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s0ulm8s · 9 months

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cinnamon, honey, & sage — geto suguru x human!reader

ೃ⁀➷ genre : fluff

*ೃ༄ words: 1.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*: warnings & a/n : nothing, just fluff, girldad!geto suguru, honestly nothing too crazy or exciting just suguru going soft for a human (lmk if i should make a part two)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ read more works here ➼ masterlist

geto suguru didn't particularly look forward to having to saunter into the small bakery just a mere ten minute walk from his current residence. no, not because it was unsanitary or even that the food was bad — he simply wished to never interact with the monkeys nearby if he could help it.

they left a stench, one of greed and unworthiness. rotten and disgusting. actively seeking them out was not on his to-do list.

yet nanako and mimiko couldn't let the small place go. they loved it there. when suguru would give the girls a wad of cash and urge them to spend their day in the small city nearby — this place was always their last stop.

despite being branded as a bakery it stayed open late and sold sake, and even though the cute owner that sat behind the counter would giggle and politely refuse to sell the two girls the alcohol — she always gave them an extra pastry and let them spill their teenage gossip to her.

we bought you a scone geto-sama... but we shared it on the way home nanako would admit with a half-guilty grin but you should really try it yourself anyways! the owner is very pretty and i promise it smells nice!

he'd scoff lovingly at this, but the more the pair gushed about the owner and her sweet attitude towards his girls, it had become a recurring thought. and since mimiko had gotten sick, and inevitably passed it on to nanako — he figured the girls deserved some cheering up as they were getting better.

suguru looks up, the neon sign reads magic shop in japanese, lighting up in a pink and purple hue with the words bakery & bar underneath.

the sun was setting now and the bell to the door rings softly, alerting you from the back of the shop to a new customer. though you were open for another hour you weren't expecting many more customers on a week night.

suguru observes the small building, comfortable booths line the wall, and the ceiling to floor windows are littered with hanging plants and vines. lights dim and colorful flood his vision while soft music meets his ears. the atmosphere is nice, calming even and suguru finds himself looking for something to be displeased with. he grunts when he can't find anything.

so far his girls were right, it does smell nice. yet he hasn't seen another person yet, until he hears small padding footsteps come to the front — you must be the sweet owner who gives away free treats.

your face is pleasant and welcoming as you take in his appearance, skin a bit hot as you observe the much taller man. his dark hair is long, half tied up into a bun and the rest cascading over his shoulders. he's wearing a black button up, sleeve rolled up and tucked into casual black slacks that accentuate his figure nicely. and he is handsome. god, is he handsome.

you let the thoughts drift away as his gaze looks a bit apprehensive before slowly approaching the counter.

"hi, welcome in." you greet softly, voice melodic and sweet and he can't help but rejoice a bit that you aren't overly cheery or theatrical. "were you looking for anything specific tonight?"

he finally stops right in front of counter, gaze boring down onto you as he studies you. "yes, actually." he responds, voice low and dreamy as he scans the window with the pastries. "two raspberry muffins, three cinnamon scones, a cheese danish, and a loaf of your homemade bread."

his recitation of the order is precise and memorized, and you can't help but let out a giggle to yourself before commenting, "you must be the protective hermit who looks after mimiko and nanako, yeah?" you ask as he looks at you with a slightly shocked expression. you giggle again, and he leans a bit closer instinctively at the sound. "their words, not mine.. it's geto, right?"

he nods in confirmation, for some reason introducing himself with his full name as you do the same. at your comment he actually lets out a small chuckle, a grin finally finding his face and actually meeting his eyes before he nods, "i suppose that would be me.. i don't find myself out much, i have.. sensitivities." he admits, in the middle of his sentence realizing he hadn't even grimaced at a certain smell yet. no. you smelt nice, inviting even — you smelt of cinnamon, honey, and... what was that?... a hint of sage maybe. not too sweet or overbearing. suguru mentally slapped himself for enjoying it as much as he did. "you knew that just by their order?"

you laugh again as you nod, beginning to grab his items before speaking. "yeah, they've become some of my favorite regulars. they typically order the same things — aside from the homemade bread." you tell him, "you must not have much of a sweet tooth." you observe as he nods in confirmation. "that's okay, i don't really either.."

"yet you run a bakery?" suguru quips, letting out a small laugh as you nod.

"and bar." you correct with a smirk, "i know, i see the irony, too. but baking was something i learned to love from someone who just.. meant a lot to me." you find yourself admitting for reasons unknown. why were you so easily telling this man things about yourself?

he can almost see you inner turmoil, but he can understand your passion — loving something because someone you loved also did. it was slightly heartwarming, and he could feel his past creeping up his throat a bit. he swallows it down.

you clear your throat. "oo, i know! i have a new item i'd like you to try.. it's a taro bun but i make it with a different herbal mix, not too sweet but not too bitter. i think you might like it." you suggest, placing two of the lilac colored buns into his now large packaged box that was decorated in your logo and littered in small doodled flowers.

typically suguru would flinch and disregard anyones assumption at what he might like, yet he found himself gravitating toward you. listening intently, and he even hoped you were right. then he could come back and give you his honest review.

was he seriously searching for a reason to see you again already? tsk. maybe his girls were right, you do seem quite intriguing and magnetic. he can't believe he's allowing himself to think this way about a non-sorcerer.

"speaking of, where have those two been? i haven't seen them the last week or so — i was starting to get worried." you ponder, ringing his total up on your register. typically any pry into his life would annoy him, but your concern seems genuine and leaves him curious.

"ah, mimiko seems to have caught an illness and of course, nanako got it from her." suguru explains, and you're worried gaze finds his and he is quick to reassure you. "they're both already on the mend, don't worry. they talk a lot about this place.. and you.." suguru begrudgingly admits, "i figured this would cheer them up a bit."

your face immediately blushes at the idea that he already knew about you prior. "hmm, that's very sweet of you... here, take some tonyu with you as well. they usually get a few boxes, but they always switch up the flavors." you tell him, and he's only just now realizing how attentive you've been to them while on their own. he finds himself grateful that they were in good hands. you give him four different flavors of the drinks.

you bag all of the items together and you both find yourself a little bit desperate to spend a bit more time in the other's presences. "say, what time does your shop close?" suguru finds himself speaking before his brain can process what he's doing.

you look up at him with big eyes, almost shocked before you stutter out an answer. "i close in about.. uhh.. 13 minutes." you tell him, not realizing how much time had passed. "why do you ask?"

"any chance you'll let a customer in after close to share some sake with?" he asks next, a sweet grin painting his face as you blush wildly. how had a human woo'd him so easily?

"hmm.. only for the handsome stranger i've heard so much about." you hum to yourself as his shoulders bob a bit though his laughter. "go to your girls, i'll have our drink ready when you get back." you smile warmly, and he thanks you.

not even twenty minutes later you see his silhouette approaching, and you go to unlock the door. as you pull it open, you see a small box in his hands and realize he's brought the taro buns with him.

"i figured we could share these, and i could go ahead and give you my honest review, yeah?" he speaks as he steps inside, stopping just in front of you. his tall frame swallowing you as he leans in and you grow bit flustered. you grin. "ready for that drink?"

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru imagine #jjk suguru #jjk imagines

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Blurb idea!!

Hear me out the bau has been on a case all week and at lunch at the precinct reader comes up to spencer and is like “wanna go get coffee somewhere?! :3” obviously trying to spend some time with him but he is not picking up on the situation at all and is like “there’s coffee right here, want me to pour you some?” Like he just genuinely thought reader had no idea there was coffee. Then she kinda lets it go and Morgan walks up to reid overhearing the convo being like “my man wtf r u doing she doesn’t gaf abt the coffee!!! She wants to hang out w u!!” And reids all like ohhhhhh and feels like an idiot and walks back over to her and takes her up on the offer 😭😭

Spencer's tired. He's been up for almost two days straight, eyes strained as he scans through mountains of paper at the speed of light. The unsub they're tracking was a proficient journaler, and each composition notebook gets more and more gory. He's just in the middle of reading about victim number three and her unfortunate demise when you step into his line of sight, placing a hand over the page.

"Hey Spencer," You grin down at him when he squints up at you.

"Hey," He hums, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," You nod, bouncing on the balls of your feet, "You look tired, though. Wanna grab some coffee with me?"

His brain is still filled with violent visions, blood-spattered pages, and scripted writing pressed so hard into the page that the ink bleeds, and he doesn't pick up on your subtext.

"Oh, I'm okay," He hums, head ducked back down to the page, "I've got some already. It's in the break room if you want some."

"Oh. Uh, okay. Thanks, Reid."

He lets you leave with a soft 'mhm', but his head snaps back up when he feels someone swat at the back of it, hard.

"Ow! Morgan," Spencer glares at the man, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head, "What's wrong with you?"

"Me?" Derek's eyes widen, "What's wrong with you?"

"Well my head hurts," Spencer gripes, "What do you mean?"

"She was askin' you out, man!"

Spencer frowns, "She asked if I wanted coffee."

"No, she asked if you wanted to go get coffee with her. She was asking to spend time alone with you, she was asking you out!"

"Oh." Spencer looks pleased with himself for a moment, then his brain catches up to him and he remembers what he'd said in response, face dropping "Oh."

He scrambles out of his chair, leaving the journal open-faced on the desk. He barely catches you by the shoulder before you can disappear into the kitchen, and you turn with a slightly defeated look in your eye. Spencer tries not to dwell on it.

"Hey," He speaks in a shaky, awkward voice, "Uh, actually, it turns out the coffee here is terrible. Are you still up for a walk to the cafe?"

All at once you brighten, Spencer practically feels the warmth shoot through your veins where his hand rests on your shoulder.

"I'd love to," You gush, grabbing his free hand, "C'mon, Spence! We have to get there before the danishes run out!"

Spencer sits back down at his desk an hour and a half later, $12 poorer, but a whole lot happier. And he pockets the note that Derek has slipped between two pages of the journal, dreading what punishment the man would inflict on him: You owe me big time, pretty boy!

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 3 months

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The Other Man

Note: lovely request by a lovely anon! I hope you enjoy this, and thank you for this request, I really enjoyed writing this.

Warnings: 18+! angst, smut, mention of death and arranged marriage.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You fell in love with the warrior who was tasked to protect you and your husband.

wordcount: 7,5k

Masterlist

Your husband was fifteen years older than you, and your marriage had been arranged because your husband possessed quite some land. His status had been good for that of your poor family, and he had treated you kindly too. Despite being treated kindly, there had been little to no romance in your marriage and no pups were ever born. You did not mind the lack of intimacy. What bothered you was that your husband was free to whore around, but god forbid a lady bedded a man that was not her husband.

You had loved your husband at some point, at least you think you did, when he was a bit younger and still participated in battles to protect the Saxon land. But during one of those battles he had gotten injured badly, and had lost one arm and his ability to walk. All he did was lay in bed ever since or sit in a chair and stare at a wall, as he could do little else, and therefore your life also stopped when he became injured. But he was still an important and rich man. And when there was word that his life and yours were threatened by a witch named Skade, so that the Danes could eventually take claim of his wealth, the Lord Uhtred arranged one of his men to protect you and your husband for as long as needed. Your husband would pay the tasked man for his protection, and the warrior would be provided with residence in a cottage on your husband's land.

You watched him from your kitchen, through the open wooden shutters, as he sat outside merely a few paces away from you. Sihtric. That was his name, the name of the warrior who was tasked to protect you and your husband from a possible attack. He sat on a large broken tree log, basking in the early morning sun. It was to be another hot summer day, just like the past few days had been. His bare muscular arms glistened with sweat as his biceps flexed with each stroking movement he made to sharpen his axe. His jaw was clenched and his face serious, eyes fixated on his weapon as he took care of her with care and smooth motions.

You observed him. You had been observing him ever since his arrival a few days ago, but you hadn't exchanged a word, only a glimpse of eye contact when you were introduced after his arrival late in the evening. Sihtric spent most of the day outside in the fields surrounding your husband's home, scouting for enemies, while you were trapped inside to take care of your bitter and grumpy husband when the maid couldn't. But now that your husband was still asleep, because the pain in his body was too much for him to bear today, you could secretly observe Sihtric without being called away for a while.

Sihtric was clearly younger than your husband, closer to your own age, and it was evident that he was a Dane. His sweat coated neck showed a Danish tattoo that ran up the side of his head and he wore a hammer pendant. His dark hair was short and shaved off on both sides, he had a hint of facial hair and when he suddenly looked back over his shoulder and locked eyes with you, after you had dropped a plate because you were too distracted by his physique, you suddenly noticed his eyes were two different colours. Sihtric was unlike any man you had ever seen before. You hadn't seen many men actually, as you married your husband young and didn't get to leave the house much as he swore it was safer for you to stay inside. And like a fool you believed him.

A hint of a smirk appeared on Sihtric's face before he brought his attention back to his weapon again, but seconds later he stopped sharpening the axe head and got up. He wiped his tattooed hands on his leather jerkin and turned to you, then leaned on the window sill with his elbows and looked at you, his playful smirk still gracing his beautiful and slightly scarred face.

'My lady,' he simply said, his voice soft and warm, 'can I help you?'

'No,' you stammered, 'thank you.'

Sihtric chuckled lightly at your flushed face and licked his lips, amused.

'Why are you inside on a day like this?' he asked, 'does your husband not want to enjoy the sun with you?'

'My husband is sleeping.'

'Then do you not want to enjoy the sun? Pick flowers or just go for a walk?'

You looked at the warrior in silence for a few long seconds, then picked up the dropped plate.

'I do,' you confessed with a whisper, 'but…'

'But?' Sihtric asked after a pause.

'My husband...'

'... Is sleeping?'

'Yes.'

'Then why must you stay inside?' he wondered.

'My husband believes it is safer inside for me.'

Sihtric laughed at that, then pushed himself up and grabbed his axe which he swung over his shoulder.

'What's so funny?' you almost snarled, but your eyes betrayed that you weren't truly offended, as you couldn't tear your gaze away from his impressive arms.

'Nothing, my lady,' he composed himself, 'but if you change your mind and want to enjoy the sun…'

He didn't finish his words, but you knew what he meant. You knew you could find him in the fields, scouting, and he wouldn't mind for you to join him. But you were married. To an important man nonetheless, so Sihtric could not try and persuade you directly. But it had only taken him one day to tell that you weren't happily married and he thought you were too beautiful to be with a man like your husband, and it was a shame you rarely appeared outside of your home. And Sihtric also knew you had been watching him, which amused him greatly, but had to be careful with his approach. Sihtric was paid royally by your husband for his protection and he did not want to let Uhtred down by getting sent away from the job, because he had been pursuing the wife of a nobleman.

A few days passed and your husband's condition didn't improve. The warm summer caused him to feel unwell and dizzy. He had no appetite and barely consumed any water. The heat made his old wounds ooze pus and smell foul, for they never successfully healed and often became infected. And it was your duty to take care of him while the maid looked after the house and made food. But now that his condition became worse you had to fetch a healer, who arrived the same afternoon. Her name was Eadith, she was very friendly, wise and above all incredibly beautiful. And your husband seemed to feel better too at the sight of Eadith alone already, for he suddenly drank water and allowed her to feed him fresh fruits from the garden. If you were in love with him you would have been jealous, but it only made you reconsider Sihtric's offer from a few days ago to join him scouting the lands.

You were sick of always being a good and loyal wife, while your husband's eyes and hands had always wandered to other ladies. It is not that he thought you weren't beautiful, but due to the lack of intimacy he just had no interest in you anymore, and after his injury you were merely his caregiver. You had warned Eadith immediately after you saw his interest in her, but she reassured you that she had no desire to bed an older and sick man, but she would look after him which also meant you could finally take a break.

And so you decided to go outside and find Sihtric. You were dressed in a yellow linen dress, which was simple but pretty, as it hugged your shape and showed your figure in all the right places but also swayed in the summer breeze. You did not want to make it obvious that you were looking for the Dane, so you carried a twig woven basket and strolled to collect apples. That way you could scan the surrounding area without it being suspicious, as you only really left the house to gather fruits and herbs that grew in the garden.

You soon felt droplets of sweat on your back as the sun was at its peak, and the blush on your face grew warmer when your eyes landed on Sihtric in the distance, who was naked after he had taken a refreshing swim in the river that crossed your lands. The basket with apples fell out of your hands, which drew Sihtric's attention, and you quickly averted your eyes after you had already caught a glimpse of his entire body. And an impressive body it was, even from afar. You squeezed your thighs together as you sat down, your heart pounding wildly in your chest while you gathered the fallen apples back into the basket. Your mind wandered while your hands searched the tall grass for the round fruits, and you couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have Sihtric's arms around you. Those strong arms, much stronger than your husband's arms ever had been. And you craved to know what Sihtric would taste like when he kissed you, and how his hands felt on your bare skin, and how it would feel to rake your fingers through his short hair as you felt him inside you. You were so caught up in your sudden erotic fantasy that you didn't notice Sihtric had walked up to you, and he startled you when he suddenly cleared his throat behind you.

'Goodness!' you gasped and jumped up.

'Apologies, my lady,' Sihtric said with a sly smile, and he held an apple out to you, 'I did not mean to scare you, but I believe you dropped this.'

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were immediately distracted at the sight of his naked torso as he was only wearing his breeches. You snatched the apple out of his big hand, the same hand you had just imagined wrapped around your throat as he had pushed you down in the field to kiss you lustfully. And while you tried to shake that thought and put the apple back in your basket, your eyes darted over the numerous scars on his still wet and muscular body, and then your lust took over.

You dropped the basket and grabbed his face, pulling his lips onto yours, and you kissed him with a fiery passion you never felt before. You placed one hand on his neck and the other moved through his short hair while his damp hands grabbed your waist firmly. Sihtric pulled you flush against his wet body, hiked your skirt partly up and then lifted your knee to hook it around his bare waist. You wrapped both arms around his neck and he smoothly laid you down in the tall grass. His lips trailed down your neck and to your shoulders, leaving wet kisses and love bites, and he shoved his fingers underneath the shoulder straps of your linen dress. He lowered the top hastily but with care, and soon you felt his warm lips trail down further to your breasts and he teased your nipple with his tongue and teeth while he pinched your other nipple with his fingers. You moaned at his touch and the overall sensations, and you pulled his face back up to yours, desperate to disappear into his kiss while you removed his breeches, and he pushed the skirt of your dress up to gain access to your cunt. Sihtric kissed you roughly, as if he tried to still a hunger that could not be satisfied until he had devoured you completely. Your ragged breaths felt warm on each other's faces while he began to tease you, grinding the tip of his hard cock against your wet folds. You were desperate and ready for him.

You were desperate to feel his entire length inside you, stretching you and filling you up completely, and you wanted to be ravaged by him. You wanted him to do with you as he pleased and to use you up until you were exhausted and sore and begging for him to stop as tears ran down your face, because the pleasantness would be too much to handle for you. You wanted him to cum over and over again inside you while your legs were shaking underneath him, just so you could finally experience what it would be like to leave a man satisfied after he had been with you.

But then you heard him call your name and suddenly you snapped out of your fantasy.

'Are you okay, my lady?' Sihtric frowned as he still held his hand out to you, holding the apple he had picked up.

'I, yes, fine,' you rasped and took the apple out of his hand, 'thank you.'

You gave the Dane a curt smile and turned on your heels. Sihtric watched you walk back to the house, and he once again thought it was a real shame how someone with such beauty as yours was kept hidden inside.

You sat across from Sihtric at the dinner table that evening. It was not common for the warrior to dine with you, but as Eadith was invited by your husband, you insisted for Sihtric to be there too, for it would be unfair to neglect the man who protected your lives. Dinner had been served by the maid and you tried to enjoy the food as much as you could, but the atmosphere was tense and awkward. You sat next to your sickly husband while Eadith, who was staying several days longer to take care of him, sat next to Sihtric. Everyone ate quietly while occasionally glancing at one another. Your husband's eyes were mainly fixated on his healer, while you tried your hardest to not gaze at Sihtric the entire time you looked up from your plate. And yet each time you did look up at the Dane, who you had fantasised about earlier that day and had seen completely naked from a distance, you found his eyes were already fixated on you. And his eyes seemed darker than usual.

