I Was In The Bus And This Handsome Was Sitting In Front Of Me, I Sneezed And He Chuckled Saying "bless

THIS IS YO FAV??

Linkin park is so logan. bye.

Relationship Alphabet series with Cod ghosts!

Kick

✧ Pairing: Romantic.

✧ Genre: Fluff.

X GN READER

Hesh is a natural leader—strong, confident, and brave. But beneath that, he has a good heart and a gentle soul. He loves deeply, respects his partner, and would go to the ends of the earth to protect them. He’s the kind of man who makes you feel safe, loved, and cherished.

✧ Warnings: Light NSFW, and mention of NSFW content MDNI.

A – Affection

SFW: Kick isn’t overly affectionate in public, He got the courage to show his love for you in front of people and has no care, but in private? He’s got this effortless way of showing love without making a big deal out of it. A casual arm over your shoulders, a hand on the small around your waist walking through a crowd, or passing you a drink before you even ask. He’s the kind of guy who’ll sit next to you after a long day and just chatting, his presence alone making things feel lighter.

Light NSFW: He has a habit of pulling you close by the belt loops or wrapping an arm around your waist, fingers tracing absentminded circles against your skin. And when no one’s around? His lips find that spot right below your jaw, his voice low and teasing.

“Damn, you really just stand there looking this good all day, huh?”

B – Boundaries

SFW: Kick respects space and expects the same in return. He doesn’t pry, doesn’t push—he trusts you’ll come to him when you’re ready. That being said, he’s got an unspoken boundary about his past. He’ll tell you things on his own time, but he won’t be forced into it, since kick is an information technology specialist and wanted, he trained himself most importantly to be cautious.

Light NSFW: He’s down for a little teasing, but there’s a time and place. You try anything in the middle of his tech working? He’s shutting that down real quick. “Focusing, sweetheart. Save it for later.”

C – Communication

SFW: Kick is direct but reserved. If something’s wrong, he’ll tell you—but in few words, He’s a listener first, always taking in more than he says. If he’s upset, he needs time to process before talking, but when he does, it’s straight to the point. he expects the same. He’s a problem-solver, so if there’s an issue, he wants to fix it, not dance around it, Never talks about his work with you, work stays in work section, cause he don't want to mess with your head with the fucked up things he saw.

Light NSFW: He has this low, slow drawl when he talks in that tone. He doesn’t just say things; he makes sure you feel them, He is a talker, a mid one. Likes to ask you, or praising. and these words came a lot from his lips.

“Goddamit yes, You keep look at me like that!”

D – Devotion

SFW: Ride or die. If Kick is with you, he’s with you. He won’t say things like “I’d do anything for you”—he just does it. You’re his priority, simple as that. The way he looks out for you—making sure you eat, remembering little things like how you take your coffee/tea—it’s all quiet but unmistakable devotion.

I always thought because kick is a technology specialist, he is wanted especially when his pic was on the kill list, he never thought about having a partner but here he is with you, and he would kill a fed soldier if it means staying with you.

Light NSFW: He’s a patient man, but there are moments he just wants. When that switch flips, his devotion turns into something intense, lips against your ear, hands gripping just tight enough.

“You are my love. You know that, right?”

E – Empathy

SFW: Kick isn’t the kind of guy to sugarcoat things, but he’s good at reading you. He picks up on the small things—the shift in your voice, the way your shoulders tense. He won’t ask if you’re okay in front of others, but later? When it’s just the two of you? He’ll casually sit beside you, suddenly kneeling in front of you while you are sitting on the couch holding one of your knee. “Talk to me.” And not in a pleading or softy way.

Light NSFW: He knows what you like, and he will gladly listen to what you want, knows when to take his time and when to push. He listens—to words, to the way you react. It’s all about you, and he makes sure you know it.

F – Forgiveness

SFW: He doesn’t hold grudges, but he doesn’t forget either. If you mess up, own it. Apologize, and he’ll move forward, no problem. But betray his trust? That’s not something easily fixed, especially if it's after a long time of dating he didn't expect it from you so he will have two choices, leave everything behind and move on with you, or leave you with everything behind him.

Light NSFW: He doesn’t do “angry” intimacy. If he’s pissed, he walks it off before even thinking about touching you. But the reconciliation after a fight? Slow, deliberate, leaving no room for doubt that everything’s okay again.

G – Growth

SFW: Kick isn’t someone who rushes things. He understands that relationships evolve, that people change, and he’s good with that. He sees growth as something you do together, not just individually. If you’re trying to be better, he supports it. If he needs to work on something, he will—without needing to be told twice.

Light NSFW: Growth in intimacy means learning what works and what doesn’t, figuring out the unspoken rhythms between you. He’s patient, always watching for what you respond to, never making it feel rushed or forced.

