this. His little flower that was always in bloom.

“Oh, Flower…”

He moved forward, immediately wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her in for a kiss.

This kiss was very much different from their first. Where the first was soft and hesitant, this one was heated and passionate, as if this was their only method of communication. And to Crowley, it was. He needed her to see just how much her words meant to him. How much he craved to feel her lips on his again. How he imagined her the nights before.

Her hands move to him, the book in her hand long forgotten. One rested on his forearm, the other cradling his face. She kissed him back with as much reverence as he did. She needed him to know she didn’t care. She didn’t care about what he was. What he did. She needed him to know that she loved him.

She loved him.

His tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip. She left out a soft moan, paring her lips. His tongue gently began to explore her mouth, their bodies holding each other in fear that they could be ripped from each other at any moment.

She gently pushed him away, needing to catch her breath. “Sorry… sorry, Angel.. just… just gotta breathe…”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her jaw lightly, trailing the kisses up towards her ear before whispering softly, “‘If I am to be saved, it is because your love redeems me.’”

She let out a soft gasp, and her hand moved to the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. “You… you know it?”

She could practically feel his smile against her neck, his voice vibrating the bones there, “Read it again after we talked…. All the way through this time…”

She was speechless at his words. He had went back and not only read the story for her, but then was able to quote it. She had never felt love radiate in a room until this very moment in time.

She pulled him back in for another sweet kiss.

He was no demon. To her, he was an angel. Her angel.

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#crowley #anthony j crowley #crowley imagine #crowley x reader #good omens #good omens x reader #good omens fanfiction #demon fanfiction #aziraphale #crowley good omens #crowley fanfiction #crowley oneshot

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ruruvxz · 3 months ago

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have u seen the new pics of yunjin😍😍office siren yunjin has me on a chokehold

Please write boss!yunjin and worker!reader and basically everyone has a crush on her, but she tries to be so badass but she has the strongest crush on u. And it’s so awkward when u find out she has a crush on u, basically if uve ever read “finding secretary Kim” it’s like that☺️

-🍒

“Finding designer L/N”

Creative director!Huh Yunjin x Designer!Reader

↳synopsis: Huh Yunjin was the most prolific fashion designers in the industry, being the head of the “Huh House” she acquired the attention of plentiful suitors. Thinking she would never find love, she finally set her sights on one of her subordinates yet messes up everything completely when she sent a message confessing her love, to all her workers.

↳cw: swearing, overworking, mean!yunjin, rookie designer, pure fluff, yunjin absolutely embarrassing herself, dense reader, fictional character for plot, mentions of intoxicating, mentions of sexual acts

↳wc: 3.5k

a/n: hehehe i love finding assistant manager kim, so the the plot is basically the same thing minus the freaky deaky stuff. also her post saying “bayonetta” made me absolutely bust… sigh i love my wife so much and she doesn’t even know who i am. i absolutely loved writing this it was so fun

The day you got the acceptance letter to work under the "Huh House" a group filled to the brim with promising designers, you were more than ecstatic. Not only with the fact this could thicken your portfolio twice fold, but this also meant that you got to work with THE Huh Yunjin. She was undoubtedly one of your "celebrity"-like crushes, but her whole career was astonishing. Being the same age as you, you couldn't help but envy such a successful woman, and you knew she was a tad bit mean, but who wasn't?

Needless to say, you could barely contain yourself as you stood in front of the work facility, your palms sweaty as you held the doorknob. The thought of finally beginning a designing job next to one of— if not your favorite designers (not including Karl Lagerfeld, Miuccia Prada, or Vivienne Westwood) was almost a dream come true. If it wasn't for the fact that woman was the most viscerally heinous person you've ever encountered!

Before you could even peer your silly little head into the building you felt someone shove you inside with their broad shoulder, scoffing obnoxiously loud as they made contact. And without even apologizing, the woman continued to plow through you, paying no mind to the fact you were carrying a thick binder filled with your precious designs. But you were no pushover, and couldn't help but almost curse them out—well not until you locked eyes on who just assaulted your shoulder.

Furrowing your eyebrows as you jolted your eyes at the woman, it didn't take long before your mouth was slightly ajar as the redhead with her occupational lenses peered through oval glasses. Rightfully, trembling at her cold gaze before she spoke, clearly about to tell you off on your first day.

"You should learn to move out the way, dear." She hastily spoke, her eyes softened just a smudge, before ripping her gaze from yours and continuing to strut away. How surprising you thought, usually all the horror stories you heard from ex-designers (that so happened to hook you up with the position you're in now) always ended their stories with Yunjin acting out in some hostile way. But she took that a lot better than you expected, maybe it wasn't going to be all that bad!

Before you could regain your composure after being knocked down by the redhead, you felt yourself getting shoved back down once more. Looking up you fixated your gaze on the woman standing over you, she apologized profusely, reaching out a helping hand. She was much nicer than Yunjin just by this base interaction, so you happily expected her hand as she pulled you back up. She explained that she was a fellow designer named Jasmine L/N, someone who worked directly under Yunjin and who helped her procure various items for the Creative Director.

She was surprised to learn that both of you had the same last names and continued to explain that 2 other designers under the house also had the exact same last name. After a small pleasant conversation, you both ended the interaction quickly as the clock continued to tick off the seconds. Giving her a courteous wave, you jogged over to the assigned meeting room to get introduced to the whole system and facilities in the company. It was a little extraordinary that it so happened that the person guiding you happened to also have the same last name, but it was a small world after all.

After the short tour ended, your escort assured you to get settled as there were no upcoming shows to prepare for. Since everything was underwhelming at the moment, it gave you enough time to explore a little more. Taking in all the twists and turns of the facility, it was unexplainable and huge, but not unexpected. Each room was tailored completely to Yunjin's aesthetics or what she found was exceptionally unique, and her office specifically was eye-catching. The walls leading to her office were plastered with photos and awards congratulating her for her success and everything else of that sort.

If it was anyone else, you most definitely would've thought they were stuck up to pridefully display everything like this, but it was somehow different with her. You were in awe that she could achieve so much, that your hands mindlessly rubbed the plaque with her name beautifully etched onto the gold plating. It didn't take long for you to gain attention from a certain someone, may I say, the owner of that plaque you were caressing so gently.

"That tag is beautiful isn't it?" The redhead spoke up, slinging your head over your shoulder in surprise, I mean, you shouldn't be all that shocked since this was next to her office but you were still a little scared.

"Gah! Oh my— you scared me!" You spit out, quickly removing your hands away and tucking them behind your back as you rotate your body towards her.

"Haha, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that." Yunjin smugly laughed as she brought up her hair to tie it into a beautifully messy bun.

"No— it's my fault I shouldn't have been lurking around here." You sheepishly admit as you pull your hands from your back to fidget with your fingers embarrassingly. Only making her chuckle louder as she examined your body movements, she would've probably scared you off by now, but by some odd circumstance, she didn't.

If it wasn't for your preconceived negative notion that she was absolutely terrifying, you probably would've found her endearing by the way she giggled, whilst pushing up her glasses to not falter it for its original position. Honestly, everything about her was charming in some odd sense, like how she came closer to you to explain how she won each and every one of these achievements by herself. Undoubtedly cocky, but it was so flattering the way Yunjin carefully explained everything to your basic understanding, she was full of herself for sure. (Or maybe she was just trying to impress a certain someone.)

"Oh and this one," Yunjin pointed at one of the brightly colored magazines framed perfectly on the wall, which had her face and a full body shot plastered smack dab in the middle. "This was for a photo shot for 'Dazed', not one of my personal favorites as they only really cared for my facial aesthetics not my work." She mumbled memories of all those discouraging discussions about her becoming a designer flooded her mind.

"I mean, usually when someone's work is beautiful, the apple doesn't stray that far from the tree doesn't it?" You mindlessly commented as your eyes fixated on her portrait, and back to the old designs she created during her high school days. "Your works really inspired me to be a creative myself, I used to be so insecure about producing my own line for the longest time, and seeing someone my age do it really put me out of my shell. Y'know?"

Yunjin turned her head, just enough to meet your gaze with a side eye, you honestly thought she was offended, but that was far from the truth. She saw herself in you, a young designer so eager to work without any real goal but only their passion inside of them, it was incredible. Yunjin was swayed that anyone, let alone someone who showed so much promise, took inspiration, from her?!

"Oh." She stuttered as she snatched her gaze away from your face, looking towards an old portrait from high school sophomore year, the year she was thrusted into the industry. "Thank you... Y/N was it?"

"You know my name?— Oh, and yes that's it."

"I think you should get back to work." She mumbled, turning her head sharply away from you, her cheeks burning ferociously red, but she was Huh Yunjin, she couldn't show any of this, let alone to her subordinate. "Oh okay!" You chirped as you backed away from her, wondering about her sudden change of emotions.

✄

It had been months since that interaction, and to be honest, you haven't seen her ever since then. Particularly due to the fact that she suddenly booked multiple shows in the span of a few months to launch her spring collection mainstream. Though it was extremely exhausting, to say the least, you enjoyed working with your colleagues, and the fact you could finally produce physical copies of your designs. Your designs were so well loved that you started to get lost in your craft, working day and night tirelessly to make the most breathtaking pieces.

So this day wasn't any different, you had slept on the faculty room's couch and was abruptly woken up by someone aggressively tapping your shoulder and calling out your name. "L/N... L/N? L/N!" A woman shouted in your ear, springing you awake, a little disoriented since you just woke up in an unfamiliar place you usually wake up to.

"You're finally awake, I got you coffee." The woman said next to your ear, jerking your head to the side to find you were at eye level with your boss who was leaning down to your sitting level. "AHH! You scared me!" You squeal, dumbfounded by how casual she was about the fact you slept so soundly in her facility. This undoubtedly caught the attention of fellow designers as you could feel some eyes peer towards you and Yunjin.

"I apologize, take this to wake you up," Yunjin suggested as she handed you a tall cold Spanish iced latte, in contrast to the fact she brought the others a small shot of americano. As quickly as she handed it to you, she scurried away back to her office, as if she just completed the most rigorous quest of her left. It hadn't taken long for everyone to crowd around you, wondering what just happened as Yunjin hated interacting with her subordinates let alone going out and by everyone's coffee.

As you all converse, you were quickly shut up by the fact that someone brought up the Milan Fashion Week deadline that was inching ever so closely. Mentally cursing yourself out, as you only completed a small minority of the pieces you were working on before crashing out on the couch. You lugged yourself up and over to your workstation, quickly pulling up the designs on your computer as a reference. Forgetting to close your other tabs as you were too unbothered to care about that at the moment.

You scanned through your material checklist and back at the dress you were designing to figure out if you needed to grab some more fabrics. It so happened that you were out of some decorative textiles, and needed to haul your way to the back to grab some. As you do so, you pull on your headphones and jam out to some tunes, ignoring your coworkers looking bewildered at their computer screens. Whatever they were looking at was none of your business as you needed to finish your dress quickly.

"Such procrastinators gosh!" You mumbled to yourself, not batting an eye at the fact they were all stealing glances at their computer and then at each other. It wasn't until another coworker "James L/N" stood proudly in his seat, throwing his fabrics all over the place that it caught your attention. You tossed your headphones to hang around your neck and walked towards him, questioning why he was acting out irrationally.

He responded by grabbing his monitor screen and turning it towards you, with a message that was sent on the company's group board displayed brightly. You titled your head as you read it out loud, with others eagerly awaiting your reaction.

"Dear L/N,

I hope you enjoyed the coffee I brought, I want to tell you how I feel.

Would you like to grab a drink together after you're done?

- Huh Yunjin"

You were most definitely appalled as you continued to read, that the stoic creative director Huh Yunjin, was confessing her feelings. This was astonishing, the utter fact she'd like anyone, let alone her subordinate was a red flag in itself, but your coworker, James, was jumping around like a crazed bear.

"What the— James wait— You aren't the only one with that last name though." You spoke up, recalling the three other people with that last name, not including yourself of course. "Jasmine, Daniel, and Matteo..." Another designer spoke up, instantly shooting James down, as he sat back in his seat with a winded expression. You felt a bit bad about how defeated he looked but he was kind of a jackass, so even if Yunjin did like this loser out of anyone, you were glad he didn't think so.

Jasmine, the woman you first met, spoke over everyone, finding it uncomfortable why anyone would think this message was directed at her, as she was happily engaged and had known Yunjin for far too long. "It isn't mean dumbass," She shot a glare at everyone, wanting to make it dead clear, "Besides there's still 2 other people we need to check off, Matteo and Daniel."

After a lengthy discussion, a crowd of people, all of which consisted of the fashion designers, formed a circle in the break room to figure out who this designer was. You didn't speak up as you didn't find anyone but Jasmine suited for the pick. Matteo was stuck up, and cared strictly about others' personal opinions of him, Daniel on the other hand was almost about as bossy and uptight as Yunjin. Both of them were unlikely partners for Yunjin but to each their own.

You found this whole debacle irritating, yet you had an excuse to leave the conversation as you genuinely needed to go back and finish up all your pieces. You worked tirelessly, eating up your whole afternoon and even biting time into the night as you continued to work. Only being interrupted by your 3 other coworkers wondering if they'd be the perfect suitor for Yunjin. Thankfully Jasmine had enough time to yank them away and send one of the slackers back home to rest.

As the clock struck 10:30, you spent the next 6 minutes working and glancing at the two other people left in the building. Matteo and Daniel, who had been preparing themselves after work for your boss, it was kinda freaky, but you know what, you were beyond tired to care. And to be fair you were only still here to pack up your stuff and also see the both of them get brutally turned down.

"Ah, you three are still here?" The redhead questioned as she pushed herself out of her office, still distraught about what she had done prior. "You both should go home, it's far too late." Yunjin imposed as she shot them her iconic icy glare, without a hitch, they scurried away like mice.

"Ah L/N, are you heading home now?"

"Yup! Just packing up all my paper designs and I'll be out of here." You replied, trying to hide your joyous laughter while you watched both the boys pack up and leave the building.

"I'll drive you home."

"Oh alright! Thank you!"

The car ride was far more awkward than you'd originally expected, you both sat in silence with the radio playing softly in the background, with Google Maps speaking loudly to add some "spice" to the ride. Yunjin's eyes never faltered from the road, almost as if she was trying her utmost to not look at you.

"Thank you for all your hard work today Y/N, I know how difficult it is to pump out so many designs in such a short period." Finally breaking the silence she complimented how tirelessly you worked, while she gave you a glance and back at the traffic.

"Thank you Ms.Huh! Honestly it's nothing, I love working for you, it must be Ms.Huh who's having a hard day today—" Whoops, you didn't process her words fast enough to understand she was talking about your hard work and not about having a hard day.

"I'm so sorry, I meant that—" You stumbled over yourself trying to explain the situation, "What I was trying to say—" You stop yourself momentarily to handpick the perfect words to tell her. "It's just that you always seem so stressed and uhm..."

"I'm sorry Y/N." She cut you off.

"I'm so sorry," Yunjin spoke up pushing her head down onto the stirring wheel, the street light illuminating her blushing red cheeks.

"Oh no! It should be me apologizing Ms.Huh—"

"Please call me Yunjin, we're the same age after all."

"Yunjin— I didn't want to say this but, everyone was so curious about who you meant to send that message to, it seemed so serious. If you sent that to me I'd be so scared!" You admitted, fiddling with your hands as she lifted her head from the wheel and turned her head towards you. Yunjin was far too deep into what she did, that at this point she didn't care about what she was about to say next.

"Actually..."

"I meant to send that to you, Y/N L/N."

You turn your head towards hers as she blushes madly, her glasses resting on the tip of her nose, not bothering to push it back up to her eyes. It was all so clear now, that was your last name after all wasn't it? And she was talking about giving you coffee in the message, so why did you assume it would be anyone else?

"Oh!" You hiccuped, trying to decipher that dreadful look in her eyes, the anticipation killing her, awaiting what you would say next. "I.. Uhm... would you still like to grab a drink with me?"