While you had dessert your husband tried to make some small talk with Eadith. Everyone saw right through him and knew he was trying to see if she was interested. And Eadith, the saint, played along to not make it more awkward than it already was. As she engaged in conversation with your husband, you and Sihtric kept glancing at each other and soon you felt his leather boot lightly tap your ankle under the table. Sihtric smiled faintly, barely noticeable, but you could tell the mischief in his eyes when you looked into them. You shifted in your chair, desperate to feel some friction between your legs, but nothing could give you a relief of the feeling Sihtric gave you, unless he shoved his hand between your thighs and inside you.

'I shall take the Lord to his room and clean his wounds,' Eadith announced after dinner.

You agreed and, once they had left the room, you helped the maid gather the dishes and cups from the table and brought them to the kitchen, where the maid would clean them. Sihtric helped you clear the table, handing you the used cutlery, and his fingers lightly caressed yours each time he handed you something. And he loved how you would try and hide your hungry eyes for him each time he touched you. You walked Sihtric to the front door afterwards, as he would need to scout the land once again before he could retreat to his cottage for the night, and you thanked him for watching over you and your husband as you hadn't thanked him before.

'Just my duty,' he smiled and leaned against the doorpost.

Sihtric then suddenly leaned in and brought his hand up to your neck. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt his warm hand on your skin, slowly moving up as he brought his face closer to yours. He took your chin gently and brushed his thumb over your lips, tracing in circles as he stared down into your eyes. He towered over you and smiled softly, his eyes were hooded and he then slowly wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue as he looked you up and down.

'You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,' he whispered, 'it is a shame your husband keeps you inside. But,' he paused and chuckled, 'I understand it too.'

'How so?' you breathed, his voice causing a pool of heat to rise in your core.

'Because you have no idea how I wish to hump you, my lady,' Sihtric whispered, 'and I too would not want any other man to talk to my wife if I was married to you.'

'Would you also hide me?'

'No,' he smiled, 'no, the opposite,' he cupped your cheek and brought his face even closer to yours, his lips grazed yours when he spoke again, 'I would show you off. I would let everyone know that you're mine.'

You were both silent. In the distance some crickets sung their song while the moon lit up the fields around the house, and the candles inside illuminated your faces as you gazed at each other.

'I know you saw me earlier,' he continued, 'at the river.'

'I… I don't know what you're talking about,' you lied.

Sihtric chuckled and hummed softly, the sound made your knees tremble and caused you to feel lightheaded. You both anticipated each other's next move as no one spoke anymore, and then you both gave in at the same time. Without any hesitation your lips crashed together in a heated kiss. And this time you weren't just fantasising, you knew it was real because you could actually taste the ale on his lips that had been served during dinner. And you finally felt his hair as you raked your hands through it, it was soft and just long enough to grab onto. You felt the silver beads which were braided into his locks on both sides, and the parts that were shaved were pleasantly soft as his hair had begun to grow back slightly.

Sihtric deepened the kiss and picked you up in his arms, and he was as strong as you had imagined. He effortlessly held you as your legs were around his waist, and he carried you over to an oaken cabinet that stood in the hallway. He sat you on top of the cabinet, his lips still locked with yours and his tongue still in your mouth, and he cupped your cheeks firmly while he grinded his hips against yours. Your skirt was hiked up and his arousal pressed against your clit through his breeches, and you moaned into his mouth at the feeling. You both breathed hard and fast, equally desperately trying to stay quiet and to keep self control, knowing that your husband was only a few rooms away. You tugged at his leather armour, wanting to keep him as close as possible while he pulled at the laces of your dark blue dress. You wanted nothing more than to pull down his breeches and free his cock, take him in your mouth before you'd let him rut into you like a beast, but then you broke the kiss, and it took all your strength.

'I… I'm sorry,' you panted, 'I'm sorry,' you said again and gave him a slight push away from you. You got off the cabinet and strengthened your dress, then wiped your mouth, the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips. 'I'm married,' you almost whispered, 'I'm sorry, but I can't… I shouldn't… it's wrong.'

Sihtric listened as you rambled on and he tried to regain his composure. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat as he adjusted his armour, and then looked back at you again.

'I understand,' he said politely, 'I apologise if my behaviour was out of line. I did not mean to disrespect you or your husband. I am sorry, my lady.'

You silently stared into each other's eyes again for long, long seconds. The air was thick and it seemed as if the crickets outside had gone quiet in anticipation.

'You did not disrespect me,' you reassured him.

Sihtric gave you a curt nod in acceptance, then said, 'I should go, my lady, scout the lands once more before I shall retreat to my bed. I wish you a good night.'

'Wait,' you said as he turned on his heels, and you took his hand.

Sihtric turned back to face you as you held his hand, and you then pulled him back in. You took his face in your hands and you kissed him. You kissed him as if it was the last thing you'd ever do, and he did not hesitate to kiss you back. And he kissed you passionately and deep. He kissed you in a way your husband had never done. He kissed you in a way that told you he desired you, all of you. And then it was him who broke the kiss, as he knew he would not be able to stop himself once more if he continued now.

'In another life,' you whispered against his lips as you lightly traced the scar on his cheek with your thumb, 'in an unmarried life, I would be entirely yours, Sihtric.'

'What is holding you back in this life?' he asked, then gave you another firm kiss and, without waiting for your answer, he turned on his heels again and left out the door.

You took a deep breath and closed the door, then anxiously fidgeted with your wedding ring as you leaned back against the door. You tried to collect your thoughts but they were all over the place. And you were so caught up in your own head, that you never realised that Eadith had seen everything.

The next morning Eadith found you in the kitchen, just after you had seen Sihtric leave your husband's room. You had hid yourself when you saw Sihtric, with shaky knees and a dry mouth, and you cursed yourself for the effect the warrior had on you.

'Your husband asked for me to fetch you,' Eadith said, 'he wishes to speak with you.'

You thanked her and made way for your husband. Your heart was beating in your throat, because your husband never wished to just speak with you. You suddenly began to fear that Sihtric told him what had happened the night before, as he only left your husband's room minutes ago. And if he had told him, what would your husband do? You nervously entered his room and stood next to his bed.

'You wanted to speak to me?' you almost whispered.

You were afraid to speak up, as your voice would betray you nerves, and therefore you could betray yourself.

'Yes,' your husband said, his voice was feeble and he spoke slowly, 'that warrior, Sihtric… he asked me for permission to teach you how to fight. He said it would be good for your own protection in case the Danes will come. I stand no chance to defend this place,' he coughed and groaned in pain, then continued, 'so I agreed that it might be a good idea for you to learn some skills. I told him you will meet him at the stables in an hour.'

You were speechless and relieved, and before you could even reply your husband already dismissed you. You left his room and dressed in comfortable clothing, no linen dress today, but a leather jerkin that was suitable to learn how to fight in. You braid your hair and, when it was time, you made way to the stables. You found Sihtric as he saddled his horse and he smiled sweetly when he saw you.

'Good morning, my lady.'

'Good morning,' you smiled, nervously.

'You look beautiful,' he almost purred.

'Thank you,' you blushed, 'you look good today as well.'

Sihtric chuckled and then held his hand out, 'Are you ready?'

'I suppose I am.'

He helped you mount his horse and climbed in the saddle behind you, then spurred the beast into a gallop. Sihtric held the reins as his horse ran through the fields and crossed the river's bridge, all while you were kept in place between his strong arms. And you didn't speak until the horse slowed down when you were far from your home, with no one else around.

Sihtric dismounted and helped you safely back on your feet, his hands lingered on your waist and he then pulled you closer. Your hands settled on his chest, fingers curled around the neck of his leather armour and you pulled him towards you. The kiss was pleasant and familiar, and it was as good and passionate as it had been the night before. But the kiss was also calmer, as there was no worry now to get caught. You soon ran out of breath and the kiss became hotter and deeper. You impatiently tugged at each other's clothes, loosening the laces while you wished your tongues could tangle together into a tight knot, so you'd never have to leave each other again. You removed each other's clothing and Sihtric used his own clothes as an improvised blanket and laid you down upon it. The tall grass made for a shield wall around you, hiding you both, and the sound of the river close by covered the soft moans and ragged breaths that left both your lips. Trees sheltered you from the hot summer sun, but your bodies were damp and slippery and glistening with sweat regardless of the shade.

The Dane was tender with his hands but needy with his mouth, sucking and biting your lips in between kisses. He grinded his bare erection between your thighs, teasing your folds with just the tip of his cock without entering you. You clawed at his back, desperate to feel him inside you and you kissed until you became dizzy and overwhelmed with lust.

'I need you,' you breathed against his lips.

'Are you sure?' Sihtric asked out of breath, his sweaty forehead leaning against yours as he cupped your cheek, 'your husband-'

'Doesn't love me,' you said and silenced him with a kiss.

The kiss was heated and deep, almost aggressive. Your braided hair was dishevelled, as was his short hair after you repeatedly grabbed onto it and raked through it with your fingers. Your hands were on the back of his neck, keeping him close as your tongues explored each other with urgence. You slowly surrendered to Sihtric, knowing this was an act of adultery and if your husband would find out your life would be over. But you had to have Sihtric. You had to know what he felt like now that you already knew what he tasted like. You had fantasised about him all night and touched yourself at the idea of him. And you wanted more than just his kiss, you wanted all of him and to feel him everywhere. Now. The kiss gradually became less aggressive while his warm hands roamed your body, grazing your skin lightly and kneading your flesh firmly when he began to ache for you. You opened yourself fully for him, and your pulse quickened when you felt his tip enter you slowly, teasing you and coating it with your wetness. And a sharp gasp escaped your mouth when he finally pushed inside you, to the hilt, and you had never felt so full and complete before.

He thrusted into you slowly, then picked up his pace as his self control began to falter. You had only barely adjusted to him when he started to slam into you. Your lips weaved together in an attempt to silence your desperate whimpers and his heavy grunts as he rutted against you. Sihtric enveloped his hand under your knee and brought it up, your leg resting on his back, the new angle allowing him to bury his cock even deeper inside of you. You gasped and moaned with each trust, feeling his rough leather armour underneath you bruising your skin with each movement as he kept you firmly pressed down onto it.

He continued to slide in and out of you frantically, and he grabbed your face to look into your eyes. His lips were parted and curled into a smile, his eyes glazed over while his Mjölnir pendant dangled around his neck above you. He traced your lips with his thumb and pushed his digit inside your mouth when you moaned for him. Your tongue swirled around his finger, causing him to growl in pleasure while his free hand squeezed your thigh. Sihtric buried his face in your neck and murmured praises against your skin when you clenched your walls around his twitching cock, feeling your climax approach. You grabbed his broad shoulders and arched your back at the feeling, and he was quick to wrap his arms around you and pulled you up to him. You rode him as he sat back on his heels, your sweaty faces leaned against each other as you moaned and sighed, and you rocked your hips until your legs started to tremble when you finally released with a loud moan. Sihtric moaned sweetly in your ear, and soon you felt his warmth erupt inside of you while his arms were tightly wrapped around you. You collapsed on him and he laid down on his back, keeping you close as you laid on top of him, both exhausted and satisfied. And he slowly raked his fingers through your messy hair while you both caught your breath, smiling… and in love.

'So,' you said once you were both dressed again, 'weren't you supposed to teach me how to fight?'

Sihtric chuckled as he held you in his arms, sitting back against one of the trees, and his lips grazed your ear when he spoke.

'I never planned on teaching you how to fight,' he confessed, 'I've been here for a little while now and there have been so signs of any serious threat. I just needed an excuse to get you out of the house with the permission of your husband.'

'Really?' you scoffed, then laughed and shook your head.

'Really,' Sihtric said softly and intertwined his fingers with yours as he held you, 'I just wanted to see you outside. You always smile when you're outside, you know?' he paused, 'but I never see you smile when you're inside the house. And I just wanted to see you smile.'

You sat in silence and your eyes teared up. Sihtric heard you sniffle and squeezed you in his arms while he remained silent for a moment.

'Why are you still with him if you are so unhappy and feel so unloved?' he asked carefully, 'why don't you leave him?'

'It's not that simple.'

'But it is.'

'It's not. I can't just leave him, because I have nowhere to go,' you whispered and wiped away a tear that rolled down your cheek, 'I have nothing, Sihtric. I owe everything I have to him. If I leave him I have no home and no money. I will have nothing. And you know a woman can't just leave her husband. It would be a disgrace.'

'You could come with me,' he whispered and kissed your ear, 'stay with me. I will take care of you. If you marry me you would be under Uhtred's protection too. You would be safe.'

'I can't,' you sniffled again, 'you know I can't marry you while I am still married to him.'

Sihtric sighed softly and held you tight, until the sun began to lower into the sky and it was time to return back home. You adjusted your clothes and hair once more in the stables back home and you kissed each other deeply one more time before you had to part ways. You slowly walked to your house while Sihtric took care of his horse, before he would retreat to the cottage he resided in. And you wouldn't see each other until the next day.

And because you hadn't seen him anymore, Sihtric was also unaware of what had happened during the night. Eadith told you that your husband had grown very sick when you and Sihtric were out. The summer warmth had gotten to him completely and she did not know how to help him anymore.

'This is beyond my knowledge,' Eadith told you, 'he needs to be brought to the city, where he can get better aid. I can take a horse and transport him in a carriage, but I must do it now.'

And so she left in the night with your husband, not knowing when she would return.

You had told Sihtric the news the next morning. And at first you had been a little distraught, but Sihtric soon made you forget about your disloyal and ill husband. While your husband was being treated somewhere else, you and Sihtric made love in the bed you used to sleep in with your husband before he got injured. And you made love in the kitchen, after the maid was sent home for a few days, and you made love in the living room, on the carpet, multiple times until you were both physically exhausted. You and Sihtric became more fond of each other as the hours passed, and you felt happy for the first time in many years. And you secretly wished that your husband would never return. But he did.

He returned three days later with Eadith, merely an hour after you and Sihtric had made love in the river behind your house while you were bathing together in the first rays of the morning sun. And your husband noticed something was different about you when he saw you again, after you and Sihtric had kissed goodbye in secret and both returned to your daily duties. Your husband looked awful, he looked so much older than a few days before, and he was thin with his skin wrinkled and pale, whereas you were glowing. You had a glow about you that you never had before, and he became suspicious.

He questioned what you had done when he had been away, and you lied and said you only rested and took a forbidden walk in the fields. Your husband was angry that you had left the house, but too weak to argue and whenever he spoke he coughed and groaned, until Eadith hurried in the room and brought him tea. Eadith then asked to have a word with you, and you both left the room.

'Your husband has made advances again, despite him being terribly ill,' she told you, 'I am not interested in an affair with him, but I just want to be honest with you and let you know he is not an honourable man. And I want you to be honest with yourself too,' she suddenly said.

'What do you mean?' you asked, 'I know my husband is not a loyal one, I never lied to myself about that-'

'No,' Eadith interrupted you and took your hands, 'I have seen you,' she whispered, 'with Sihtric. I saw you kiss that night after we all had dinner. But I promise I never said a word to your husband,' she added quickly, 'but you need to stop lying to yourself. Your husband is a piece of weaselshit and he does not deserve you. And look how you are glowing right now, after being away from that miserable man for just a few days. He is old and in pain, he struggles. This man will never make you happy as he is not happy himself. You deserve a man who can satisfy you and protect you. Do not live an unhappy life here, but chase a happy life with the warrior. Because I know you are in love with each other.'

'But I… I can't leave him,' you stammered, 'he will never let me divorce him. And even if he would agree, I will have nothing to my name.'

Eadith gave you a saddened but compassionate look, she told you once again you should pursue a life with Sihtric, but she understood you were torn and it was not an easy choice. When your husband coughed violently again from his room, Eadith said she would make him some more tea and told you to visit the Dane, while she would keep your husband's attention away from you and look after him.

You visited Sihtric in his cottage and told him about your husband's condition and the advances he had made to Eadith despite his illness. Sihtric was furious that you allowed your husband to treat you with this disrespect, and he did not understand why you did not leave him. You argued, respectfully and calmly, and told him once again things are not that simple. You were scared, you could barely remember your life before marriage, you only knew that before your husband you had nothing. And you knew that after leaving your husband you would once again have nothing, if a divorce would even be allowed.

Sihtric kept reminding you that he would take care of you, and the arguing was eventually silenced with a heated kiss. Sihtric had grabbed your face and kissed you aggressively. You had torn off his leather jerkin and pulled down your dress. And not much later you were laying down on the soft furs on his bed, while candles illuminated the cottage and your ragged breaths filled the already thick air. And you made love, emotional and hard love, like beasts. Sihtric covered your mouth with his hand, silencing your moans while he took you from behind, and after you had both finished you cried in his arms until you fell asleep.

Your husband's condition worsened as the days passed by. He did not improve despite the summer heat finally cooling down as autumn was near. He grew weaker and paler with each day, and you did not understand what was happening. You thought he would heal after his treatment in the city, but ever since he returned home his health declined rapidly. You asked Eadith about it, and she finally revealed something shocking to you. You did not know what to do with this information, and so you ran to Sihtric, who was feeding his horse after he had scouted the lands again.

'Did you tell her to stop?' Sihtric asked after he had a moment to process the news.

You didn't answer his question. 'She has been poisoning him,' you repeated yourself, 'ever since they returned from the city. She told me, Sihtric, she told me she has been putting poisonous herbs in his tea.'

'But did you tell her to stop?' he asked again.

You remained silent, and Sihtric dropped the bucket he was feeding his horse from.

'Look,' he said and wiped his hands on his clothes, then raked one hand through his dusty hair, 'I have to leave here soon.'

'What?' you gasped, 'w-what do you mean?'

He took your hand and walked you to his cottage. You followed him inside and sat down on a wooden stool next to him, and he held your hands carefully. He lightly stroked his thumbs over the back of your hands, then looked at you.

'Skade is dead.'

'What? The… the witch?'

'She is dead,' Sihtric said softly, 'she has been dead for a few days already. Uhtred killed her. I just,' he paused, 'I did not want to leave you yet, so I didn't say anything. But there is no more threat to your life, nor that of your husband's. Unless you count Eadith's attempt to kill him,' he chuckled and composed himself quickly when he saw your disapproving look, 'I'm sorry,' he mumbled.

'But… so… you will leave?'

'Yes, my lady,' his voice was pained.

'When?'

'Soon, but,' he cleared his throat and sighed, 'I will not leave here without you.'

'Sihtric…'

'I won't leave without you,' he said sternly, 'you hear me? I want to leave with you as my wife.'

'But I'm still married,' you whispered and pulled your hands away.

You got up and reached for the door, wanting to leave as you did not have the emotional strength to argue about this again. But Sihtric stepped in and grabbed your arm, he pulled you towards him and then backed you up against the cottage's wooden door.

'Do you love him? Be honest.'

His eyes were soft yet threatening as he towered over you.

'No,' you said after a silence.

'Do you care for him?'

'No. Not anymore.'

'Would you mourn him?'

'Sihtric,' you scoffed, 'you can't ask me-'

'Would you mourn him?' he asked again, his breath hot on your lips and his hand trailing up your thigh, 'be honest with me.'

'... No.'

'Then be my wife,' he breathed and kissed under your ear, his hands squeezing your waist, 'then let Eadith take his life slowly and let me take you as my wife once he is dead,' he whispered in your ear, then gently bit your earlobe and dragged his lips up to yours.

He captured you in a passionate kiss and the sexual tension soon sparked again. You moaned against each other's lips, but he stopped you when you began to tug the laces of his leather jerkin.

'I want you more than anything,' Sihtric whispered against your lips, 'but I need to know you will be mine when this is over.'

'I will be,' you whispered and kissed him, 'I promise. I… I love you.'

'I love you too.'

Three days later.

