˚𖦹𝖈 ༘ ࣪

18 • she/ they you can call me cherry if you like.

[cherrypickedwords]

𝖌𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰, 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔯…

𝖂𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬… @𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒,

i am cherry, she who oversees this realm, and these are my words for you to enjoy.

𝖆𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔪𝔢:

she/her/they • 18 • writing/fun blog • multi fandom

i am a struggling uni student, video editor, and chronic fangirl.

requests are open!

lords, ladies and nobles of all sorts are welcome to join my court! (become an anon or mutual/ make a request or have a chat!) ♡

what/ who do i write for?

stranger things, genshin impact (and select HSR characters), Link (legend of Zelda), various anime/ manga, brooklyn 99…and perhaps more in the future ♡

(a/n currently, i have a few good ideas for mike wheeler, so my first several posts will likely be about him)

masterlist | 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖

[cherrypickedwords]

pushing it down and praying with a cheerleader reader from the party thinking of mike instead of her dumb jock she hates 🤞

[gleekluver]

SO REAL ⋆ . ࿔ ˚

your needy knight just needs some alone time.. with you, of course.ᐟ

₊ᰔ⋮i believe i am the last paladin!mike lover alive and i will die on this hill alone.

it’s raining outside and mike smells like wet wool and rusted iron, a sharp, bitter scent of a man who’s been standing in the dark for too long. he doesn't climb through the window with any kind of grace, he just kind of shoves himself through the frame, boots catching on the stone and making a heavy clumsy sound that makes him wince. he’s shivering, not even from the cold but just from the sheer vibrating tension of it all

the armor comes off in a mess. he fumbles with the leather straps, his fingers shaking so bad he almost knots them, and he just lets the heavy pieces fall where they want. he doesn’t look like a hero. he just looks tired. lanky and awkward and exhausted

he crawls onto the bed and he’s so heavy, all bony elbows and cold skin, and he just collapses. he doesn't ask. he just tucks his face into the side of your neck and stays there, breathing in like he’s been underwater for hours and you’re the first bit of air he’s found. he finds your hand and pulls it to his head, a silent demand, and the second your fingers hit his hair he just breaks

“it’s so loud out there,” he mutters, and his voice is thick. burning with a feverish kind of need. his forehead is hot against your collarbone and he keeps shifting, trying to get closer, trying to press his ear directly against your ribs so he can hear your heart. he needs it to be the only thing he hears

“i-i can't stand it. i have to stand behind his chair and i have to listen to him talk about you like you’re just... something he owns. he’s so loud and he doesn't even see you! he doesn't see anything! i’m just standing there and my hands are cramping because i want to just grab you and run. i’m losing my mind. i think i’m actually losing it.”

you tug at a curl, winding it around your finger, and he lets out a broken, shaky breath. his whole body finally starting to go limp. he’s not trying to be smooth. he’s just clinging to you like a kid, his arms wrapped around your waist so tight it’s almost hard to breathe

“don't tell me to leave yet,” he whispers, and he sounds so small, so stripped of all that metal and duty. “i have to go back to the barracks in an hour but just... just keep doing that. please. i feel like i’m disappearing when i’m not in this room. everything else is just fake. it’s just noise”

he shifts again, his nose brushing the skin of your chest, and he just closes his eyes, letting out a long pathetic sigh

“mmn, i’m just.. so tired of pretending i don't know you. i'm so tired of being just a shadow. i just want to stay here. please just let me stay for a second. i don't want to be a guard. i just want to be yours. i just need you to tell me that it’s real. tell me i’m still real.”

mourning over mike wheeler apologists like they’re my dead wives💔

[cherrypickedwords]

modern mike wheeler who acts nonchalant about the fact you have made him in tomodachi life but will actually be personally offended if you two are not sweethearts within like… 24 hours… send tweet

[cherrypickedwords]

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒

˖ ࣪𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ a/n these are not at all organized or proofread but please enjoy regardless, not all of these are strictly modern but enough were i titled it as such. gender neutral reader !

started drinking coffee way too young because he used to think it was cool, and now has a crippling caffeine addiction.

⤷ he insists on going to local coffee shops even though he really only gets black coffee.

⤷ always gets either an everything bagel or a salt and pepper bagels.

very pretentious, and slightly gatekeep-y about his interests, music, dnd, and movies in particular.

crashed out for like a week when disney bought marvel.

has never played fortnite because he believes something awaits him in the divine for resisting.

definitely either works at a movie theater or one of those trading card and video game stores in the mall.

is the dude asking “did you know tame impala is just one guy?”

has an extensive physical media collection and is very serious about it, if you have a suitcase player be prepared for a lecture.

very critical of movie and tv adaptations of comics, x-men in particular.

big fan of the ren faire and he dresses up weather you do or not.

big david lynch & wes anderson fan, LOVED twin peaks when he first saw it and was convinced it made him niche.