✄

You arose from the plush comforter your head pounding from a clear hangover, the bright New York sunlight hit your head like a train. Everything was once again disorienting like when you awoke in the facility room, your surroundings were completely unfamiliar, and your body was covered only with a baggy sweater and your undergarments. Your body was sore and drowsy, scanning your surroundings everything was unfamiliar yet beautifully decorated with whites and greys.

"What the..." You continued to inspect the room, slowly moving to the edge of the bed, ready to leave until a familiar delicate hand yanked you back down. As if you were in a horror movie, you snapped your head at the woman, realizing it was that darn redhead again. Which added more questions in your head than answers, why exactly, are you in her house?

Replaying the memories in your head, you connected the dots, oh, you may-haps slept with your superior, and creative director of the fashion line you worked on. You weren't a drunkard nor a lightweight so how could you forget such a detail?

"Y/N, don't go— not yet." She groaned, clearly still tired from last night. (You both came back to her house after only a few drinks, the both of you somewhat drunk but one more plastered than the other, actually— you were practically wobbling under her trying to get in. She led you to the living room to sober you up, as you kept spewing some nonsense about how much you idolized her. Talking about how jealous you felt when everyone was claiming that message was meant for them, and how much you loved her the moment you set your eyes on her. She was amazing, and you kept reiterating that as she listened carefully, falling deeper for you as you continued to yap all the alcohol out of your system. Finally passing out in her arms for a few moments before jolting awake. Yunjin expresses to your mainly sober state how much your speech meant to her, and how she felt the same way. Cutting her off with short kisses around her cheeks and then to her lips. And the rest was history.)

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm just stretching." You lied, hiding your embarrassment as you leaned down to kiss her forehead. Her expression softened as you pulled away and began stroking her dark red hair A small smile filled her lips, just for a short while, before she dozed back to sleep at your touch. When she didn't look like she was about to maul someone, she was very much adorable.

"I'm gonna go get us some breakfast okay? I'll be back in a few minutes Yunjin."

"Mhm..." She mumbled, pushing her head back into the pillow as she fell deeper into slumber.

“Be right back Ms.Huh.”

She lifted her head back up, clearly a lot more awake than last time, registering the name you called her. “I said call me Yunjin.” She barked, offended by the change in honorifics, letting you tease her, before stroking her head once more, running your fingers through her hair. “My bad, Yunjin.”

#idol x female reader #idol x reader #female reader #gxg #girl group imagines #huh yunjin x reader #Le sserafim x reader #huh yunjin #Le sserafim imagines #yunjin x reader #huh Yunjin x you #huh yunjin x female reader #huh yunjin imagines #yunjin imagines

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deliciousangelfestival · 25 days ago

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The Heart Still Beating - 2 | Lloyd

Character: Lloyd Hansen x Female!Reader

Summary: After the heart transplant, Lloyd, the heartless killer, started to feel something—something unexpected and powerful that was tied to the fiancé of the heart’s donor.

Words Count : 2916

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , End

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Lloyd’s heart suddenly thundered, then clenched painfully. “Urgh!” He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath, but as he reached for the wall to steady himself, he slipped. Just before he fell, you caught him, one hand resting firmly against his chest. The pain subsided instantly, like his new heart had quieted under your touch.

He cursed under his breath. Why did the pain vanish when she touched his chest? Was it because of the memories of the heart's previous owner?

It reminded him of a colleague who could only fall asleep after hearing bedtime stories from a woman.

“Damn it,” he muttered, glancing away. “This heart’s making me weak. I can’t even kill anymore.” His voice was bitter, almost disgusted.

This is the first time you hear this kind of problem. Your eyebrows rose, taken aback by his words. "Are you actually saying the heart is stopping you from… killing people?”

Lloyd gave a short, dry laugh, his gaze darkening as he glared at you. “What, you think I asked for this? Your precious fiancé’s heart is in my chest, and it’s ruining me.” He sneered, “Must feel great for you, knowing he’s stuck here, with someone like me.”

Your jaw clenched, pain flashing in your eyes. “How dare you? You don’t deserve his heart. He was—”

Another sharp, pulsing pain hit him, cutting you off as Lloyd’s hand shot to his chest, wincing. “Urgh…” His expression shifted, as if he’d only just realized something. “Fine… fine,” he murmured, almost to himself, forcing his breath steady. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, alright? No more nasty words to her.”

Your eyes narrowed, bewildered. “Are you… talking to yourself?”

Lloyd’s gaze snapped back to you, rolling his eyes. “Think what you want.” Without warning, he took your hand and pressed it over his heart, his gaze unyielding. “Feel that? It’s your fiancé’s heart, beating. For you.”

You froze, your breath catching as you felt the steady thud against your palm. “Justin?” you whispered, tears threatening to spill.

Lloyd’s bitter expression softened as he watched you, something strange and unrecognizable creeping into his eyes. This unwanted melancholy clawed at him, a feeling he’d tried to bury.

You withdrew your hand, blinking back tears as you cleared your throat. “Come in.”

As he walked into your apartment, his eyes fell on the stacks of boxes lining the walls. Fragments of another man’s life, packed away, waiting for their final rest. He picked up a framed photograph: you and a man, both smiling against a backdrop of starlit skies. Justin.

Suddenly, an image flashed in his mind, clear and insistent. He whispered, “Luna.”

Your gaze snapped to him, voice tense. “Why did you say that name?”

He set down the photo, his face unreadable. “I… heard it. In a dream.” His brow furrowed, piecing it together. “It’s what you wanted to name… your baby, isn’t it?”

You glanced down, your hand moving instinctively to your belly as you whispered, “It is. He chose it when we found out she’d be a girl.” Your voice shook as you continued, “If it weren’t for that accident… he’d still be here.”

The mention of the accident sent a dull ache through Lloyd’s chest, something raw yet strangely familiar, though not as sharp as before.

“How did you even find out I was the… patient?” he asked, keeping his tone steady. As a covert agent, he wasn’t easy to track. His life, his work—it all existed in the shadows, far from public records.

Your expression hardened. “I bribed someone at the hospital for the information.” You held his gaze, unflinching.

Lloyd’s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise breaking through his hardened demeanor. Maybe you weren’t as innocent as you appeared after all.

After bribing for information, you found yourself following Carmichael, though he didn’t notice right away. When you finally confronted him, the sight of you—especially with your pregnant belly—caught him completely off guard.

Flustered and visibly unsettled, he tried to shake you off, but you raised your voice, not backing down, drawing the attention of several tall, intimidating figures nearby. They were built like Lloyd, all sharp eyes and stone expressions, now watching you with interest.

Finally, one of them approached. “Madam, please come inside.”

He escorted you into the building, leading you through grand halls lined with marble columns and ancient statues, giving the place a regal, castle-like feel. You were taken to a dimly lit room where an elderly man sat, his eyes scanning you from head to toe before shifting to Carmichael with a steely gaze. “Take her to him.”

When you recounted the encounter to Lloyd, he seemed genuinely shocked. “You met the boss?”

You shrugged, a faint smirk at his surprise. “Guess he got sentimental. Something about seeing a single mother… reminded him of his own upbringing.”

Lloyd scoffed, shaking his head. “Old man’s gone soft, I swear.”

Your gaze hardened as you looked at him, “You… you’ve got a second chance here. Don’t waste his heart—it’s not just some toy.”

Lloyd scoffed, shrugging. “What, so I’m supposed to be grateful now?”

Without responding, he turned toward the door, only to pause. His hand froze in mid-reach. You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Shh. It's to quiet.” He raised a finger, then his eyes widened. “Get down!” In one swift move, he yanked you to the floor, shielding you behind a couch, one arm protectively covering your stomach.

A faint breeze brushed past your neck, and with horror, you realized it wasn’t the wind but a bullet—whizzing inches from where you’d been standing.

Lloyd glanced at you, voice urgent. “You’ve got three minutes to hide. Can you get to your room?”

“Y-yeah?” you stammered, caught off guard.

“Good. Move,” he instructed, drawing his gun. You scrambled to your feet, clutching your belly, and darted towards your room.

“Stay put until I say so. Here.” He tossed a phone to you. “Hit number one—they’ll know what it means.”

Heart racing, you fled into the closet, squeezing yourself inside as you dialed the number, hands shaking.

From outside, muffled sounds of movement and sharp, metallic clicks told you the danger was still near. You held your breath as you listened, praying for silence to mean safety.

Meanwhile, Lloyd braced himself, greeting his would-be attackers with a cold, calculating stare. Five men stood before him, poised and armed. “Who sent you?” he demanded.

One of them smirked. “Not your concern.”

They moved in, circling him. Lloyd flexed his grip on his gun, his gaze hard and unyielding. As they lunged, he met them with ruthless efficiency, each blow calculated and relentless. Outnumbered five to one, they clearly underestimated him. He was brutal, merciless, and unrelenting, disarming them one by one.

Yet as they fought, he noticed something strange. They avoided striking his chest, almost like they were purposefully steering clear of it. And none of them seemed eager to land a fatal blow. Why would they hold back?

Lloyd’s frustration ignited into something more—a bloodlust sharper than he’d felt in years. The thought nagged at him: was this intense desire to protect you coming from his own heart? Or Justin’s?

Under his breath, he murmured, “You really did love her, didn’t you?”

In your bedroom, you flinched at every thud and crash, fear twisting your stomach. Silence fell, the air thick with suspense. Had he survived?

Then, the door creaked open, and Lloyd appeared, smirking. “Your savior is here.”

Relief washed over you, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

He extended a hand, helping you to your feet as you steadied yourself, still catching your breath. “Who were they?”

He glanced back at the empty room. The inturders has gone, his gaze dark. “I don’t know. But I know someone who does.”

💘💘💘💘

You and Lloyd now stood face-to-face with Carmichael, the man’s typically composed expression slightly fractured as he glanced between the two of you.

“Are you alright?” Carmichael directed his question to you, his eyes narrowing as if scrutinizing for signs of distress.

You exhaled, steadying yourself. “I’m fine.”

Lloyd scoffed. “Why are you asking her? I’m the one they came after.” He stepped closer, his voice darkening. “Who the hell are they? Some new group making waves?”

Adjusting his glasses, Carmichael replied, “You wouldn’t know them because they operate in an entirely different league.”

“The upper world?” Lloyd’s voice held a dangerous edge.

Carmichael nodded.

“What does that mean?” you asked, casting a nervous glance at Lloyd.

Lloyd didn’t want to tell you, but because of this damn heart he had, he felt compelled to share everything. “To make it simple, my job is in the underworld. I handle deeper, darker things than you could ever imagine. Meanwhile, the upper world is like kindergarten—mafia, gangsters, that kind of people.”

You swallowed, a chill creeping up your spine. “But mafias are still dangerous for people like me.”

Carmichael nodded in agreement. “She’s right. It’s a very real danger for her.” He turned to Lloyd, a strange resignation in his eyes. “They’re Mafia.”

Lloyd’s brow furrowed, a glint of anger flashing across his face. “I’ve got nothing to do with them.”

Carmichael held his silence a beat longer than usual, then said, “What they want is your heart.”

The words hit both you and Lloyd like a bullet. Your eyes widened as you exchanged looks, Lloyd’s jaw going rigid. He scoffed, disbelief giving way to anger. “What makes this heart so special?”

“Their leader needs it,” Carmichael explained, retrieving a file. He opened it, laying down a profile with a photo labeled Mr. Cicadas.

“This group,” he continued, “is an alliance between the Italian and Japanese mafias. And this man—Mr. Cicadas—is the head. The only donor who’s a 100% match is…” He paused, glancing at you with a rare hint of sympathy.

“Justin…” you murmured, your face going pale as the truth clawed its way to the surface. Lloyd saw the shock draining the color from your face and wrapped a steadying arm around you.

Lloyd’s tone was grim. “Let me guess. This heart was meant for him. But you gave it to me. Why?”

Carmichael met his gaze. “Our motto is clear: ‘Kill one person to save millions.’”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a half-smirk. “So, you wanted this insect guy dead—that’s why I got the heart instead?”

You never imagined your fiancé’s heart could hold such value. “Was that man really so evil?”

Carmichael nodded. “He doesn’t deserve to live. It’s a long story, but let’s just say that your fiancé was too good a man to lose his life to someone like Mr. Cicadas.”

On that day, three people were dying: Mr. Cicadas, who would do anything to stay alive; Justin, who was succumbing to his injuries from the accident; and Lloyd, who had been shot through the heart, unexpectedly accepting his fate. Three dying individuals connected by the same match of a heart.

But for Justin, there was no hope. In his final moments, he wished to donate his organs to help another, embodying a selfless desire to save a life.

Yet there was only one heart for two desperate souls. A heart is incredibly precious to anyone fighting for survival, and Mr. Cicadas didn’t deserve it. The choice became clear: it had to be Lloyd.

You felt your anger rise, bitter words forming before you could stop yourself. “And yet, how is he,” you gestured at Lloyd, “any better?”

“At least he wasn’t the reason your fiancé died.” Carmichael’s words hung in the air, like an accusation you could barely process.

“What?” Your voice cracked. “What did you just say?”

Carmichael’s jaw tensed. “Mr. Cicadas needed a transplant urgently, and your fiancé was the best match—healthy, young, and alive.” He trailed off as he saw the shock turn your expression hollow. “The car accident was planned.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a dark shroud. Your hands instinctively wrapped around your belly as the realization hit: Justin hadn’t died because of some unavoidable tragedy—he’d been hunted, killed, because of someone greeds. You felt the hot sting of tears, your voice quivering with grief. “He didn’t deserve any of this…”

Lloyd, sensing the pain radiating from you, placed a steady hand on your back, his own gaze shadowed by a strange sorrow that he’d not felt in a long time.

“They want it back now,” Lloyd muttered, a dangerous calm settling in his tone.

Carmichael’s mask slipped, revealing a flicker of rage. “That monster should have died when he failed to receive it. But the bastard’s still alive.”

Lloyd looked over in surprise; he’d never heard Carmichael curse, not with this level of disgust. It was clear Mr. Cicadas was worse than he’d imagined, a man who even the darkest operatives wanted dead.

His voice hardened, a quiet resolve in his words. “I have to stay alive, then.”

Carmichael stepped forward, voice low but firm, eyes blazing with determination. “Our boss left one message for you: ‘Do whatever is necessary to stay alive.’”

You gripped your stomach, thinking of Justin. Memories flashed—his warmth, his laugh. His life had been ripped from him, all to satisfy the greed of a man who, by all rights, should have been six feet under. Tears slipped down your cheeks as the truth sunk in, the ache of his loss twisting your heart in ways that words couldn’t convey.

Author's note: I put an Easter egg in this. Do you know which paragraph? 🤭

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#lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x reader #soft!dark lloyd hansen x reader #soft!dark!lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen x you #dark!lloyd hansen x reader #the grey man au

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whateverisbeautiful · 3 months ago

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♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#44: The Family Gifts (1.05)

I love that they have this scene take place in a souvenir shop. 😊 Rick already turns the whole world into a gift shop when it comes to finding things to gift to Michonne so it’s only fitting that he’d find the perfect thing to get her in this place.

But what's extra special is now Rick's history of getting Michonne gifts has expanded to thinking about gifts for the son she gave him too - with RJ being the ultimate gift for them both. And seeing these two converse as parents in this scene was super heartwarming 🥰...

The scene starts with Rick knocking on the shop's door and then they open it and have the cutest little look exchange before entering the shop. It’s so subtle but I love it. 😊 They’re in such a good, peaceful, lighthearted mood and I always love those moments where it’s so clear that on top of being husband and wife, Rick and Michonne really are best friends. And yes I got all that just from a quick playful look. 😋

They enter and when Michonne walks pass those touristy license plates she taps them with her stick and keeps walking. I love that when she hits the rack Rick immediately looks over at her wondering what that’s about. He looks like if the license plates did something to her then he's gonna have beef with them too lol.

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne says, “Never did like those” and I love that Rick immediately knows why as he says, “No 'Michonnes,' huh?” Michonne says, “Not even once” and I like that in TOWL we’re even just getting these tiny insights into the characters from the world before.