H – Honesty

SFW: Kick doesn’t sugarcoat anything. If you ask for his opinion, expect the truth. Not in a harsh way, but in a direct way. If you’re upset about something and he doesn’t understand why? He’ll ask. If he screws up? He owns it.

Light NSFW: There’s no faking with Kick. He’s attuned to you, knows when you’re holding back or if something’s off. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you’ don't know what you want.” He wants the truth, even when it’s just the two of you tangled up in sheets, breathing against each other’s skin.

I – Intimacy

SFW: Kick isn’t big on grand gestures, but his intimacy shows in small, constant ways—his hand resting on your back absentmindedly, leaning against you when he’s tired he likes it even more when he rests his head on your lap, he feels peaceful, especially that feeling when he knows he is comfortable finally with someone, pulling you into his side on the couch. It’s comfort. Security. He’s not loud about it, but you feel it.

Light NSFW: When it’s just the two of you, his usual calm takes on an edge of intensity. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t get sloppy. He watches you, listens, and takes his time learning.

“Relax. Let me take care of you.” His voice is low, all confidence, all promise.

J – Joy

SFW: His humor is dry, always the one who makes you laugh but when he laughs? Really laughs? It’s rare and warm, and it lingers. His joy isn’t big or loud—it’s in the quiet moments, in teasing you under his breath, in the way his eyes soften when you’re happy. He likes making you laugh. That’s his favorite sound.

Light NSFW: There’s a playful side to him in private, smirking against your skin, teasing just enough to make you squirm and this his joy, especually if you are a tough partner and thinks he got this power to lead you like this state.

“That’s cute. Keep making that.”

K – Kindness

SFW: Kick’s kindness isn’t in words—it’s in actions. It’s carrying your stuff when he knows you’re exhausted. It’s passing you a water bottle before you realize you need it. It’s making sure you get the last bite of something good. He doesn’t announce his kindness; he just does it.

Light NSFW: He’s attentive, making sure you’re comfortable, that you’re getting as much as you’re giving. It’s never just about him—it’s you, always both of you.

L – Love

SFW: Kick’s love isn’t flashy. It’s consistent. It’s steady hands and a quiet “I got you.” It’s trust, built over time. He might not say I love you every second, but when he does? He means it.

Light NSFW: When he really loves you, it shows in how he touches you—every movement slow, intentional, lingering. It’s in the way he whispers against your neck, the way his breath hitches slightly when you say his name. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

M – Memories

SFW: He holds onto things—small details, fleeting moments. The first time he made you laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe, the exact way you look when you’re happy. He remembers. And sometimes, late at time, when it’s quiet, he’ll tell you.

Light NSFW: His memories are the time when he remembers the most new intimate experiences you guys had, he just likes the way he made you felt, the way when you have the full guts to tell him what you like and what you wanna do.

N – Nurturing

SFW: Kick doesn’t come across as the nurturing type, but he is—just in his own way. If you’re exhausted, he won’t say, “You need to rest.” Instead, he’ll shut down whatever’s keeping you up and quietly make sure you have what you need. He’s not a fan of coddling, but he’ll take care of you in the most practical, effective way possible.

If you’re sick? He’s grumbling while making sure you drink enough water, tossing a blanket over you without a word.

If you’re injured or hurt? He’s shaking his head but cleaning the wound himself, precise and careful.

If you’re having a bad day? He won’t push. Just silently hands you your favorite whatever thing and sits with you until you feel better.

Light NSFW: He’s all about taking care of you. He’s observant, knows when you need something without you having to say it. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, but you can tell by the way his hands are so careful with you. “Relax. Let me handle it.”

O – Openness

SFW: Kick’s not one to easily open up. He keeps things locked up tight, prefers actions over words. But when he trusts you? When he really lets you in? It’s rare, but it’s everything.

He’s not a fan of long talks about feelings, but he’ll give you small truths in quiet moments.

Maybe it’s “I don’t talk about this shit with anyone else.” said in a rare moment of honesty.

Maybe it’s the way he leans into you when he’s had a long day, his body language saying everything he won’t.

Light NSFW: His openness in intimacy comes slowly, in layers. At first, he keeps things more physical, but as his walls come down, you start to see how much he really feels. The way his breath stutters when you touch him a certain way. The way he lingers afterward, tracing patterns into your skin, the only openness he got when he let you do whatever he wants.

P – Patience

SFW: Kick is absurdly patient. He’s a sniper—waiting is what he does. He won’t rush you, won’t push you into anything before you’re ready. His patience shows in how he listens, how he lets you come to him rather than demanding answers.

If you’re struggling to say something? He won’t press, just sits there quietly, waiting.

If you’re upset? He won’t tell you to calm down—he’ll just be there, solid and steady.