It was a sunny afternoon, a late and hot summer day. Sihtric wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, collecting the drops of sweat before they'd run down his face. You had travelled off the lands your husband owned, and crossed the river to an empty and neglected field. Sihtric threw the shovel out of the hole he had dug and then climbed out. His arms, face, hair and his clothes were covered with layers of dry sand. You and Eadith watched in silence how Sihtric carried your husband's body, wrapped in sheets, to his final resting place.

You had never stopped Eadith and your husband had died earlier that day. Eadith knew this would be your only way out of the marriage without losing everything, and she also knew this was your husband's only way out of his painful and worthless life. You had shed a tear, but you weren't sure if it was of sadness or relief. Sihtric stood back, his hammer pendant clutched in his fist as he watched you say your final goodbye and throw a small bouquet of hand picked flowers into the hole. Eadith stood next to you and held your hand, but she knew that you were not sad. After a moment of silence you looked back over your shoulder to Sihtric, and you signalled him to close the grave. He spoke with Eadith before he shovelled the sand back, and you watched her depart on horseback to inform Uhtred of what had happened. And once the ground was even again and a wooden cross marked the grave, you and Sihtric mounted the same horse and rode back in silence, his arm wrapped around you and his chin resting on your shoulder.

Sihtric stopped by the river, wanting to bathe and rinse himself off the sand that had stuck to his sweaty skin. You watched him undress and he soon asked you to join him, which you did. You rid yourself of your black linen dress and stepped into the water. Sihtric took your hand and pulled you with him, further into the water where you both dunked under completely and kissed in the silence of the river underneath the surface.

You were finally free. Free if your miserable marriage and free to marry Sihtric. Your name was never disgraced or brought to shame, and you owned everything your husband had owned prior to his death, as he left everything to his wife. You knew Sihtric was a warrior and that he often had to travel, but you were now free to travel with him when possible and if it was safe. And you also knew it was good for Sihtric to have a place he could always come home to and spend time at when there were no battles to fight or messages to be sent.

And you married him several weeks later, and a happy and passionate marriage it would be, unlike the one you had been trapped in for so long.

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

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vesper-tinus · 1 year

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Hi Vespertine!! First off I wanted to say that I’m super impressed with how amazing your writing is considering English is your third language!! It is mine too, after Spanish and French, what about you?

Anyways I say your requests were open and I thought I could jump in and give you an idea. It’d be a König x female reader, in which she is a worldwide recognized sniper, but they only know her alias, so when she accepts a job at KorTac, König is smitten with her instantly, maybe she’s in the shooting range training at night and he comes up to her? What do you think?

Hello, anon!

What a lovely message, thank you so much! My languages are Danish, Italian, followed by English 😙 I took Spanish & German in school, unfortunately I don't remember much!

I love the idea! Hopefully I managed to write something you can agree with!

𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 König x F!Reader

Summary: On a late night, you find more at the shooting range than you expected. Keywords: König, female Reader, reader is a sniper, you have fun shooting guns in a safe environment 👍 König is giving puppy fanboy energy. Wordcount: 1206.

Bang.

Another shot rings throughout the empty, indoors shooting range. You lower your weapon, and unsurprisingly, your bullet ripped through the tacky, free sticker that came with a pair of shoes you bought recently. It might not be a normal use of stickers, but hey, you’re anything but normal… and the sticker was free.

You press a button and the long-distanced fiberboard creaks towards you.

They dubbed you "Lovelace''. After the mathematician. All due to your sharpened mind being able to perform extraordinary feats of warfare and calculations, all through the small scope of a sniper rifle. Companions have been noted to refer to you as either 'Love' or 'Lace', depending on the situation (and your relationship)—but those companions have been left behind for the time being. KorTec’s mercenaries are your companions now, though you have yet to actually meet any of them.

With the board coming to an abrupt halt in front of you, you peel off the damaged sticker, replacing it with another, before sending the target away again, tracking it through your scope.

Your ears perk at the sound of someone entering—even with the noise cancelling headphones—so you hold your fire and listen.

From their footsteps, you can tell they are not attempting to disguise their approach towards you. So you mind your business, emptying your lungs before taking the shot—bullseye—and lower the rifle onto the desk before turning towards the newcomer. Sliding down the ear-protectors to rest around your neck.

“Late-night practice?” Comes the question from the stranger, and you clock the Austrian accent almost immediately. You have toured there before for a mission. Great coffee.

The answer to his question is an obvious one, but you humour him, and offer him a curt nod and pleasant smile. “Got it in one,” you say with welcoming tone, wiping your hand on your thigh as you approach him for a handshake. “I’m—”

“Lovelace. I—I know.”

You blink. You had not expected to hear your callsign to be said with such… enthusiasm. While you cannot see his face, the awe is undeniable on his tongue. His infatuation showed freely in his eyes—almost sparkling. Such piercing blue eyes, you think absentmindedly as your hand is shaken. He seems almost reluctant to let you go, and you cannot help but quirk a smile. You are rarely, if ever, met with such boyish fascination.

“I have been following your career,” he says, straightening his back. “You’re an incredible sniper, it’s an honour to have you on the team.” His fingers twitch. It’s almost overwhelming meeting you in person. “I’m König,” he says, finally remembering he (rudely) interrupted your introduction.

His stature is impressive, formidable even. And your eyes never leave his as you step backwards until you can lean against the desk—and funnily enough, he follows you. The image reminding you of a puppy trotting after its master. “I’m honoured you keep me in such high regards,” you say with a chuckle, mirth arising from your throat as one leg comes to cross over the other in a casual, relaxed posture. “It’s all very cute.” You glance up at him, a smile pulling up one corner of your mouth, your eyebrow raised just enough to tell him that he is not as subtle as he might think. “King.”

You translating his callsign should not affect him as much as it does, aber Scheiße does it cause him to do a double take. He clears his throat, coming to stand near you. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to say. So he goes for whatever the both of you have in common. Guns—more specifically, sniper rifles.

“I, uh. I tried becoming a sniper once,” he says, eyeing the discarded rifle on the surface behind you. You follow his eyes, the only thing you can see of his face, and you unceremoniously hold the rifle up to him. Brow arched.

“Then you must have some training. Mind showing me what I’m working with?” Your tone is inviting, almost playful, as you encourage him to let loose. “-and if you want, I don’t mind giving pointers.” The last thing you want is him thinking you find yourself superior. You know how frustrating it can be, when others force “suggestions” on your techniques. Unfortunately, you have been the victim of many such men.

Thankfully, König seems thrilled to have your expertise at his beck and call, and lines himself up in the booth. You give him the space he needs. “Hold fire,” you order, inspecting his posture, his grip on the rifle, and suddenly you can’t help but imagine yourself back at the many sniper courses you’ve attended. You see his trigger finger twitch, not enough to fire, but enough to make you comment on it. “Steady fingers, König.”

“Apologies. I am… excited,” he admits with a faint chuckle. He cannot help himself. He cannot help himself so he sneaks a glance at you, and he’s thankful that his expression is veiled, because he’s smiling.

“Alright, I’ve grilled you long enough. Compensate for bullet drop, and impress me.”

He’s not sure if you caught him staring or not, but if you did, he’s thankful you didn’t mention it. “Yes,” he says, exhaling to empty his lungs as he prepares his shot.

A short silence follows, and then…

Bang.

The rifle shot echoes around you. Both your ears are, more or less, insensitive to it at this point.

You squint your eyes as you check the target. Not a bullseye, but a few centimetres north of your original sticker-shot. You find yourself nodding in approval. König hasn’t moved a muscle after the shot, awaiting any further instructions.

“Not a bad shot, König.” You pause, quirking a smile. “Go ahead and finish the magazine. Rapid fire.” Might as well put him through his paces, you’re curious to see how well he aims when pressured.

“Yes, ma’am.” Comes the response.

Shot, after shot, after shot, after shot rings out. You are quick to notice that the more shots he’s firing, the less stable his posture is. But when the rifle empties its last bullet, König breathes a sigh as a hand disappears beneath his hood to rub his jaw. The gun rests on the tabletop, spent.

Wordlessly, you press the button to call the fiberboard.

“You have a hard time standing still,” you comment in a light-tone. A casual observation, not a reprimand. “Your pinky started twitching after the fourth round, and you kept repositioning your left leg.” Alright, that might have come off as reprimanding. “...but otherwise, good. Very good, even.”

König rubs the back of his neck, almost embarrassed at the observations. “I doubt you would be surprised to know, that’s what kept me from graduating. That and my height.”

You reach up to pat his shoulder before turning to the board.

What you find is not what you expected.

A perfect circle encasing your bullet-hole. The shots almost perfectly aligned with two centimetres between each. You look to König, baffled at your discovery, and he chuckles as he notes your expression. You wait for an explanation, and he gives it after a moment.

“Der König beschützt die Königin.”

The King protects the Queen.

#cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 imagine #cod imagine #cod modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #reader imagine #könig x reader #könig #könig cod #cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw22 #x reader #reader #fanfiction #female reader

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skamenglishsubs · 6 hours

Text

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 6

Out here in the real world it's been a week since the cliffhanger ending of episode 5 where Simon broke up with Wilhelm, but in-universe it's just the next day, and Wilhelm is being comforted by Felice.

Subtext: This entire episode is incredibly meta, there are so many times characters say things that reference earlier seasons or episodes, or the entire series as a whole. This is the first time, and Felice is saying what we're all thinking. IS IT REALLY OVER?!? 😱

Blink and you miss it: Felice gives Wilhelm her sunglasses and dries his tears so he can hide the fact that he's been crying. Also, look at that gorgeous Swedish summer. It is so pretty.

Culture: The third-years are painting the banners that go on the trucks on graduation day.

Culture: They're also signing each others' student hats, which is a common tradition. You can just sign your name or write something funny or do whatever.

Culture: This car is what we in Sweden call a sossecontainer. It's an old 90's Volvo, it's square, it's ugly, and it was pretty cheap and reliable, so it was very common and popular among working class and the lower middle classes. It was never a high-status car, so it perfectly illustrates the Eriksson family.

Subtext: Oh look, another throwback to season 1 when Sara argued with Simon about their dad, and said that he should stop giving people second chances.

Culture: Oh look, another poem by Karin Boye. This time it's Eternity, a poem about cherishing your time with your loved one, and the text is about how good times feel like an endless summer, which is what it certainly looks like for the kids and their teacher in the lush landscape. But just like in the poem, their endless summer is about to end.

Culture: This is pretty much exactly the reason used when real-world Lundsberg was temporarily closed.

Culture: And Wilhelm isn't wrong, the shitty traditions are in the walls of the place, it's always been like that, and it's always been upheld by everyone involved with the school, parents, teachers, staff, and students.

Subtext: Since this is the last episode, let's prepare the viewers to say good bye to the show, and let's do it with a little montage of students crying and taking their stuff down and emptying their rooms.

Culture: This is a 100% factually true statement, Göteborg is the worst city in the world. Source: I'm a native Stockholmer, and you just have to trust me on this, ok? Look, it's just common sense, alright? Don't listen to people from Göteborg, they're just jealous they're not living in the glorious capital. Also, they talk funny. And they have no sense of humour! And everyone is named Glenn or something.

Culture: I don't think they're referencing an actual school here, and the current Norwegian royal children went to school in Norway, not Switzerland. But the current Danish crown prince went to some boarding school in Switzerland for a while, but then he went to the Danish elite boarding school Herlufsholm. However, it was rocked by a bullying scandal in 2022, so they had to pull him out of that one and deny all knowledge of the events. Feels familiar?

Culture: Solliden is the private summer palace of the real-world Swedish royal family located on Öland, an island off the south-east coast of Sweden. The show has consistently stayed away from every likeness with the real world, but I guess they couldn't be arsed making up a fictional summer palace for the YR royal family so they went with something familiar.

Subtext: Farima is talking about the problems of finding a new school for Wilhelm from an academic perspective, but he's just thinking about how this means he won't be close to Simon any longer.

Culture: Vincent and the boys are pouring one out for Hillerska. It's a way to toast a dead friend, or in this case, a place.

Blink and you miss it: August places a king chess piece on the table before telling his friends that he's Wilhelm's reserve and might be king someday.

Subtext: And he's still so blinded by the glamour of it, despite everything. Thankfully, his friends can bring him down a couple of pegs.

Blink and you miss it: While Wilhelm is returning Kris, the book from last season, the second book in the pile is a book by Kjell Westö, Den Svavelgula Himlen - Yellow Sulphur Sky. It's about a working class kid in Finland becoming friends with his upper-class neighbour family, and his struggle maintaining a relationship with the girl of the family because of their class differences. Slightly on the nose there, show.

Meta: Henry interrupting our boys at the worst possible time is just a running joke at this point. How many times has it happened now? Four times? Five? Read the fucking room, Henry!

Subtext: Last chance to have a party together, but also last chance to see Simon, "maybe ever". Oh no, we have to start preparing for a sad ending!

Culture: Red solo cups are not a thing anywhere outside the US really, but you can buy them as a gag gift in Sweden, because to us they're just a weird movie prop we've seen American movies. Every other party scene in the show has featured regular plastic cups.

Culture: Drinking with the teachers?!? Yeah, sure, why not, everyone is an adult.

Subtext: Emo outfit? ✅ Sitting on the floor? ✅ Full of self-pity? ✅ Exaggerating the catastrophic state of his world in the way only a 17yo disaster boy can do? ✅

Meta: Another throwback to how Wilhelm was referred to as the party prince back in season 1.

Blink and you miss it: Felice hides the wine bottle behind her back before Malin comes in. She knows, Felice. Malin knows everything.

Meta: Another throwback to when Wilhelm was eating the dirt at the very same football field that disaster emo boy Simon is now sitting at together with his friends, who are trying to convince him to go to the final party.

Subtext: This time, August isn't just sorry that he got caught, he is genuinely sorry for everything he did to Wilhelm. He in turn forgives August, and we're all getting closure for this plot point.

Meta: Hey, hey, hey guys, do you remember that scene in season 1 episode 1 when Sara helped hold Felice's hair while she was throwing up? We're doing a throwback here!

Meta: Hey, hey, hey guys, do you remember that scene in season 1 episode 3 when Felice told Sara that maybe you don't have to speak the truth all the time? Well, Sara still doesn't understand why you would lie, but this time she's right, Felice was right to tell the truth.

Blink and you miss it: Stella and Fredrika are making out at the party, Felice saw it, and is making a very funny face. This is also why Stella rudely rejects Rosh, because of course she's gonna choose Fredrika, Rosh was just a distraction to make her jealous.

Subtext: Vincent is talking about Nils, who just came out, but August just saw Sara, and that's the whoever he wants.

Subtext: But despite saying that he doesn't care about anyone else seeing them, he still ducked behind a stack of pallets for this conversation.

Meta: This is a brutal Fleabag reference.

Cinematography: This scene is overwhelmingly lit in that sickly greenish fluorescent hue, but there's golden light coming from somewhere, so Sara and August share one final kiss in that golden light. But there's not enough of it to go around, not enough for their love to last, so August is left standing there alone, and all the golden light is gone.

Cinematography: Wilhelm and Simon left the party sometime after midnight, this is supposed to be a very early morning summer sunrise, and our boys are just gonna be bathed in the golden light throughout the entire scene. Gods, it is pretty.

Meta: Hey, hey, remember that scene in season 1 when Simon was singing that song, and Wilhelm instantly fell for him?

Meta: Hey guys, remember that scene in season 1 when they were discussing welfare politics in class and Simon threw shade on Wilhelm? This is a throwback to that.

Cinematography: Just fucking look at this shit. What a nice view. The nature and the sunrise is pretty, too! Going naked into the water? Yeah, that's a rebirth metaphor as well. Lisa said so!

Subtext: This entire scene is basically Wilhelm trying one last time to get Simon back. They said they weren't gonna, but he's trying anyway. They're talking about that politics class where Wilhelm couldn't speak up because he was "not allowed". So he's still bound by his royal duties, which is why Simon broke up with him last episode.

Subtext: And since Wilhelm is still stuck, he's left on dry land, while Simon swims away from him, free. Guys, I'm thinking we're actually gonna get a sad ending! This does not look good! 😭

Blink and you miss it: Stella and Fredrika are sleeping in the same bed and making out the morning after, and millions of #Stedrika shippers are rejoicing! Yay, fanservice!

Blink and you miss it: Walter is helping Henry up after he passed out in the grass outside after the party, and millions of #Walty shippers are rejoicing! Yay, fanservice!

Subtext: The last photo Wilhelm takes down from his wall is the one with him and Simon, because that's the most important memory of this place.

Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm shuts off his red lightstrip in his room. Those lights have typically been a symbol of his love for Simon, but he's turning it off. Sad ending confirmed.

Meta: Listen, it's a lovely little song that Simon wrote for Wilhelm, but it's 100% fanservice, it's referencing events in the show that Simon actually didn't witness, and it's even referencing the soundtrack to the show itself! I mean, come on! And we're getting yet another sad boy Wilhelm montage of him moping around Hillerska with his earbuds.

Subtext: Remember how the frog snowglobe was a gift from Erik, who in turn got it from their grandpa, the king? It's so obviously a symbol of the monarchy, but Wilhelm is dumping it in the trash. Are we... Are we not getting a sad ending?

Cinematography: The shot of the flag being raised is cut off at half mast, which is a pretty universal symbol for mourning. Oh ok, we're back on track for a sad ending.

Subtext: This is the first time this season that Simon speaks Spanish with his mom, and the first time in the entire series that Sara does, which shows that they're fully themselves again, they've pulled themselves out of the Hillerska world.

Culture: The graduating students are having a champagne breakfast before the graduation ceremony, that's also very common in Sweden.

Subtext: Felice and the rest of the choir decided to have a little rebellion and not sing the boring old Hillerska song, and instead the new improved one that Simon made last season. No-one told him about the switch though, which is why he's so surprised.

Culture: After the ceremony, the graduating students will run out of the school to find their parents and family and friends, who are waiting for them, usually with a big sign with the most embarrassing baby picture they could find of them.

Blink and you miss it: August's mom and stepdad have also made a huge sign with an embarrassing picture of August Malte as a kid. Adorable.

Lost in translation: The queen is saying "lilla gubben", which literally means "little old man", a very common term of endearment in Swedish families. The show has been pretty consistent in that Wilhelm's family are all using normal words, just like any other family would. So it's pretty funny that despite everyone else using titles and styles all the time, to Wilhelm, his parents are simply "mamma" and "pappa", as if he was a regular kid.

Subtext: As a graduating student you get little gifts from your family, flowers, champagne, stuffed animals, all with a blue-and-yellow ribbon so you can hang them around your neck. August is family, so the Queen gives him one as well. Of a frog with a crown. Which is a symbol of the monarchy in the show. Wilhelm threw his frog in the trash, August is getting a frog from the Queen. I think there might be symbolism here! I think we're setting up August to become the next king! Do we dare hope for a happy ending?

Cinematography: Just fucking look at this shit. The composition, the contrast, the height difference, the distance between them. It's so pretty. And they're talking about how good it was while it lasted, just like how a TV show with a sad ending can still be an amazing experience. Hint hint.

Subtext: We're saying our goodbyes, Wilhelm and Simon are saying goodbye to each other, Wilhelm wishes Simon a nice summer, just like how Simon wished Wilhelm a good Christmas back in season 1, and just like back then, they both understand that they love each other, but can't be together.

Cinematography: And then Simon exits the scene, again, leaving Wilhelm standing there alone, again, having seemingly chosen his family and royal duty.

Culture: It's common to either rent a truck as a large group of students, or to be driven in a flashy car alone or with a friend. The two girls in the centre are sitting in a very nice Aston Martin, while a bunch of their classmates are on a truck. I can't make out the full text on the banner, but I think it says something like "Lock up your sons because tonight we become like animals".

Culture: Svensson is a very common Swedish last name, so to "be a Svensson" basically means that you're super average and mediocre, you're like everyone else. Whereas these elite kids are used to having everyone else bow and scrape for them, so that message is on brand.

Cinematography: We're in the car, it looks like the ending of season 1, and we're doing a close-up of Wilhelm's face. We're ready for the fourth-wall-break of him staring sadly into the camera, having been once again broken down by the system and not getting the boy. We've said goodbye to everyone, roll the credits, start your crying...