I know so many with unique names could relate to this license plate moment. And 'Michonne' really is such a unique and pretty name and uncommon as Okafor noted. 'Michonne' is also Rick’s favorite word. I’m convinced. 😌 And ever since this scene, my headcanon is that Rick, RJ, and Judith definitely work together to create some type of 'Michonne' license plate and gift it to her.

gif cred: @nerd4music

As Rick continues to look at the license plates he stops and sees one that says 'Junior.' And y’all, the second I saw the junior license plate my heart was already bursting knowing exactly where this was going.

I love that they make it a point to show that there are Rick and even Richard license plates available too but the one that catches his eye is 'Junior.' It just shows how Rick is already so proud that his son is his Junior. 🥲

And then my heart just does flips and leaps hearing Rick say RJ’s name for the first time as he so sweetly asks Michonne, “Is this a terrible gift to bring to RJ?” Y'all, I'm smiling and crying at the same time. 🫠 Like how precious is this. 😭

You just know on this road trip home Rick and Michonne have been talking a lot about their kids and I love that Rick is thinking about his son and wants to bring him a gift. Especially because, as I mentioned in an episode 4 breakdown, they have a book they're bringing to Judith so I'm sure Rick wants to make sure they have a gift for RJ too.

I knew after episode 4 we were going to be seeing Healthy & Alive Rick all through episode 5 and that was so clear in this scene. Cuz this is the real Rick right here. Being a whole father. Being his affectionate gift-giving self. I love to see it. 😌

gif cred: @kris-lulu

There’s also something so sweet about him wondering if it would be a 'bad' gift. It’s bittersweet because it’s a reminder that Rick hasn’t had a chance to know his son or what he'd like but it’s great knowing he soon will have the chance to learn it all.

Michonne smiles and then informs Rick that “No one has ever once called him Junior.” I love that when so many of us heard that we immediately decided that this means Rick will be the only one to call RJ 'Junior' and it’ll be their father/son thing. 👌🏽

gif cred: @krislulu

Rick says, “Ah okay” and puts the license plate back, and then Michonne smiles at him clearly finding him so cute in this moment and knowing the father of her child is the best man on earth.

And then she has the warmest kindest tone as she tells Rick, “You’re bringing yourself back. That’s more than enough.” I love this so much. 😭

gif cred: @kris-lulu

It's so touching that Michonne wants Rick to know he’s the gift. The gift that’s more than enough too. 🥹 Like truly their family is going to be so much more whole with his return.

The wording of 'bringing yourself back' also always makes me think of how he’s literally coming back but also he’s been acting like himself again, so it’s like Rick is bringing his true self back rather than burying it. And that’s also more than enough.

I love that Michonne is always reminding Rick of how cherished he is. And it’s also this reminder that him being with them is the best thing he can do. Just like when she said I only feel safe with you, Rick is again getting this confirmation that his presence is as needed and valued as his protection. 👌🏽

Rick says, “The Brave Man, huh?” and I like how this shows that Rick has been thinking a lot about who he is to his kids.

This got me thinking about how when Rick decided to die he had to surrender the idea of ever seeing his wife and daughter again. He accepted that all he’d ever have is the fading memories and just the honor of having got to love and protect them at all, even if for far briefer a time than he’d hoped. So now, it has to be pretty surreal for him to know he really will be back with them and with the son he wanted but didn't know he had.

gif cred: @nat111love

And if he’s at all worried if he’ll live up to his kids' expectations of him being The Brave Man, Michonne so wonderfully quells those doubts when she again so sweetly and sincerely says, “You are. More than ever.” 🥹🥹🥹

I know I’ve said it 1000 times but I adore the way Michonne believes in and uplifts Rick and this line right here might be my favorite example of that.

gif cred: @nat111love

I love how Michonne can always sense Rick's subtext and underlying feelings and then address them in the perfect way. Because she can sense that Rick is nervous about meeting his son for the first time and maybe worried about how it’ll go just showing up in his life after all these years. But Michonne saying this is reminding Rick that by choosing to come home, especially when he had been so convinced prior that he couldn’t and shouldn’t, is a brave thing and very commendable and he really is the great man his kids think he is.

It’s so precious too that Rick gets to see that it’s not just his kids but his wife who truly views him as The Brave Man. Like even tho Rick said last ep that he’s not the brave man, Michonne wants him to know their babies got it right with that title. 💯

And by pushing through all the fear that was keeping him chained to the CRM, Michonne thinks he’s the bravest he’s ever been for doing that. 🥹 I appreciate how Michonne and Rick find so many ways to say 'I love you' even without saying the three words directly. And this was 100% that. They really breathe life into each other with every encouraging word and gesture.

gif cred: @nat111love

As Michonne turns around we get even more adorableness as Rick spots a name bracelet and thinks what he thinks when he sees most any item, “this could be turned into a gift for Michonne.”

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

So being cute and sneaky trying to not get caught with the jewelry since he wants to surprise her with it later, he grabs the 'Michelle' bracelet and breaks it so that it becomes an M bracelet.

gif cred: @nat111love

Can my extra self break down all the reasons I adore this real quick? 😋

One; I absolutely love that because Rick notes every detail of Michonne he knows she’s missing her signature M necklace and so, as he’s always been so good at doing, he finds a way to essentially replace the one she lost.

Two; I love that Rick said if this place doesn’t have ‘michonne’ gifts he’ll find a way to make one.

Three; Something about him making the M bracelet on his prosthetic felt symbolic to me. He literally lost that hand because he’d choose being with Michonne over his own limbs. And now after doing everything he could to be with her, he has her and is still finding ways to give her every good thing he can.

Four; if I'm not mistaken, I believe it was said by Danai that the initial M necklace was from Michonne's mom and so I love that Michonne’s two M pieces of jewelry came from two of the people that love her most. 🥲

Five; After all those years of Michonne wearing that wedding ring with her necklace, I love that her husband is now with her and getting her new jewelry…and he’ll also be giving her some even more meaningful jewelry by the end of the ep. Amen. ��

Six; It’s just so romantic and thoughtful. It’s so Rick to do this. And I love all these heartfelt gestures that add to Richonne’s epic love story.

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Rick pockets the bracelet, waiting for the right moment to gift his wife. Michonne then says, “He might be ready for this” as Rick turns around and sees Michonne holding a hatchet, similar to one of Rick's signature weapons in TWD. I adore that she saw that weapon and was like this would be a good fitting gift for Rick’s mini-me. 😋

And then something I always appreciate so much is hearing Rick ask, “Is that who he is?” I think it’s so sweet and such a sign of what a good dad Rick is. Of course, he’d be flattered if his son followed in his footsteps but the question shows that he also wants to know who RJ is regardless of him. You just know he’s prepared to love RJ whether he’s like him or not and I just love that he wants to know all about what RJ is like.

And then it’s great that Michonne gets to tell him just how much she meant it when she said their kids are some Richonne kids when she says, “Judith has a sword. They’re us.” Hearing her say their kids are her and Rick never fails to elate me. 🥰 It’s such a true statement.

I love imagining that now that they’ve reunited Rick has got to see firsthand that Judith doesn’t only have a sword, she’s a whole pro with the sword just like her mom. 😌

I love how proud Michonne is of her kids. She raised them to be survivors while still giving them a childhood. And seeing Rick and Michonne talk as RJ and Judith’s parents in this scene was everything. The best mom and dad. 💛

But they’re also the best husband and wife and I love how that got to take center stage in TOWL.

So after this lovely parents moment, Rick is back to reminding us why he’s Husband of the Year ever year when he spots the absolute perfect minty fresh gift to give his wife.

And y’all, I gotta do a part two because this next part has Rick saying one of my favorite things of all time and it needs its own post. 😇

But as for this moment, Rick and Michonne are such a gift to each other. And their kids are such a gift to them. And this scene is such a gift to me. 🥰 And honey, because we’re spoiled rotten with this miniseries, this gift of a scene just keeps on giving with what comes next. 👌🏽😌

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.05 #RIR (44)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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johnpriceslamb · 11 months ago

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hi there! i really liked your arthur with a feminine gf fic and id love to see more like that! could i maybe request a fic with a cute girly reader who is a friend of mary-beths and when mary-beth brings her to camp she spots arthur and literally goes heart eyes for him🥺 maybe whenever shes visiting camp arthur always finds an excuse to go over and talk to them just so he can see her aww! and its so obvious to everyone in camp and they all tease them over how sweet on each other they are🥰

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌 ! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

꒰ Arthur Morgan has his eyes on a certain hyper-feminine doll .꒱

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! Mary-Beth being a giant tease and a flirt to reader . hyper-feminine! reader . fem! reader . many pet names in use . awkward-written ending . quick luv stori . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than characters mentioned below . reader has a dada and a mama . 2.3k words

the sounds of pearl tipped necklaces rattling together and ribbon-laced dresses ruffled in the precious spring breeze, paired with soft giggles and a nervous coo.

A stifled babble escapes her lips,

“Am I um.. even allowed to be here?” [name] meekly stammers. She holds onto her friends hand, her floral patterned dress was hitched slightly over her knees with her other hand, in reluctancy in which; to get her newly bought dress dirty from the ground they treaded upon.

She’s heard of people trespassing their gangs property, and much to her dismay— she may end up as dead as roadkill. A small shiver goes down [name]’s spine at the thought of that.

Mary-Beth had been wanting to show her a couple of her new books she’s bought in st. Denis— thus the excitement pouring from her aura as she drags her across the Van Der Linde’s property.

“Don’t worry yer pretty lil’ head off. I’ll just tell em’ yer with me. What could possibly go wrong?” She pats her shoulder with a reassuring smile. A slight grimace etched amongst [name]’s face as her bow-tipped shoe is coated with a bit of mud when she took another quiet step.

[name] doesn’t look convinced at all. The grip on her hand grows a bit tighter which signified her nerves playing in. Mary-Beth always teased her for being such a worry-wart.

“..Um, well, a lot actually.” [name] prattles on.

Mary-Beth rolls her eyes.

“Hush, now.”

She does what she’s told. To shut up in a non sugar-coated manner. The aroma of many boiled meat and vegetables in a pot comes hitting her nose as soon as she enters the area. She can’t help the little nose crunch as the smell hits too abruptly for her to even know. She’s about to question Mary-beth what that smell was—

“Ah! Mr. Pearson’s cooking again.”

[name] doesn’t know wether to ask her whom this Pearson guy was, or to stay quiet. She chooses the latter. A slight tilt to her head as her ribbon-tipped hair slightly falls down her shoulder out of habit when she’s confused.

This camp was interesting, she thought. [name] could only hope that there aren’t much people. She shyly hide behind Mary-Beth’s figure as they treaded closer to her spot in camp.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Unfortunately for [name], there was a certain amount of people that made her feel uncomfortable. She resists the urge to complain, biting her tongue to keep the words in. However, there were a few she’s met that she can’t help but admire. Karen and Tilly, their names were. Sweet girls they were, she deemed.

She sat upon a small patch of grass, her hands fiddling with a few strands of the everlasting green out of boredom, listening to Mary’s voice as she spoke.

In Mary-Beth’s hand adorns a romance-genre book, she’s reading the lines out loud. [name]’s cheeks become a darker hue at a certain line she verbally says— resulting to the both of them quietly giddily giggling.

“I cannot believe he’d actually do that to her,” Mary-beth comments as she fawns over the characters. [name] eagerly crawls towards her, re-reading the line she’s just read out.

“I thought he liked Sarah though?” [name] squeaked.

“Same!” Mary was far too happy to be able to share her love for books with another. She ends herself with a soft sigh, “I reckon he’ll leave her in a span of a click.”

“Mary?”

“Mhm?”

“Who.. Who’s that?”

This gets the girls attention. She quirks a brow, looking at the direction of [name]’s lithe finger. It’s not easy to hold back a smirk curling onto her lips.

“You pointin’ to that cowpoke over there?” Mary grins.

[name]’s doe eyes were practically planted with hearts, and she’s stammering like a tiny lamb, “I—I um.. uh.. I was just..”

“He was just starin’ at me, so I um.. nevermind—”

She cuts her off, “—His names Arthur,” Mary teases the sweetheart, “Lookit chu’!”

[name] could only shrink, “I.. shut up would you?”

“Whenever you swear it’s like looking at a yapping puppy.”

[name] fully turns around, the back of her head facing the burly cowpoke whom curiously stares at the pair of girls from afar.

“‘shut up’ is not a swear word, Mary-Beth!”

“Is so!” Mary-Beth argues back. She doesn’t mention the fact that Arthur’s slowly creeping up from behind.

“Shut up doesn’t have any implications of vulgar words now does it?” She puffs out her cheeks. Mary-beth can’t suppress the small smirk planted on her freckled face. The man stalks towards them closer, in a lazy manner.

“It so does! It’s considered rude and disrespectful— which is quite literally the definition of a curse word.” Closer.

“Mhm, even so it all really depends on context—” Closer.

“—Now how ‘bout you just caaalm down, sweetheart?” She drags the ‘a’ in calm to further on annoy her. Mary-Beth teases the dolled-up sweetheart, playing with her ribbons by twirling it around her finger.

[name] broods, huffing as she quiets down and crosses her arms like an itty-bitty brat. Goodness was she cute! Mary giggles.

Suddenly, the freckled-face darling stands up from her spot, eliciting a tiny ‘where you going?’ from [name].

“Just gonna get another book! I’ll be back in a second.” She cheekily trots away.

[name] could only tilt her head at her unusual behaviour.

Only for her to freeze up immediately at a quiet rumble of a man’s voice from behind—

“Mary-Beth’s been botherin’ you, I assume?”

[name] shyly turns her head around— wispy lashes fluttering as she stands up awkwardly to match his height— barely even. A whole foot taller than she was.

She fiddles with her fingers, before quietly nodding. It’s obvious to Arthur that she was a shy little thing. So with that information, he’s gentle in his approach, his tone is more softer.

“Got a name, little missy?” He asks. Oh, his voice.

“[name],” she shyly babbles. He was certainly NOT bad looking. She’s so, so so shy. “And you are..?”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

Despite already knowing his name, she can’t help but admire how his southern drawl drags.

“‘s nice to meet you, mister Morgan,” She meekly says.

“Just Arthur.”

“Oh- sorry.” She stammers.

Arthur can’t help the lazy grin on his face.

“No need to be sorry,” He hums. “Mary-Beth’s friend?”

“Best friend,” She corrects him with a tiny smile.

“Ah.” Despite the silence that continued on, it was somehow comforting around them. Guess his dim tone and sweet intentions made her feel like a comforted little bunny snuggled inside a warm burberry blanket.

Arthur’s eyes size her up and down. He doesn’t comment her shyness, rather her appearance. It was like looking at a live porcelain doll.

He can’t help but question, “You from Saint Denis, lil’ - missy?”

That pet name makes her shy.

“Mhm,” She fully looks at him. She has to tilt her head just to look at him. Her hands were behind her back, and she rocks on her platforms.

“Mm.. Figured.”

“Oh? How so?” She curiously quirks a brow.

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You look like a right tulip, missy.”

[name] almost lets out a soft giggle at his teasing. Her cheeks feel warmer, as do her nose and the tip of her dainty ears. A tulip?

“It’s the attire, is it not?” [name] leans back on the souls of her black bow platforms, tinkering those wispy lashes at him.

Gosh, what he’d do to just.. kiss those squishy cheeks of hers.

“Mhm. ‘S all frilly and.. so..” Arthur trails on. He mindlessly fiddles with the folded gossamer lines attached to her light pink dress. She allows him to, can’t help but also allow his scent to invade her nose— smoke and.. gunpowder. A large cry from her sweet vanilla scented perfume sprayed on her neck.

They’re both cut off by Mary-Beth strolling in with her other books. That cheeky, little smile she sent to Arthur makes a vein pop in [name]’s head, realising why she left so quickly.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

It was her second time visiting the camp-site.

From her previous experience, she figured that it wasn’t all that bad.. just ignore some folks.

[name] adorns a pink puff-sleeved ruffled dress with a simple pearl necklace— a bit similar to her previous outfit. From her giddy stance, it looked like she was waiting for Arthur, and not Mary-Beth.