If you’re learning something new? He’ll go over it as many times as you need without making you feel stupid.

Light NSFW: He takes his time. He enjoys drawing things out, watching your reactions, figuring out exactly what gets to you. He doesn’t rush—he savors. “No need to rush, love.”

Q – Quality Time

SFW: Kick is so big on flashy dates or extravagant plans. His idea of quality time is just being with you and sparkle these times with sweet places. He’s always talkative, he likes having you there. Whether it’s sitting in comfortable any place, working out together, or just driving somewhere with the windows down and the radio low—it counts.

He’ll remember what you like, will adjust to your preferences without thinking.

If you need excitement? He’ll take you somewhere fun, something active.

If you need peace? He’s all for long walks at night, quiet conversations under night sky.

His favorite? Lying in bed late at night, just existing together, no pressure to talk or do anything.

R – Respect

SFW: Kick doesn’t throw respect around lightly—you earn it. That’s why, when he’s with you, it means something. He won’t undermine you, won’t treat you like you can’t handle yourself.

He values competence, effort, and genuine strength—and he respects you because of who you are, not just because you’re his partner.

If someone talks down to you or disrespected? He doesn’t have to say much—already tracking their location and threaten them to shut down all of them devices, and not even try to think about it again.

He listens when you talk, actually takes in what you’re saying. If you have different opinions? He won’t dismiss them—he’ll challenge them, push you to think, but he won’t ever invalidate you.

He respects your independence but won’t hesitate to step in if you need him.

S – Support

SFW: Kick isn’t the type to coddle or sugarcoat things, but he will have your back no matter what. His way of supporting you isn’t about words—it’s actions.

If you’re struggling? He won’t say “It’ll be okay.” He’ll say, “What do you want to do next?” that question means don't you dare hold back

If you fail? He won’t pity you. He’ll help you figure out what went wrong and how to fix it.

If you’re exhausted? He won’t tell you to rest—he’ll make sure you do, taking care of whatever’s weighing on you.

He’s always in your corner, even if he doesn’t always say it outright.

Light NSFW: His support extends to everything, including this. If you’re feeling insecure? He won’t brush it off—he’ll show you exactly how much he wants you, no hesitation. “You’re a goddam perfect. That’s all that matters.”

T – Trust

SFW: Trust is everything to Kick. He doesn’t trust easily, and he doesn’t give it freely. But once he does? It’s unshakable. If he’s with you, it means he trusts you—fully, completely.

He doesn’t need constant reassurances. If he trusts you, he trusts you.

He won’t lie to you, won’t sugarcoat things. If you ask for the truth, you get the truth.

If you ever break that trust? It won’t be an explosion—it’ll be quiet. Cold. And final.

He expects the same in return—if you don’t trust him, it won’t work.

Light NSFW: Trust plays a huge role in intimacy for him. If he trusts you, he lets his guard down, becomes softer in ways no one else gets to see. It’s in the way he lets you touch him, in how he lets go when he’s with you.

U – Understanding

SFW: Kick isn’t the type to push for explanations when you’re not ready to talk. If you need space, he gives it. If you need time, he waits. He’s observant—he can tell when something’s off, but he won’t force you to spill your feelings. Instead, he’ll let you come to him when you’re ready.

If you have a bad day and don’t want to talk? He just exists beside you—silent company, steady presence.

If you mess up? He won’t hold it over you. He understands that everyone screws up sometimes.

He’s not overly emotional, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get emotions. He just processes things differently, and he gives you room to do the same.

Light NSFW: He’s perceptive in every way, which means he learns you—what you like, what makes you tick. He doesn’t need you to say everything out loud; he figures some of me out and uses that understanding to drive you absolutely wild.

V – Vulnerability

SFW: If Kick is vulnerable with you, it’s serious. It's literally another story, He’s not a man who wears his heart on his sleeve. It takes time for him to open up, but when he does? It’s rare—and it’s real.

You’re the only one who gets to see him tired, frustrated, or uncertain.

If he lets you comfort him? That’s a huge deal. He trusts you enough to lean on you, and that means everything, because since his job was so pressure on him he never had a one to reassure him everything is okay, so now you opened a new kick.

Sometimes, his vulnerability isn’t in words—it’s in letting you be close when he’s feeling worn down, seeing him in this statement, when he is at the loss of words how to tell he is not feeling good he will show his weaknesses with no shame at all.

Light NSFW: This applies to intimacy, too. It’s not just physical for him—it’s personal. If he lets you see him like that, it’s because he wants you to see all of him, not just the hardened soldier.

W – Warmth

SFW: He might not be the softest person in the world, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t warm in his own way. His warmth isn’t loud—it’s quiet, steady, constant.