Cinematography: ...except the show isn't ending here. We're having an honest conversation between Wilhelm and his parents for the first time. Because every other time he's said that he doesn't want to be crown prince of the next king, he's been angry or upset, he's been threatening, and definitely impulsive. But he's never wanted any of it.

Cinematography: His parents let him go, they open the door to their van, Wilhelm exits, and the show turns up the volume of the soundtrack. "Energetic music" my ass, it's the Harmony theme! It's the main theme of the entire show playing as Wilhelm runs away.

Subtext: Oh, yeah, August sees him run away, and understands that he's next in line now. Sorry buddy, sucks to be you, but never mind that now. RUN, WILHELM, RUN!!! GET YOUR MAN!

Cinematography: The shows turns into the most perfect rom-com, with Wilhelm chasing down Simon's car through the incredibly lush and green Swedish summer. He catches up to them, tells Simon that he ditched the crown for his own sake, and asks if it's really over between them.

VAD FAN TROR DU?

As if the soundtrack wasn't triumphant enough, it now starts playing As Long As you Are Here as they throw themselves in each other's arms. Happy ending! They're crying, I'm crying, we're all crying! 😭

Cinematography: A montage? With all the best scenes between our boys from the entire show? With the text of the soundtrack perfectly matching the montage? I should be outraged at how cheesy this is, but it is perfect. Perfect. I love it. I swear, this fucking show.

Subtext: Finally we are at the true ending of the show. Wilhelm has managed to escape Hillerska, him and Simon and Sara and Felice have all escaped the hierarchies, the expectations, the duties, and the toxic environment of the school. He arrived in a Ferrari, and is now running away with his boyfriend and friends in a crappy Volvo station-wagon. The stiff suit jackets are gone, they're all in white, his hair is ruffled in the wind, and for the last time ever Wilhelm looks into the camera. And he smiles.

He is finally free.

#young royals #young royals subtext #young royals analysis #young royals season 3

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 1 year

Text

Second Circle Of Hell - Osferth (The Last Kingdom)

I got this idea while I was in church...because my pastor is kinda good looking...cough. i'm such a sinner, i must corrupt the babey

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), dubcon, femdom (mostly), corruption kink, innocence kink, virginity loss, religious conflict, religious guilt (not me projecting🙈), think that's it?

2.9K Words🤙🏻

Ever since pious and devout Christian monk Osferth joined the party of Uhtred, you've had your eye on him in deep intrigue.

The young man seemed so innocent, too innocent. You often wondered what dirty secrets he could be hiding.

Now, you may have just been a lecherous heathen that everyone who wasn’t a Dane said you were. You were practically a whore in your own right, so maybe anyone who acted relatively kind was innocent to you.

You never shied away from being yourself, especially in front of your group of men. Perhaps it was the way you were raised. You had no trouble changing in front of people, knowing that you could protect yourself if any of them would be stupid enough to make a move. Uhtred had already made that mistake once, but he never did it again after you put your dagger to his balls. You also never feared to bathe near the group, plus it was safer than going off on your own and you didn’t care if they saw you. You loved making your boys uncomfortable as well.

A memory that always stuck with you is when you were bathing in a river one day and Osferth accidentally saw you. He spoke apology after apology until his face turned beet red, but all you did was laugh. You had asked him for your clothes but he handed them to you with his eyes closed. That was the only moment when you were disappointed a man didn’t try to take advantage of you for once.

There was a day in Winchester where you, Finan, and Osferth were sitting outside a tavern. You could see how nervous and shy the boy was around women, and then Finan said it. He joked that Osferth was a virgin. He did that thing where he denied it so much that it must’ve been true, and that’s what you had your idea. You knew you’d want to be the one to deflower him, lest Finan actually bought him a whore one day like he said he would. No, you wanted to claim him for yourself. You just had to find the right moment.

Thankfully, there came a time when Uhtred had asked you and Osferth to spy on a Danish camp. It would be dangerous obviously, but you couldn’t help but celebrate in your mind when you realized the two of you would finally be alone together. It looked like Osferth was just happy he was being trusted with such an important task, although you would be there too.

You both set up camp a good distance away from the Danes’ campsite, some ways deep into the woods, making sure there would be no way they could spot you or hear you. You watched them all day, returning to your own campsite as the sun started to set. The trees blocking the light of the moon that you had to build a campfire to see as well as keep warm. But, you soon started thinking of other ways you could keep warm.

Osferth was nervous, you could tell. He didn’t look you in the eyes unless he had to. He probably would have preferred to go on this mission with Finan or Sihtric, but he had to deal with you alone now.

You tried your best to make conversation, but it never lasted more than a few sentences. It was frustrating. So, you did what you usually do best: make people uncomfortable.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” You asked suddenly, amused at the way Osferth immediately went wide-eyed and a wild blush coming to his cheeks. “I heard what Finan said at that tavern the other day, you seemed flustered as you are now.” He stuttered, no full words leaving his mouth due to your boldness. It gave you your answer. “So, I suppose Finan was right. You are a virgin.” You smirked teasingly.

Osferth finally quit his stuttering and sighed in defeat. “So what if I was?”

“You are a handsome lad, surely there have been offers from women before?”

“I mean…yes. Some.”

“And you never thought to take up those offers?”

He looked down in embarrassment. “It’s not like I didn’t want to, it’s just. I dunno, I feel like I wouldn’t want my first time to be with a stranger. Someone I don’t care about or know.”

“So would you hump someone you cared about?”

“When we were married, I suppose.”

You scoffed. “Why wait till marriage?”

“Because it’s a sin to be with someone before marriage, that’s what the Scripture says.”

“And what if you never get married?” You asked with an exasperated chuckle.

“Then I guess I’ll always be a virgin…” He shrugged, “Do you think me less of a man, my Lady?”

You shook your head with a smile. “No. I’m actually kinda glad you are.” He furrowed his brows in confusion, not understanding what you meant. “Because I wish to be the one to deflower you.” As if he couldn’t get any redder, he managed to do so, especially when you moved closer to him so you sat right beside him. He blinked a few times in shock, holding the cross attached to his necklace tightly.

“My Lady, I-I just told you, I can’t.”

You snickered. “Of course you can. I’ve seen the way you look at me, Osferth. I saw how your cock swelled when you saw me naked in the river that day. Did you even relieve yourself afterwards?” He stayed silent, and you hummed in disapproval. “What? Is it a sin to make yourself come too?” He nodded curtly and you rolled your eyes, placing your hand on his knee, slowly trailing up his thigh until he pushed you away and stood up from his spot on the ground.

“Stop. I made a vow, to myself and to God.”

You frowned. “Do you not like me?” And you tried to hide your smile as he immediately assured you that was not the case. You stood up and reached for him cautiously, seeing his internal struggle. “You’ve killed, betrayed your country, your home. Do you think breaking a simple vow will be any worse than all that, hm?”

“I never wanted to kill anyone.” He whispered, allowing you to run your hands up his chest and wrap around his shoulders.

“Then maybe you shouldn't have joined up with a group of heathens.” He was such a sheltered man, you wanted him to experience all he could. You wanted him to be with someone he knew and cared about, you weren’t going to let him be with some whore or stranger. He was looking down at you with confliction, eyes traveling from your own to your lips. You knew what he wanted, you just had to give him a little push.

Osferth let out a surprised hum when you pressed your lips against his without another word, catching him off guard so that he couldn’t reject your advances right away. But even as you kept kissing him, he never made a move to push you away nor did he intensify the kiss in any way. You tangled your fingers in his short hair, pulling hard enough that he gasped, allowing you to deepen the kiss. You smirked as he let out a breathy moan, you could already feel his hard on pressing against you. Your tongues touched briefly, but it seemed that shook him back into focus as he jolted away, his back turned to you. “You shouldn’t have done that, my Lady…” You heard him whisper shakily, you could see his hands trembling at his sides.

You said nothing as you walked to stand in front of him again, his innocent pleading eyes looking up at you, silently begging for you not to continue. But you did not listen, the throbbing at the apex of your thighs would not let you. “Please, Osferth…I can make you feel good.” You kissed his cheek cautiously, kissing all over his face until there was one spot left. He leaned in to kiss you himself this time, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you against him tightly. You could feel a wetness on his face and you pulled back to see that he was crying.

“God, I want you so bad, I do.” He sniffled. “It hurts.” He winced.

“Then let me make the pain go away.” You cooed, removing your clothes until you were bare to the elements of Wessex. You shuddered as the wind hardened your nipples and cooled the slick that was already gathering at your cunt. Osferth moaned at the sight of you, not looking away this time like he did at the river. “Touch me.” You commanded softly, gently bringing one of his hands to cup your supple breasts. He squeezed them experimentally, looking to see if it brought you any discomfort, but it did quite the opposite. “I need you, Osferth.” You kissed him again passionately, your limbs going shaky as you felt desire overcome you.

He wordlessly allowed you to strip him naked, saying a silent prayer in his mind as his stiff cock was finally freed of its confines. You brought him to the ground, where you had laid furs for the night, seeing him look up at you on his back made you drool.

“Please,” Osferth begged, his cock already throbbing and you hadn’t even done anything but whisper your enchanting words in his ears. “don’t make me break my vow…”

“Shh, it’s okay. Just relax for me.” You whispered, throwing your leg over his waist, straddling him. Your pussy was already slick with anticipation of his sweet corruption. You could only imagine how pretty his lewd moans would sound.

Osferth hissed as you took his cock in your hand, rubbing the tip in between in your folds before lining him up with your entrance. You both moaned loudly as you sunk down on him, he stretched you out more than you anticipated. “Gods, you’re bigger than you look.” You whispered breathily.

“Am I hurting you?” He panicked instantly, but you simply smiled and shook your head. Such a sweet gentleman. You were so warm and wet, your walls clenching around him due to the intrusion, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t feel so damn good; like heaven on earth. “Oh, my Lord God, have mercy on my soul…” He begged as he clutched his cross in his hand tightly as you grinded down on him. He looked up at you in awe as if you were an angel, he could practically see your halo as he suddenly came.

You giggled as he filled you up, watching as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull, his mouth opened wide as he let out a long, pained moan. “That was quick. Was it that good?” You smirked, loving the way his face flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, my Lady.” He stuttered, but you silenced him with a kiss.

“Don’t be.”

Osferth’s eyes filled with tears, the light from the campfire making his piercing blue eyes shine as he stared at the cross in his hand. “What have I done, Lord?” He whimpered pitifully, and you almost felt sorry for him if it wasn’t for the fact that he was still rock hard inside your cunt.

“Ready to go again so soon?” You chuckled darkly, moving your hips back and forth, causing him to let out a whine.

“No, don’t, not again-”

“You’ve already broken your vow, sweet monk. What more harm could you do now?” He looked up at you with a remorseful expression, the weight of what he had done heavy on his chest. You slowly lifted yourself off, slamming back down on him to elicit a cry from his soft lips. “So sensitive. But I suppose since I got what I wanted, I can stop-”

“No!” Osferth interrupted, surprising himself and you. He looked entirely conflicted as he placed his shaking hands on your hips, keeping you in place and not allowing you to remove himself from you. “No…you’re right. I’ve broken my vow. I can’t change that now. I suppose...I can enjoy this?”

“Yes, sweet baby monk. Let yourself enjoy this. Indulge in the feeling of me.” You moaned, continuing to rock your hips, a gasp escaping your lips as your clit brushed up against his pelvis as the head of his cock started to rub up against that sensitive spot inside you that always made you see stars. “Gods, you’re perfect. I wish we had done this sooner.” Osferth moaned at your words, his cock twitching inside you and making butterflies swirl in his stomach. You raked your nails down his bare chest, hearing soft whimpers escaping his mouth as you rode him. “How does it feel?” You asked, struggling to keep in your high pitched moans.

“Good, my Lady.” He stuttered. “So good.” You moaned as Osferth started to buck up into you, losing himself in his own pleasure and making you feel amazing in return. “Does it always feel so heavenly?” He groaned, tightening his grip on your hips, the dull pain making a shock of euphoria reverberate through your entire body for a split second.

“No, not for women at least.”

“Is…is there anything I can do to make it feel good for you too?” He asked innocently, but his eyes expressed something else, a slight darkness to them, his pupils so blown out you could barely see his bright blue irises anymore.

You grinned as you took one of his hands off your hip, bringing it to your cunt. “Rub circles with your thumb right here.” You guided him to your clit, even what little pressure he put had your head reeling.

“Like this, my Lady?”

“A bit more pressure.” You cried out as he listened to your instructions diligently. “Yes, yes, gods, just like that.” Osferth smiled proudly, helping you ride him as he rubbed your clit attentively. You threw your head back as you were nearing your own peak, the man beneath you learning faster than anyone else you’ve ever been with. “Such a good boy.” You whined, your hands grasping and scratching at your tits.

You squeaked as Osferth suddenly flipped you over onto your back, knocking the breath from your lungs as he pounded into you with abandon. Like a switch finally flipped inside him, he was taking pleasure for himself, finding confidence just like he found the courage to fight and kill alongside everyone on Uhtred’s team. You hoped you had created a monster. The way he was fucking into you, if you didn’t know he had only been a virgin half an hour ago, you would have believed he had experience beyond your years. He still had the decency to continue caring for your sensitive nub, forcing your body into overdrive as you kept climbing and climbing to reach that peak. Now you were the one whining and whimpering, how the tables turned.

With his cock continuously hitting that special spot inside of you and your stimulated clit, accompanied by the sound of Osferth’s skin slapping against yours wetly along with his soft moans in your ear, you felt that intense ecstasy you had been craving wash over you like a tidal wave. You prayed to the gods that the Dane’s camp, however many miles away, would not be able to hear your loud strained moan as you came. “Gods, Osferth!” You cried out, your hands holding onto his shoulder with a vice grip that would surely leave bruises just like he must’ve done to your hips.

“Christ-!” Osferth groaned, gripping one of your breasts as he fucked a second load into you, his vision going blurry as his second orgasm was much more powerful than the first. It was too much and not enough, all he could do was ride it out until the feeling went away.

When it seemed he came back to your realm, you were looking up at him with a proud grin. He couldn’t help but grin back, the afterglow making him dazed and giddy. “You made me come, sweet Osferth. Not many people have achieved such a feat.”

“I don’t believe you, my Lady.” He smiled, pulling out of you with a hiss and laying down beside you. It was true, but even if it wasn’t, you still wanted to stroke his ego just to see the blush on his face. “Now I understand why some take a vow of celibacy.”

You giggled, turning to lay on your stomach, resting on your elbows. “Why?”

“Because I think I could worship you now, and the Scripture says that you shall not have any gods before Him.” He smirked boyishly, trailing his pointer finger across your jawline, stopping his path to rest the finger on your bottom lip.

You gently kissed the tip of his finger, his eyes watching you intently. “As much as it might be fun to be worshiped, I have no intention to steal you away from your god.”

“You already have, my Lady.”

Needless to say, your mission for Uhtred went well. You managed to signal the rest of the group when the Danes were off guard, slaughtering everyone you all could before they retreated. And your recent lover Osferth had just the way to celebrate the newest victory.

i am such a heathen, something me and Uhtred have in common i guess

#the last kingdom #osferth #osferth the last kingdom #osferth tlk #osferth imagine #osferth x reader #osferth x f!reader #osferth x fem!reader #osferth smut #baby monk #ewan mitchell

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doudouneverte · 8 months

Text

a/n: I don't know what to say so just fuck off Rubiales, Vilda and the Spanish Federation

*not my GIF*

Pairing; Laura Wienroither x Chelsea WFC! Reader; Chelsea WFC x AustriaWNT!Reader (also Zinsby x platonic!reader)

Summary: You love Laura since as long as you can remember but she's oblivious so, this season you decide to get more direct but you can't count on your teammates for help.

Type: Fluff AF

Warning: nothing

word count: 1916

note: in a univer where the two LW never tore their ACL

--------

You've known Laura since you were young. You both played together back in Austria, and you quickly fell in love. Well, the problem was that even if you showed her your affection in every possible way (staying polite and respectful, of course), she never got it.

Coming back to England after the national break, you had one idea in mind: definitely confess your feelings for the last time. But you didn't want to be rude or anything, so you needed a plan.

And what is more helpful than an almost-married couple on your team for love advice? So, for your first day back at training, you were quick to find Magda and Pernille, who were chatting about something.

"Moms, I need your help." You declared getting instantly their attention, as well as other teammates' in the room. "I want to confess my feelings to Laura, and I need advice."

There was silence for only two seconds before all the room burst into clapping and cheers. All your teammates knew that you loved the defender since you joined the club last summer, and it was confirmed when they saw how you act around her every time you played against Arsenal.

"And that's when we make our apparition." Sam said, sliding to your right side, while Guro was sliding to your left side.

"Uh, well, actually, I wanted..."

"Don't worry, Y/n, we're the best wingmen, well, wing women, you could dream of." The Norwegian cut you off, making some of your teammates laugh.

"I really appreciate that, but..."

"Where are we starting?" The Australian said this time, "Oh, I know. We can make a big panel with 'Laura, I love you' written on it."

"Yeah, and you could show up at their next match with it." The winger approved.

"But I think we can do better than that." Sam said, she was really thinking deeply about that.

"Don't you think we should stop them?" Pernille whispered to the Swedish defender.

"Yes, but I want to know how far they'll go," Magda admitted.

And that's how the whole training session went: the two players proposed some extravagant ideas, and you politely refused them.

"And if we do something more simple?" You asked, gaining their interest, and you watched around to see something that could help you until you spotted Eve. "We can just write her a poem with flowers." You proposed.

"It sounds boring." Guro said, hurting your feelings.

"Yeah, totally overacted." Sam confirmed.

"Well, at least it's still the most realistic thing to do." Niamh said, coming from nowhere.

"Yes, and it's still pretty romantic if you find the good words." Jessie added.

The two strikers looked at each other for a long moment before agreeing, "Okay, we will try that." The Norwegian said.

You released a breath you didn't know you were keeping and thanked your auto-designated sisters. Now, the second step was to write the best poem, and for that, you had an idea.

Back in the locker room, you were searching for someone when you collided with Magda. "Hey, careful little one. Why are you running?"

"I convinced Sam and Guro not to do one of their plans, and now I need help to write a poem." You replied.

"A poem? It seems pretty romantic." The Danish said.

You didn't stay longer and resumed your way to the locker room, where you found your French teammates. "Eve, I need your help."

"The last time you said you needed somebody's help, which was literally a few hours ago, you finished being chased by Sam and Guro during the entire training session." She gently reminded you, making you laugh.

"View it like this; it's a little funny." You admitted. "But really, I really need your help. I convinced Sam and Guro to give up their crazy for something more... realistic. And now I need someone who knows how to write a poem."

"I don't know why, but it sounds more unrealistic than their crazy ideas." The French player joked. "I'm not really good at writing poems, so let's not talk about writing them in English or German, but I can suggest some famous poets if you want."

"It would be fantastic." You said. After a few names written in your notes and a little drive back home, you were ready. You spent almost all your next free day writing it, and when you were proud enough, you let your teammates give their opinions.

"Honestly, it's pretty cool." Millie said.

"Yeah, we can feel all the love you have for her." Pernille added, making you more proud.

Now only one last step remains in your plan.

A few days later, Laura was ready to train with her teammates when Katie came in the locker room with a letter.

"Girls looked at what I found. They said it was for some of us, but there is not a name, just the initial LW." After hearing this, Manu almost groaned in exasperation.

She was aware of your crush on the defender; she was the one who made you realize it, and she was the one who convinced you to finally confess your feelings. You read her the letter, and her reaction was the same as your teammates'.

Everything was good, but she should be prepared for you messing up at least one thing.

"And there are flowers too." Stina remarked.

Lia Walti and Laura were focused on the flowers, while Leah Williamson was reading the letter loudly. When she finished, everyone in the locker room was shocked by this. It was more than good; for some, it was maybe the best thing they heard, but one question was on everyone's mind.

"Who wrote this?" Katie asked.