⤷ takes letterboxd way too seriously.

like in the show he’s had the same backpack since kindergarten, but it’s a navy blue jansport.

⤷ you two have matching C-3P0 and R2-D2 lego keychains

⤷ he has so many random pins on his bag, in middle school he used to get a small rush from stealing them from hot topic

got into the hardcore scene through eddie and is randomly at local shows like at least once a week.

has wired headphones, airpods, and over the ear headphones, and wears them so much you’re concerned for his hearing.

literally carries his nintendo switch everywhere with him.

⤷ it was supposed to be a family switch but no one else plays it but him, and holly who has an animal crossing island she does not play about.

really into resident evil, legend of zelda, and metroid.

lowkey has a black thumb, this guy CANNOT keep a plant alive to save his life.

still a massive star wars nerd, has all the lego sets and is very annoying to build them with, but he’s nice to you at least.

⤷ was gifted the lego millennium falcon a couple years ago, and when dustin thought he lost a piece mike crashed out.

into cosplay but won’t admit it for some reason?

⤷ you guys have been anakin and padme, zelda and link, for the past couple halloweens. he and the party also have very detailed costumes for the ren faire.

he has a blue lava lamp he loves, with lots of band stickers on it.

instead of a calculator watch he gets the new apple watch every time one comes out.

his room is covered in posters, he goes out of his way to find vintage ones, and half the time he doesn’t even frame them.

⤷ this being said he found one a vintage “the empire strikes back” poster and that is framed, it is his prized possession.

during quarantine he did the minecraft window trend and he has them to this day.

lowkey uses 2 in 1 shampoo/ conditioner i’m sorry.

⤷ please convince him to get a curly hair routine, please.

only started wearing cologne after he asked lucas for advice when he first realized he had a crush on you.

⤷ smells like bergamont and cedarwood bc he saw that on a label of a candle in your room.

a very extensive funko pop collection.

still very into old movies, like the aforementioned star wars, but also ghostbusters back to the future, eraserhead, the labyrinth, back to the future, akira, top gun etc.

he’s so unathletic. used to fake sick to get out of the mile in p.e.

bisexual & autistic but vaguely in denial about both.

⤷ very bad social awareness. genuinely you will have to apologize on his behalf sometimes because he mad a face. his defense is always “but i didn’t say anything!”

⤷ severely hyperfixates, in season 1 he played dnd for 10 hours straight, imagine what he could do with the internet.

⤷ has an extensive dice collection, they are all color coded.

has such awful posture it’s genuinely concerning.

he’s upper middle class but still wears his converse beat to literal hell.

also has the dirtiest pair of docs you’ve ever seen.

acts embarrassed or aloof about matching things but secretly loves it.

⤷ he feels it’s a tangible reminder of your tether to eachother.

he is so bad at expressing his emotions verbally, so he always prefers to resolve arguments over text.

⤷ the first time he said i love you was also over text.

⤷ very thorough when explaining his side of things or perspective, frequently used analogies and repeats points of emphasis when explaining himself

⤷ has a tendency to be really defensive at first so he likes to pause and gather his thoughts before he responds

⤷ even though he’s super defensive he actually blames himself for everything.

he knows he’s bad with words so he really tries to show you he loves you in other ways, like remembering things about you and noticing if things are off, or if you change something.

⤷ this being said he’s still surprised if you happen to notice anything is off with him, even though, frankly it’s usually very obvious since he doesn’t have the best control over his facial expressions.

one of those smart people that doesn’t get that not everyone understands everything he does.

⤷ but if you ask him to explain something to you he’s actually really good at it! especially chemistry and math.

complains so much. about everything.

has an extensive collection of vintage sweaters and graphic t shirts.

always wears baggy clothes because he doesn’t like to feel the texture of clothes on his skin.

swears up and down reaction pics are corny but always laughs when they’re sent in the party gc.

literally the erm. actually 🤓☝️ guy.

has a particular fondness for uncrustables

he’s clingy but really shy about it.

⤷ really likes when you lay and just put your whole weight on top of him.

lowkey has a savior complex so he loves to do things for you, he just likes to feel needed!! please ask him for things!!!

had a very long and dedicated adventure time phase.

⤷ he was fin the human for like 3 halloweens in a row when he was a kid.

buys everything that reminds him of you but is so awkward about giving it to you as if you aren’t literally his partner.

he is so. easy. to ragebait. but he’s also really good at ragebaiting everyone else.