The way he hands you a cup of coffee/tea without a word, already made exactly how you like it.

The way he would try to cook for you, both of you knowing damn well he sucks and ends up you helping him.

The way he knows when you need comfort, even when you don’t ask for it.

Light NSFW: His warmth is physical, too. His body heat is insane—if you’re cold, he’ll just pull you against him with zero hesitation. And in more intimate moments? Let’s just say, that warmth turns into heat.

X – XO (Hugs & Kisses)

SFW: Kick’s not that super affectionate in public, but when it’s just the two of you? Different story.

His hugs are solid—not soft, but firm, secure, grounding.

Kisses? He’s purposeful about them. He gives them whenever you want to or he want to and adore you—when he kisses you, it means everything to him.

Light NSFW: Slow. Intense. He’s not one for rushed, frantic affection—he takes his time, makes sure you feel it. And once he’s in the mood? Yeah, good luck walking straight afterward (what an odd (cringy) thing to say😍)

Y – Yearning

SFW: Kick doesn’t pine—he wants, and he waits. He’s disciplined enough to keep his feelings in check, but when he’s away on missions, you’re always on his mind.

He always flood you with texts, and the ones he does send? They matter.

He’ll quietly hold onto something small that reminds him of you—a photo, a note, something personal.

He don't do it so much but sometimes he Finds himself talking unconsciously talking about you or anything remind him of you he just goes with "Oh yeah Y/n----" says with a smile on his face a warm one.

The first thing he does when he’s back? Find you. Always.

Light NSFW: When he wants you, he wants you. No hesitation, no uncertainty. He doesn’t just miss you—he craves you. And when he gets back? You’re his for the night. Period.

Z – Zeal

SFW: Kick doesn’t do things halfway. If he’s with you, he’s all in.

He’ll push you to be your best, not because he thinks you need to change, but because he believes in you.

If someone disrespects you? They’re done. No debate, no second chances.

He’s not the loudest person in the room, but when it comes to you, he’s unshakable.

Light NSFW: His intensity applies everywhere—especially when it comes to showing you exactly how much he wants you. He doesn’t just go through the motions—he devours you, like he’s making up for lost time.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

This post got a lot of attention, and some people misunderstood, so I just want to share something:

Once, I was deep in a search for my favorite, rarely-written-about character. I was thrilled to find a blog about him—until I read it. It felt like a completely different character! I was honestly frustrated. But then, I saw the comments—the writer and their friends were so excited about their work. And that’s when it hit me: He’s a fictional character. They’re happy with what they wrote. I can just scroll and move on.

That’s why I don’t criticize people’s writing—if it brings them joy, who am I to ruin it? At the end of the day, you can always scroll past and go to have a good day... or a bad one.

Why Do Some Characters Feel “Off” in Fics?

Ever read a fic and thought, “They would never say that,” or “That’s not them”? It’s a common reaction, but let’s break down why it happens.

When you read multiple fics, you start to see patterns in how a character is written—their speech, personality, and habits tend to be portrayed a certain way across different writers. Over time, your brain builds an expectation of how they should act, and you will go like "I know them now".

But when you come across a fic where the character behaves differently—maybe they speak in a way you’re not used to, or their personality shifts even slightly—it feels wrong. Your brain detects the inconsistency and reacts with, “This isn’t accurate.”

But here’s the truth: no one truly knows the character they are fictional honey. Not you, not the writer. We all take what we see—canon material, dialogue, actions in movies, games and series—then interpret it differently. Fanfics aren’t about replicating a character 100% accurately; they’re about adapting them into different scenarios, tropes, and perspectives.

So instead of saying, “They’d never do that,” remember that every fic is just one version of a character. Different interpretations don’t mean they’re wrong—they’re just slightly new to you so whether you get used to it or leave the fic and not teaching the writer how to write the character XD

It’s totally fine to have opinions on how a character is written in fanfiction. Maybe a fic doesn’t match how you personally see them, or the way they talk feels different from what you’re used to. That’s normal! But there’s a difference between discussing these thoughts and going into a writer’s comments or asks just to tell them they’re “wrong.”

At the end of the day, fanfiction is interpretation. No one has an exact rulebook on how a character should act outside of canon, and even canon itself can be inconsistent. Writers take what they see and shape it into their own version. That’s the point of transformative work.

If a fic’s portrayal doesn’t sit right with you, the best thing to do is simple: move on. No one’s forcing you to read something you don’t like, and it’s not a life-or-death situation. Just scroll past, find another fic, and continue enjoying fandom in a way that makes you happy.

Constructive discussion? Great. Telling a writer how to “properly” write a character? Not so much. Let people write what they enjoy If they didn't hurt anyone :)

Let me know if u have another opinions today i feel the urge to discuss lol.