Her smile even becomes brighter when she sees him nearby. And quite frankly, Mary-Beth has had enough of being answered with silence and shy eye-contact from afar. It was cute, yes, but it was becoming frustrating to bear.

“—And Johnathan allows her to wear his deceased wife’s ring! How absurd.” Mary-Beth squints her eyes at her response.

“Mhm,” [name] mindlessly hums, staring at Arthur.

“…He also ate a raw fish.” She tests.

“Mmm.”

“..He’s tap dancing.”

“That’s nice.”

She groans, poking the girl, “Are you even listening to what I’m saying right now?”

“Uhuh.” [name] unconsciously fiddles with the ends of her dress. She’s still staring at his direction. Doe eyes expand abnormally larger at the sight.

The girl in front of her droops. But pipes up again to get her attention.

“Arthur really likes flowers.”

That gets her attention. [name] immediately whips her pixie-sized head towards her with a tiny ‘ooh?’ Just the mere mention of his name makes her tummy flutter and giddy.

“You’re a real sucker for him ain’t ya?” Mary coos and giggles, nudging her small arm.

[name] shyly shrugs, “H—He’s nice m’kay? I can’t help it, I like nice guys..”

“To you,” She continues, “To you, he’s nice. To others he’s an absolute.. menace.”

“I’m thinking.. He has a real soft spot for ya,” She winks.

[name] could only scoff, “We’ve only met once, ‘Bethy.”

“He’s a real sucker for them frills and bows. He sees a pretty girl like you and he’s all lamb-like. Stumbly on the legs and stuttery on the mouth.” Mary teases, “And your one pretty girl, [name].”

“You think I’m pretty?” [name] sweetly swoons at her words.

“Darling, you’re quite literally the cutest girl i’ve ever met!”

“Marryyy…” [name] softly whines at her constant fawning, “You’re very pretty too, y’know.”

“Huuush,” Mary-Beth giggles and smooches her cheek. Sweet girls.

Suddenly, that cheeky little grin comes crawling onto her face. [name] tilts her head, weary and meek. She’s up to something.

“..Wh..what?”

“Your boyfriend’s behind you.”

“Boyfriend??? Now, what in the world are you—” [name] suddenly becomes quiet as she turns her head around and makes eye contact with Arthur. He gives a shy smile to both of the ladies, a sheepish expression on his face.

“I’ll leave you two be~” Mary-Beth stands up and cheekily skips away.

Silence surrounded the two.

“Hi, Arthur.” It was like looking at two teenagers in a puppy love.

“Hello, [name].”

Her heart speeds up. She shyly looks down at the ground, unsure of what to say. Despite this being their second time interacting, she can’t help the meekness flooding in her system.

“I’m startin’ to wonder if yer clothes are strictly pink-only.” He gestures to her short little dress.

She giggles softly, “I do have a few non-pink clothing y’know.” [name] is comfortable enough to peer at him through those damn wispy lashes. Puckered lips, cherubic-like cheeks, and those puppy eyes.

“I wouldn’t believe that,” He lets out a bent arm towards her for her to take gently and stand up. [name] does so, standing to her full height with her pixie-like hands holding onto his arm like an elderly couple.

“Mind a stroll?” He asks with a gentle, soft tone.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” She pipes up.

And there they went off.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[name] was getting ready.

This time, she wasn’t there to visit Mary-Beth. She was here to visit Arthur.

More so because of his request of her to come back soon. If she were to be a puppy, her tail would be wagging as quickly as the speed of light. She was giddy at his request.

This was… the umpteenth time they’ve interacted with each other. Quite literally, everyone knew they’d get together sooner or later.

She adorns a white, cotton-like ruffled dress with a simple heart shaped necklace. On her head, she wore a pretty little bonnet.

As she approaches the location, she can’t help the sweet smile on her face as she sees Arthur coming towards her direction again. His hair was simple— a bit neater than before and his usual black vest outfit, with no grime or dirt anywhere.

“Hi,” She waves giddily.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He allows her tiny hands to come and place themselves near his bicep. He bends his elbow a bit near his figure to allow her come closer to his stature. He makes a mental note to be more careful around her. The bonnet on her head catches his attention.

He murmurs a soft ‘cute..’ underneath his breath, as he leads her away to take a little stroll around a pretty little meadow.

“How was your day, hm?” He asks.

“Good,” She shyly replies, “Daddy’s doing okay now. He’s not as sick as he was a week ago.” His heart softens.

“Ah. That’s good.”

“How about you? How was your day?” She asks with a glimmer in her eyes.

“Decent at best.” He replies with a slight grunt, gently pushing her away from a small puddle he can see that’s formed on the ground. Doesn’t want her shoes to get messed up from the dew-dropped floor. He’s genuinely thinking of just picking her up.

“How’s yer ma and yer pa doing?”

“Good and good,” She happily smiles, very happy that he’s asking about her family. Her doe eyes light up at a pretty pink wild flower, a smirk etched on Arthur’s face as he sees that cute little expression of hers.

A soft ‘huh.’ escapes his lips, he stops suddenly. Arthur’s blue eyes sizes her up and down, only realising just now—“You’re not wearing pink.”

[name] looks up at him, itty-bitty smile, “Told you I don’t have just pink coloured clothing.”

He snorts at her answer, “Damn brat, you are.”

“Your brat.”

“Yeah. My brat.”

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gladiatorcunt · 4 months ago

Text

- # 🎰 All or Nothing (Ace in the Hole) !!

cw: afab!reader, breeding, implied murder, inaccurate fallout au (vault inspired by Fallout 76 bc i just wanted one mention of appalachian horror vibes), reader lowkey has a old man fetish (mentions of age gaps though no specific men are mentioned), childhood best friends to strangers to lovers (forcibly), future extreme dubcon, fallout typical sexism and expectations & creepy behavior (attempted grooming (?)), biblical undertones, ambiguous time period, implied southern setting & characters, unedited

1k event / commissions

It’s been so quiet for ages now, deathly silent as if everyone in the world was perfectly sound asleep. Your world consists of metal tunnels buried deep underground, a myriad of dark rooms that are meant to simulate the life you’re supposed to have on the surface. A cafeteria, where there’s hearty chuckles and playful ribbing over food even astronaut’s would have turned their noses up at. Piles of meat the same color as a fresh corpse, slightly moldy cheese and bread on the days the ego maniac people in charge are feeling fancy.

Green Houses, meeting rooms, infirmarys, kitchens, breeding rooms bedrooms, you truly have it all in vault 426. Jewel of the Texas Commonwealth. Even the howling coming from above like a hailstorm can be soothing when you have nothing else to listen to. They say your name when your back is turned, when they know you can’t venture out to see them. The temptation has driven people mad before, it will again. Right now, you wander through the vault searching for any sign of life. Yesterday you were arguing with your Ma over what she had done, hitching your wagon to one of the few unclaimed men your age. Now you were wishin’ on stars the elders used to talk about seein’ that you would peek around the rusting corner to find her waiting. You don’t want to wonder why there’s blood on the wall, varying between bright and darker shades of red.

Not a single peep from the man you were meant to marry, ‘your last chance at a proper purpose’ Pa had said. This vault wasn’t strongly steered in the direction of being a hive for breeding, but in these uncertain times more pairs of hands ready to rebuild the world were more than encouraged. Seeing as this bubble of refuge from the acid sky was so precious, every life counts. You knew that future would be yours someday, and you didn’t really mind. It got boring occasionally in the vault, knitting the same garment again and gossiping with your Ma’s friends about the same subjects. Maybe a cock in your cunt would settle your nerves, caring for a baby would be a task that would never end.

The wedding was supposed to be today, at noon on the dot. You overslept, panicking when your kitschy alarm clock didn’t rouse you from your dreamless sleep. It wasn’t until you zipped up your blue and yellow suit and tip toed outside of your room that you truly felt afraid. What reason would you have had to feel the uncomfortable emotion before? Life was so serene and idyllic nestled in the dirt, your vault a poor man’s sword in the stone. An intoxicating comfort zone that you cared more about staying in than fighting against, though there whispers from dwellers who felt otherwise. Your childhood friends, Patrick and Art, who you have drifted apart from over the years.

It was childish, your past feelings of jealousy, it wasn’t hard for them to become the most eligible bachelors in the community. There were only a handful of single young men left these days, or your only option was a old timer who had already broken in quite a few wives. They have the chipped belts and rough hands to prove it, you’ve gotten a rush of fluid in between your thighs when you lie awake and think about it for too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too terribly awful if you got saddled with a stern older man, some beaten down part of your brain begs for it. Your Pa’s buddies used to say that they would bet good money on tight your velvet grip would be.

There were many invitations to sit in on their blackjack games left unanswered in your Ma’s nightstand, under brass lock and key.

But to see your friends be giggled and fawned over made your stomach churn, so you pushed them away and focused on living as any good dweller would. Preparing to spend your years with your lips frozen in a smile and your holes split open around wrinkly skin, your shape molded by your husband. If you could’ve known that that would only make more determined to prove their toughness to you, that they would be the hands clasping pearls around your neck and slamming their dicks into your untouched flesh.

“Aw, hell-” A deep voice gasps and grabs ahold of your fore arms, wrestling you into an abandoned bedroom as you walk past.

You squawk, flapping your arms around in an effort to fight. Then you see him, Art, smiling gently and reaching out to cup your tear covered cheek. His other hand is free, which means that the man restraining you has to be Patrick. Where one is, the other will he close behind. There’s a saying about smoke and fire, and you hear the crackling embers as Art gingerly slides his other hand around your neck. A new fangeled set of pearls, hard won and all yours. Call it an engagement present.

“There you are, Angel Face, we were so damn worried about you.” Art coos, the ‘damn’ hissed in a way that gives off a ‘I still haven’t got used to being allowed to swear’ impression.

You think he could the be the angel, a scythe discarded in favor of a well used hatchet lying on the floor. His blood splattered curls call to you, or the absurdity of the situation must be sinking in and overpowering your ability to accept reality. Of course you had sensed their hungry eyes burning holes into your soul, yes you had heard the shuffling and muffled shouts outside your door. The way it would creak open when you were believe to have succumb to slumber. You don’t feel bored, and that’s enough of a thrill for you to recognize where your new place in the food chain is. The bottom.

“I don’t- I- What’s goin’ on? Where is everybody?” You ask, stupid and content to be their lover in distress.

Patrick readjusts his hold on you and wraps his arms fully around you, spinning you around to come face to face with him. If you thought Art looks drenched in blood, Patrick appears to be made of it. There’s lightning in his eyes, a phenomenon you’ve only heard and never seen. But this must be what it’s like, electrifying and God given. You’re stained now, no doubt about it, visibly and in your spirit.

“They went nuts, like a bunch of rabid dogs.” He grunts. “We had to defend ourselves, had us out here runnin’ around like headless chickens because you were gone.”

You weren’t brought up to know much, except that animals will be animals and man reacts accordingly. Patrick’s words make about as much sense as anything ever could, and you’re desperate to believe whatever yarn they have to spin you. Art nods and saunter up behind you. He wetly pecks you on the cheek, his lips ‘Smack!’ing the plump skin as he pulls back. You gasp and they share a foreboding laugh, shoving you further down a long dusty hallway where you can pretend that nothing bad has ever happened to you. That your Virgil and Dante followed after you with innocent intent.

“Get ‘em in the stirrups, Pat. Need these legs spread nice and wide. Don’t we, sugarpie?”

Your heart drops and floats back up at a jackrabbit’s pace, “W-what?”

Your look over your shoulder is perfectly timed, your hair framing your face like a pre-war Hollywood starlet. The kind that could cry at the drop of a hat and deep throat a stuffy executive’s cock in one go. Simmering heat pools in your belly, every circle of hell seemingly setting themselves aflame in your body. And while you know they wouldn’t dare seriously terrify you, they would probably get a kick in their pants if you let a sliver of fear slip. They’re men who no longer have a societies rules to wear as if they were costumes after all, perfectly chiseled faces and painted masks.

Offering you a marriage license so they plant you in a gilded cage, but Midas ghosted his fingers along your roots years ago. When you stumbled in on two boys playing a game that used to be popular in the pre-war days, a yellow-green fuzzy ball bouncing on a wired net racket. You giggled when an elder scolded them for staging their challengers match in the hall. And with the sound of a bell, the walls came tumblin’ down.

Patrick’s grin writes your name on the dotted line, “Our pretty lil’ cock socket, we’ll repopulate in no time at all.”

They had already stolen your wedding outfit that same day way back when, slim pickings have to be snatched up in this dog eat bitch world. But they were something far above dogs with malleable forms and a blunter bite, they were opportunists and God always has his eye on those who can seize what he provides.

The House always wins.

- 2024, do not cop/translate/feed my work to ai

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stellar-haikyuu · 1 month ago

Text

orange ☆ ennoshita chikara x reader

synopsis: reader is karasuno's second-year manager. during one of their morning trips to a tokyo training camp, something heart-fluttering with ennoshita happens. based on the song "orange" by spyair. details: fluff, ~1.4k words, gn! reader. i referred to characters based on how the reader would probably address them! takes place sometime during the season 2 tokyo training camp arc. warnings: none!

“I will spread my wings and take off straight ahead, Up to those beautiful orange morning skies. There’s only a second left, give me just one more, I beg — Every moment is precious to me like nothing else. I know…”

Although you normally hated waking up at the ungodly hours of the morning, you still buzzed with excitement as you stood in front of the rented school bus.

You’ve lost count of how many training camps Karasuno has attended now, but each time, you see the team reach new heights. Playing against Tokyo powerhouses truly pushed the team further.

“Are all the members here?” Shimizu asks, walking up to your right. You do a quick headcount, scanning the endearing mix of sleepy and excited boys. “Yes, all twelve are present.”

Shimizu nods and turns back to Hitoka, who is frantically running through a checklist. You chuckle at her diligence.

“It’s alright, Hitoka-chan,” you reassure the nervous first-year manager.

“B-but, senpai! It’s- I can’t- the first aid kit,” Hitoka stammers, clutching her clipboard. You look over the checklist Hitoka held and see that the first aid bag is the only item left uncrossed.

Hitoka spins her head around to inspect each bag pile in the driveway. Some of the boys who notice the first-year’s conundrum ask her what’s wrong.

You’re about to help Hitoka with her search, but that’s when you notice where the first aid bag is.

“Um, Hitoka-chan?” You can’t hide the giggle from your voice. Shimizu locks eyes with you, wearing an amused expression.

“Yes?!” Hitoka whips around immediately.

“You might want to look at the bag on your shoulder.”

Hitoka blinks for a moment before she looks down. She promptly falls to her knees, burying her face in her hands. This takes the entire team by surprise, causing even the sleepy members to startle.

“It was with me this whole time! I can’t believe this- I’m so sorry! I should be more careful and aware, I caused you guys to worry for no reason and, and-”

“Take it easy, Hitoka-chan.” You pat her back. “And just in case it did end up missing, there are always nearby convenience stores and pharmacies for supply runs.”

Hitoka quietly wails in frustration, then shoots her head up with determination shining in her eyes. “Okay! I promise to be more observant!”

You and Shimizu exchange another look, sharing a soft laugh. “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” the third-year says warmly. “Now let’s help sensei and coach load all the bags.”

“Alright, everyone. Last chance for a bathroom break,” you announce to the team, barely suppressing your laughter as you see a few of them visibly consider if they need to go.

After helping Takeda-sensei ensure that nothing was left behind in the parking lot, you realize that you’re the last student to board the bus.

As you step on, you scan the seats. Hitoka and Shimizu are paired up front. Right, it’s their turn to sit together today.

You check the line of single window seats, but all of them are occupied, leaving you confused.

Wait, they always leave one empty for one of the managers…

You find it a little odd that Tanaka and Nishinoya are occupying the single seats in front, totally knocked out. But, whatever, you can take the back seat-

“Would you like to sit beside me?”

Startled, you turn to see Ennoshita looking up at you with a sleepy smile.

“Huh?” you blink.