HATES bright overhead lights.

has so. many. tiktok reposts. so many.

he still actively uses discord.

he has the ikea monkey stuffed animal.

such a yapper, always wanting to infodump.

got into nascar through his dad when he was young to try and bond, and as he got older and started to resent him he switched to f1.

always swears he liked things before they were cool

active radiohead listener

so good at planning dates because he HATES when plans change, especially last minute, but he’s also like always late.

so dense. like has no idea you like him back until max just gets annoyed enough to out you.

sometimes mimics eddie since he perceives him as cool, confident and well liked among people he thinks are cool.

has medication for anxiety but always forgets to take it.

still incredibly awkward and dorky but that’s just part of his charm.

big fan of thrifting, flea markets and farmers markets.

once you were painting holly’s nails and he felt left out so he had you paint his black, and now he regularly has black nail polish on.

he argues with teachers a lot and gets annoyed when you have to respect people just because they’re figures of authority

has surprisingly neat handwriting

such a narc about his interests, like i cannot stress this enough.

honestly very insecure after being bullied for his appearance all of his childhood, and tiktok did NOT help. he genuinely has a hard time fathoming he’s attractive to you.

still bites his nails when he’s anxious, nervous, or even just thinking really hard.

he’s decent at coding and has python installed on his laptop.

still very into counterculture and alternative culture i’m not falling for the finale/ epilogue propaganda.

still ran the A/V club in middle school, and in highschool joined Science and Quiz bowl.

says he doesn’t believe in ghosts but is also genuinely terrified of them.

even though he talks a lot it takes a while for him to actually open up, and when he does he acts like he’s really casual and not a big deal as if he didn’t just drop the most insane lore on you.

⤷ when he told you about the incident with the quarry he glossed over it while explaining he had a fear of heights and you literally had to ask him to double back because, of course, that’s insane mike.

does not like to cry in front of people he finds it literally humiliating.

⤷ the first time he cried in front of you was during a fight because he couldn’t get his words right and he was frustrated at himself and worried you were angry with him and once he realized he was crying he literally turned around and tried to hide his face.

⤷ mike hates hates HATESSSS when one of his close friends are mad at him, everyone else he doesn’t really care but if it’s you, lucas, will, jane, or dustin it genuinely makes him sick until he’s forgiven.

has an industrial piercing that’s shaped like a sword 🤞

[vanillaberrimade]

Obedient ❦

Paladin!Mike Wheeler x Royal GN!Reader

[Mike Wheeler whose honourable paladin persona not so secretly crumbles under his growing love for you, the one person he’s not allowed to love…]

CW: SFW!! knight+royal to lovers, fluff, weapons, kissing, forbidden love, yearning, slow-burn, arranged marriage

Music ~ Can’t help falling in love, Elvis Presley

The day Sir Michael Wheeler swore his oath to the crown, he was just sixteen, the entire hall expected confidence. Knights stood tall when they took their vows. Proud. Certain. Mike looked like he might pass out.

He could feel the entire court watching him. And worse, you. Standing beside the throne as heir to the kingdom. Mike didn’t dare look up yet.

“State your oath,” the king commanded.

“My life belongs to the crown,” he said. His voice was quieter than he intended. He cleared his throat and forced himself to continue, “I will defend the realm, obey its laws, and protect the royal bloodline with my sword, my strength, and my life.”

The words felt heavier than armor. The king stepped forward, “You will serve as personal knight to the heir.”

Mike’s brain stopped working. The heir. You. Slowly, very carefully, Mike lifted his head. The first thing his eyes met yours, was your smile. Kind, not dutiful, but real. Which somehow made it worse.

Mike immediately dropped his gaze again like he’d just stared at the sun, “Yes, Your Majesty,” he managed.

Three weeks later, everyone in the palace had noticed something about Sir Wheeler. He knelt constantly. You approached? Kneeling. You spoke to him? Kneeling. You called his name? Kneeling.

Mike was completely different in the training yard. The other knights respected him, not because he was loud, but because he was good.

Steel clashed as he sparred with one of the senior guards. The fight was fast and controlled, Mike’s movements precise and smart. He wasn’t the biggest knight. But he thought faster than most of them.

He ducked under a swing, twisted, and disarmed his opponent in one clean motion. The watching soldiers cheered lightly. Then he noticed you standing near the edge of the yard, watching. His brain melted. The sword immediately slipped out of his hand and clattered to the ground. The entire yard went quiet, Mike turned bright red.

One of the knights snorted, “Sir Wheeler,” the man said. “You just defeated a veteran guard and then lost to gravity.”

Mike bent down quickly to grab the sword, “I was distracted.”

You smiled, “That was impressive,”

Mike froze. His brain scrambled for something knightly and dignified to say, “Thank you, Your Highness.” His voice came out slightly strangled.

You stepped a little closer, “You’re very skilled.”

Mike looked like someone had just told him the sky was falling, “I- I uhm train often.”