I wish i could hibernate like a bear.

just read hesh file (23544th time) and you know if yall read it and listened to the audio file you will understand me so i kept asking myself MY GOD WHY THIS MAN ISNT REAL??

HELLO HIS VOICE??AND HOW HE TALKS ABOUT HIS DADDY AND BRO??HES SO MANLY MAN IDC

"I can change him" Why?did he shit himself?

When they bring up hesh walker and i didnt glaze On him at the slightest thing, like him being so wronged-treated, how he deserves better, how he needs a break from everything:

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Sir kick.

Knigh! kick! X Queen! F!reader

notes: slight nsfw? I know this rlly can't happen or the moments been kinda illogical but come on chat this century has become extinct, Let's have fun.

Words: 3,583

also not using thou, art etc... idrk abt them chat

For years, you have been bound in chains of duty, shackled to a marriage not of love but of power. A union sealed in ink and coldly witnessed by courtiers who care not for the heart that beats beneath brocade and gold. You were promised to a man who holds dominion over kingdoms, yet none over your affections.

The king—your husband—is a fortress of ice, impenetrable and unyielding. His gaze, when it does fall upon you, is one of obligation, not devotion. His hands, ever steady in matters of state, have never trembled with longing for you. And so, the years have passed in a silent war, your heart waging battles he will never deign to notice.

One evening, beneath the weight of candlelight and crushed velvet, you dare to speak.

"Is there anything within these walls that you do love, Your Majesty?"

He does not look up from his documents. His quill moves, steady and unhurried.

"Do you expect a sentimental answer, my queen?"

"I expect a truth, if you still recall how to speak one."

At that, he pauses. The fire crackles, filling the space between you. When he finally meets your gaze, his expression is unreadable, a mask carved from stone.

"My duty is to the realm. Love is a luxury I was never granted."

"No," you say, voice sharper than the jeweled dagger at your hip. "Love is a luxury you never desired."

He does not deny it.

And so, your restlessness grows, a storm stirring beneath silken gowns and polished smiles. One day, the storm will break. And when it does, the king will be forced to see what he has long ignored—whether it be your wrath, your departure… or your betrayal.

---------------------------

Then, Sir Kick steps into the picture.

You sense him before you see him—the shift in the air, the low murmur of courtiers parting as he strides through the chamber. When your gaze finally finds him, he is already watching. He stands at the far side of the royal court, his armor gleaming beneath the chandelier’s golden glow, every inch of him a warrior among men who speak only in parchment and coin. His presence commands attention, but it is the way his eyes sweep over the room—then settle upon you—that sends a spark racing up your spine.

That gaze… it is dangerous. Familiar.

You have felt it before, lingering when it ought not to, igniting something within you that has long been smothered beneath duty and decorum. Unlike your husband, Sir Kick is a man of action, a man who does not waste breath on empty speeches or politics spun from dust. His wit is as quick as his sword, his charm sharper still.

And most of all, he does not fawn over your crown.

No, he does not see a queen, a figurehead draped in velvet and restraint. He sees a woman. And that—above all—is what makes him dangerous.

Kick tilts his head slightly, a silent challenge in his expression. He knows precisely what he is doing.

And worse still?

So do you.

You already know that tonight, it is happening.

The thought lingers at the edges of your mind, winding through your veins like a slow-burning flame. There is no hesitation, no wavering. The moment has been inching closer with every stolen glance, every unspoken word exchanged across the great hall, every quiet yearning left to fester in the dark.

And tonight, the dark will no longer be empty.

The court is still alive with laughter and politics, the air thick with the scent of wine and candle smoke. The king, ever dutiful, is engrossed in matters of state, his back to you as he bends over parchment, sealing his attention to anything but you.

It is almost too easy.

You rise from your seat with practiced grace, your departure barely noticed amid the swirl of conversation and music. Your footsteps are quiet, measured, as you weave through corridors draped in shadow, the weight of your gown trailing like whispers against the stone floor.

Then, the signal—small, deliberate, undeniable.

Your fingers brush the edge of your collar as you pass through the archway, a movement so subtle that only a man accustomed to watching you closely would notice.

And Sir Kick does.

No words are needed. The silent command is clear.

The small chamber at the far end of the castle—the one hidden away from prying eyes, where the last bell will toll, and where, at long last, this night will unfold exactly as you have both willed it to.

And as you disappear into the shadows, you know he will follow.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, sealing you both away from the world beyond these walls. The moment Sir Kick steps into the dim glow of candlelight, his smirk unfurls—slow, knowing, edged with danger. He removes his helmet with a practiced ease, shaking loose the mess of black hair that falls over sharp, amber eyes. Those eyes flicker as they settle on you, brimming with that same reckless, playful confidence you have come to recognize.