Leah looked at the bottom of the paper, and her eyes were wide open. "Y/n Y/l/n." She announced.

"What, Y/n, like Chelsea's player?" Jen asked.

"Apparently yes." The blonde captain replied, a little surprised by that.

"Well, now the important question is, who's LW?" Manu asked, trying discreetly not to put more pressure on you.

"Well, she's not clear about. She talks about a recent injury, but the three of us had a recent injury, so I don't know." Lia replied.

"Well, if I remember correctly, we play them tomorrow, so maybe you could ask her after the game." Frida said.

Meanwhile, Laura was processing everything. It was impossible that it could be her; maybe you just fell in love with one of the older players during your first season here. She didn't know, but somewhere in her mind, she felt like she would be sad if you didn't talk about her.

The next day was match day. You were really worried because Manu told you the next night that you messed up with the most important part of the plan, and now her teammates are trying to figure out for whom you wrote this.

In the locker room, Magda sensed that you were a little stressed by that and tried all she could to relax you. "You can always tell her everything in person if she doesn't understand it." She told you, joking about how many times you tried to be subtile, but the defender never got the hints. "You just need to be you. You're an amazing person, and I'm sure she doesn't need a poem or flowers to see that, but you'll need all your courage today to tell her how you feel after we beat them, okay?"

Like your captain predicted, you won the game, and you even assisted on a goal. But now the real thing could start. On your way to Arsenal's side, you were stopped by some teammates wishing you good luck. You walked to your destination until you were stopped by two figures just before you reached your national teammates.

"I think we need to talk." Leah said with a treating tone. You looked at the two of them, a little confused.

"I think she wants to say that maybe you have something to say to us." Lia corrected when she noticed how you seemed uncomfortable.

"Uh, I don't want to be disrespectful or anything, but what are you talking about?" You asked.

"What do you mean you don't know–" Leah started to say a little irritated by the situation, but she was cut off by her teammate.

"Who is LW?" Lia asked. It took a moment for your brain to understand what was happening. The two players, the irritated tone, LW, and—wait, LW? The letter?

"Oh, my god, are you talking about the letter?"

"Yes, we're talking about the letter. What did you expect?" The blonde captain asked.

"But why did you read the letter?"

"Because you wrote it." The brunette said this time.

"Wait, does one of you have a crush on me?"

"What? Of course not!" They told you at the same time. "But you have a crush on us," the English player added.

"Me? Of course not. Well, don't get me wrong, but my heart already belongs to someone else."

"So why did you write something like this if you already love someone?" The Swiss captain asked.

"Because LW is Laura." You said like it was obvious (technically it was). There was a little silence after your words; the two Arsenal players exchanged an awkward look before they looked behind them to finally notice the Austrian player.

Laura seemed shocked by the news. Fortunately, the two older players left you after they apologized for this misinterpretation.

"Oh." The defender said.

"Yeah. Oh." You repeated.

"But since when?"

"I don't know, maybe since we played together back in Austria."

"Wow, it's been a long time then. But why didn't you tell me anything?"

"Are you kidding me?" You rolled your eyes. "I really spent all my time giving you hints. It was so obvious that Sarah and Laura treated to lock us in a closet until I found the courage to confess. And it was only on our second camp."

"Wow, now I feel stupid." She said, and you laughed a little. "I mean, at the last camp, I heard you talk with Sarah P, and you said that you already had a pretty girl in mind when she asked you about meeting one of her teammates."

"Yes, that's because this pretty girl is you." You said and almost cringed at how it seemed cheesy.

Laura played with the hem of her shirt a moment before she met your eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go on."

"Do you want to go on a date with me?"

You were shaking, unable to control yourself. "Yes, of course yes." You replied, and she smiled.

"Can I ask you another thing?"

"Yes."

"Can I kiss you?" At this moment, it was like your soul was leaving your body; you felt too much happiness for a lifetime. You nodded with a big smile on your face. She approached you, and being smaller than you, she landed one hand on your shoulder while the other cupped your face. She pushed on her toes and gently pressed her lips against yours.

"Finally!" Manu yelled. "It started to be physically painful to see you two in the same room doing nothing but looking at each other like teenage girls."

You pulled away to give her the middle finger until you heard Pernille said "Behave Y/n." You groaned but returned your attention to the girl in front of you, pressing a quick peck on her lips before joining your teammates.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #laura wienroither #laura wienroither x reader #awfc x reader #awfc #chelsea women x reader #arsenalwfc x reader #leah williamson x reader #lia walti x reader

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twintravelers · 4 months

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goodbye my danish sweetheart is a kaveh-centric hkvh song !!!!!!!! listen to me

alhaitham falling for kaveh first, since the academia days. there was always something between them, but it was never addressed before the project destroyed whatever they had. and after alhaitham opening up his home to kaveh, after they start falling back into their old routine, after he notices alhaitham taking care of him every time he gets drunk, it finally dawns on him. it's always been them.

in his room, thinking about what to say. wondering if alhaitham would give him the time of day so they could talk about it all, if every unspoken word could finally see the light of day, everything laid bare between them. wondering if maybe he might’ve already given up on him, it’s been so long. maybe they’re too different now. (continued below cut)

kaveh overthinking that maybe, actually, alhaitham just wants him out of his life, out of his home soon, and that he doesn't deserve the love that he might have had before now because of how far they’ve diverged from each other since they’ve met, with the underlying fear of not just being good enough.

his ideals. his ideals are what keep him alive, but also could be considered his greatest demise. and alhaitham sees it, he knows what it does, but he can't stop kaveh from it. it's something he will forever hold on to, because it is what keeps him from falling apart. the guilt, pain, and memories that threaten to shatter kaveh completely are what fuel him, his ideals always pushing him forward.

and there he is, thinking about alhaitham. he’s never listened to his junior, but now all he wants is for him to tell him what to do w his feelings, the rational part to his emotional self. after so many years, after he finally realized his feelings, is it too late? did he miss his chance?

yet again the overthinking presenting itself again, with guilt and shame of how he is right now, and how he probably doesn’t deserve the love alhaitham might give him, because he's so preoccupied of ruining everything again.

kaveh doesn’t know what this unresolved tension is going to lead to, but god forbid he hurts alhaitham with his feelings, which might not even be reciprocated anymore. but again, it’s been them, right? kaveh & alhaitham. the sun & the moon. together. he couldn’t bear to be without him, even if it’s unrequited. he can only hope alhaitham still has good memories of them together in the past. maybe he can hold on to that. to him. because, to kaveh, there’s no one better than alhaitham.

there we go!! i feel like i'm not great at putting my thoughts into words but i hope that this makes at least a bit of sense <3 i love them

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darlingkirstein · 28 days

Note

eremika in any sort of romcom setting hehe

i think this is romcom-y enough??? idk it's a silly little meet cute in fantastically cheesy unrealistic scenario so i think it fits the romcom vibe Teehee🩷 hope you enjoy my pookie wookie vic <3

actor au / fluffy / rated e for everyone / 3.6k

Mikasa toils over the counter, sifting through the different orders — many have rather well-renowned names attached — to decide which ones to tackle first. Being a barista proves more difficult than she initially imagined. All she needed was a simple job to help pay the rent; the coffee shop being on a movie studio lot has been an added bonus, a chance to mingle with stars.

And by mingle, she means floundering interactions with the latest growing stars with their persnickety drink orders, some quick to complain at the smallest errors. Whenever she gets the opportunity to see someone whose likeness is stamped on a poster in her room, Mikasa mangles all attempts at compliments. Trying to praise their work only culminates in rosy cheeks and baffled looks shot back in return.

Exhaling, she gets to work, going through the orders in a procession ascending from least complicated to most tedious. Everyone seems to want extra toppings these days, extra pumps of artificial syrups that turn their 'coffee' into little more than an excessively-priced milkshake. Whatever gets them through the day, she supposes. Making a movie is tricky work.

Mikasa understands this. Sorta. Or at least, she's attempting to. The acting jobs haven't exactly been falling into her lap, though basic probability encourages her that at least one of these countless auditions have to turn into something. She's desperate for anything — at one of her past attempts, an audition for a medicine commercial, the casting agent giggled midway through her delivery of some poorly-written script. The best Mikasa's ever gotten was being an extra for an episode of a new television show — which was promptly cancelled after a first season.

She finishes an affogato and a raspberry danish for Marilyn Lawrence, lounging around on her lunch break from shooting Saturn's Divinity. It apparently takes too much effort to acknowledge Mikasa's calls of her name, too preoccupied by whatever's on her phone to pay much attention.

"Marilyn!" Mikasa repeats, nervous for yet another celebrity interaction. Lawrence only just won a BAFTA for her performance in This Holy House.

With a scoff, the actress strolls to the counter, barely mouthing a thanks before sulking back to a table, carrying all her actress-y things with.

It's hard not to feel like pond scum when the upper echelons of the acting world are hardly willing to spare her simple pleasantries, yet alone anything resembling kindness. Mikasa brushes it off, moving onto the next order.

She just gets started before Marilyn returns.

"This isn't gluten-free, is it?" The spiteful manner in which she asks has Mikasa stammering even before she attempts to answer her question.

"I, uh— I actually don't know. Let me check."

Flustered, she ducks down, foraging for a paper or manual that lists the ingredients. This is something Mikasa knows she should remember, but this job has squeezed out so much of her brain capacity that little else remains.

"You really don't remember?" Marilyn laughs, and Mikasa can hear her continued click-clacking on the phone keyboard, probably complaining to a friend. "You could've killed me, y'know. People have this little thing called celiac. It's important."

Mikasa suspects that Marilyn Lawrence does not have Celiac disease, but she isn't willing to invite even more wrath. "I'm sorry, ma'am, you're—"

"Whatever. Just figure it out and fix it."

When Mikasa falls quiet to continue her search, she expects the frustration to simmer; it doesn't, and Marilyn continues to berate her, though most of her comments are utterly nonsensical. Mikasa's manager is nowhere to be found, useless for getting her out of this less-than-lovely situation.

Her savior comes in the form of a grey-haired gentleman in a suit, bewildered as he bursts through the door, scanning everyone inside — until his gaze falls on Mikasa. He smiles, cell phone pressed tightly against his ear. Though she cannot pin down his name, Mikasa recognizes him as some movie producer, a real big shot.

"You there! Barista! Come with me."

Stunned, Mikasa points to her chest. "Me?"

Marilyn scoffs again. "Uh, hello? What about me?"

The man ignores the Hollywood A-lister, brushing past her to reach the counter. "Yes, you. We need you. I'll explain when we get there. Come on."

Head in a tizzy, Mikasa cocks her head — squinting her eyes, unsure that she isn't fast asleep in the clutches of a dream. What did some movie executive want with some barista?

"I— I think you have the wrong person."

"Jesus, there's no time for this." He turns to the side, muttering harsh words into the phone. "Yeah— I found someone. Just give us a second."

He turns his attention back to Mikasa.

"Are you gonna come with or not? We need you."

At this point, Marilyn has surpassed the angry-scolding-stage and lands in stunned silence. Mikasa still doesn't know what she's needed for, but angering a Hollywood exec is a surefire way to get blacklisted from any future opportunities. They don't want any dead weight in a cast.

"Uh, yeah— No, I'll— I'll go. I'll go."

Opportunities like this are so rare. Mikasa gets so consumed by this fleeting chance that angering her boss isn't even a concern she consciously entertains. As the executive's eyes burn a hole through her head, she feels hypnotized to untie her apron, tossing it aside. It's tempting to pinch her arm, still convinced of a REM-induced trick, but before she can ponder it, Mikasa is crossing the counter, calling her co-worker's name.

The coffee shop's manager finally appears, and as Mikasa is whisked away by the executive's firm grasp, his protests join Marilyn's, though both go utterly unanswered as Mikasa jumps onto a golf cart waiting outside the doors.

It's hard not to feel like Cinderella climbing onto that pumpkin carriage, ready for the ball.

Mikasa's heart races. She tries guessing what possibly awaits her at the end of this ride. Some secret meeting? An agent, excited to tell her that they've been monitoring her auditions and love what they see? All options feel like a pipe dream.

They arrive at an outdoor filming set, and Mikasa wonders over the absolute chaos going on, the cameramen adjusting their equipment, the mousy-haired director shouting commands through his microphone, guiding the team. She recognizes from the lovey-dovey set design that this must be for Before Affection Retires.

"Hey," the executive barks, snapping his fingers, breaking her free from her daze. "Go over to that trailer. Get in costume and then get back here."

Costume? Mikasa is dazed. She can't produce any discernible response, tumbling out of the cart, speedwalking toward the right trailer. She's never done something requiring a costume, only her plain-old, regular street clothes, blending in easily in the background. This is all new.

Before she knows it, Mikasa is donned in a pretty dress that stops just below her knees, its color somewhere between plum and maroon, the shoulders flowy and graceful. The makeup process was even more foreign — Mikasa's daily makeup routine is simplistic to the core, but the stylist here wanted her eyelashes to pop, seductive and primed for romance. A curling iron turns her hair into bouncy, bombshell waves.

She feels so unlike herself, but adrenaline sends her speeding back for the scene of the action, toward the director still barking out commands.

"You!" He cries, pointing. "Get over here! We're starting a shoot in five minutes. Get a script."

Mikasa wonders if every movie set is this hostile, or if everyone here is just having a bad day. One page from the script gets pressed against her chest, along with one order. "Memorize this."

But before she can begin, a frazzled assistant debriefs her on the whole debacle, leading her to the side and gesturing around wildly.

"You know what you're doing? Can you act?"

Mikasa blinks. "Uh, yeah? I can, yeah."

It's clear that answer doesn't instill a whole lot of confidence in the assistant, but regardless, there's apparently no time to waste on nonsense.

"Diana Baldwin is a no show. There's no time in the schedule to skip her scenes today. You'll be filling in for her for the kiss scene. Got all that?"

Diana Baldwin? That's who I'm filling in for?

There's no time to be starstruck. "Got it. Yup."

"Alright, good. You'll say the lines, and they'll do the ADR in post production. You're just a stand-in. That's it. Don't expect overnight fame, yeah?"

Mikasa nods fervently, still so confused. "No fame. That's— I'm no— Why am I here?"

The question comes out without thinking, but that thought hasn't left her mind since the coffee shop, never able to ask in the swirl of chaos.

"You look like her from the back. Same height, same build. The editors can work their magic."

She'll be little more than a green screen, but the thrill of being on a big movie set, stepping in for an actress she's long admired, is worth it.

"Where do I go? Do I— How much time?"

"Three minutes. Get studying."

Mikasa sends herself into a corner to study, scanning the swoonworthy dialogue for the upcoming scene. A big scene. Important, crucial as the romantic climax for a major Hollywood production, and it depends on her.

The words sink in slowly, as best as they can. The last thing Mikasa wants is to earn a director's ire by flubbing the script to a laughable degree. She prepares herself to be flirty, desirable.

"You! Get ready to shoot."

Mikasa scoots into the filming area, finding the mark on the grass guiding her position. As she assumes the position provided by the script, glancing absentmindedly toward the side, she catches glimpses of camera operators approaching, microphones getting closer.

"Action!"

As directed, Mikasa tilts her eyes upward — finally catching a view at her co-star. Damn near jeopardizing the sanctity of the shoot, she struggles hard to keep her jaw from dropping.

Eren Jaeger. A total heartthrob. Mikasa's harbored a subtle (not really) crush on him for the last few years, just when he began his ascent into Hollywood relevancy. She's seen most of his movies, praising multiple as her favorites. God, Mikasa knows she'll even watch the less-than-savory options, the ones without glowing reviews — independent films with tiny budgets and screenwriters that need fine tuning. She has his films ranked by her favorites, but even that is a difficult list to maintain. Though his social media presence isn't huge, Mikasa keeps up with him.

And now she gets to kiss him.

He wears an outfit so casually suave, a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, the first couple buttons undone for an alluring effect. His shoulder-length hair is something you'd seen on a 1990s teen pop culture magazine, harkening to the age of 'effortless' hairstyles, so swooshy. Mikasa chooses Eren over a young Leonardo DiCaprio any day of the week without hesitation.

The lines nearly slip from Mikasa's memory. She's supposed to be flirty with Eren Jaeger; now, her tasks feels all the more insurmountable to live up to, the standards raised to their highest level.

As Eren approaches, he grins. Mikasa has to remind herself that it's the character he's smiling so pretty at, not her. Some fake girl. Not her.

The tragedy of that causes her to almost miss her first line, but she pulls it together. "You came?"

"Obviously," he replies, laughing, his palms immediately cupping her cheeks. Mikasa's glad the camera isn't focused on her face — which has turned a humiliating shade of red. "You didn't think I'd really leave you behind, did you?"

Mikasa swallows. What was the line? She exhales, as propositioned, smiling, mustering up as much desperation in her tone as she can. "I don't know." This young actress has never been this nervous. "You seemed like you were in a pretty big hurry."

Here comes the most swoonworthy dialogue, the part that'll send Mikasa into cardiac arrest. Eren, or whatever his character's name is, draws her closer, their noses rubbing together. The cameras are almost intrusive now — just like they've always been in her screen tests, her daunting auditions, the technology recording her failure.

At Eren's advancing touches, Mikasa recalls another direction from the script — touch him. She nervously rests her shaky fingers on his waist, clutching his shirt. Eren Jaeger's shirt. His smell is intoxicating this close, subtle but unbelievably attractive. Potent. He continues.

"No. Never. C'mon, El. Can't leave you. You know I can't leave you. Don't give a damn about all that."

Without context, Mikasa has no idea what all that even means, but it's irrelevant. Eren has his hands grasping her face, ready to confess his deepest feelings. She swallows hard, clearing her throat.

"Don't make promises you can't keep. You'll wanna leave again. I can't keep you here."

Her delivery has a shakier quality to it than a professional actress might have, but Mikasa's just proud of herself for not melting to a puddle.

Eren, formidable in his role, just as strong as he looks on the silver screen, pushes her back until they've stumbled into the stone railing behind them — a totally improved move that catches Mikasa off guard, her breath hitching.

Before she can process anything, his lips are latched onto hers, hungrily, his character so desperate to prove his affections to this El girl. He tastes just as good as he has in Mikasa's most shameful dreams, the ones where she gets to do exactly what she's doing now, standing tall as Eren's co-star, the recipient of all his perfectly-acted kisses across an excessive number of takes.

Happy to indulge in this fantasy, Mikasa loses herself in the scene, determined to live up to the expectations placed onto her. She clutches onto Eren, brave enough to engage her mouth, providing her own energy to the kiss. Good God. I'm kidding Eren Jaeger. This is all real.

"Not going anywhere," Eren mewls, too convincing in his 'acting', slipping into this character with so little effort. His hands find Mikasa's thighs, squeezing as she's hoisted into his strong arms, legs with no destination but to wrap around his waist. "I need you. I need you."

Mikasa can't contain herself. Her poor heart is close to giving out, and her stomach flips and clenches and every tumultuous sensation between. She forgets this is a movie, on a set, surrounded by strangers watching them kiss.

One more line. "Stay here. Stay with me, please."

"I will, you goddamn, gorgeous idiot. I'm here."

They kiss longer — so much longer — until the immersion is decimated by the director calling cut, leaving Mikasa in the unfortunate reality where Eren swiftly drops her down to her feet. Through the megaphone, the director praises them — before asserting that they would return for a second, precautionary take.

"Hey," Eren starts, his regular, out-of-character tone somehow so different from his voice during shooting. He's more relaxed. Mikasa's used to this voice from all the interviews she's seen.

"Hi." She keeps her eyes averted, too flustered to even dare looking at him after that. He's famous. She's a nobody, wannabe actress that's stuck working a part-time throwaway job. Still, her awkward smile seems to endear her to him.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry for surprising you like that. Felt like it might help the scene." He sounds pleased with himself for concocting the idea. "I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?"

As if he couldn't get anymore perfect. He's a massive sweetheart, too, not some prima donna.

"No— not at all. It was— it was clever."

"You think so? I worried it might be too much."

She's unsure how to reassure him of the move's success without exposing her gigantic crush.