Your hand brushed his shoulder briefly, Mike stopped functioning. Completely. Every knight in the yard watched Sir Michael Wheeler ‘respected protector of the crown’ stand there looking like someone had unplugged him from reality.

It started as a joke, at least that’s what you told yourself. Mike Wheeler was, without question, the most obedient knight in the palace. Not blindly obedient. But when it came to you? There was a very noticeable difference.

You noticed it the first time you tested it. You were walking through the palace gardens when you stopped suddenly, “Sir Wheeler.”

Mike halted immediately behind you, “Yes, Your Highness.”

You turned, “Kneel.”

He dropped to one knee without hesitation. Not even a second. It was so immediate it almost startled you. You tilted your head slightly, “You didn’t even ask why.”

Mike looked up at you. That look again. Focused. Steady. Completely attentive. “You asked,” he said simply. That was all the reasoning he needed.

You crossed your arms thoughtfully, “Stand.”

He stood.

“Turn around.”

He did.

“Take three steps forward.”

Mike paused for half a second this time, not questioning, just slightly confused. But he still did it. You laughed.

“What are you doing?” he asked cautiously.

“Experimenting.”

“With what?”

“With how obedient you are.”

Mike looked faintly horrified, “I am not a dog.”

You grinned, “Prove it.”

Mike opened his mouth, then closed it. Because the problem was he couldn’t actually refuse you. Not easily. Not when you were looking at him like that. So instead he muttered quietly, “This is highly inappropriate.”

“And yet you’re still doing it.”

Mike sighed.

Over the next few days, the ‘experiment’ continued. Mostly small things, “Walk beside me instead of behind me.” Mike hesitated, that wasn’t proper knight protocol, but he stepped beside you anyway.

“Hold this.” You handed him random objects constantly now. Flowers, letters, a ribbon from your sleeve. Mike kept every single one.

“Sit.” Mike froze the first time you said that.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Sit.”

“I am a knight.”

“Yes.”

“…this is humiliating.”

“Sir Wheeler.”

He sat, grumbling under his breath, but still sitting. You were smiling so brightly it made his chest hurt.

The first time love teased Mikes heart, it was only a week after you’d met. The library was quiet. Too quiet. Mike had been reading a history text aloud for nearly an hour. You had insisted you were still listening.

“…and in the fourth year of the northern war-“ Mike stopped.

Because your head had slowly tipped sideways onto his shoulder. You were asleep. He froze immediately. Not moving a single inch. Because if he moved, you might wake up. And if you woke up, you might move away. And strangely… he didn’t want that.

Your breathing was soft and steady. Mike stared down at the book without actually reading the words anymore. He could feel the warmth of your head resting against him, the gentle weight of it. And somehow that felt more dangerous than any battlefield.

Minutes passed. Then more minutes. Eventually his eyes started getting heavy too. He had been up since dawn training. Guard duty. Lessons. Now this. His head tipped slightly. Then- shuffling.

Mike jerked awake. Only to find two other young knights standing nearby trying very hard not to laugh, “Oh this is incredible.”

Mike’s eyes widened in horror. You were still asleep. On him. “You need to leave,” Mike whispered yelled.

One knight grinned, “You fell asleep too.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

“If you wake them up I will duel you.”

“Relax.”

The other knight snuck closer, “You look cute.”

Mike went bright red, “Go away.”

“Fine.”

The two boys started walking out. Then one added over his shoulder, “Ever read Romeo and Juliet? You’re doomed, by the way.”

“Romeo was stupid and reckless.” Mike grumbled under his breath as he looked down at you again. Still sleeping peacefully. And for a moment, he thought, maybe the boy was right.

The day he’d realised he was in love was just a week later. It was supposed to be a quick walk through the gardens. That was all. Mike had agreed to accompany you while you gathered flowers. A perfectly normal activity. Nothing suspicious. Nothing dangerous. Except now he was sitting on a stone bench while you stood behind him doing something to his hair.

“Hold still.”

“I am holding still.”

“You’re fidgeting.”

“I’m not used to this.”

“You’re doing great.”

Mike sighed, “You’re braiding my hair.”

“Correct.”

“And putting flowers in it.”

“Also correct.”

“I’m a knight.”

“You’re my knight.”

That argument apparently ended the discussion. Mike sat there in silence while your fingers moved gently through his dark hair. Weaving small braids. Tucking little flowers between the strands. Every so often your hand brushed the back of his neck. And every time, Mike’s brain went completely blank.

“Done!” you announced proudly.

Mike looked deeply suspicious, “You’re smiling too much.”

“Because you look nice.”

“I look ridiculous.”

You stepped in front of him. Mike froze. Because you were looking at him like you had created something wonderful. You tilted your head slightly, admiring your work. Mike felt his ears turning red.

“…don’t tell the other knights.”

“I’m absolutely telling the other knights.”