He pats the empty seat beside him. “No one’s sitting here. Plus, you’ll be right behind Shimizu-senpai and Yachi-san.”

Hitoka looks up at the mention of her name. “Oh! Senpai, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you didn’t have a seat left.”

You ruffle her hair gently. “It’s okay, Hitoka-chan. Don’t worry about it.”

Shimizu turns to them and puts a hand on Hitoka’s shoulder. “Yes, she’ll be fine next to Ennoshita.” Her gaze lingers on you for a moment. A subtle but knowing expression crosses her face before she turns away.

What did that mean?

You sit beside Ennoshita, feeling a flutter in your stomach. You’re used to his presence, but being this close feels different.

“Uh, thanks,” you murmur.

“No problem, I think the guys forgot that you normally sit there. They’re just sleepy-” The end of his sentence morphs into a yawn and he immediately apologizes.

“So are you,” you laugh. “Get a good sleep.”

“I will. You too.”

You both lean back into your seats as the bus starts to move. As the rumble beneath your feet turns steady, a comfortable silence settles between you.

You glance out the window, admiring the first rays of sunlight painting the horizon. The orange reminds you of the fleeting beauty of moments like this.

Your eyes follow the trail of light, which falls on Ennoshita’s peaceful face. The sight makes warmth bloom in your chest and spread to the rest of your body.

Before you know it, your eyes flutter closed.

“Shh, shh, be quiet, they’ll wake up.”

A series of whispers break through your hazy consciousness, but you keep your eyes closed, wanting to go back to sleep as soon as possible.

You’re confused when you realize that the bus isn’t moving and you can hear the birds chirping outside.

Maybe it’s a rest stop, your mind supplies. No one’s shaking you awake, even if you can hear footsteps padding up and down. There’s nothing to worry about, so— hang on.

You’re leaning far to your right, slumped against something warm, and there’s a light pressure on top of your head.

Before you have a chance to process everything, you hear a gasp, followed by a shushing sound.

“Take a picture, quick.”

“Idiot, my phone makes a loud sound.”

“What if we take one from the front and cover the speaker?”

“Hm. That’s actually pretty smart.”

“Boys, what are you-”

To their credit, you only hear a quiet, muffled camera shutter sound. Then, you feel the weight next to you shift slightly.

“We’re not saving you if Ennoshita finds out and decides to murder you two.”

Ennoshita?

“But they’re so cuuuute. I don’t care if I die at his hands for taking this picture.”

“Dumbass, he’ll make you do extra tutor sessions because you got them in it. Now move dude, I need to pee.”

“Ugh. Don’t snitch on us.”

Suddenly, it clicks. You’re leaning on Ennoshita and he’s leaning on you too. You don’t know how to respond. Well, not that you have to—you’re busy pretending to be asleep, after all.

“Tanaka, Nishinoya, enough. Don’t wake them up.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Things eventually die down after a few minutes, and you hear the hiss of the bus door closing.

You suppose you don’t have to worry about going back to sleep, taking comfort in the warmth of the person next to you.

You find yourself wishing for this moment to last forever.

A gentle hand on your shoulder wakes you.

“We’re here,” Shimizu says, coming into focus as you blink repetitively. There’s a grin on the senior’s face. Another look that seems to mean something.

“Oh…thanks.” You groan a little, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Although you’re unwilling to detach from your source of warmth, you need to stretch and get up.

Wait…why is it warm?

You freeze. Ennoshita’s still leaning on your side and…one of his hands is holding on to your arm.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god-

“Ennoshita?” You tap his arm gently. “Hey, we’re in Tokyo.”

“Hmm?”

“We’re here already.” Your face heats up; your teammates sneak glances at the both of you as they pass by the aisle.

Ennoshita inhales to take a deep breath, but right when he’s about to exhale, his body stiffens and he sits upright.

“Oh my, uh, sorry, I didn’t mean- did that make you uncomfortable?” Ennoshita rushes out an apology, flustered. “I didn’t know-”

“Don’t worry about it!” You chuckle nervously. Really, don’t worry about it.

“I slept way too well,” he rubs the back of his neck. It’s adorable how flushed he’s gotten.

“Well, if it means you’re well-rested, I wouldn’t mind if it happened again,” you say quickly, not realizing how bold the words sound until they’re already out.

Ennoshita’s eyes widen in response.

You feel a little sorry for Takeda-sensei who is still making his way off the bus. He awkwardly whistles to himself, trying his hardest not to eavesdrop.

“Um. Well…that’s if you want to,” you avoid making eye contact with him.

You end up looking out the window behind Ennoshita. The pale yellow of the morning sun feels bittersweet, a reminder that the moment has already slipped away.

But, you’re reminded that every day, the sun rises and falls.

“I’ll take you up on that offer, then.”

masterlist

karasuno fic event: stellar's stationery (ongoing)

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lookforsomeoneelse · 4 months ago

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mwehehehehe

ugggghhhhh SUMMER’S ALMOST OVER HOOOOOWWWWWWW

anyway i’m done procrastinating so like. uh. idk. wrote this mostly for me but if yall like it me can do part 2 or something

so you know how normally self aware au’s go something like this:

-reader gets game

-reader plays game

-characters think that reader is god

-player gets isekaied into game

-plot

or something?

well uh

imagine you aren’t the player.

SAHSRAU, but you watch your friend play the game (oh, did i mention you’re an eldritch horror? (not that you know it))

-you don’t exactly remember the date, but it roughly started when your friend started to freak out over Hoyoverse’s newest release: Honkai: Star Rail. they freaked out over the leaks, the beta, everything related to it.

-you, being the busy individual that you were, decided not to partake in these events, as you had your own responsibilities and interests. you couldn’t devote more of your precious time, unfortunately.

-out of consideration for your friend, however, you decided to ask them what the game was all about.

-your questioning starts a rant that lasts a little longer than you would like it to, where you get a brief summary of Honkai Impact 3rd before they tell you what they know about Star Rail.

-about a year has passed since that conversation, and a lot happened.

-most relevant to the story here, your friend has been diligent in their gameplay of… what was the game called, again? …ah- yes, Honkai: Star Rail!

-they’ve told you about the fun they’ve had and the challenges they’ve conquered; their greatest achievement being the completion of MoC 11, you think they called it?

-anyway, you’ve just noticed that you’ve been pinged a bunch by… your friend? kind of weird, but you open up discord and see what’s causing all the commotion.

-you find out that it has, in fact, been one year since the release of Honkai: Star Rail, and your friend wants to show you all the progress they’ve made over the year.

-they tell you to hop on a call so that they can share their screen. not long after the message is sent, you get a prompt and a little ring with your friend’s username next to it. it’s a call.

-eh, whatever. you’ve got time to kill, so you accept the call.

-they’re pleased to see your presence- they share their screen. and so they begin rambling about relics and 50/50s and their builds for their characters. the one they have on display currently is a woman named Ruan Mei.

-you barely have a grasp of what they’re talking about, so you do the equivalent of nodding your head and simply respond “mhmm” to everything they say.

-meanwhile, on the other end, Ruan Mei… to put it in very very very light terms-

-she is not in a good mood. -she’s normally apathetic even with her back turned to one of the most dangerous entities in the universe: an emanator of propagation, and even if it was a replica. it was dangerous. but to her, it didn’t feel like it was.

-that is not at all the case now.

-she feels an overwhelming presence all around her. she struggles to breathe or even blink, in terror of what the being that’s gazing upon her would do.

-her mind discards her research, her purpose- all in favor of thinking of a way to get this gaze off of her, because she doesn’t want it. she originally desired to become an aeon. she doesn’t want to anymore.

-no more.

-she can hear whispers weaving themselves into her brain, clawing into her skull and scarring her being.

-and to top it all off, she can feel all of these sensations, akin to a flickering lightbulb ages old, going dark after the long years of shining in the darkness.

-meanwhile, on your end, you’re alt-tabbing to check on other sites, all while listening to your friend explain the game’s lore as best they can.

-what a day it is.

_________________________________________

A/N: ohhhh my goddddddd this toookkkk wwwwaaaaayyyyy tttttoooooo long because life is a bastard

anyway the TL;DR of the au is that you watch your friend play HSR, and while their account isn’t self aware on its own, it comes to life when you watch them. unfortunately, they see you as an eldritch god- H.P. Lovecraft type, and so they start a cult that revolves around you so that you don’t put them in a life of eternal suffering. which basically means that they cause the game to crash… occasionally.

why did i write this? because i’m a bastard, i guess. or maybe it’s because i spend too much time on the internet.

maybe it’s both. who knows?

you wanna use the idea? well, i don’t get paid for this and you probably don’t either. good luck with that.

anyways, this shitass is off to do god knows what yet again!

#sahsrau #self aware au #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #sahsr #self aware hsr #honkai star rail x reader #cult!au #self aware honkai star rail #hsr x reader

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thenameswinterfics · 6 months ago

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VISIONS OF HELHEIM

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 4 Summary: Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her. Word Count: 6,1 K Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing moments, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). A/N: I'd like to start by saying that it was supposed to be a short fic, but my imagination literally exploded. I'm terribly nervous about this fic, maybe more nervous than the previous one, I've tried to contain the angst so that reading won't be so overwhelming. I know my summaries are terrible, but I swear I'll learn. I'm not an expert in Norse mithology, nor in Pagan traditions, so I apologise in advance if you'll find some inaccuracies. For Elflaed's description I took inspiration by another amazing writer here on Tumblr, giving my own interpretation in some details as well. I forgot the blog's name, so if any of you should know them, please give me the name and I'll quote it! As always, a special thanks to @sylasthegrim, @legitalicat and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for calming me down during my writing crises (I know it happened once, but your help has been precious), to @lord-aldhelm for helping me fill in some language gaps and to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for a last minute check and helping me with finding a title (Foxy, I love your brain, and thank you so much for sharing with me your knowledge about Norse and pagan culture).

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

A raging storm crossed the lands of Dunholm in the middle of night, the shining moon hiding behind a dense bank of dark grey clouds. The gentle breeze that caressed the tree canopies turned into a violent wind that bent the tree trunks, devastating nature with its destructive force. Drops of rain fell on the ground, saturating the soil and creating small puddles that increased their volume over time. Flashes of light appeared in the sky, creating a spectacle at once majestic and terrifying.

The bravest men and warriors who dared to face the storm and believed in the Old Gods would say that it was all Thor's plan: enraged by the despicable actions of Dunholm's Jarl and his men, the god of thunder brandished his Mjolnir in the air and unleashed the most dangerous lightning and the most treacherous of the storm. But even the worst of natural disasters could not move the heart of a cruel man.

Elflaed sat on the cold floor of a crumbling hut, feeling the window doors creak and slam violently as cold air and water entered the house. She held her son in her arms, his tiny body curled up against her in search of warmth and protection, his big, mismatched eyes craving comfort in his mother's. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively, adjusting the thick fur on her shoulder and holding him close as her soothing voice sang a lullaby, hoping to shield him from the sounds of the raging storm.

There had always been a hint of sadness in the young woman's eyes, spreading to the sweet features of her face, a bittersweet feeling growing in her chest every time she looked at the little life she held in her embrace. If only the gods had been merciful to her and not given her a son in the most despicable way.

When she closed her eyes, she could feel Kjartan's large, rough hands exploring parts of her body he wasn't allowed to touch, forcibly stripping her of her dignity, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her pleas ignored. Anger, fear and resentment grew inside her along with an unwanted life, her womb cultivating the seed of a relationship that should never have existed. Elflaed prayed each night with her eyes to the sky, hoping that some merciful god would rid her of the life she was forced to carry. But no child is guilty of the actions of their father, and the young woman learned that the first time she held the infant in her arms, her maternal instincts took hold of her heart as his soft cries filled the room.

And for the following winters, Elflaed raised her son alone, protecting him from a father who rejected one of the many bastards he had across Dunholm. The love for her son grew along with the hatred for Kjartan, which reached its peak as one day she found a bush of black berries in the forest. She was aware of how poisonous those berries were, and had no intention to waste a precious opportunity.

"You will live, sweet boy," Elflaed cooed as she watched Sihtric drift back to sleep, no longer afraid of the storm outside. Her tone was reassuring, trying to calm herself more than him, as her fingers brushed across his tiny forehead, moving strands of hair away from him. “And I will always be here, watching over you.”

It was in that moment that her gaze moved onto the plate of the nightshade berries on the table. She would have her revenge that night.

And her destiny was sealed.

Never before had the night looked so beautiful and so full of mystery.

That was what you thought as you lay on a large pile of hay outside the saddles, your eyes never leaving the great expanse of black veil that rose above your head, adorned with small silver points of light in which you could see all the signs of Ymir's work as he created the planets and all the stars. Your eyes darted in quick motion as you recognised the constellation of Ulf's Keptr, the Fiskikarlar, Kvennavagn and Karlvagn and the Asar Bardagi, your slender finger pointing at the sky and tracing the imaginary lines that connected those small celestial bodies, as bright as the flames that engulfed your house and took away your home and family years ago.

You couldn't remember what it was about the stars that fascinated you, or how your mind had gotten so lost in a memory you never thought would surface again. But a sense of peace pervaded your mind, every inch of fear and anxiety in your body fading away as you fixed your gaze on the star, losing yourself in the vastness of the night sky.

It had become a silent ritual that you would perform each night before going into battle, as if to ask the fallen warriors resting within the sacred walls of Valhalla for their protection to survive another day. But attacking an impregnable fortress like Dunholm was no easy task, you knew that. At least not in the way your brothers Uhtred and Ragnar had described it in their reckless plan to take the fortress and avenge your father's memory. It was your first serious battle, and never more than now did you seek the comfort of the stars.

Your lips parted as you repeated the stories of the origins of these constellations that you had heard as a naive child from the warriors loyal to your father. It had become a habit for you to let your thoughts out loud in your solitude: the cool night air had always been your silent companion through the years, gently tickling your hair and skin as its way of saying it enjoyed your stories.

But this time was different. Because you were not alone.

Sihtric lay by your side, one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. He lifted his eyes to the sky, without ever looking at you, while his ears strained to hear your stories of the celestial world. You could tell he was enjoying the little time you spent together by soft humming escaping from his lips, a soothing sound that warmed your heart. But there was something in his eyes that caught your attention: his gaze was distant, pain and melancholy crossing through its bright, multi-coloured irises, his pupils involuntarily dilated.

Sihtric had always been a shy and quiet warrior, very reluctant to talk about his past and his birthplace unless asked. You could see his eyes flickering involuntarily at every mention of his father, his head drooping and his jaw clenching as the memory of his past came back to haunt him, the shadow of Dunholm walking beside him and never letting go.

A gnawing vice tightened in your chest every time you saw Sihtric walking around with a blank stare, taking refuge in his tortured thoughts, and not even your touch could save him, pulling back every time your fingertips brushed against his bare arms. And when you found him asleep in the saddles, or anywhere else far from home, you could hear him calling out to his mother in his nightmares, instinctively embracing her as if to feel the motherly warmth he had lost years ago. Sihtric had never spoken of his mother, nor had you dared to ask, until tonight, under a sky full of stars and a fierce war on the horizon.

“Tell me about your mother,” you broke the silence of the night and shifted your position to lie on your side, looking at Sihtric with curiosity. Your sudden question awoke the Dane from his trance-like state, his eyes widening as he rested his gaze on you.

“Lady?” Sihtric asked back, his voice trembling slightly like the hand that rested on his stomach.

"You told Lord Uhtred that you were Kjartan's bastard son, whelped on a slave girl. We know everything about that wretched turd," the last word came out in a low hiss, your words as heavy as the resentment you felt for your father's murderer. "But there have been no words for your mother, so I would like to know about her."

At first you didn't realise how demanding your tone was, but when you regained your composure and saw Sihtric's muscles tense and his breath catch at your request, you bit the inside of your cheek and cursed yourself for being so impulsive. You knew how Sihtric flinched whenever anyone spoke to him in a stern tone, but you were Uhtred and Ragnar's little sister: impulsiveness was in your nature.