"I think the women watching will be happy."

Eren laughs and it's sublimely charming. "Well, then I'm happy with it. You're all hard to please."

Behind her back, Mikasa fidgets with her fingers, cracking her knuckles like crazy — anything to relieve the what-is-happening-right-now energy coursing through her bloodstream and incapable of exiting any of her brain's fixated thinking.

"Ah, well— I doubt you could disappoint them."

Instantly, she wants to slam her palm so hard into her forehead that it sends her flying. He doesn't need another weirdo fangirl. I've seen the comments on his Instagram. There's enough of those already. If he's annoyed, Eren conceals that frustration with ease, accepting the vote of confidence with a gracious simper.

"Thanks." He exhales deeply, finding his place beside her against the railing. "Are you an actress? How'd you get wrapped up in all this?"

Calling herself an actress in Eren's presence seems rather reductive of his talent. Mikasa shrugs, biting the inside of her cheeks. "Sorta? Not really. I'm— I'm trying to be, at least."

Eren smiles. "Have I seen anything you've done?"

He's much easier to talk to than someone like Marilyn Lawrence. He's more— more human.

"If you watched Avalon Harbor, you might've caught me in the background for a second. I think it was at 36:20, if you feel like double checking."

Pathetic as it sounds, her jokes makes Eren snort, and Mikasa considers that a win. "You know what, I'll have to give it a rewatch sometime."

A different production assistant brings them bottles of water while they wait to reconvene. There's a painful silence between them — a silence that Mikasa wishes to fill with a million questions about his acting, his roles, his journey from child clothes model to big screen cash cow.

Somehow, though, he's equally interested in her.

"So, Ms. Avalon Harbor, you didn't really answer my question. Where'd they find you?"

Mikasa sighs. Now he'll really know I'm a loser.

"The coffee shop down the street. I work there."

He laughs again. "I— I didn't expect that one."

Just as she's about to attempt another joke, anything to hear his pretty laugh again, the director cuts their conversation short, summoning the cast and crew back into position.

"It was nice to chat with you— Wait, what's your name? Just realized I have no idea."

She swallows, lump building in her throat. You're about to be on a first name basis. "Mikasa."

"Eren," he replies, a formality more than anything. "Maybe we'll get to work together again one day."

Don't get your hopes up, she tells herself. "I'm happy to just be in the audience, really."

He smiles as he backpedals back to his starting position, and that smile lingers on Mikasa's brain all the way until the director calls action.

Returning to her barista job after the previous day's events is harder than she anticipates. Getting a taste of a real actresses' life didn't quench that dream — it only thickened her thirst to be on more movie sets, to experience the thrill of producing something from nothing, to turn a script into a visual manifestation for audiences.

Kissing Eren Jaeger played a big part, obviously.

It's hard to keep her mind off their scenes while cleaning the counter during a lull in customers. Her eyes fixate onto the speckles hidden into the quartz countertop, utterly lost in a daydream, replaying the kiss in her head just like she's rewatched some of Eren's movies on repeat.

A gentle voice cuts through her folly.

"What do you recommend? I can't decide."

Startled, Mikasa gets ready to issue so many apologies for being so ditzy, so inattentive. The last thing she needs is a customer complaint.

When she catches the man's eyes, she's even more startled to see Eren standing there.

"Oh! It's you, I— I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

"No need to apologize. Did I scare you?"

Behind Eren, some customers look up from their coffees to gawk at him — the penalty that comes with achieving some stardom (and the unfortunate consequences of being blessed with unnaturally beautiful cheekbones).

Mikasa laughs, flustered. Her cheeks give away just how unprepared she is for this encounter.

"A little, yeah. Thought I was gonna get an earful."

"Nope. Just wanted to stop by and see you."

See me? It's too good to be true.

"Uh, you did?" Mikasa chides herself. This flirting isn't very good, considering that their tongues were practically wrapped together just yesterday.

Eren leans across the counter, gushing his voice to avoid any pesky eavesdropping.

"Sure did. You're a fun co-star. That's rare these days. Plus, you're a pretty good kisser, too."

Instantly, Mikasa's hand covers her face, the redness flushed across her features too much to bear — Eren Jaeger likes my kissing. Me.

Undisturbed by her inability to accept his compliments with any decorum, Eren continues, glancing quickly at the clock on the wall.

"Do you have a break coming up? I'm done for the day. Thought we could go for a walk. If you want."

It's starting to dawn on her how quickly her life has been rocketed off its predicted trajectory because of a resemblance to another actress.

Is he actually asking me out? She hasn't felt this giddy in— well, since his last movie came out.

"I'm off in ten minutes, actually. I'd— I'd love to."

"Great. Then it's settled. I'll take you on a tour."

A lackluster shift becomes the second-best she's ever worked, just trailing behind yesterday's. She smiles so brightly, hard enough to hurt her cheeks, straining the muscles that she usually saves for pretending to tolerate customers.

"Do you still want that recommendation? I can make something for you while you wait."

He grins, amused. "Oh no, I don't like coffee. Just needed something cute to get your attention."

Unwilling to let her get the last laugh, Eren sticks a bill into the tip jar and slinks off to one of the tables, smiling at her from hidden his hand.

Mikasa blushes.

He might be a good actor, but he's just as terrible at hiding a crush as I am.

— (Hope you enjoyed reading! It would be so fun to imagine how they'll spend their walk and how their little courtship would develop into a relationship 🩷 eremika wholesome moment was very fun to write after so much angst!)

#darlingkirstein asks #eremika #my writing #actor au

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unseemingowl · 2 days

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Saga Anderson, and Nordic rep in Alan Wake 2

Early on in Saga Anderson’s exploration in Alan Wake 2, she runs into Ilmo Koskela. Fiercely proud of his Finnish heritage, Ilmo gregariously makes note of Saga’s Nordic sounding name and the familiar design of her knitted sweater. Perhaps a fellow Finn?

Alas no, Saga’s mom is Swedish she informs him. Immediately Ilmo’s face falls. I’m not sure if it’s actually just the animated character defaulting to his resting face, but either way the timing is too perfect. Cue uproarious laughter from me. People in the Nordics are on friendly terms of course, but we gotta have the tiniest bit of… scornfor each other. All in good fun of course. It’s traditional.

Now, I’m Danish, not Finnish, but still, I feel right at home in the towns of Bright Falls and Watery in Alan Wake 2. All of the little nods to Nordic culture and mindset feel so wonderfully familiar to me. The melancholia, the irreverent sense of humor, the affection for the Finnish and Swedish quirks of the characters. The game feels all the stronger in tone and narrative for Remedy embracing the Finnish roots of the studio.

Which is exactly why it sucks that I almost immediately saw the charm of those narrative decisions weaponised against Saga.

I first watched the scene between Ilmo and Saga on a lets play when I was trying to figure out if I should finally dip my toes into survival horror and buy the game. Delighted by the writing I took a look into the comments to see if people were vibing as hard with it as I was. They were. But I also saw a comment that made me frown.

Paraphrasing, it basically went, come on, like hell a guy like Ilmo would make the assumption that a black woman is Finnish. There are a multitude of reasons why I think that person was wrong, mainly that Nordic people love it when we run into each other in other countries, but it also just made me sad.

Saga being black does not negate her Swedish heritage. Formally, she is American, sure (I assume, not sure how that works in the US), but she’s raised by her single Swedish mom, of course she’s going to identify heavily with that part of her herself. It’s a profound and essential part of who she is.

But hey, I’m a white potato Dane, so I’m not gonna argue that I know much about the experience of being biracial. I’m gonna stick to what I know, which is that Saga is a very moving and beautiful example of something that I’m actually not used to seeing much of - a story about connecting with your Nordic heritage and roots. And it’s part of why I love her so much.

When Nordic people show up in big, international productions, it’s usually as Vikings, and sure, it’s fun to see our wild ancestors, but contemporary questions of Nordic identity and heritage is not something I often see explored. Not even in our own productions.

So much of Saga’s story is about family. Fighting for her current one, Logan and Casey (and sure, David too, lol), and rediscovering her first one. Tor and Odin.

Her discovering her ties to Tor and Odin is profoundly moving and made me teary-eyed several times over. And sure, a lot of those ties are fantastical in nature, but they still feel very much grounded - and what makes us Nordic if not the ties to our myths and legends that Tor and Odin have made themselves the living avatars of.

While Saga’s mom, Freya, had good reasons for leaving the Anderson seer magics behind, seeing them as part of what made her family fucked up, she also cut Saga off from the fullness of her capabilities. It is only through Saga reforming her family, healing its scars and fully embracing the Anderson heritage that she becomes as powerful a parautilitarian as she is at the end of the game. That’s beautiful.

And in fact I think Saga being black only deepens the richness of those themes rather than negate them or make them irrelevant. Because yes, Saga’s story would have been moving if she was a white character too, but I am very well aware that a lot of biracial people of Nordic ancestry can feel alienated from that part of themselves. Not least because questions of who gets to claim a Nordic heritage can get pretty ugly around here. There are most definitely people who share the racist mindset of that commentator. It adds an extra dimension. Which is why seeing Tor and Odin’s eagerness to claim Saga as part of the Anderson heritage is all the more moving. Through her magics, she’s just so obviously an Anderson, and they’re so damn proud to call her theirs and fight alongside her. Because they all got that wild Viking blood in them. They’re part of her and she’s part of them.

Roger Ebert, the film critic once called movies empathy machines. I think games, when they’re at their best, can be an even more intense variation of that. Which is exactly why it baffles me that some people can play through Alan Wake 2 and still think Saga is a stunt-woke character rather than someone fully and beautifully integrated in the narrative. A narrative which, at its most basic level – in my opinion – is about the mystical bonds we form with each other and the rest of the world through art and love and blood and family and heritage. All the great horror doesn’t negate that either, it amplifies it. Kind of like that clicker.

#I really didn’t mean to write like… a fucking essay #so this is probably gonna flop #but I love Saga so much #and as a Scandinavian woman #I feel so seen by her #and I hate that people are being so vile about her character #Saga Anderson #Alan Wake 2

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 9 months

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Note: request by @bubblyabs! thank you so much!! I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: SKMD SPOILERS. fluff/smut 18+, a lot of fourth wall breaking and my infamous attempt at humor.

pairing: SKMD!Sihtric x Modern!You (f)

summary: The fictional man of your dreams was suddely not so fictional anymore.

wordcount: 5,2k

'You looked really hot there.'

There you were again, wrapped in a blanket on your couch, ready to once again finish another binge rewatch of The Last Kingdom. You just couldn't stop yourself. Ever since you became obsessed with the show, you could watch nothing else. No other series appealed to you anymore, and you kept going back to the very first episode, pathetically anticipating the second season, because that's where your favourite character comes in; Sihtric Kjartansson. The man needs no introduction, if we're honest.

You don't know what exactly it is about him, but you were smitten. Each time he appeared on screen, you needed a glass of water and a cold shower afterwards.

You thought the actor who played him was cute too, you just couldn't really recall his name, you only remembered he had some complicated last name, Federsomething. However, cute or not, nothing was better than the rugged look of that pretty Danish rat boy in that medieval Netflix show. And so, only several weeks since your last rewatch, you were watching the movie again, which was the very last taste of the entire show you would ever get. Until they'll make some lousy remake in 10 years or something, which you would obviouslly not watch because you couldn't stand the thought of all those actors being replaced. Not on your watch.

Anyway, you had cried your absolute eyes out during the movie when you saw it the first time. But more importantly: whoever was responsible for Sihtric's haircut in the movie, was an actual blessing from the lord. Every time you saw his very first scene in that movie, where he walks up to Uhtred, with that long, loose hair, you simply just slide down your couch, being a whole hot mess. The things you would do to get that man in your bed, and the things you would do to him… oh, if only he wasn't fictional. You'd let him rail you, but alas.

And that made you groan each time. The most beautiful and perfect man you had ever seen was freaking fictional! It seems ridiculous, but Sihtric just ticked all your boxes.

He was funny, brave, loyal, adorable, hot, sexy, maybe not the smartest but you had no problem taking care of that man, he was good with weapons, he was protective and a real family man. What else could a you possibly want? You cursed Bernard Cornwell for coming up with the character and whoever casted that actor, as they are clearly responsible for you being forever single. Because you would never settle for anyone who was not Sihtric Kjartansson; fictional character and the goddamn love of your life.

And just like two weeks ago, you finished the movie and switched off your tv, while being a sobbing, snotty mess once again. Your three week holiday had just started, and your initial plan was to stay up late each night, but you had a headache from crying, so you decided to go to bed when it wasn't even close to midnight.

The next morning you woke up early because of some loud banging. You figured the toddlers of your upstairs neighbours were at it again, banging their fists on the wall, running through their apartment. You could hear their little gremlin claws stomp and scratch everywhere they went. But you had to admit, they were louder than usual today, and it actually sounded like they were kicking and stomping at your front door.

You groaned and got dressed for another day of simply doing nothing. You started your coffee machine and opened the door to your little hallway, which led through the front door. You hadn't checked for any mail downstairs in a few days, and it was time to leave your cave for that little adventure to the main hall of your apartment building.

But you would not get there, at least, not any time soon. No. You were about to get the biggest jump scare of your life, to which you would scream so loud, it would without a doubt wake up the entire city. And after that, everything would turn black in front of your eyes.

During your unconscious state you had the weirdest dream. You had opened the door to your hallway and found the cause of that weird banging noise. The noise came from your own apartment. The noise was created by a man, kicking at, and rattling your door, in a pathetic attempt to open it. And it wasn't just any man.

You recognised him from the back within a split second. It was the fictional man of your dreams, dressed in the red-brownish leather armour he wore when you last saw him on your tv, his hair braided and his face bloody and bewildered. You screamed so loud when you saw him, that someone probably called the cops, because it was a horrible, distressing sound. And it also scared the hell out of Sihtric, who turned to face you while reaching for the hilt of his sword as he stepped closer. But after a second, his expression changed from anger to astonishment, and he stared at you, all confused and wide-eyed. You stared into his mismatched eyes as he was merely two paces away from you.

'Lady?' he said, with the voice and accent that simply set your body on fire whenever you heard it.

And you randomly thought how Sihtric looked taller on tv than he did in real life, in your hallway, and then everything just turned black.

And it turned out that it wasn't a dream. But it all had actually happened before you passed out, in your hallway. Sihtric had been quick to catch your fall and caught you in his arms. While still completely confused, and in shock, he had carried you into your living room and carefully laid you down on your couch. And as it would take a good five minutes before you regained consciousness again, Sihtric took a quick look around your apartment, growing more confused and concerned with every passing second.

And you suddenly opened your eyes again as he had his back turned to you.

You blinked rapidly, your eyes trying to focus on the backside of the man in armour, which you recognised all too well. It hadn't been a dream, it all actually happened. And it was still happening apparently. How the fuck was this possible? Did someone prank you? Did someone pay a ridiculous amount of money to hire the actual actor, just to scare the shit out of you and to mess with you? Breaking your heart in the process as you could never be with the man of your dreams? What a sick joke.

While that medieval looking hunk stared at your family pictures, you quietly took your phone from your pocket and opened instagram. Your eyes grew wide when you saw that the actual actor, who you knew played Sihtric in the show, had posted a story just a minute ago, announcing that he was currently in some country, far away from yours, at a comic con.

'No way,' you whispered, 'but then who the fuck-', you looked back at Sihtric again, who had made his way over to your Last Kingdom book collection.

He stared at it, but as you couldn't see his face, you had no idea what he was doing because you remembered he shouldn't be able to read. You followed his movements with huge eyes, completely in shock, and without realising it, your phone slipped out of your hands and dropped on the floor with a loud thump. You spooked Sihtric, who slightly jumped, and was quick to turn around, again ready to draw his sword.

'Where am I?' he asked, trying to sound calm.

'W-what… uh, England?'

'England?'

'E-England,' you said again.

'What is the year, lady?'

'2024.'

'What?'

'No, sorry! Sorry, I- I mean 2023!'

Sihtric stared at you, and you thought if he wouldn't blink soon, his eyes would dry out.

'H-how did you get here?' you asked.

'How did you get here?' he asked cautiously.

'I… live here?' you frowned.

'Why?'

You blinked. 'Because… I… pay to live here?'

'Oh,' Sihtric said, then nodded, 'that seems fair. What is that?' he asked, pointing to your tv.

'It's a t- uhh,' you figured that if for some reason this really was Sihtric, the medieval dude from your favourite tv show, he would not know what a tv is, so for the sake of playing it safe, you lied, 'it's a… art.'

'Art?'

'Yes, like a drawing,' you panicked.

Sihtric looked at the tv, then back at you, and said, 'but it's all black?'

'Well, it's… modern… art? It's really expensive,' you said, hoping he would not try to break your tv for whatever reason.

'Expensive?'

'Yes,' you said, 'it's, uh, over a six hundred poun- pieces of silver.'

Sihtric looked back at your tv again, scratched his forehead, and then locked eyes with you again, 'Lady,' he snickered, 'I think someone has fooled you. That drawing is not worth that amount of silver.'

You smiled, simply agreeing, while anticipating his next move.

'Is that,' he squinted his eyes and walked over to your kitchen, 'Uhtred?' he frowned, looking at your coffee cup which had a picture of Uhtred's face on it, 'why?' Sihtric asked as he looked back at you.

'I, uhh…' were you going to tell him they didn't have a cup with his face on it, and that you had sent an angry email to the company? Maybe not. You cleared your throat, but before you could speak, Sihtric's eyes found the large framed poster of him, Finan and Uhtred on your wall. And his eyes grew wide.

'Where did you get that? Why am I… why are… wh-,' Sihtric stopped talking, then eventually said, 'who made this painting?'

'... Google?'

'Who is Google?'

'It's, well, so,' you stammered.

'You paid six hundred pieces of silver for this too?'

'Wha- no, more like…seven.'

'Seven hundred?' Sihtric gasped, 'lady,' he smiled, clearly flattered.

'No! I mean like seven pou- bloody pieces of silver!'

'Seven?' he frowned, suddenly offended, 'only seven? Yet you paid six hundred for that?' he pointed at your tv.

'Sihtric, look,' you sighed.

'How do you know my name?' he asked, frightened.

Okay. This had to stop, right now. What the fuck is going on?

You told Sihtric to shut up, a little harsher than you really meant, but so be it. You took his hands and sat him down on your couch. For some reason he kept holding your hands, which you obviously didn't mind, and you tried to explain how you knew who he was while desperately not trying to get distracted by his appearance. Those tattooed fingers, the tattoo on his neck, and all those scars. He was even more handsome in real life. If this was real life, of course.

'You… you have seen my life?' Sihtric frowned, 'on… the black painting?'

'Yes, it's called a tv. Here, I can show you,' you took the remote, and Sihtric gasped when he suddenly heard noise and saw moving images on the previously black screen.

'Sorcery,' he whispered with big eyes, squeezing your hand.

'No, not sorcery,' you said, remembering how awfully superstitious he was in season 3. And how cute he looked in season 3. Well, he was cute in every season.

'The… the people,' Sihtric suddenly said, 'are they s-stuck?'

'Stuck?'

'Are they stuck in the painting?' he asked, concerned.

'What? No… no, it's… oh god,' you sighed, 'the people are fine,' you smiled.

You quickly switched on Seven Kings Must Die, and you thought Sihtric was going to pass out. He jumped up when he saw Finan and Ingrith, near the beginning of the movie, in Uhtred's hall, your favourite scene, and he ran to the tv.

'Finan!' Sihtric yelled, 'is he stuck?' he looked back at you, worried, 'can he… can he hear me?'

Sihtric turned to the tv again and pressed his fingers against the screen.

'No! Don't touch the screen!' you yelled, worried he'd damage it with his rough fingers, and Sihtric was quick to pull his hand back with a flinch. And you felt horrible for making him flinch, but before you could apologise, Sihtric had composed himself again.

'But… F-Finan?' he asked, 'is he okay? Where is he?'

'Finan is fine! He's not stuck! This all already happened… right?' you grimaced, hoping you were right somehow.