“You cannot.”

“Relax.”

You plucked one tiny flower from the braid and tucked it behind his ear, your hand resting at his collarbone as it dropped. Mike’s breath caught. And suddenly, something inside him shifted. Not a crush. Not admiration. Something deeper. Stronger. Terrifying. Because the realization hit him all at once. He didn’t just care about you. He didn’t just admire you. He didn’t just want to protect you.

He loved you. Completely. Hopelessly. And you were standing right in front of him smiling proudly about flowers in his hair. Mike cleared his throat quickly, “We should go.”

You laughed, “But you look so pretty.”

“I’m a knight.”

“You’re a pretty knight.”

Mike stood abruptly, trying very hard not to think about the fact that he would probably keep those flowers long after they wilted, because you had put them there.

The first time you realised you loved Mike was the night of your eighteenth birthday. It was a feeling that had crept up on you for years, you just hadn’t noticed until it was unavoidable.

The ballroom glittered with candlelight. Music drifted across the marble floor while nobles spun in elegant circles, silk and velvet brushing together in soft flashes of color. You were supposed to be enjoying it. Technically this celebration was partly for you. But your attention kept drifting to him.

Across the room, Mike Wheeler stood near the edge of the ballroom with the other young knights assigned to court duty tonight. Except tonight he wasn’t wearing armor. He was dressed in formal black instead. A perfectly tailored suit.

Your court called it proper attire. You had only one thought about it. He looked… handsome. In a way you had never noticed before. His hair was neatly combed back, though a few strands still fell stubbornly across his forehead like they always did.

The dark fabric fit his shoulders well. Too well. Which was a problem. Because apparently other people had noticed. You watched as a noblewoman approached him. She said something. Mike straightened immediately. Then, he knelt. Just like he always did.

Your stomach twisted strangely. The woman laughed lightly at whatever he said in return. Mike stood again, polite and calm, saying something respectful before stepping aside to let her pass. Your chest felt tight. Weird. Annoyed. You didn’t like that. You weren’t sure why.

A court advisor was still talking to you, but you had completely stopped listening. Across the room, someone else approached Mike. Another bow. Another polite conversation. Another small smile. And again, that strange feeling.

Why did he have to kneel for everyone? Why did he look so calm about it? Why did he smile at them like that? You frowned. Because the thought suddenly slipped into your mind. He wasn’t yours. Not really. He served the crown. Which meant he served everyone.

The music changed. Couples shifted across the dance floor. You looked down at your hands, still empty. Still waiting for some noble partner you didn’t care about.

Across the room Mike noticed you watching. His entire posture changed immediately. The polite smile disappeared. Concern replaced it. He excused himself from the knight beside him and crossed the room quickly. Once he reached you, he knelt. Of course he did. But this time it felt different. Not distant. Not formal.

His head tilted slightly upward as he struggled to meet your avoidant gaze, “Your Highness,” he said quietly, “Is everything alright?”

“…yes.”

“You look upset.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re frowning.”

“I always frown.”

“You don’t.”

You sighed, then said the first thing that came to mind, “You kneel for everyone.”

Mike looked confused, “Yes?”

“I don’t like it.” your arms stubbornly crossing.

That confused him even more, “…it’s my job.”

“I know.”

He studied your expression for a moment, then something softer appeared in his eyes, “You know it’s not the same, right?”

You frowned slightly, “What isn’t?”

“The way I kneel for you.”

That caught your attention.

Mike lowered his voice slightly, “When I kneel for nobles or guests, it’s duty.” His gaze softened, “When I kneel for you…” He hesitated, “…it’s something else.”

Your chest fluttered strangely, “What do you mean?”

Mike shrugged lightly, “I don’t really know how to explain it.” He stood again, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. Then offered his hand, “Dance with me.”

“I’m not supposed to.”

“Since when have you cared for rules?”

“You aren’t supposed to.”

“I know that.”

You glanced toward the watching nobles, “…you’ll get in trouble.”

Mike smiled slightly, “Probably.”

Your heart was beating faster now, “Why are you suggesting this?”

He tilted his head, “Because I want to, and it looks like you do to.”

Your hand slowly slid into his. The music shifted into a slower rhythm. Mike guided you gently toward the dance floor. He was careful. Respectful. But still confident. One hand lightly at your waist. The other holding yours.

You stared at him, “You’ve never danced with me before.”

“I know how to dance, thank you very much.”

“Since when?”

“Knights get invited to formal events sometimes.”

“That seems suspicious.” and it was. He wouldn’t admit it but he’d learnt from practicing for a week in preparation with a mop, while reading the steps from a book. Of course he had.

He smiled faintly, “I’m full of surprises.”