An awkward silence fell over you as you both stared at each other, different emotions mingled in the air creating a heavy atmosphere. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and looked away.

“Sihtric,” you whispered with guilt in your voice, struggling to find the right words. “My apology, forgive what I said before.” You were about to move when his voice stopped you.

“Elflaed,” Sihtric spoke in a weak voice, and if you listened carefully you could hear the trembling in it. “She was called Elflaed, lady.”

Elflaed. That was the name Sihtric called out every night in his unconscious state, searching for a mother he could no longer hold in his arms. Sadness washed over you as your thoughts returned to your own mother and how you felt your heart torn from your chest the night she died. But you had first Uhtred and Brida, then Ragnar, to help you through your grief, while Sihtric had no one to support him. And the grip on your heart tightened.

“Was Dunholm her home? Was she a Dane like you?” you asked with a soft voice, and Sihtric shook his head faintly.

“No. She was a Saxon, lady. She came from Hocchale, lady. She was taken in Dunholm as a slave.” the Dane replied, looking down at his trembling hand on his stomach. You could still see his mismatched eyes shining in the pale moonlight, watering as he fought back tears. You held a hand up in the air, wanting to place it on his shoulder and give him all your support, but remembering how your touch was not welcomed by his involuntary shudder, your hand returned to your side.

“Your mother,” you broke the silence for the third time, closing your eyes and squeezing the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words. “She… I know I am asking you a delicate question, but… What happened to her?”

And at that moment, Sihtric looked away from the sky to rest his gaze on you, his pupils still dilated and his eyes still watering as he looked around slightly, fearing that some punishment might come if he dared to speak the truth. But when he realised that no harm could come, he calmed down slightly and spoke again.

"She tried to poison Kjartan, lady," the Dane confessed, mustering the courage to change his position and lie on his side, telling you the truth as he looked into your eyes. "With the black berries. The nightshades, lady," he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat before continuing, his voice breaking with emotion, "I do not know what happened that night, lady. All I remember is that she left me and..."

A sob escaped his lips and the way his body was shaking made you realise he could collapse in front of you at any moment. Without thinking, you raised your hand and placed it gently on his cheeks: to your surprise, he didn't flinch, but looked at you intently, leaning into your touch.

“Sihtric,” you opened your mouth, but the Dane was quick to interrupt you.

“I loved her, lady. With my whole heart, I swear it,” he said with a pleading voice, clutching the pendant of Mjolnir in his trembling hand, in the same way he did the day he swore his oath to Uhtred.

“And I believe you, Sihtric, you do not need to swear to me,” you replied softly, closing the distance between you and resting your forehead on his. Both your hands rested on his cheeks, your thumbs moving in a circular motion to calm him. You felt a soft breath leave his lips and his breathing slowly stabilised. He found a temporary peace in your warmth and you would be his steady rock, shielding him from his past.

“I promise you, under this sky painted of stars, that your mother will be avenged tomorrow. Kjartan will draw his last breath in battle and his death will be far from honourable,” you confirmed in a soft yet firm tone, clutching your own Mjolnir pendant in your hands. “Do you trust my words?”

Sihtric was silent for a moment, your words and actions clearly taking him by surprise. But when he opened his mouth to reply, you saw his hand reach for yours, his frightened eyes soften, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. His words came out in a feeble whisper, but you were close enough to hear them.

“I trust them, lady. With my life and soul.”

And then, in the middle of the night, the surreal silence was broken by two humming voices saying a prayer for survival in battle.

Tension hung in the air as several warriors gathered to form a square in the courtyard, with Ragnar and Kjartan standing in the centre, facing each other in a duel to the death. Heavy blows of swords and axes against wooden shields came from the human ring, low growls and cheers escaping from their lips as the duel became more bloody and brutal. But Sihtric said nothing, holding his helmet tightly in his hands as he waded through the crowd.

The battle at Dunholm fortress drained Sihtric both physically and mentally: returning to the place where pain and abuse had haunted him since childhood was a challenge he never wanted to face again. Yet he swore an oath of loyalty to Uhtred, and offered up his sword and his life under the watchful eyes of the gods. If Uhtred wished to attack the fortress, Sihtric would obey without question.

But even his lord could not prepare him for what he was about to witness. A wave of emotion washed over him as he saw Kjartan, the man who had nothing in common with except the blood that ran through his veins, slowly perish under every blow that Ragnar struck, the scene so crude and sickening that even the bravest of warriors could not watch for long.

Satisfaction first, then horror, disgust and bitterness as he winced at every blow Kjartan received, the ground of Dunholm painted crimson as blood coursed through his body. Sihtric felt numb, a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, remembering his life as a slave in his own house, how his body and mind endured his father's cruelty, how he tried to impress him and earn love and respect, only to be mocked and humiliated in return. He remembered every scar and bruise he had received, and how his body ached with every blow as he lay stunned on the floor after his punishment was over.

As he exhaled a ragged breath, unrest was painted on his face, his skin turning pale as his mind returned to the night his mother died, her piercing screams echoing in his mind as they had on that stormy night when she was thrown to the dogs on his father's orders. It was a melody that haunted his dreams, begging his mother to forgive him for not being able to save her. A forgiveness that never reached him.

A gentle grip on his hand brought him back to reality, the muffled voices in his ears crystal clear as reality returned in all its crudeness. Sihtric slowly realised that it was over as his eyes rested on his lord, who was holding an enraged Ragnar close to him. A heavy silence filled the fortress as all the warriors realised what had really happened, neither faction daring to continue the fight.

Sihtric recognized your touch, but he was too stunned to return the squeeze. And you just stood still at his side, watching helplessly as the ghosts of his past returned to haunt him, while he felt the echo of Elflaed’s voice reaching his ears.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way towards Dunholm's dungeon, the faint flame of your torch trembling with your hands. The damp air didn't help your anxiety, and you tried to manoeuvre through the darkness of the place with cautious steps, the metallic smell of blood irritating your nostrils.

You have won the battle, but at what cost? You asked silently over the flames of the small brazier in the great hall, but the soft crackling of the wood didn't give you the answer you were looking for.

The attack on the fortress had been successful, and Young Ragnar had honoured Ragnar the Fearless’ memory by taking Kjartan's life. But it was a bittersweet victory for you, for the gods wouldn't give you back your father, who was feasting among them in the golden halls of Valhalla. To your surprise, you found out that Thyra was alive, but hatred burned in her heart as she blamed you all for abandoning her to her fate. Uhtred and Ragnar told you that she was safe in Father Beocca's hands, but you knew that nothing could easily mend a broken trust.

But your mind couldn't stop thinking about Sihtric, and how he was too overwhelmed and confused to return your touch, and how he remained silent throughout the aftermath. He just stood there in the courtyard, looking at his father's lifeless body with an indecipherable expression on his face, before shaking his head and silently returning to his duties. You thought that taking him to Dunholm would have caused him no small amount of pain, and you had several arguments with Uhtred about sparing Sihtric further suffering. But your brother was adamant, and the young Dane was too loyal to disobey him.

And in the midst of your thoughts, you felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, forcing you back into reality and into the deep blue eyes of the Daneslayer, who looked at you with concern.

“Sihtric has been missing,” he told you with a low voice, and you jolted on the furred chair.

"I thought he was celebrating the victory with Finan and the others," was your blunt reply, feigning disinterest while a storm of emotion exploded inside you.

“Finan told me he has not seen him for hours,” Uhtred retorted, and deep down in your heart you knew what you had to do.

And so there you were, searching for Sihtric in the darkest part of the fortress after a long search on the surface. You thought you would find him in the stables, the place where he usually spent most of his time, meticulously tending to the horses: but to your surprise, he wasn't there, nor was he in the servants' quarters.

A sense of foreboding grew within you, a sense of claustrophobia struck you as you felt the walls of the dungeon closing in around you, the dim light of your torch illuminating the poorly maintained surroundings, the damp, enclosed smell making you dizzy as you saw your shadow playing tricks on you. You were about to lose hope when you heard a ragged breath from a few cells ahead.

You moved quietly in the direction of the sound until you saw Sihtric lying on the ground, a thick fur protecting him from the cold floor. Your heart ached as you watched him toss and turn on the ground, his lips trembling and his forehead drenched in sweat as nightmares once again took possession of his mind, his mother's name slipping from his mouth in a whisper. You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, and unlike the other nights, this time you would have woken him.

You approached him gently, your touch on his shoulder as light as a feather as you shook him lightly. This sudden action caused him to wake up abruptly, jumping to his feet as he didn't recognise you in the darkness. You jumped back as well, about to fall to the ground in a heap from his sudden movements.

“Sihtric,” you whispered smoothly, raising your hands as you wanted to reassure him no harm would come, “It is me, do not be afraid.”

You continued to speak in your soothing tone as you allowed the fire of the torch to illuminate your features. Sihtric's body stopped shaking as he recognised you, trying to compose himself as he bowed his head slightly in respect, ignoring the way his chest rose and fell frantically.

“I wondered where you were. I thought you were feasting with the others, or you were resting in one of the fortress’ rooms,” you inquired, your eyes sad as you thought that sleeping in the cells was a habit he had developed during his time as a slave and imagined him resting in his cold, isolated cell.

“Forgive me, lady,” Sihtric muttered back in a strained voice, looking down at his feet. The Dane warrior secretly thanked the gods for the poor lighting in this place, hiding the redness of his cheeks. “I… I did not know where else to rest.”

After hearing his answer, you let out a small sigh, saddened by the realisation that he still did not feel safe at home, even after seeing his father's reign of cruelty end before his eyes.

“Be free to move wherever you want,” you approached him and placed your hand on his shoulder once more, a flash of realisation came over you: you had promised to be his rock under the starry sky, and you would keep it.

"Kjartan is dead, Sihtric. Your days of fear and suffering are over, you are a free man now," you said with softness in your voice, locking eyes with him as he raised his head, his mismatched eyes silently yearning for your protection. The Dane warrior nodded his head, his lips curling into a small smile.

"Come, I will take you to a warm place, now," you said as you squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the dungeon. Sihtric followed you without saying a word, squeezing your hand back as he followed you, leaving a piece of his past behind as he left the cells.

Convincing Sihtric to spend the night with you was a difficult task: the Dane warrior was afraid that Uhtred might turn up and scold him for being alone with his little sister, but you tried to explain that he would not be arriving for some time, too busy discussing the future running of Dunholm with Ragnar. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched him furrow his brow in suspicion, but soon you were glad that he had at least convinced himself to trust your words.

You led him into your temporary room, one of the largest in Dunholm, beautifully decorated with carved wooden planks on the ceiling and a few rugs covering the wooden floor. Despite its size, the large fireplace in the centre of the room was able to heat the whole room, the crackling of the wood being the only sound allowed in.

You handled him with the utmost care, looking down his broad arms for any suspected wounds or cuts that might require attention. Desperately chasing away any impure thoughts about his appearance, you were pleased to find that his flesh was untouched and unblemished, save for a few specks of dust scattered about. You almost cursed yourself for not preparing a warm bath for him, and with what little water you had, you tore off a piece of your clothing and used it to clean his skin. Your touch was as soft as silk on his muscles, and Sihtric did his best to hide the redness of his cheeks.

“Better?” you asked as you looked at Sihtric, your sudden question bringing him out of his thoughts. The Dane hummed back, his eyes softening in your presence.

“Thank you, lady,” he whispered, leaning desperately on your touch as you continued to clean him.

Afterwards, you both lay down on the large bed, which was much more comfortable than the one you used to sleep on back in Cumbraland. The warmth of the blankets and furs gave you both a sense of peace and comfort, almost making you forget that a fierce battle had been fought that morning.

You both looked up at the ceiling, imagining it to be the same starry sky as the day before. A pleasant silence filled the room, and the single thought brought a small smile to both of your faces, too drunk with each other's closeness as your hands instinctively reached out to each other, your fingers intertwined as you both used your thumbs to make small circles on the backs of your hands.

You both enjoyed this idyllic moment until Sihtric cleared his throat and shyly drew your attention to himself as his big, mismatched eyes stared intently at you. You could see his pupils dilate again, and it was then that you realised something was troubling him.

“Lady,” the Dane spoke quietly, squeezing your hand, “There is one thing I would like to do before we leave Dunholm.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and looked for a moment at how tightly he clasped your hand, as if he were secretly looking to you for comfort and understanding.

“What is it?” you asked softly, your lips curving into a sympathetic smile as you waited for him to speak up. You were calm, taming your curiosity and impulsiveness.

"There is a small place, a little far from Dunholm," he continued in a timid voice, looking down at your joined hands, as if he was regaining his courage by looking at them, "We can reach it by following the path of the small spring from the east wall, it is a safe route to take with our horses. It will be a short walk, and when we see a large hawthorn tree in the distance, we will have reached our destination.”

Sihtric paused for a moment and took a long breath before continuing.

"I buried my mother there. At least..." Another long sigh escaped his lips, this time more shaky than the first. "...where I would like to bury her."

A heavy silence fell over the room, the calm and peaceful atmosphere vanishing in an instant. You stood still, too stunned by his words to speak. And when you found the courage to open your mouth, Sihtric quickly cut you off, clasping both of his hands between yours.

"I wish to mourn her, my lady. To mourn her properly," Sihtric murmured, his eyes watering as he looked away from you and down at some random spot on the blankets. "I... I know we could slow the return journey, but I will speak to Lord Uhtred and I-I will take my punishment..."

With an imperceptible movement, you slipped your hand from his grasp and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you. A soft whisper escaped your lips, interrupting his stream of consciousness, his words replaced by a soft sigh, his head unintentionally tilted as his mismatched eyes rested on yours.

"My brother will not punish you for mourning your mother, Sihtric," you told him in a reassuring tone, tilting your head slightly so that your foreheads touched, "because we will go there at dawn tomorrow and you will be free to pray in silence and honour her memory.”

There was something comforting in your words, a gentle reassurance that was like balm to Sihtric's heart, wrapping itself around your care and love. As your eyes met, you both felt a comforting warmth spread through your chests, an invisible thread drawing you together as you slowly drew closer, your lips brushing gently before locking in a timid kiss that became desperate as Sihtric poured all his love into you, pulling you closer and deepening the contact.

After a few seconds he pulled away, both breathing heavily, but with their foreheads pressed together, a small smile crossed Sihtric's face. The Dane knew it was wrong to steal a kiss from his lord's sister, but you had become his shining star in a dark sky, and the flame of your love burned brightly in his heart.

And as the moon shone brightly in the sky, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, slipping into a peaceful sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing and knowing that you would face whatever came next together.

Morning came and Dunholm awoke to a peaceful atmosphere, the days when Kjartan the Cruel ruled the stronghold fading away like grains of sand in the wind. The aftermath of the battle still left its physical scars, the courtyard still painted red, arrows and broken shields still lodged in the ground, the great ram still lying undisturbed at the foot of the gates. Yet nature was reborn after the death of its tyrant, the grass, plants and flowers seemed to grow with the brightest colours, and the melodious chirping of birds echoed in the air.

A few rays of the dawning sun filtered through the window and gently caressed Sihtric's sharp features, and he groaned softly as he slowly awoke, feeling his body well rested as he slept without nightmares for the first time. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned awkwardly to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A sense of worry washed over him when he didn't find you by his side, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported back in time to when he was in Tekil's service, living under the pressure of impressing a father who was barely aware of his presence.

But his worries quickly vanished when he felt the door to the room open and you appeared behind it with a broad smile on your face. Sihtric was unaware that you had awakened before the sun could greet the earth with a new day, and unnoticed you quietly took your horse from the stables and followed the route he had described to you the night before.

The ride to the hawthorn tree was very quiet, full of unspoken emotions. Years had passed since he had visited his mother's grave, and he had never thought that he would return to bid her a final farewell and leave Dunholm, burying a past he had hoped to forget, but which had made him the warrior he was.

After a short walk they reached a large hawthorn tree, and to Sihtric's relief it was the same one he had seen as a child, not even the violent storms of the past few days had wiped it out. His eyes darted down to its roots, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw: the blank stones that had made up the small mound of earth he had imagined burying his mother many years ago had been replaced by larger, white stones, decorated with symbols he recognised as drawn runes, carefully scattered around the perimeter of the grave.