Sihtric looked at you, confused, then back to the screen, and he stumbled backwards when he saw his own face appear on the magic painting. He watched the scene unfold, and he didn't know what to say, he just stared at the screen as he reached for your hand again.

'You looked really hot there,' you blurted out, and you felt yourself blush.

'Hot?' Sihtric frowned, 'I wasn't hot, lady. It was a cold night! Can't you see the furs?' he scoffed.

'No, I mean, you- … no, you're right. It must've been… really cold that day.'

'It was,' Sihtric said sternly, and looked back at the screen again, 'I remember this,' he gasped, 'Finan said he only fell asleep once,' he said, just seconds before Finan said the line on tv.

'See!' Sihtric gasped and looked at you again, 'he actually has fallen asleep many times, lady,' he grinned.

Holy fuck. You didn't even think about that. Sihtric obviously knew everything that had happened, the whole story, not just the bits and pieces you saw from their lives on tv.

'H-has he?' you asked, cautiously.

'Yes, lady,' Sihtric said, 'it often happened because he had too much ale the night before. And because he's old,' he winked with a grin.

'Oh,' you snickered, 'I see. And… you never fell asleep?'

'Me? no, never,' he said with confidence.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, lady.'

You hummed and skipped to the scene where both Finan and Sihtric had fallen asleep, while Uhtred was awake.

'So…' you smiled, pointing at the tv.

Sihtric gasped, 'No, that… see! See, I'm awake. I was merely resting my eyes, I was… in deep thought,' he lied.

'Okay,' you laughed, 'if you say so.'

You watched Sihtric's face, which went from mildly ashamed to a light chuckle, and soon he laughed softly along with you. He still had no idea how it was possible that he could see his own face on your expensive painting, but Sihtric was a simple guy; he saw a pretty lady and he was smitten, not caring about much else anymore, except for winning your heart. He clearly didn't know you were basically ready to marry him on the spot. And for some reason you both just seemed to accept the situation, no questions asked. You watched the rest of the movie together, and it was surreal. Sihtric remembered everything, told you little anecdotes and simply seemed to enjoy seeing his friends on your screen.

'So… did Uhtred die?' you asked when the end credits were shown on screen.

'Uhtred died?!' Sihtric gasped.

'What? No, I mean, I'm asking you!'

'Uhtred was alive when I last saw him!' Sihtric said, and so you found out Sihtric had ended up in your world only hours after that heartbreaking last scene in the movie.

'Okay, then I'm sure he's, uh, fine,' you tried to convince yourself as much as you tried to convince Sihtric. 'Also,' you cleared your throat, 'what happened to your wife and kids?'

'Oh,' he said, 'we had a rough divorce. She broke my heart and took the kids,' he shrugged.

'Oh,' you blinked, surprised, 'I'm… sorry?'

'Are you married?' Sihtric blurted out.

'Uh, me?' you chuckled, twirling your hair, looking the handsome Dane up and down, 'n-no, I'm not. Why?' you kicked your feet.

Sihtric stared at you, he just couldn't believe his luck after being strangely teleported into a different year and world, ending up with a beautiful lady who wasn't married. But then he thought that was odd, because why weren't you married yet? A pretty lady who was clearly rich, at least that's what he thought, who lived in a nice home, was of marriage age, who was also very kind and funny, and with a body which he would undoubtedly be thinking of later that night. Why has no one married you yet, he wondered.

'Are you cursed?' he said without thinking.

'What?'

'Cursed,' he said again, 'you're not married. Why?'

'Uh, well,' you cleared your throat, 'I'm… picky.'

Sure, picky. You were simply in love with the medieval, fictional man on your couch, and you would never settle for anything less.

'Picky?' Sihtric frowned.

'Yes,' you replied, 'only a certain kind of man could win my heart,' you grinned, mindlessly twirling your hair around your fingers again.

'Oh?' Sihtric raised an eyebrow and smirked, clearly intrigued.

And he thought of it as a game now, a game he desperately wanted to play, because he wanted to know if he could win. And gods, how he wanted to win you and take you back home with him. Or stay here with you, he really didn't care, not after you just batted your eyelashes at him. No, he would do everything for you now.

'So,' he cleared his throat, shifting a little closer next to you on the couch, 'what kind of man would that be?'

'Hm,' you hummed, thinking as if you weren't looking at that specific man, 'a man who is… kind,' you said, 'loyal and brave,' you smiled at him.

Sihtric hummed and licked his lips as he gave you a playful look. He knew he was kind, loyal and brave, so he figured his chances with you were pretty good right now.

'And… someone who is not afraid to take charge,' you teased, seeing if he's willing to take the bait.

Sihtric grinned and slightly adjusted his position.

'He also has to be protective,' you said, 'and strong,' your eyes trailed down to his clothed biceps, knowing very well what's underneath all of that fabric he was wearing.

'Well,' Sihtric smiled, a little cocky, 'I might just be the man for you then.'

'You think so? I'm not sure…,' you played it cool, but inside you were going stark raving mad, this surely had to be a dream.

'I think I am,' he gave you a smirk and winked.

You were absolutely ready to pull that man in your bed, but it was only noon, you had just met him a few hours ago, and everything was just really freaking weird. So you held back. You told him you'd think about it, to which he frowned, playfully offended. You bickered a little and eventually ended up discussing what on earth you two were going to do now. He had nowhere to go, and you didn't want to kick him out, but he was still a stranger. Even though he had lived in your head rent free for years already. You told him first things first; he had to get into different clothes. Which he agreed to. You did some digging and found some sweatpants you had bought online years ago, which turned out way too big for you, and you had forgotten to return it, which came in handy now. Unfortunately, the sweatpants were pastel pink, and Sihtric clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply as he grabbed them out of your hands. You snorted, and to make it worse, the only thing you owned which he would possibly fit in, was a matching sleeveless crop top.

'No,' Sihtric said sternly, looking at the top you held in your hands.

'Guess you're not brave enough for me then,' you taunted.

Sihtric huffed and snatched the shirt out of your hands. You pointed him towards your bathroom, where he stayed for quite a while, simply admiring every foreign object before he even thought of changing clothes. And when he finally walked out, you thought you were going to pass out again.

He had untangled his previously braided hair, wearing it down now, which you loved so much, all while wearing that sleeveless crop top, which barely covered half of his insanely toned upper body. And the matching sweatpants hung on his hips, low enough to reveal he wasn't wearing any underwear, which made sense, as you had no underwear that would possibly fit him.

He raked his fingers through his hair, exposing even more of his trained torso when he did, and every single filthy thought you ever had about that man crossed your mind at once. You desperately tried to shake your thoughts and took him back into your living room, where you sat down and simply talked. He wanted to know all about you, and even though he didn't understand a lot of the things you mentioned, he knew he was going to marry you. Somehow.

Later you made him dinner and as promised, Sihtric slept on the couch. And you had to fight the desperate urge to find him in the night and lure him into your bed, which Sihtric would have gladly allowed to happen.

A few days passed and Sihtric seemed to adapt decently. He was not as dumb as Uhtred and Finan always made him seem, but he was definitely as clumsy as expected. Knocking over drinks, breaking small objects which he wanted to look at but his hands were too rough, things like that. But you couldn't give a shit, you were madly in love with him, and you couldn't wait for him to break you-... your bed.

Sihtric was very flirty too, and loved brushing his fingers over your face, arms, or well, anywhere he could really, whenever he could. But he was also a true gentleman, and slept on your couch each night, for nearly a week.

One evening he asked if he could see one of those Last Kingdom episodes you had talked about, and you agreed.

It was still unreal to watch an episode with the one and only Sihtric Kjartansson next to you, and it still felt like a dream. You switched on a random episode, and it happened to be the one where his father, Kjartan, ends up getting killed. At first Sihtric had been watching in awe, amazed that he could relive parts of his life like that.

But when he realised where it was going, his face became more and more deprived of emotions. You noticed it quite late and wanted to switch the tv off once you saw it, just before Kjartan got killed, but Sihtric stopped you by taking your hand in his. And he held your hand tightly as he watched the scene unfold. He showed no emotion, which told you he was more or less at peace with it, but it still was a rough moment to sit through.

When the episode was over, Sihtric looked at you, and you could finally do what you had always wanted to do after seeing Sihtric in that terrible scene; you pulled him in your arms and held him tight.

'Are you okay?' you asked after a moment.

'Yeah,' he said quietly, enjoying the feeling of having his arms around you.

He softly hummed as you brushed your fingers through his long, wavy hair, which was simply another dream come true, and he held you tightly for a long time.

'Can I stay with you?' Sihtric suddenly asked a few evenings later as you had just watched another episode.

'What?' you asked.

'Can I stay here? With you? I mean… I- I like you. I like being here,' he said, 'and, unless we find out how I got here, I have nowhere to go.'

'Y-you want to stay here? With me?' you frowned.

Sihtric wasn't wrong, he truly had no place to go and you also still had no idea how on earth he had gotten here, which you both quickly stopped questioning as it drove you mad. And naturally you wanted him to stay, but it would be a hard thing to explain to your friends and family, who knew all about your (unhealthy) love for Sihtric, who was, until last week, non-existent in the real world.

'I'd like to stay,' Sihtric smiled sweetly at you, 'with you, lady.'

And you just couldn't resist him anymore. With his long, wavy hair, those mismatched eyes, that smile, and the pink crop top he kept wearing once he realised you liked it on him. He did swap the pastel sweatpants for a black one, after you had bought it for him a few days ago. He was simply the most mesmerising man you had ever seen, and before you knew it, your lips crashed together into a heated kiss. And you tore each other's clothes off as fast as you could. You've been waiting years for this dream to become a reality, and you absolutely would live your fantasy to the fullest right now.

Sihtric seemed just as desperate as you, but before he pulled your panties down, you ran to your bedroom. He was still a medieval man, who knows what he caught in those days and you wanted to limit the risk of catching something as much as you could, and also you did not want a baby, yet, so you grabbed a condom. Sihtric frowned at the package, and you quickly understood he had never seen such a thing. You chuckled a little awkwardly and opened the package.

'It's protection,' you explained, but you didn't want to spook him by talking about STDs, knowing he would probably think it's a curse, so you simply said, 'it's so you don't put a child- I mean, pup in my belly,' you frowned a little as you said the ancient words.

'You do not want my pups?' Sihtric asked, and he almost sounded hurt.

'N… I… well,' you cleared your throat, 'not yet,' you admitted.

Sihtric started to ramble and question you, and you politely asked him to stop talking. You asked if he was okay with everything, to which he then nodded with a smirk, and he allowed you to put the condom on him. And the low hums he let out when you did so, were enough to turn your insides into jelly, and the pressure between your thighs was immense and unbearable. And as you wanted to take your hands off him, he quickly held onto your arm, keeping your hand in place.

'Please,' Sihtric said with big, darkened eyes and a sly smile.

And you understood he seemed to like the feeling of your hand working his length. You had to admit, all those fanfic writers did not lie about his size; you had nothing to complain about here. God, the way you enjoyed having this man on your couch, completely naked, except for the Mjölnir pendant around his neck, with his head thrown back as he smiled while soft moans escaped his slightly parted lips, enjoying the way you made him feel. And it didn't take long before Sihtric came, and the sound of his low groan was pure bliss to your ears, and even more arousing than you already had expected it to be.

After a short moment, Sihtric was quick to push you up and make you sit back against the couch. He kneeled down in front of you, on the floor, and he carefully spread your legs with a smirk. He threw one leg over his broad shoulder, and before you could grasp that your wildest fantasy was coming true, his face was already buried between your thighs. He nipped your sensitive skin with his lips before he softly kissed your wet folds, followed by running his tongue over your core, making you exhale sharply as your hands found his hair. Your body trembled in no time as he sucked, kissed and licked your clit, as if you were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life. And just like Sihtric, it didn't take long before you came with a desperate moan, pulling his hair to which he groaned.

You both ended up laughing softly as Sihtric sat back next to you, giving you some time to recover, while you both realised how insane this was. But in less than a minute he already took your face in his hands and pulled you closer, wanting to kiss you like there was no tomorrow. And as soon as you felt like you could take him again, you climbed on his lap, to which Sihtric smirked. He watched you with half open eyes as he bit down on his lip. His hands settled on your hips while yours found support by holding onto his muscular shoulders. His body was even more impressive than you imagined, and you cursed Netflix for never giving the audience a shirtless Sihtric scene.

And then you finally sank down on his cock, you both gasped at the feeling, hands desperately squeezing and scratching each other to display pleasure. And Sihtric was vocal, moaning and cursing with a smile as he enjoyed the way you were riding him, his eyes fixated on you, darting between your eyes, your lips, your breasts and down to your core, loving the view of how you took his length.

'Gods,' he moaned, out of breath, and then he hummed with a light chuckle.

'Fuck,' you muttered under your breath, digging your nails in his shoulders as you tried your hardest to not finish right there and then.

'Hm, I want to fill you up,' Sihtric whispered with ragged breath, and your attempt to not finish before him was to no avail, as his words were enough to make you cry out his name while your walls clenched around his throbbing cock.

'Fuck, sorry,' you said, panting, riding out your own high while feeling a little embarrassed you finished so fast.

But to your surprise, and pleasure, you felt Sihtric's grip on your hips tighten up and he let out another hard, deep groan as he threw his head back, finishing only moments after you, just as he had hoped he would. You both tried to catch your breath as you embraced each other for a little while. Then you took a shower together and dressed in some comfy clothes. You grabbed a few drinks and some snacks, and made your way into your bedroom, telling Sihtric to come with you. And on your bed, you'd talk and joke around for hours, if you weren't too busy kissing each other or cuddling that is.

'If you had the chance,' you asked, hours later, as Sihtric held you in his arms, 'would you go back home?'

'Only if you'd go back with me,' he said, without any hesitation or doubt, and he squeezed you a little tighter against his chest, 'but if you wish to stay here, then I will stay here, even if I could go back.'

'Why?' you asked, surprised but happy to hear his answer, and you felt a little emotional all of the sudden.

'Because,' Sihtric smiled, moving up a little to look into your eyes, 'because I like you,' he lovingly brushed his fingers over your cheek, 'I have lived my life there, back home,' he said, 'there's not much there for me anymore. I would rather stay here and have you, have someone to take care of and to provide for, then going back without you and just… feel alone again at night.'

'I love you,' you suddenly blurted out.

Sihtric's jaw dropped slightly as he looked at you with big eyes, and then he smiled softly, 'I love you too,' he said, 'and I just want to be wherever you are.'

'Sihtric,' you whispered, cupping his cheeks as you stared into the warrior's vulnerable eyes, 'I will simply follow you anywhere you decide to go.'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305

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pensat-i-fet · 11 months

Text

I want you to stay (Pablo Gavi x Reader)

**Another cute fluffy request I had a great time writing. Apologies to any Danish speakers if the article I used for the few words in your language that I included deceived me. And enjoy reading! ❤️❤️ **

Word count: 2726

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Why don’t you come to my office later so we can go through the different internship options?”

“Sure. Is 4 ok?”

“Perfect. See you there”.

You left your class ready to pick up some food on your little break before the last two lessons of the day. Finally, after two years in uni, it was time to look at potential internships. You knew that was what could really get you a job after uni, not just the good grades.

At 3.55, always punctual, you arrived at your professor’s office. And when you got inside, you noticed all the pieces of paper on her desk.

“Hi. Sorry I’m early”.

“It’s ok, sit down, please. So, we’ve got a lot of options here for you. Let me tell you about them”.

She went through all the possible internships and it was a bit overwhelming for you. You expected two or three…not fifteen.

“Roger really wants this one but I think you’d be a better candidate”.

That caught your attention. Roger had been your nemesis during the whole time you were in uni. Always fighting to see who got the best grades and overall being way too competitive. So…the idea of taking the internship he wanted was appealing.

“It’s for Barça. They need someone for their media team. You know, to script and help film the videos for social media”.

“Why do you think I’m a good candidate? If you don’t mind me asking. It’s just that I’m not a football fan”.

“I know, but you are the most creative. Your ideas for assignments have always been the most original and I think you’d fit right in. Football is secondary. They won’t be expecting you to know about it. Just to create content the fans like”.

There wasn’t much time to think about it so you quickly thought about all the pros and cons for each option. And even if you weren’t too proud to say it, the biggest pro ended up being pissing your enemy off.

“I’ll take the Barça job”.

Three weeks later, you were in the Barça offices, being told everything that was expected from you and it was a lot. Did they realise you were just an intern and still had to do a lot of things for uni?

“Some players are a bit more…complicated”.

“You mean they are divas”, nothing you didn’t expect.

“I meant shy. Divas are great for this, actually. They love talking on camera. The shy ones…”.

“Who’s the one you struggle with the most?”, you asked, now curious.

“Gavi. And we know him being in the videos will give us so many more views but he just doesn’t want to do them. He gets too uncomfortable and we don’t want to force him to do something he doesn’t want to do”.

Even if you weren’t a big football fan, you knew Gavi. Who in Barcelona didn’t? But it surprised you to find out he was shy. He didn’t look it on the pitch.

“I can help with that”, your statement was met with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“If you get Gavi to be in more than one video, I’ll give you a real contract. Not just an internship”.

You laughed nervously. He was joking, right?

“I’m not joking. I know you have great references from teachers but those of us who’ve known him since he was a little boy can’t get him to do it so I’m not sure how you’d be able to".

“I’ll find a way”.

If there was something you loved, it was a challenge.

For your first couple of days, you didn’t really get to bring your ideas to the table but to see how everyone else worked. You tried to absorb as much information as possible.

“So…what would you like to do for your first video?”, asked one of your new colleagues.

“I thought a challenge could be fun. There is a Champions League match coming so how about a language one? We have a Danish speaker in the team, so we can get another player to try and say something in his language. It’s always fun to see them getting it all wrong”.

“Sounds great. We haven’t used Andreas much for videos either so good idea. Who do you think should be the other player?”

“Gavi”.

Did he really snort? “We can’t get him to speak Spanish and you want him to speak Danish. Are you a secret Madrid fan?”

“No, I just think it’s time for him to do more videos. I’ll sort it out”.

“You keep dreaming big. I guess it’s good for our profession”.

All these comments were getting to you. How hard could it be to get Gavi to film a video?

“Ga…”, should you call him by his nickname or his real name? Maybe nickname is better. “Gavi! Hi! Could you come here a second?”

He turned to look at whoever was talking to him while he was on his way to the dressing room. That voice…he didn’t recognise it.

“Who is…hi. Sorry, who are you?”

“I’m new here. I’m working for the media team and need you to do a video for us so I wanted to let you know in person. Just in case you had questions about it”.

“I don’t…have you not been told I don’t like being in videos?”

You realised then how shy he really was. And you actually found that so cute.

“I have. But I think it’ll be good for you to do them more often. So you get used to it. Do you like Christensen?”

“Sure. He’s really nice”.

“Amazing! You’re doing a video with him tomorrow at 2. See you there!”

The option of not giving him time to refuse wasn’t perfect but it’d have to do for now. You left the area with a little smile on your face. But because you didn’t stay to see his reaction, you didn’t see Gavi was smiling too. He didn’t know where you came from all of a sudden but he was intrigued. And if filming a video was the way to get to know you…well, maybe it was time to face his fears.

“He’s actually here”, said one of the cameramen, making you look at him.

“Who?”

“Gavi”.

You couldn’t hide your smile when you turned to look at him. He looked so out of place. And then you noticed some movement by the door.

“Who’s there?”

“My stupid teammates who have been mocking me since they found out I’m filming a video”, said Gavi, rolling his eyes.

“Do you want me to kick them out? I can look very scary”.

He just laughed and shook his head. And you left him there to keep on getting everything ready for the video. Gavi kept looking at you moving around the room and then noticed his phone buzzing.

[Barça groupchat]: now we know why you said yes to the video 🤣

He shook his head again and locked the phone, taking a final look at his teammates who left laughing at him.

“Ok boys, sit there and here you have the script, Andreas. We just need you to read the sentences so Gavi can copy you and then guess what it means”.