You watched him for a moment. The candlelight caught in his dark hair. In his eyes. And suddenly, that strange feeling returned. Stronger this time. Your chest felt warm. Fuzzy. Your stomach fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with the music.

Oh. Oh no. You realized it all at once. The reason you didn’t like people flirting with him. The reason seeing him kneel for others bothered you. The reason he suddenly looked so beautiful tonight.

You loved him. More than a friend. More than a knight. More than anything you had words for yet.

“My hair looks stupid right?”

“…what?”

“You’re looking at me funny, I know it looks weird, it’s formal though right?”

You quickly looked away, Mike laughed softly. And without realizing it, your fingers tightened slightly around his hand. Because somewhere during that dance, your knight had quietly become something much more dangerous to your heart.

You were twenty now, things were more serious. One evening the two of you ended up back in the gardens. It was quiet, the palace lights glowed softly behind you. Mike leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed. You stood in front of him. Watching. Thinking.

“Sir Wheeler.”

Mike straightened, his brows jumping a little in that way they do every time you say his name, “Yes.”

“Kneel.”

He did. Immediately. The movement was fluid and familiar now. One knee on the ground. Head slightly lowered. Waiting. You stepped closer, closer than usual. Mike felt his heartbeat pick up. You tilted your head slightly, “Do you ever say no to me?”

“Yes?”

“When?”

Mike thought about it, then realised. “…rarely.” Never. He never said no to you.

You crouched slightly so you were closer to his level. That was new. Mike swallowed. “Why?” you asked quietly.

Mike forced himself to keep his eyes respectful. But he could still see you. Too close. Too warm. “Because you are my responsibility,” he said carefully.

“That’s not the real reason.”

Mike didn’t answer. You reached out, fingers gently lifting his chin so he had to look at you. Mike stopped breathing. Up close, his expression was intense. Soft. Completely devoted.

“You look at me like I hung the moon,” you murmured.

Mike’s restraint was starting to crack. He could feel it. Months of careful distance. Months of reminding himself of his place. And now you were crouched in front of him like this. Looking at him like this.

“…your Highness,” he said quietly.

“Yes?”

“You should stop.”

“Why?”

Mike hesitated. Because the honest answer was dangerous. But you were still holding his chin. Still close enough that he could see the tiny details of your expression. The warmth in your eyes.

Before he fully thought about it, his hand came up, gently but firmly wrapping around your wrist. Not hurting, just stopping you. Mike stood up in one smooth motion. Now he was towering over you.

The air between you suddenly felt very small. Very warm. His voice dropped low, “Because,” he said carefully, “you are testing something you do not fully understand.”

“And what’s that?”

Mike’s grip on your wrist loosened immediately. Like he’d just realized what he’d done. His expression was slightly different, sadder, pained. His voice stayed quiet, “My self-control.”

The court was louder than usual that evening, the energy had entirely shifted since that moment in the gardens. It was all too serious.

Mike stood beside the throne as always, posture rigid. He didn’t pay attention to most court discussions. His focus stayed on you. Always.

But then he heard something that made his stomach drop. People muttering about “…an alliance…”, “…a noble house from the north…”, “…a very suitable match…” Mike’s hand tightened slowly around the hilt of his sword. You looked just as surprised as he felt.

The prince arrived two days later. He was everything a royal suitor was supposed to be. Confident. Charming. Well dressed. And immediately interested in you.

Mike stood nearby during the first meeting in the palace gardens. Watching. Silent. The prince smiled easily as he spoke with you. Mike didn’t like him. Not for any specific reason. Just… instinct.

Every time the prince stepped a little closer, Mike subtly adjusted his position. Always between you and him. Not obviously, but enough.

Eventually the prince noticed, his eyes flicked briefly toward Mike, “And this is your knight?”

You glanced at Mike, “Yes. Sir Michael Wheeler.”

Mike bowed slightly, “Your Highness.”

The prince studied him for a moment, “You seem very… attentive.”

Mike’s voice stayed perfectly neutral, “It is my duty.”

The prince smiled faintly, “Of course.” But the look he gave Mike said he understood something more. And Mike didn’t like that either.

Over the next few days, the prince spent more time at court, which meant more time near you. Mike was always present. Always watching. And you noticed something. The playful, slightly flustered knight you knew? Disappeared whenever the prince was around. In his place was someone colder. Sharpened. Professional to an almost intimidating degree.

The prince laughed at something you said during dinner. He reached out slightly toward your arm, Mike moved instantly, not aggressively, just one smooth step. Blocking the gesture without making it obvious.

The prince’s hand stopped, Mike didn’t look at him, but his voice was calm, “Careful, Your Highness. The floor is uneven.”

It wasn’t.

The prince’s eyes narrowed slightly, he understood the message.

Later that night you found Mike in the gardens. He stood near the same stone path where everything had changed before, watching the moonlit courtyard.