A sudden realisation came to him as he remembered the way you had greeted him at dawn, your dirty hands suggesting that you had been to the burial spot and tended to his mother's grave before accompanying him. A small bouquet of hawthorn was placed over the patch of earth, and Sihtric recognised it as the flower Elflaed used to pick when she returned to the forest, remembering her sweet smile as she caressed the white petals with her fingers.

You both knelt in silence at the foot of the grave, clasping your pendants together as you both silently recited a prayer to the goddess Hel, asking her to watch over Elflaed's soul in the halls of Eljudnir in Helheim.

As the last words were spoken in silence, the weight of the moment fell heavily on Sihtric, and without realising it, he saw small teardrops fall to the ground and looked up at the sky, thinking that a storm was about to break. But his eyes were too blurred to focus on the orange-blue sky, and he slowly realised that the soil was wet with his own tears. Unable to contain his emotions, the Dane buried his face in his hands and let out a liberating cry, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You reached over and wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple, leaving a small kiss as you held him tightly in your hands.

"Let it all out," you whispered softly, your voice comforting as you gave him gentle strokes on his back, "I am here with you as your mother, watching over you."

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder as emotions overwhelmed you as well, and you silently let your tears flow as you cried for your own late mother, whose soul rested in Valhalla with your father and the other fallen warriors.

You returned to the fortress in silence, following the thin stream of water backwards as you chose your route, your horses dragged by the reins. Halfway you halted your march, your pause forcing Sihtric to rest as well.

"Is something wrong, lady?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he saw you approach in silence, one of your fingers trailing over the pendant of his Mjolnir. You both looked into each other's eyes, your cheeks turning red simultaneously as you both filled your nostrils with each other's scent.

“Promise me that, when we have a baby girl, we will name her Elflaed,” you confessed light-heartedly with a shy smile, and the Dane warrior looked down at his feet as his face turned completely red, the redness reaching all the way to the tips of his ears.

“A-A baby girl?” he muttered, swallowing a mix of air and saliva while his mind was filled with endless thoughts.

Sihtric fell in love with you the night he failed in his mission to kidnap Uhtred and was taken prisoner, the compassion in your eyes a thing that never left his mind. He secretly wanted to find the courage to confess his feelings for you and take you as his wife, but something prevented him: he was not afraid to face Uhtred, he knew that you were more stubborn than his lord and that your brother would have given you everything, however reluctantly. He was afraid of himself, afraid of failing to please or impress you. Uhtred was the rightful heir to a land he sought to reclaim, and though in exile, Finan was still an Irish prince by blood. Sihtric was only a bastard son, with no land to claim and no royal title to flaunt.

"I... I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, lady," the Dane gently declined your offer, which was met with a puzzled look from you. He let out a sigh before speaking again, "I-I have nothing to offer you, lady. I have no land to rule, nor enough silver to give you. I am a nobody, lady, and as much as I love you and want to take you as my wife, I fear I could not make you happy."

"I do not need a rich and powerful lord to be happy," you replied, shaking your head as a light chuckle escaped your lips. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, tracing the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. "There could be many lords in all of England who would be willing to claim my hand, but in my heart I know that the only man I will ever allow to be by my side is you," you continued, still holding his pendant in your other hand.

A pleasant tension filled the air as you both stared at each other, the wind the silent intruder in your union. Sihtric's large hands rested on your hips, your thumb still tracing his scar, a soft hum vibrating in the Dane's throat as he surrendered to your touch.

"I love you, Sihtric Kjartansson," you said softly, your eyes full of love as you rested your gaze on his alluring bicoloured eyes, "to Valhalla and back.”

"And I love you, lady," Sihtric replied shyly, returning your gaze with the same intensity as yours, "to Valhalla and back."

And the distance between you disappeared.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

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

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yurinaa-world · 11 months ago

Note

i’ve been obsessing over ur writing recently . may i request blade, dan heng, and gepard (seperate) with an s/o who’s like mobius from honkai impact 3rd? have a good day :3

Characters: Blade, Dan Heng, and Geperd x Female Reader

Synopsis: s/o that's like Mobius

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes, mentions of injuries in blade's part

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

You’re very infamous around every part of the universe, known to be the mad in the head well as late. That's how others see you; they just don’t understand how you view your work. Is it so bad to want to achieve so badly to the point of risking lives or your own? Of course not! If such a thing exists, you’re meant to know everything about it.

He didn’t fall for your stupid, innocent appearance. “He’s falling short, sorry (name)” Kafka smiled. "Aw, what a pity he would have looked good strapped down to my table.” You sigh. If only you could do all sorts of experiments on that man (like testing how well his healing works), but you know he is precious to the stellaron hunters.

Whenever he came back from missions, you always brought him to your lab, and it became a routine after that, just going straight there after one step in the base. You always examine and touch him after he’s back, like wanting to see if there are any more new cuts on his body or, in general, how he reacts to different feelings. Does he still feel human, or is that part of him gone now?

You’re madly insane—a whole other, deeper level of insane—and the way you look at me with crazed eyes when you get the greatest result from your latest subject—it's what got him obsessed with you.

𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔

You like to tease him with your looks, fooling him; just pouncing on him and then teasing him so much! Then just laugh at his flustered face! How cruel could you be to him? If anyone else saw you both like this, he would just die of embarrassment, but come on, he worries so much. You don’t have anything currently to experiment on, so he’s going to be your little test subject, and you’re going to have some fun with him.

Everyone knows that once you set yourself a goal, you will pursue it no matter what. Finding everything about it is your goal for today. He’ll also take off his long jacket for better inspection on your part so you can see every little that may be hiding in plain sight. Chop chop, you don’t have all day, and you don’t have the patience right now.

Ah, he ran off, saying March was calling, even though she wasn't. Well, you’ll make some time for him tomorrow, so it’s fine.

𝒢𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝐿𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓊

Same thing with Dan Heng; you want to know how well-fit his body is, so instead of staring at him after he comes out of the shower and then having him freak out at the way you're staring at him, you were just analyzing with your eyes to see how strong he was. Well, now you just want to test his strength, so why doesn’t he come to your lab while on a day off? Maybe then he’ll believe you.

You watching him like that makes him a little flustered, very flustered. Don’t you see what you're doing? The way you bite your lip while staring at him has gotten him to go! You are truly evil! Of course, you know what you're doing, but he doesn’t need to know such things.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #gepard x reader #gepard honkai starrail #gepard honkai x reader #Dan Heng x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #blade x reader #blade x you #honkai blade x you

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darkbluekies · 2 years ago

Text

Cat & Mouse

Mafia!yandere x fem reader x female!mafia!yandere

Summary: Jerry decides to take you from her rival, and Silas decides to take you back, creating a cat and mouse game where you're nothing more than a prize in their game.

Warnings: kidnapping, cutting, arson, knives, possessive behaviors, obsessive behavior, corpses, yandere, car crashes, mentions of broken bones, rope, bruises, guns, choking

Word count: 5.3k

[I wrote this a year ago, so I apologize if it's not as good! This was originally written in 3d person and Jerrys character was a man, so please excuse the errors I couldn't see during editing!!]

Jerry is humming for herself as she makes her way through Silas’s house. It’s in the middle of the night and she can’t sleep. Why not bother her rival? She struts around, looking for her dear rival. The men in his house are dead, Jerry’s men have made sure of that. Jerry walks upstairs.

“Silas~”, she sings, spinning the gun on her fingers. “Where are you?”

No answer.

“He doesn’t seem to be home, ma’am”, one of Jerry’s men says. "Must be out on a mission."

Jerry opens Silas’s bedroom door and walks in. She turns on the lamp, looking at the bed. There is someone lying in the bed, but it’s not the man Jerry’s searching for. It’s a woman tied to the bedpost.

“Oh?” Jerry says in shock.

She walks over to the girl, sitting down on the bed beside her. She meets your terrified eyes. Jerry lets her eyes wander over your body. You’re not visibly hurt which means that Silas must be fond of you. And for the situation you appear to be in, you’re not very fond of him. Bingo. Jerry needs to take you.

"W-Who are you?" you cry out.

Jerry can't help but think it sounds beautiful. Normally, she finds girls in fear annoying, but there's something mesmerizing about you.

“Be quiet”, Jerry says. “I’m going to untie you and you’re going to come with me. I’ll help you away from here.”

“D-Do you promise?”

“Yes. I’ll help you away from this bad man. You'll never see him again.”

She’ll make sure Silas never sees his precious little prisoner again. She unties you and helps you stand, holding her hand on your back, pushing you with her. Jerry’s worker looks at her with a weird glance in his eyes. Jerry sends him a stern gaze before directing her eyes down to you.

"Come with me quietly", she says, taking out her gun. "I don't know if there are any guards still alive. We don't need to get them here. I need you alive."

You grab her arm, not wanting your savior to leave you. Jerry looks down at your hand in confusion before meeting your scared eyes. Her brain goes blank before she grabs your hand in hers and starts walking. Her heart jumps.

You make your way out to the car. Jerry helps you into the backseat. She sits down beside you, gun still in his hand. The man in the driver's seat starts the engine.

"Where are we going?" you ask weakly. "Can I go home?"

"You can't go home", Jerry says, tilting her head to the side with a smirk. "Two reasons. I need you to piss Silas off and you're kinda cute. I don't know if I want to let you go home."

You suddenly realize that who you just saw as a savior doesn't seem to be a hero after all. What if she's another villain?

"B-But…"

Jerry cuts you off. "Just rest. It's in the middle of the night. I'll wake you up when we get home. What's your name?"

"I don't feel comfortable telling you…"

Jerry puts the gun to your throat.

"Y/N."

"Cute name. I'm Jerry."

The car stops outside a house. It's different from Silas’. You can’t tell how though, it just different.

"Get out", Jerry says.

You do as she says, too scared to do anything else. The voice in your head is screaming at you to run, but you can’t. She’s right behind you with the gun in her hand. She leads you into her house, gun visible.

“Stand still, Y/N”, Jerry says and goes to get a knife. “I’m going to do something.”

“PLease don’t hurt me!” you beg.

“I’m not going to hurt you … a lot.”

Her men hold you still as she cuts a quick cut on your cheek. You scream in both pain and shock. The woman cleans the blood on her black clothes.

"Come here", she says, bringing you into his arms. "Don't worry about that evil man. I'm here now."

Jerry takes you up to the bedroom and runs her hand through her shoulder length black hair.

“I’m not going to tie you to the bed or lock the door”, Jerry says. “But I’d advise you to stay here. I can’t guarantee what you’ll see if you leave.”

“Let me go home”, you plead.

“Let’s compromise. If you go to sleep and actually sleep for the rest of the night, I’ll answer every question you have tomorrow. Good enough? Nothing is going to hurt you as long as you stay in this room. I promise you that.”

“Alright …”

What other choice do you have? You don't want to get hurt. You need to be healthy and alert if you want to be able to run and fight back. Jerry fixes the bed for you and watches how you lay down. To your surprise, she tucks you in before leaving the room. Right on time, her phone rings. She can see Silas’s name pop up on the screen.

Brilliant.

“Silas”, she says.

“Why are you always messing around with my fucking stuff?!” Silas groans.

“Because it’s fun, old man.”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

Jerry knows damn well who he’s talking about, but hearing the frustrated hisses from him is all he wants.

“The woman”, Silas says. “The woman that was sleeping in my bed.”

“I wouldn’t say that she was sleeping. She was more or less crying.”

“Stop fucking doing that! Where is she?!”

“With me of course.”

“Why can’t you just leave her alone? Why do you have to mess with me all the time?”

“I told you … I think it’s funny.”

“You’re so immature. Give me my lady back. She literally doesn’t have anything to do with our business. Let’s keep it professional. For real.”

“Why would I? If you need to have her tied to the bedpost I’d say that she’s better off here.”

“It wouldn’t be forever! Just until she learned to trust me!”

Jerry laughs. “That’s so tragic, man.”

“Give her back. Let me have one thing for myself.”

“She’s so cute though. I don’t think I can let you take her.”

“Stop. Seriously.”

“Such a beautiful woman…”

“Jerry, I’m telling you, leave her alone. She’s mine.”

“Not anymore.”

Jerry smiles and hangs up, stretching her neck.

After a night of barely sleeping, you wake up, seeing Jerry sleeping beside you. Your eyes linger on her for a while. She’s wearing a black bra and the tattoos on her shoulders and arms look too harsh for the face that now is turned towards you. She looks sweet, not like last night. You sit up, rubbing your eyes. Jerry is indeed sleeping. Could you try to get out of this house? You carefully get out of the bed and walk over to the door opening it. Right outside lies the body of a girl, a girl you recognize all too well. Someone you wished to see again. You let out a screeching scream that wakes the sleeping woman.

"I did say I wouldn't be able to guarantee what you'd see if you tried to leave the room", she yawns from the bed, stretching her body.

"W-What have you done?!"

"Isn't it pretty obvious?"

You put your hand over your mouth, too shocked to even cry. Jerry drags herself up from the bed, over to you. She walks up behind your stunned figure and wraps her tattooed arms around your waist, locking her hands in place before resting her chin on your shoulder. She’s warm and puffy from sleeping and her bare skin feels too warm for her ice cold heart.

"That stupid bitch Silas thinks he can have you", she scoffs with a small smirk, voice raspy from the lack of talking during her sleep. "No, he can't. I like watching him struggle. And I don't want to be alone again. You're going to stay with me."

You rip her arms off of you and jump over the dead body. You start to run before Jerry can stop you.

"I'm too tired to play!" Jerry groans, but sets off after you.

She doesn't even try catching up with you. She knows he doesn't need to. Every door and window in this house is locked. You stop after trying to open every door you pass.

"Poor thing, did you think I left doors unlocked like Silas? I'm not that stupid. I'm not unlocking them until I trust you", she cooes, pulling you to her chest. "Let's go eat something."

She lets go of you and starts walking downstairs. You look at her matching underwear, appalled that she was sleeping like that right next to you. You feel a couple more doors, all are locked.

"No use, Y/N", Jerry smirks over her shoulder.

“How do you know Silas?”

"Me and Silas aren’t friends. We kind of were, but not anymore. I used to be his right hand man, but quit. I can’t stand that bitch. He seems to have gotten fond of you and I had to take you. Out of spite."

"So can you let me go home? You don't want me-"

"I think I will be interested in you, pretty thing, so no. I can't let you go. And I told you that I didn’t want to be alone again! Never again.”

You decide to keep silent from now on as a protest. Jerry makes a simple meal and gives you one plate. You look away.

“Eat. I’m not telling you twice”, she warns.

You shake your head.

“I haven’t put anything in it for fuck sake, if that’s why you’re so hesitant”, he sighs. “I could do it, but not without a reason.”

She starts to feed you when you refuse once again.

After breakfast, she takes you to the bedroom again. The body is still lying outside the door, but she covers your eyes and nose and closes the door behind you.

“I have some business today”, she says, placing you down on the bed. “You will be alone until night time. I want you to tell the man downstairs when you’re hungry and I want you to behave and not cause any trouble. Can you do that for me?”

You only find yourself nodding.

“You can walk around in the house how much you want, you can watch TV. That's it. Got it?”

You nod.

“Good girl. I’ll be back later!” Jerry smiles, walking out. “I’ll remove the body, I promise!”

Only a few minutes later, all you can hear is silence.

When your stomach is rumbling, you walk downstairs. No man can be seen.

“Hello?” you say hesitantly. “Hello?”

“Yeah?” the man says and comes out of a room by the living room.

“Jerry told me to tell you when I got hungry…”

“I’ll make you something. Go up and wait until I call for you.”

“Can I watch TV?”

“Go ahead.”

You walk into the living room and sit down on the couch, turning on the TV with a remote. After not being able to sleep for a few nights, you feel like a walking zombie. You fall asleep while watching TV, waiting for your meal.

While you’re sleeping, the front door gets unlocked and a familiar face walks in, hiding the gun in his belt. His men kill the cooking man quickly and quietly to avoid any drama.