And yet, beneath the bravado, there is something else. Something unspoken.

He takes a step forward. Then another.

His movements are unhurried, deliberate, until the space between you is little more than a breath. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, the steel and leather of his armor mingling with the faint trace of something unmistakably him.

Kick does not waste time.

"It seems your king has left you quite lonely," he murmurs, voice low, teasing—but not entirely mocking. No, he is far too perceptive for that. He knows what this is. What this could be.

Your spine remains straight, chin lifted with the pride of a woman who was never meant to be ignored. The soft breeze tugs at the silk of your gown, brushing against your skin like a ghost of a touch.

"Mind your discipline, Sir Kick," you reply coolly. "He is your king, too."

Your words are firm, but the fire in your chest betrays you—burning, roaring to life after years of being buried beneath duty and cold indifference. And Kick… Kick sees it.

He always has.

A slow, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "Ah, but a crown does not make a man worthy." His voice is quieter now, his gaze tracing over you with an intensity that sends a shiver through you. "Nor does it make a woman any less deserving of being seen."

And in that moment, as the distance between you teeters on the edge of something irreversible, you realize—he is not asking permission.

He is waiting to see if you will grant it.

"Do you think you’re the first knight to think such things?" Your voice is steady, unwavering, yet threaded with something hotter, something undeniable. Your gaze narrows just slightly—not in warning, but in challenge.

Sir Kick does not falter. He only smiles, slow and deliberate, before a laugh escapes him—low, rich, tinged with arrogance. The sound curls around you like smoke.

"I am not like the others," he muses, tilting his head as if amused by the very idea. "They are noblemen draped in steel, men who wear titles as if they are armor. Nothing more."

He takes a step closer, his presence pressing into yours, the warmth of him cutting through the cool night air.

"But—" he leans in just enough that you can feel his breath against your skin, his voice dipping into something hushed, something edged with certainty— "we are not here for just talk, Your Majesty."

Your pulse does not betray you, but he knows. He always knows.

The air between you is charged, a thin thread pulled too tight, waiting—daring—to snap.

And this time, you are the one who must decide.

With a single step forward, Kick closes the distance, his presence wrapping around you like a silent vow. His gloved hand settles lightly against your back, his touch barely more than a whisper against the delicate fabric of your gown. And yet, it is enough. A shiver dances down your spine, betraying you in ways words never could.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

His charm is effortless, woven into the very way he moves—every shift, every glance brimming with an unshakable confidence that sets him apart from the lifeless courtiers who whisper empty praises in your ear. He does not hesitate. He does not ask.

He simply takes.

And for once, you welcome it.

Because this—this is what you have longed for. The spark. The fire. The undeniable sense of being seen, not as a queen bound by duty, but as a woman aching to be touched, to be wanted.

Kick’s fingers press just slightly, guiding you closer—not enough to overstep, but enough to remind you of the choice that lingers between you. A choice you are more than ready to make.

Without another word, Kick closes the space between you, his lips descending in a deliberate, slow motion. The first brush of his mouth against yours is light—teasing, almost as if he's savoring the moment, testing the boundaries. The faint pressure lingers, a quiet invitation, but it does not take long for you to pull him closer.

The yearning inside you surges, a wave that has been building for years, drowning out all the hesitation and restraint. You need this. You want this.

With a boldness that surprises even you, your lips part and meet his in a kiss that is anything but tentative. It is deep, hungry, and without reservation. The pressure between you builds, both urgent and reckless, as if your souls are calling to each other—demanding, aching for something only this moment can fulfill.

Kick’s hands move swiftly, finding the curve of your waist, his fingers grasping the soft fabric of your gown. He pulls you against him with such intensity, your body flush against his. The cool bite of his armor against your skin contrasts with the scorching heat that radiates from his chest, the firm press of muscle beneath the metal.

For a brief second, he pulls away just enough to breathe, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes search yours, intense and focused, measuring the weight of this moment—this choice.

A silent question lingers in the air. Will you go further? Will you let this consume you both?

But you know. Neither of you will pull back now.

"You're not shy, Your Majesty," he breathes, the words slipping from his lips with a hint of amusement. A smirk dances across his face, pulling at the corner of his mouth as his eyes study you—devouring the fire in your gaze.

You meet his stare without flinching, unwavering in the heat of the moment. "Shyness was never an option, Sir Kick," you reply, your voice steady, a trace of something darker in your tone. "I have nothing to lose."

His smirk deepens, but there’s a flicker of something more—recognition, perhaps, or admiration.

You’ve made your choice. And it is clear, to both of you, that nothing will stand in the way of what comes next.