“Mike.”

He turned immediately. Knelt. Again.

You stared, “…you did it again.”

Mike sighed quietly from the ground, “I noticed.”

“I still didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.”

“Why do you keep doing that?”

Mike didn’t answer at first.

You stepped closer, “Stand up.”

He obeyed immediately.

You crossed your arms, “You’ve been different.”

Mike avoided your gaze, “How so?”

“Colder.”

“That’s appropriate.”

“No. It isn’t.”

Mike finally looked at you, his expression was calm, but there was tension underneath it, “You are meeting potential allies of the crown,” he said carefully, “My role is to ensure your safety.”

“You glare at him.”

“I observe him.”

“Mike.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t like him.”

Mike hesitated, then said quietly, “I don’t trust him.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Silence.

Finally Mike said, “…I don’t.”

Your heart beat slightly faster, because there was something in his voice you hadn’t heard before. Not just protectiveness. Something sharper. Possessive, almost. Mike seemed to realize it too, his expression tightened slightly, “I apologize,” he said quietly.

“You shouldn’t.”

Mike looked confused.

“You’re allowed to have opinions.”

“Yes,” he said carefully.

“But not about who you marry.”

The words hung heavy between you, Mike looked away first, his jaw tightened slightly. Then he did something he always did when he didn’t trust himself. He dropped back to one knee. Your knight. Back in the position that kept him safe. Back in the position where he belonged. Waiting. Silent. Trying very hard not to want things he had no right to.

Dinner that evening was worse. The prince was clearly enjoying himself, you were seated beside him while the court talked around you, Mike stood behind your chair. Watching. Always watching.

At one point the prince leaned slightly toward you, speaking quietly, “You trust him a great deal,” he said.

“Who?”

“Your knight.”

You glanced back briefly. Mike immediately straightened when you looked at him.

“Of course I trust him.”

The prince hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. Then, very deliberately, he reached out and brushed his fingers lightly against your wrist while making some comment.

Mike moved before he even thought about it, his hand closed around the prince’s wrist. Firm. Controlled. But unmistakably stopping him. The entire table went silent. Mike realized what he’d done. Very slowly, he released the prince’s wrist.

“My apologies,” Mike said calmly, “There was a spider.”

The danger came two days later. A diplomatic parade through the capital. Crowds filled the streets. Mike walked beside you, scanning everything. Every movement. Every face.

Then something felt wrong. A shift in the crowd. A flash of metal. Mike reacted instantly. He grabbed your waist and pulled you down just as a blade flew through the air. The dagger struck the wooden frame of a carriage behind you.

Chaos erupted in the street. Guards rushed forward. Mike had already drawn his sword. His movements were precise and fast. Two attackers pushed through the crowd. Mike intercepted them before they could get close to you.

Steel clashed. One clean strike. Then another. The fight lasted seconds. When it was over, the attackers were on the ground and the royal guards were closing in. Mike turned immediately. Looking for you.

You were standing a few steps away, alive, unhurt. Mike’s sword clattered to the ground. He crossed the distance between you in two long strides, “Are you hurt?”

“No-”

“Did it hit you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

He was already checking your arms, your shoulders, your hands. Your heart was racing.

“Mike, I’m fine-”

But he didn’t hear you. Not really. Because the realization had just hit him. You could have died. He could have been one second too slow. One mistake, and you would be gone.

Before he thought about it, Mike pulled you into him. One arm wrapped tightly around your back. The other came up to cradle the back of your head under his chin. His entire body was shaking. You could feel it.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. His voice was rough, “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I know.”

His arms tightened slightly.

“Just- don’t.”

For a moment you could feel his heart pounding through his armor. Fast. Unsteady. Like he was still trying to recover, so you wrapped your arms around him. Mike completely fell apart. The tension left him all at once. His shoulders dropped slightly as he held you closer. His head lowered just a little against yours. Like he needed the contact just to make sure you were real.

Until the adrenaline wore off enough for him to pull away, realising he just crossed a line, publicly.

The prince found Mike in the courtyard later that evening. Mike knew immediately that the conversation wouldn’t be pleasant.

“You’re very devoted,” the prince said casually.

Mike didn’t respond.

“I watched the incident yesterday.”

Mike kept his expression neutral, his jaw tightened slightly.

The prince studied him, “Tell me something, Sir Wheeler.”

Silence.

“Would you die for Y/N?”

Mike answered immediately, “Of course.”

The prince nodded slowly, “That part was obvious.” A pause, then he asked the real question, “Could you live without Y/N?”

Mike’s composure cracked, just slightly, barely visible. But the prince saw it, and that was enough. The prince smiled faintly, “I thought so.”

This wedding was happening, it had hit Mike how real that fact was when you’d asked him to accompany you to your fitting. You’d asked only him, you hadn’t invited a single other soul, because who else did you truly want or need there.