“I’ll go find her”, Silas says.

“The TV is on”, one of his men says, listening closely. “Look there. I’ll go to the bedroom.”

Silas nods. He walks into the living room, seeing his darling sleeping on the couch with a blanket over your body. His heart melts upon seeing the sight. He walks up to you and crouches down by your face, caressing your cheek. You open your eyes.

“Y/N …”, he says with a voice full of regret. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have gone on that damn mission, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“S-Silas?!” you stutter, quickly trying to get away from him.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright, come here, let’s go home now. Everything will be okay.”

He traces the cut on her cheek with a hiss.

"I'll kill her."

He starts pulling you into his arms and lifts you up. You start to panic. He might save you from Jerry, but he’s no better himself.

“Let me go!” you shout.

“Shh, it’s alright, I’ll save you from this bad man. I'm so sorry I didn't come earlier, I could have prevented you from getting hurt. Jerry’s a madwoman, it wouldn’t surprise me if she hurt you to make me mad. ”

He picks you up and walks with you out to his car, placing you down in the backseat. You hug yourself and feel how you’re shaking. This can’t be happening!

“I’m here for you”, he says, hanging his jacket over your shoulders. “It’s alright now, my love.”

You stay quiet. You should be happy that you’re out of Jerry’s claws … only problem is that you’re now back in Silas’s.

The car stops outside his house. He walks around the car and opens your door.

“Come, let’s go inside”, he smiles. “You’re safe now. With me. You must be hungry. Are you?”

You nod slightly. Silas smiles and brings you inside.

“If you want, you can take a shower while I cook food and then we’ll eat together. Does that sound good?

You nod almost unnoticeably. He leads you to the bathroom and gives you a towel and clothes.

“All clothes I’ve gotten for you are soft, made of cotton, satin or that fluffy teddy bear material and my laundry detergent are allergy free”, he says. “I don’t think any of the clothes will give you any discomfort. The shampoo, soap and conditioner are also allergy free and skin friendly. I have moisturizing cream in the cabinet in case you want some. It’s all yours.”

He gives you a little pile of a nightgown, cardigan, socks and underwear. He puts the towel by the sink. He walks out. You close the door, locking the door. While you remove your clothes and step into the shower you can only think of the last few days and how bizarre they’ve been.

Afterwards, you walk downstairs, looking at Silas’s back as he stands by the stove. He turns around, looking at you with a smile.

“I thought I felt someone staring at me”, he says. “You look beautiful, baby. The lunch is done, let’s eat.”

You sit down by the table. Silas puts a pink plaster over the cut Jerry’s done. You poke the food with the fork, not feeling hungry anymore. You were hungry before you got kidnapped back to Silas’s place. Now, you just feel nauseous.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Silas asks with a frown.

“I don’t know …”, you say quietly. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be, sweetheart. Whatever damage Jerry has done to you, I will heal. I will take care of you.”

“Please don’t tie me again …”

“I won’t. If you promise me you will give me a chance.”

“Alright …”

Silence.

The very next day, Silas takes you on a mission, refusing to let you get out of his sight again. When you come back however, something seems to be wrong. The house is on fire and two of Silas’s now dead men are hung on the wall by the front door. Silas hurries to turn you around before you see too much. One of his men who has gathered outside the burning villa gives him a bloody note.

“How are you going to take care of Y/N when you don’t have a house, huh?”

Silas turns around, looking at you who look more than terrified. He clenches his jaw.

“We need to move her. Now”, he says in stress and calls two of his men over. “You two, drive Y/N to the secret base. She has to stay there for a moment.”

He hugs you tightly. You can feel his hammering heart against your chest

“I’ll go kill Jerry and then I’ll come for you. She can’t have gone far. I’ll come soon, I promise. I love you so much, baby.”

The two men take you to the car to drive you away to the safe place.

Jerry knows you’re in that black car that drives on the empty road. And she knows what to do with it. Crash it. Not a chance she’ll let it reach its destination. To him. She tells her men to crash the other car, but make sure not to kill anyone. She’ll kill the chauffeurs alone and bring you back to safety. The car Jerry’s men are in crashes into Silas’s, making it come to an abrupt halt. Jerry runs out of her car — doesn’t even close the door behind her— over to the destroyed one. You’re lying in the backseat with blood running from your mouth, nose and hair, eyes barely open. The very sight makes Jerry’s heart ache. She pulls you out and holds you in hernarms. You whimper out a broken sob, moaning in pain.

“Shh, don’t cry”, Jerry whispers. “It’ll be over soon.”

She holds you gently in her arms as she walks back to her car. You’re crying loudly from fear, shock and pain, moaning painfully from every step Jerry takes. It reminds her of a baby that hurt themselves. But this is not a baby overreacting from walking into a wall, this is a real scenario of a broken girl in a car crash.

“Shh, shh”, she hushes, kissing your forehead.

Jerry sits down in the backseat with you in her lap, putting a blanket over you. You cling onto her, crying heavily. Her heart flutters. You’re searching for safety in her.

“Do you think you have any broken bones, Y/N?” she asks.

“I-I d-don’t k-know!” you sob loudly.

The drivers look at each other.

“I have you, baby. You’re okay”, Jerry whispers. “Try to relax. Can you do that for me?”

“M-Mhm”, Y/N sobs.

“Good girl. My best girl.”

You meet her dark eyes. She can see the pain you’re in, it’s exposing you. She kisses your bloody forehead.

“I’ll take the pain away”, she promises. “Just hold on a little, baby. You’re so strong, I’m so, so, so proud of you.”

She holds you in her grip all the way to her house. Jerry carries you inside, changes your clothes, wipes the blood off your face and washes your hair. She gently removes your clothes, seeing the bruised mess underneath.

“Everything hurts!” you almost scream as she pulls one of her t-shirts over your head and moves her arms to get in the arm-holes.

“Shh, I know, I know”, Jerry cooes before placing you down on his bed, tucking you in.

“Why did you do this to me?” you asks weakly.

“I had to risk it to get you back. I’ll take away the pain. I promise. I’ll take good care of you. Can you try to move your body? We have to make sure nothing’s broken.”

You wiggle your fingers, lift your legs and arms, turning your head. Nothing’s broken, only badly hurt and bruised. Jerry sighs out in relief. She knew what she was doing, but the small risk of anything unplanned happening was always there.

Her phone rings and when she sees the name, she smiles sadistically.

“I’ll go get you some painkillers”, Jerry says and leaves the room. As soon as she does, he picks up the call. “Hello, Silas.”

“What the fuck have you done?!” he shouts on the other side. “First, you burn down my fucking house and kill two of my guards and now the car is wrecked and the drivers are killed! What have you done to Y/N?! Don’t you realize how badly you could have hurt her?! Are you fucking insane?!”

“She’s a little manhandled, but she’ll be fine. She’s strong. I’ll take care of her very well and make sure she heals right.”

“You’re risking Y/N’s life! You’re playing with her as if she was some toy! She can die!”

“I know what I’m doing, old man. Loosen up. I don’t like seeing Y/N in pain, but I’ll do anything to get her away from you. And you should see how dependent she is on me when she’s hurt. You wish it was you, don’t you?”

“You’re a damn parasite, Jerry! Let me talk to her.”

“Why?”

“I need to see so you haven’t fucking killed her!”

“Fine. Two minutes.”

Jerry walks inside the bedroom again, putting on the speaker, giving you the phone.

“Hello …?” you whispers quietly.

“Y/N, oh, my … darling, are you hurt?” Silas asks worriedly.

“Everything is hurting …”

“I’m sorry, once again I fucked up, I‘m sorry! I shouldn’t leave you alone. You know I would never do that to you, right? I’d never hurt you.”

“Hey, don’t manipulate her like that!” Jerry scoffs, taking the phone. “You’re worse than me.”

“I’m not trying to manipulate her! I’m telling the truth!”

Y/N whines out a broken sob. Their loud, upset voices make her head pound heavily.

“Shh, it’s alright, baby girl”, Jerry cooes, caressing her cheek. “I’ll go get that painkiller now, I promise.”

She walks outside the room.

“I’ll never forgive you if you give Y/N forever damage, do you hear me, Jerry?” Silas says.

“If you don’t want her in every condition she comes in, I’ll gladly take her. I’ll love her however she is.”

“I will too, but if she’s suffering, I’ll kill you!”

“Try. I dare you. While you plan it out, I’ll be with Y/N.”

Jerry smirks and hangs up, going to the bathroom to get the painkiller. She walks back with the little pill and a glass of water. You tries to sit up, but moan in pain.

“No, no, I’ll help you”, Jerry says. “Don’t move.”

She helps you up in a half sitting, half lying position with a big pillow behind your back. She holds the glass and pill to your mouth. Thankfully, your neck wasn’t very badly injured so you can swallow it yourself.

Silas pulls the knife out of the man’s chest, exhaling shakily. He’s never felt this type of anger. He imagines that the near dead man under him is Jerry. You’re lying in her bed, hurt beyond infinity and he can’t do anything about it. Silas lets out a loud, animalistic roar before dumping the body down in the water. He sits down on the sand and starts to cry into his hands. He neither has have a home or the person that matters to him the most. Jerry is two steps before him and he has to think quickly if he wants to win.

I have to do something. I have to hurry.

Silas has to get a new house and a new plan. The house is the most important at the moment. He has to have a safe place for you when he rescues you. The base isn't a good place, it's not safe. He doesn’t have much time.

“I’m going to kill you, Jerry, and I’m going to enjoy it”, Silas says before standing up.

One of his men is quick to find a new house for Silas. He likes it, but there’s a lot to fix before you come back. His men have to take care of that. Silas has another thing to do: to get you back. He thinks about how to do it. No way he'll do what Jerry did. He'll never scare or hurt his love. He is way too mature for that.

"Jerry is violent, but she's dumb", Silas tells one of his men. "She is in that age where she thinks she's untouchable. She's never on her guard.”

“We'll get her back, boss."

"Yeah, we will."

The pain is eating you up from the inside. You want to scream, but you’re too exhausted to do that. Jerry is downstairs today and you’re all alone in the room. The silence is just what you need. There are guards right outside the door, ready to attack in case Silas appears. They have one objective: to protect you at all costs.

All you are doing is lay in that bed, day after day. When Jerry isn’t home, you watch TV, listen to music or sleep. You’re exhausted. Getting kidnapped back and forth is tearing you physically, mentally and and emotionally. You can’t take it anymore. Jerry was willing to crash a car to get you. What more is she prepared to do?

Silas makes his way through the house, finding Jerry by the bedroom door. Silas’ men take her by surprise and hold her still as Silas makes his way into the bedroom, over to the bed. Jerry should have known. The sound she heard earlier was footsteps, she should have known!

"Don't you fucking touch her, you sons of bitches!" Jerry shouts angrily, trying to get out of the grip the guards are holding her in. One of them holds their arm around her neck in a chokehold. "Let me go, you fucking idiots!"

She almost doesn't sound human, more like a demon. The fear of Silas taking you away makes her adrenaline pump through his veins.

“That you can use those kinds of words in front of Y/N is just disgusting”, the older man says. “You really are horrible.”

You whimper out a sob, a single tear running down your cheek as you watch Silas get closer. He looks heartbroken to see you in this condition. You look like you’re on the edge of seeing death.

"Don't be scared", Silas says gently. "I got you."

You think about all the times you had to get manually moved to the toilet to empty yourself and how badly that hurt. You can’t get moved again.

"Don't move me … please", you whisper.

"What?" Silas asks. Please tell him he heard wrong. That can’t have come out of your mouth.

"Please don't move me … it hurts so much."

"You heard her!" Jerry almost shouts, fighting against the guards. "Leave her alone!"

"Y/N’s opinion doesn't really matter now", the older one says, standing up. "She doesn't understand what's best for her. I'll take care of her even better than you do."

He bends down to pick her up.

"No, no, no, no, please-", you whine.

"Shh, it'll only hurt for a little while, I promise. Then everything will be good again."

"No, please…"

"Shh."

"Why don't you listen to her?!" Jerry spits.

You let out a moan of pain as you get lifted off the bed.

“Stop, Silas, for real!” Jerry panics. “She wishes to stay! You can't do that to her!”

You have never seen her like this. She actually looks — and sounds — terrified. She doesn’t look like the cruel woman who wears an iconic smirk … for once she resembles a real human.

“I can do whatever I want. Shut her up, she’s too loud”, Silas says and walks out of the room with you in his arms.

“D-Don’t kill her”, you manage to get out.

It’ll all be your fault if Jerry loses her life.

“I wasn't going to kill him!” Silas hurries to say. Clearly lying.

“Let me down, it hurts too much!”

"I'm so sorry. We're soon in the car, I promise."

He carries you out to the car and places you down in the backseat with your head in his lap. You start to cry as the car drives. The small jerking, rocking motion makes every muscle in your body ache. You’re deadly afraid that Jerry will crash this car too. You won’t survive another attack. Silas wipes your tears. God, his heart is aching. How could Jerry do this?

A week goes by. By now, you can walk normally, it’s only in the mornings and evenings you feel the pain in your body. Today though, a weird feeling has entered your body and won’t go away. Something will happen, you can feel it. It's been too peaceful for too long.

“Let’s bake something”, Silas says. “Let’s bake … a cake! You deserve a cake for being such a good girl even though Jerry broke your body.”

They walk down to the kitchen and prepare everything, taking out the eggs, milk, sugar, flour and what more they need.

“Are you ready?” Silas asks, holding up his phone for the recipe. “Let’s go.”

You start pouring in the different ingredients in the bowl and stir.

They take the cake out of the oven thirty minutes later. A wonderful scent has spread throughout the house. You smother the purplle vanilla cream over the cake, looking at the pretty color. You’re all in your own world.

Suddenly, she hears some weird sound. Silas frowns, looking behind him. Jerry and five of her men enter the kitchen with guns in their hands, directed at them.

“How nice to meet you again, Silas”, she smirks and looks at Y/N. “Hello, baby. You don’t have any bruises left. You’re still pretty.”

“Leave”, Silas growls. “Leave us alone.”

“I’m going to leave, but I have to bring my baby home first. I let you have her, I was generous. But now it’s time for her to come home. And I’m going to have her. You care about your men, don’t you? I will kill them one by one until you give Y/N to me voluntarily.”

She shoots one of the men to show that she’s serious and that she’s willing to kill more. You force your scream to silence as you watch the man fall down, blood covering his corpse. You start to shake as tears fall down your cheeks.

“One down”, Jerry says, tilting her head. “If you don't want more of your men to get a first class ticket to Hell, Silas, leave the room. Now.”

Silas sighs heavily, gives you a defeated kiss on your cheek before passing Jerry in the door.

“I will get her back, you know that”, he says. “I’m only letting you get her because I know you’ll do something insane that’ll scar her for life or give her even more bruises. Look at her, you’ve already done enough.”

“You’re right, I’d do something worse. Don’t worry though, I’ll take care of her, like I always do.”

Jerry walks over to the scared girl by the cake, collecting some purple icing on her finger, tasting it. Her gun is still in her hand, resting on the kitchen aisle. Your gaze is stuck on it as the tears fall down, shoulders shaking worse than before.

"It's good, you're a good baker", Jerry smiles. “Look at me.”

You force her eyes to meet hers.

“You’re going to come with me now, won’t you?” she asks.

You don’t answer.

“Y/N, I’m going to shoot one of Silas’s men for every minute you refuse to come with me.”

“Please don’t …”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Okay, okay, okay, fine, I’ll come.”

“Good girl..”

Jerry takes your hand, giving it a kiss. You have to walk over the dead body to get out of the kitchen. The smell of fresh blood is making your head and stomach spin. Jerry brings you with her out of the house, just in time for you to duck into a bush and throw up.

“Ah, poor baby”, she says worriedly, holding up your hair. “You’re not used to death. It’ll be fine.”

She helps you to the car. Your gut had been right. It had been too calm for too long.

Am I just a ragdoll for them to pull apart as they please? you think. I can’t deal with this anymore.

But you have no other choice.

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