As Kick’s hand slides down to your waist, pulling you further into the heat of the kiss, time seems to slow. You melt into him, the world around you fading, leaving only the intoxicating feeling of him against you. But then, without warning, there’s the unmistakable creak of a door opening—a soft, hesitant shuffle of footsteps.

A breath catches in your throat.

The man freezes in the doorway, his wide eyes taking in the scene before him. His hands twitch instinctively toward his weapon, unsure whether to flee or to sound the alarm. He’s seen enough to understand the situation unfolding before him, but uncertainty hangs in the air.

But Kick—ever the confident knight—doesn’t flinch. Not even a twitch.

You, on the other hand, gasp against his lips, trying to pull away, startled by the intrusion.

Kick does not yield. He does not break the kiss, instead drawing you closer still, his lips lingering on yours for just a moment longer—slow, deliberate, as if to make sure every ounce of the moment is savored before he pulls away.

When he does finally pull back, his eyes do not seek you. They turn, effortlessly locking onto the crew member standing frozen in the doorway. His gaze is cool, amused even, as if this were nothing more than an amusing interruption, rather than an undeniable breach of decorum.

Kick remains close, his body still pressed against yours, the heat of him never fading. His voice, deep and laced with that characteristic playfulness, cuts through the tension in the air. “Ah, a late-night wanderer, is it? I must admit, I don’t recall sending for company.”

The crew member’s face goes a shade lighter, his eyes darting nervously between you and Kick, unsure where to settle his gaze. He can’t seem to tear his attention away from the knight who stands so confidently, every inch of him exuding power and daring.

“My… my apologies, milady, Sir Kick. I did not intend to... interrupt.” The words stumble from his mouth, his voice quivering slightly under the weight of the situation.

Kick’s smirk widens, and he steps closer to the man, completely unbothered by the interruption. His tone shifts, deepening with a subtle threat wrapped in amusement. “Interrupt, you say? How unfortunate.” His gaze never leaves the crew member’s face, studying him like a predator eyeing its prey.

The tension in the air is thick, suffocating, and for a moment, it seems as if the world has gone still, the only sound the beating of your own heart.

“Now,” Kick continues, his voice low and dangerous, “tell me, good man, does this situation call for... the death of a loyal subject, or shall we let you return to your duties?”

The crew member’s breath catches in his throat. His hands tremble slightly, torn between fear and the bewildering absurdity of Kick’s words. He knows—he knows well enough that, despite the knight’s playful tone, this is not a question one would answer lightly.

The room hangs suspended between two worlds: one of royal consequence, the other of recklessness and daring.

The crew member stiffens, his body rigid with nerves as he scans the room. His eyes flicker to you, searching for a sign—an indication of whether he should flee or stay, whether he will be met with mercy or wrath.

Kick, still standing close, keeps that infuriating smirk on his lips. His voice drops lower, tinged now with mocking amusement. “Do you need to be reminded of your place, or is it clear enough for you to depart without further need of... persuasion?”

The words hang heavy in the air, each syllable dripping with the promise of consequence, but there’s something else beneath it—a dark playfulness, as if this is all a game to him, one in which the crew member is an unwilling pawn.

The poor man shifts uneasily, his feet planted but clearly uncomfortable. He stands frozen, caught in the middle of a situation he was never meant to witness. The awkwardness is palpable, and you can almost feel his pulse quickening. He tries desperately to hold onto his composure, but it’s slipping.

He is a man who knows well enough the power of royalty—but what does he know of knights who mock it so boldly? What does he know of the dark games played beneath the surface of titles and crowns?

Kick watches him with those dangerous eyes, waiting for the crew member to make his choice. Every breath in the room seems drawn tight, as if the next move will send the entire situation spiraling out of control.

For a brief, tense moment, you stand still, caught between the weight of the situation and the undeniable pull of the power that Kick exudes. His presence looms like a storm—unfazed, teasing, his every word a sharp note, his smirk never wavering. But beneath it all, you know this could go one of two ways: You could end this charade, banish the crew member and regain control—or you could allow Kick to toy with him, a choice that might reveal more than either of you are prepared to handle.

With a deliberate breath, you step forward, breaking the stillness. Your voice rings out, calm and measured, but beneath it lies the unspoken weight of royalty. “There is no need for dramatics, good sir. You may leave now, and I trust you shall say nothing of this to anyone.”

The command is clear. Your words leave no room for debate, no space for disobedience. The crew member nods quickly, clearly grateful for the queen’s composed, regal demeanor.

But before he can take his leave, Kick’s voice slithers through the air, full of mischief, his tone laced with a dangerous undertone that threatens to undo any calm you’ve offered. “You heard her, good man,” he says, still leaning casually against the space between you and the crew member, his eyes alight with an unmistakable gleam. “Leave now, and we won’t need to have a longer conversation about your future... unless, of course, you find the idea of becoming a knight’s plaything more to your liking.”