“Right”, said Gavi, swallowing and wondering why he got himself in this mess.

“I’ll go easy on you, don’t worry”, laughed Andreas.

And so they started to film the video. The little intro you had written for them took longer than you thought and you ended up asking Andreas to say the lines instead to see if he was more comfortable in front of the camera.

“Stop worrying”, you told Gavi, touching his shoulder. “Just forget about the camera. You’re here with your teammate, who you get on well with. Imagine you’re chatting in the dressing room before the match. It’s just you two here”.

“And you”.

“Do you want me to leave?”, you joked.

“No. I want you to stay”.

Now it was your time to be nervous, feeling his intense gaze on you. But you just nodded and left to go back behind the camera.

“Hvordan har du det?”, said Andres, making Gavi stare at him with wide eyes.

“Oh God…can you do it word by word?”

And so Andreas did, slowly pronouncing each word and waiting for his teammate to repeat them.

“That wasn’t bad. What do you think it means?”

“No clue”, laughed Gavi.

“It just means how are you. Ok, next one: Hvad hedder du?”

“Which means?”

“What’s your name”, answered the Danish defender. “And then you would answer Jeg hedder and your name. So for you it’s Jeg hedder Gavi”.

“Jeg hedder Gavi. I’ll say that at the match”.

Everyone in the room laughed and Gavi turned to look at them. He had almost forgotten they were there. But when he saw you smiling, his nerves were back.

“That was great, guys. People will love the video. Thank you”.

Gavi approached you while you were making sure all the footage was ok. “Thank you, for the advice. It really helped”.

“Do you think you’ll do more videos in the future then?”

“I guess. If you’re here helping, maybe”.

You smiled at that. See? It wasn’t that hard to get him to film a video.

“I’ll take that as a compliment”.

“It was”.

That stare again…it was making you blush. “Then promise me you’ll film a video with Pedri so everyone can shut up about it”.

“I’ll think about it”, he said, but his smile said he’ll do it. If it meant spending more time with you, he will film as many videos as you wanted him to. But hopefully, he would just have to speak Spanish on the next one.

The weeks passed and your crush on Gavi kept growing more and more every day. He was always trying to find ways to see you most days, even if he still hadn’t been asked to film another video.

When you were gone for two days, because of your uni exams, he panicked thinking you were gone. And seeing his overreaction when you were finally back didn’t help with the crush. Because…could he possibly feel the same way about you? You didn’t allow yourself to daydream much about it but the idea was still there.

“Gavi!”

“Pablo”.

“What?”

“Stop calling me Gavi, my friends call me Pablo”.

“Your teammates don’t”, you said, confused. He seemed to be friends with many of them.

“It’s different. They are football friends”.

“And I’m not?”

That stumped him. What were you? He couldn’t really put a proper label on how he saw you.

“Just call me Pablo”.

“Ok…Pablo”, you said dramatically. “I need that video with Pedri so no more excuses. It’s happening”.

“What do I get in return?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you’re making your fans very happy?”

He shook his head playfully. “Not enough. Come to the match with me”.

“The match? Of course I’m going, I need to get content from it. And you’ll be playing. Have you hit your head again?”

“Not that match. The Barça Athletic match from tonight. None of the boys are going and I don’t want to be alone. So you can come with me”.

He actually didn’t know if any of the boys were going but hoped they weren’t or it’d be hard to explain.

“So I’m like…20th choice?”, you laughed.

First choice, actually. “Pleeeeasse, come with me”.

“Ok. But you’re doing the video”.

“I’ll do all the videos you want”.

“Be careful making those promises”.

A few hours later, you were getting ready for the match. What should you wear? Gavi had only ever seen you wearing Barça clothes but this wasn’t a date, right? And it was a match, you couldn’t dress up too much. And if it wasn’t a date, why did you care so much about what you were wearing?

“Where are you going?”, asked your sister, getting into the room.

“A match”.

“You’re working today? I thought the match was tomorrow”.

“It’s not work. I’m going to watch one”.

“You’re going to watch football?”

“Yeah, I was invited to go…”.

“Who invited you?”

You didn’t answer right away but your sister knew you well. And the way you were blushing was very telling.

“Just someone from work”.

“Someone from the media team?”, she tried first.

“No”.

“A player?”

“I need to go”, you said, trying to leave the room but she stopped you grabbing your arm.

“Which one?”

“It’s not a date. It’s just me going to a match. I’m trying to learn about football”.

“Sure…which one?”

“Gavi”.

“And you’re wearing that?”

Thank you for the boost of confidence, you thought.

“It’s not a date”.

“Right”, she said winking at you, “not a date. But let’s pretend it is and dress like you’re going to one”.

She helped you pick an outfit that was cute but not too much for the place you were going to. And after wishing you good luck, you left to go to the stadium. The nerves got worse the closer you got there but when you saw Gavi, looking so cute with his hood on, you relaxed. It was just him, you’d be fine.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with that disguise on”.

“It works sometimes”, he said, looking down embarrassed.

“Really?”

He ignored your jokes and told you to follow him so you could go to your seats.

Once the match started, you both concentrated on watching the players. Gavi murmured things every once in a while and it took you a second to understand he was telling the players what to do. So cute.

At halftime, you decided to stay there while people left to go grab some food or use the toilet. It took him 45 minutes but Gavi finally found the courage to speak to you about…well, you. No work stuff, no football…he wanted to get to know you.

"So, would you like to stay at Barça after the internship? I know you have to finish your degree but I’m sure they would wait for you. Everyone speaks highly of you".

"Not really", you said, making him frown. That’s not what he wanted to hear.

"Why?"

"Can I tell you a secret?", he nodded. "I only took this internship because of a rivalry with another student. I don't even like football".

You laughed but he didn't find it funny.

"Why are you even here then?", he asked, harshly.

“What do you mean? I had to do an internship. And I’m glad I took this. I’ve had fun”.

“Fun…yeah”.

“Pablo, are you ok?”

“I’m great. Just…let’s watch the match”.

“It didn’t start again”, you pointed out, worried by his mood change. You’ve seen him doing that on the pitch but not off it.

“I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back”.

When he got back, he just sat down and barely acknowledged you. And it hurt. What had you done for him to act like this?

“Are you mad at me or something?”, you finally asked, not liking the silence between you two.

“Why are you here?”

"Because you invited me".

"Well, soon you won't have to bother with my invitations or with having to babysit me when I film videos or whatever".

"You're not bothering me and I’m not babysitting you. I’m just doing my job".

“A job you didn’t want to do”, he muttered.

“Just because I didn’t love the idea at first doesn’t mean I don’t love the job now”.

“You don’t love it enough to stay”.

When he finally looked at you, you noticed he looked sad. Was he sad because of you not staying at the club? And what did it mean if he was?

“Do you want me to stay?”, he nodded, looking away. “Do you realize not staying at the club doesn’t have to mean we will never see each other again, right?”

That made him look at you again. “It doesn’t? I’m too used to people coming and going from my life so…that’s not an option I thought of”.

“So, do you want me to stay?”

“I already told you I do. And it’s not just me, other players really enjoy having you around and…”.

“No, Pablo”, you interrupted him. “That’s not what I mean now. I mean, do you want me to stay in your life?”

“Yes”.

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi one shot #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #footballer one shot #footballer fluff

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chericheriladyxo · 5 months

Note

Could you do like a fluff fic about Mattheo bugging y/n during class? But like he's just being silly goofy and eventually y/n humours him once they're given time to work. Thank you!!

Ofc!! I love that thank you :) I kind of got carried away so I'll probably write a sequel, and I'm sorry if Mattheo isn't as edgy as he usually is but hope you like it!

Danish [fluff]

- Classmates/Acquaintances - Reader's house not mentioned --Read the Request Above!--

It was your first class of the day, and you were already feeling your lack of sleep from the night before. You trudged to your seat and set your books down on the corner of the table. The only good thing that you could see was Mattheo's absence.

You felt relived as you bent over to grab a pencil from your bag. When you sat back up though, Mattheo was sitting annoyingly close, with a stupid smirk on his face.

"Dammit! When did you get here?" You yelped, startled.

"I just sat down, were you worried about me?"

"Never." You said disgusted and turned your attention to the front of the room as the professor walked in. He started talking about transfigurations, but try as you might to focus, you couldn't help but notice Mattheo's shameless stare towards you.

You snapped your head to look at him, "Can you stop fucking staring at me? Is there something wrong?" You whispered harshly,

"Sorry." He said but didn't turn his gaze away. You scoffed and shifted in your seat uncomfortably. After a few moments, he whispered in your ear.

"What'd you have for breakfast? Because I tried those new danishes and they were- amazing." He practically moaned in your ear.

"Oh my god Mattheo- why did you do that?"

"What? They were really good." He sat back in his chair with a hurt expression on his face. You rolled your eyes as he made another comment, "So? What did you have for breakfast?"

"Um- nothing. I kind of lost track of time before class, I'll get something later." He was silent for a moment.

"I have danish left; it's all wrapped nicely and everything. Do you want it?"

"Knowing you, you probably put a love potion in it, with how much you seem to want my attention."

He scoffed, "I'm offering you the last of my stash of the most delicious pastry I've ever had the pleasure of tasting, and you still treat me like this?" He covered his mouth with his hand and pretended to cry.

"Would you shut up- we'll get in tr-"

"Miss l/n! Care to explain why you're disrupting my teaching so- loudly?"

"I'm sorry professor, it won't happen again." Your face flushed with embarrassment as Mattheo snickered to the right of you.

For the rest of the lesson, you stared directly at the front and ignored any attempt of Mattheo to distract you. After awhile, the professor gave the class time to work.

He stared down at the desk, "I don't know why I'm in this class, I mean- you're way smarter than me. I guess because my dad expects me to be the top of my class. As soon as he finds out my grade is slipping- he'll probably pull me out." Your face turned concerned at his sudden confession. "I'm sorry for getting you in trouble, it's not your fault I can't focus."

"Thanks.. it's okay. Maybe I'll try a danish tomorrow, if they're as good as you say."

"They are!" As Mattheo was about to say something, the teacher passed back the tests you had taken the week before. Yours landed on the table showing a solid A+, whereas Mattheo's was covered in red ink and marked with a D-. He cringed at the sight of his grade.

"I mean- you didn't fail?" He scoffed,

"Anything below an A is failing for my father." Then, his eyes widened, "What if tutored me?" He said suddenly,

"Would you even listen?" You said, yet not totally shutting down the idea.

"Yes, yes I would. Especially if it's you- I don't know why, but I can actually focus on what you're saying. So, please?"

"..Ok. But if your grade doesn't improve, I don't want to waste my time."

"I'll pay you- I know you're busy."

"I- ok." You agreed to Mattheo's proposal. 'Why am I agreeing to this? Maybe it's because, whether I'd like to admit it or not, he's stupidly charming.' You thought.

The bell rang and Mattheo gathered his things, "I'll see tomorrow?"

"Yea, sounds good." You smiled softly, "Library?"

"Mhm." I waved and walked out of the classroom, leaving you with a blush and a smile that you couldn't wipe of your face.

(pt 2??)

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n

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itsonlytext · 1 month

Text

Restoring Balance · scene ii

"It was never black and white. It doesn't have to be."

as sherlock learns to leave the past where it belongs, his stomach settles and he comes to look forward to the new 'balance' that lies ahead in 221B ≈ 1800 words.

(read this chapter on ao3.)

see part one of 'restoring balance' here. love ya!

He didn't know how he felt about Rosie. He never really had the time to think about it; Magnussen, AGRA, Norbury, Culverton Smith and Eurus all fell on top of each other without a second's break. Rosie sort of just appeared in between all that. Without warning. (Well he had nine months, but that didn't count.)

Regardless of how he felt, it didn’t stop him from giving up the comfort of his leather armchair to her or playing his violin to lull her quiet or from feeding her when John was too tired.

“Apple.”

Sherlock glanced at the small sticky jar. He read the label. “Yes. Apple.”

She clumsily grabbed the spoon from his hands and shoved it into the jar. Sherlock helped her.

It wasn’t that he hated her, but it wasn’t that he necessarily loved her, either. He would die protecting her, of course he would, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to having her around. To being the Godfather. (The parent.)

He leaned his palms flat against the wooden table and glanced back at John, whose silver hair popped up from behind his armchair. Sherlock couldn’t see his face but he knew that John was falling asleep.

He turned back to Rosie. She grinned up at him. His stomach twinged.

"G'na up," she moaned, raising her hands high above her head expectantly.

Sherlock picked her up without hesitation.

"What do we do now?" he whispered.

She yanked on his hair.

"No, that's not going to work," he replied gently.

It had been a few hours since he woke up, since they came, since Mrs Hudson left tea at the table. Sherlock glanced at the half-eaten Danish pastry on the counter. Then he glanced down at Rosie in his arms.

"You alright?"

His head snapped up.

John had hovered into the kitchen, out of his armchair, out of sleep. (When?)

"What?" he asked.

"D'you need me to take her?" John clarified, clearing any evidence of sleep with a harsh rub.

He didn't respond. Did he look like he needed Rosie out of his arms? Did he seem uncomfortable? (Was he?)

"Dada."

"Yeah, here," he reached forward and took her from Sherlock's arms with a gentle smile.

Sherlock, more often now than before Norbury, wondered if John sincerely even wanted him to be the Godfather to his daughter or if he only did it to be kind, to make him feel included, because (at the time) it wasn't like anyone was suddenly going to drop dead. It wasn't like anyone was actually expecting him to have to do it. (He wasn't expecting it either.)

"We were fine, actually," the detective said suddenly. "I was fine. She was fine."

John tilted his head. "You.."

-seemed incapable?

-looked out of place?

-were so inadequate that I couldn't even fall asleep comfortably?

He didn't know what was more fitting. He never would. (John never did finish that sentence.) Suddenly, the pit in his stomach came back. (Didn't realise it had even left.)

"Erm, thinking of going to the park later," John said as he absently stroked the top of Rosie's head, such a subtle action, as if it came naturally to him. But it didn't. (Sherlock knew it didn't.) What did come naturally to John was something that couldn't be brought back, not without the idea of a child in the back of their minds to cushion the adrenaline and control the danger.

Planned trips to the park instead of spontaneously chasing cold cases - this is life now, Sherlock told himself as he tried to squeeze out the knot of awkwardness in his gut, to flatten the silence and accept that what he and John used to have wasn't coming back anymore. This is your doing. (It was never really Eurus' fault. Or Culverton Smith's. Or even Magnussen's. John just never stopped being angry.)

"Thought she could use the fresh air. I think we all do, actually."

All. John was inviting him to come with them. To join them. He was eyeing Sherlock intensely. The detective straightened himself.

Reply.

"Don't see why not."

John glanced up with a sudden change in his brows, his face relaxed, as if he hadn't expected Sherlock to agree to come along. He cleared his throat. "Good."

Sherlock nodded stiffly, pivoting on his heels, shrugging off his dressing gown and heading into his room.

This is life now, he reminded himself. No use trying to avoid it.

•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․

The park was opposite of everything Sherlock had originally predicted for his day - full of people (specifically children), loud, and entirely overwhelming. But he didn't say anything that would annoy John. In fact, he sat quietly on a bench by the gates and watched Rosie play as he ignored the awful twist in his stomach.

"How do you stop them from licking stuff?" John huffed as he walked towards Sherlock and sat down next to him.

The detective hummed, his eyes still fixed on Rosie as she toddled around her friends. "I don't think you'd like my solution."

"What, put a muzzle on her?"

He glanced sideways at John. "Actually I was going to say to follow her every step, but I suppose that works, too."

John didn't respond. He kept staring at Sherlock.

It seemed to irk the doctor, that Sherlock remained so well-behaved at the park. That he kept his tongue instead of complaining about an itch for another hit of adrenaline or something to satiate his hunger for a case.

Sherlock didn't move. "What?" He knew what.

"You're being.." he shook his head and laughed. "I mean, come on. Seriously?"

"What?"

He knew what. John's plan had failed.

"What.. What has got into you?"

Sherlock turned to look at him.

He knew that John had never actually intended for them to have the 'perfect family outing' at the park - to grab dinner on the way home and watch a movie afterwards. In fact, John had firmly expected him, when asked if he wanted to come, to refuse - to say that there were more thrilling things for them to do in the labs of St Barts' hospital or the halls of Scotland Yard.

But Sherlock didn't say that.

And so John had hoped that, in going to the park, Sherlock would have gotten distracted by something more thrilling and dangerous, trying to find himself an excuse for getting high so that John could tell him off (and follow along anyway).

But that didn't happen.

None of it did.

"No idea what you're talking about."

"Sherlock, this is ri- You know it's ridiculous."

John knew that after Eurus, Norbury, Magnussen and the wedding, things had (obviously) been different. He knew that Sherlock had changed miles out of the person he had once been on that fateful night in Lauriston Gardens. But John was beginning to see something in Sherlock that stopped fighting back for a hint of the men that they were all those years ago. Of course, it was always bound to happen, the separate courses of their lives creating currents of change - it was inevitable. He just wasn't expecting Sherlock, out of the both of them, to be the first one to let go.

"You have a daughter, John," he said suddenly, quietly, plainly. "Is it not in your better interest to stop being selfish?"

"It doesn't have to be selfish, Sherlock. I'm not saying we leg it all the time and tackle murderers, but.. There are other things." He swallowed. "Even with Mary, there was balance, we had it, didn't we? I think we did. I still joined you, every now and then. It was never black and white. It doesn't have to be."

Thank God, thought Sherlock. Because anymore of that god awful silence and his stomach surely would have imploded. But he didn't say that out loud. He should have said something, anything, because John was still staring at him, but he didn't.

Rosie suddenly came running on wobbly legs to the bench, her hairstyle undone, her cheeks flushed and pink. She was gripping onto a stick. "Look," she shoved it into John's face.

He tore his gaze from Sherlock and lifted her into his arms. "Lovely stick," he cleared his throat and stood up. "It’s getting a bit cold now, should we go home?"

She nodded, clinging onto his collar and smiling at Sherlock, who stood up and slung the baby bag over his shoulder after having come to a resolution on his own:

Tonight, they would go home and order some awful Italian food, whisper after Rosie falls asleep in John's old bed and perhaps dare to talk about Mycroft’s ‘political domestic’ until midnight. Tonight, it will be quiet. But tomorrow, they may find themselves interrogating drug lords or chasing rogue government officials. The edge of adrenaline would be softened, for they would spend fifteen minutes beforehand phoning Rosie's 'on-call' babysitter, but Sherlock will use that time to conclude an experiment or to look for his mini magnifying glass. (Lack of spontaneity doesn’t have to mean ‘no fun’.) They would find their balance and suddenly, they would be perfectly content - there would be no more silence and (definitely) no more stomach pains.

Suddenly, there was a shrill ring that caught them all off guard.

“Nope. That’s not me,” said John, patting himself down with one hand.

Sherlock frowned and glanced back. His phone was buzzing on the bench. No one ever called Sherlock. (Not unless.)

He picked up his phone and held it up to his ear. “Sherlock Holmes.” There was a pause. “Where?”

John perked up.

There was another beat.

Sherlock glanced at his friend.

He nodded.

“Ten minutes. We'll drop Rosie off at Baker Street first.” The detective ended the call and released a deep breath. “Ask Mrs Hudson to babysit?”

John inhaled with narrow eyes. “Drop her off without asking?”

Sherlock grinned as they began to leave the park, calling out for a taxi and waiting (rather excitedly) on the sidewalk.

Rosie, blissfully unaware of what was happening, gave her long stick to her dad once they settled into the cab. He twisted it around. "Are we taking this home with us?"

"Yeah."

Sherlock leaned back into the seat and nodded. "I think we can make some space on the mantle. Right between the skull and the Cluedo gun."

She giggled.

They would come to adapt to this new balance - the perfect blend of comfort and responsibility, to accept their life’s new definition. But there were some things, John knew, that would never change. (Calling Baker Street ‘home’.)

p.s. thank you for being patient enough to wait for this second part! let me know what you thought of it and feel free to make suggestions/ requests for my future works. love you lots.

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