The implication hangs heavy between them, a challenge wrapped in a jest that leaves the poor crew member trembling in his boots. His eyes flick nervously between you and Kick, his grip tightening on the doorframe as if it were the only thing keeping him anchored.

The door clicks closed with a soft thud behind the retreating crew member, leaving you and Kick in the dim light of the chamber.

You turn to face him, arms crossed, an eyebrow arched in mock disapproval, but there’s the slightest curve of a smile on your lips—one that speaks of both amusement and challenge. “You’re insufferable. We are in the royal chambers, Kick, not some tavern. Have a bit of decorum.”

Kick’s smirk has only grown, his gaze never leaving you as he steps closer. His grin widens, and the mischief in his eyes dances like flames on the edge of a storm. “Ah, but where’s the fun in that, my lady?” he says, his voice smooth, laced with the promise of trouble. “I did not expect such... eagerness from you. I must admit, your taste for the forbidden is... intoxicating.”

His words hang in the air, just as the space between you and him shrinks. Every syllable a challenge, every inch of him a magnet pulling you in. He knows. You know. There’s something about this dangerous edge, the way he pushes, the way you can’t help but lean into it.

You hold his gaze, the playful tone in your voice not quite hiding the heat that flickers beneath it. “And what if I told you, Sir Kick, that the only thing more intoxicating than that is the danger of making it real?”

The air between you thickens, becoming something both dangerous and thrilling. You’ve found what you’ve longed for in Kick—the passion, the confidence, the very thing that’s been absent from your life for far too long. In his presence, you are no longer just the queen, the dutiful wife; you are a woman who has reclaimed something for herself.

Without a word, you step forward, your movements deliberate and fluid. With a swift, commanding gesture, your hands reach for the iron of his armor, and in one smooth motion, it falls to the ground with a soft clink, the weight of it no longer between you.

Kick exhales slowly, his chest rising and falling beneath the remaining layers of his attire. He looks down at the discarded armor, a side smile tugging at his lips, a quiet acknowledgment of your boldness. His eyes lift to meet yours, and there’s something in his gaze—a flicker of both surprise and admiration. He isn’t used to being unseated so easily, but something about you is different.

“I do believe you’re starting to make your intentions clear, my lady,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with an unmistakable edge of excitement. He doesn't move yet, still lingering in the moment, as if savoring the shift that has happened between you.

You gasp softly, caught off guard, and a surprised laugh escapes you. You've never experienced anything quite like this—this bold, fearless display of power. In an instant, Kick’s strong hands are at your waist, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. With a swift, confident motion, he throws you onto the bed, the soft thud of your landing muted by the lavish fabric, but the effect is undeniable.

You steady yourself on your hands, bracing against the softness of the sheets as your eyes meet his, a mixture of shock and anticipation flooding your chest. you saw him. taking his shirt off, His build is evident—solid, controlled, each movement a reflection of the strength he carries with him, and yet, there’s something gentler in the way he looks at you now.

Kick, for all his cocky bravado, is never careless. He’s always mindful, always aware of the power dynamics at play. He's careful not to make any overt move that might call attention, even now, as his eyes scan you with a mixture of hunger and respect. But here, in the hidden corners of the castle, in the quiet shadows of the royal garden where the walls can't listen, you and Kick have carved out a dangerous, intoxicating space just for yourselves.

You sit up, looking at him, the weight of the moment sinking in. “One day, this will be over, won’t it?” you ask, your voice quiet, carrying with it an understanding that only the two of you share in this fleeting space of freedom.

Kick’s grin widens as he steps closer, the playful edge still lingering in his gaze. “Perhaps,” he says, his voice thick with promise. “But tonight, Your Majesty, let’s enjoy the here and now.”

Kick leans down, his breath brushing against your skin as he moves closer, his hands steady and sure as he guides you back onto the bed. The kiss comes swiftly, claiming you with a fire that burns away any hesitation. In that instant, the world outside the room disappears. The soft pressure of his lips is a promise, a stark contrast to the cold neglect you’ve known for years.

You fall back against the bed, your heart racing as his kiss deepens. You’ve never known anything like this—never felt so desired, so alive. The emotions that surge through you now are a sharp contrast to the emptiness that’s haunted you for so long. Deprived of tenderness, of passion, of connection—what did you endure all of this for? To live beside a king who could never see you, never understand you, only the crown you wear? A man who’s a bastard to treat you this way.

But Kick—Kick has filled the emptiness in your heart. Where there was cold distance, there is now warmth. Where there was neglect, there is now care. His touch, his kiss, they have filled every vacant corner of your soul with a fire you never thought you’d feel again.

And in that moment, with the world outside forgotten, you are free.