Bolts of silk and velvet were draped over tables. Pins glittered in little cushions. White fabric, far too much of it, hung from mannequins around the room. Your wedding garments.

Mike focused on the floor, or the window, or the opposite wall. Anywhere but the doorway you would soon step through. Because the truth was, he wasn’t sure he could survive seeing you in it.

The curtain shifted, “Sir Wheeler?” one of the tailors said.

Mike straightened immediately, “Yes?”

“You may look now.”

He turned, and forgot how to breathe. You stepped out slowly. The room fell silent. The outfit was beautiful. Elegant white and silver, embroidered with delicate patterns that caught the light as you moved. The fabric flowed behind you like something out of a painting.

Mike’s chest tightened painfully, because he could see it so clearly. You walking down the aisle, toward him, but that was just a fantasy.

You looked a little uncertain. Not royal. Not confident. Just… you. “Mike?”

His knees buckled, no one seemed to notice. Your voice always did that to him, “Yes?”

You turned slightly, glancing down at the sleeves, the embroidery, “I’m not sure about it.” The room seemed to wait. You looked back at him, “What do you think?”

Mike stared at you for a long moment, the words came automatically. Soft. Certain. “You’re perfect.” Not the garments, not the embroidery, you.

The tailors quietly excused themselves, leaving the two of you alone in the chamber. When you reached him, you gently took his hand. Mike immediately stiffened in surprise, “Your Highness-”

You pulled him into a soft embrace before he could protest. His arms hesitated for only a second before wrapping around you. Carefully. Like he was afraid of wrinkling the fabric, or maybe afraid of holding you too tightly. For a moment neither of you spoke.

Mike rested his chin lightly against the top of your head. And suddenly, a memory surfaced. A small one. Years old. You had been younger then. Still figuring out court life. Still sneaking out into the training yard just to talk to him while he practiced. You had appeared one afternoon wearing something simple. Just a new outfit the palace seamstresses had made.

Nothing like this, no silks, no ceremony. You had turned in a small circle and asked him the exact same question, ‘What do you think?’

Mike had been younger too, less careful with his heart. He had smiled immediately and said the first honest thing that came to mind, ‘You’re perfect.’

“You said that once before,” you murmured softly.

“…I did?”

“Yes, years ago.”

He remembered, of course he remembered, but he just nodded quietly.

You pull back just enough to see his face, studying it for a moment, because there was something in his eyes now. Something deeper. A sadness he was trying very hard to hide. Mike looked down at the fabric of your sleeve, then away.

Because he couldn’t stop imagining the moment this outfit was meant for. The aisle. The vows. The prince waiting at the altar. Not him. Never him.

“You’ll look…” he paused, voice catching slightly, “…perfect on your wedding day.”

The words hurt more than any sword ever had, but he said them anyway, because that was his duty. To stand beside you, even if it meant watching you walk away.

The next morning came too quickly. The palace corridors were quiet, sunlight spilling across polished stone floors. Mike waited outside your chambers in full armor. Perfectly composed, like always. Except he hadn’t slept, not even a little, he couldn’t.

The door opened. You stepped out, dressed formally for court. For the prince. Mike’s chest tightened painfully.

“Mike.”

And like always, his body reacted, he knelt. The movement was automatic. Instinctive. Your knight. Your devoted, obedient knight. That was starting to be painful. Your hand cupped the side of his face, “Stand,” said gently.

And he obeyed, though this time he was hesitant to leave your touch.

“Walk with me.”

He fell into step beside you down the corridor, half a step behind, just like always. For a few moments neither of you spoke, then you said quietly,

“You know where we’re going.”

“Yes.”

The prince was waiting in the west courtyard, you had agreed to meet him there to begin discussing the formal engagement ceremony. Your footsteps slowed slightly, “Mike.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Your voice softened, “I know this isn’t easy.”

Mike’s jaw tightened, “It is not my place to have opinions about your marriage.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Silence. He stopped walking. So did you.

You turned to face him, “I need you to escort me the rest of the way,” you said.

Mike nodded once, “I understand,” but he didn’t move.

“…Mike?” Still nothing. You frowned slightly, “That’s an order.”

Mike closed his eyes, just for a second, and when he opened them something had changed. For the first time since becoming your knight, Sir Michael Wheeler didn’t obey immediately. Instead he said quietly, “No.”

The word echoed softly in the empty corridor.

“…what?”

Mike stepped closer, one step, then another, “I can’t do that.”

“You’ve never refused me before.”

“I know.”

“Mike-”

“You’re asking me to walk you to another man.” His voice wasn’t angry. It was something worse. Raw. “And stand there while he takes your hand.” A beat. “While you promise yourself to him.”

“That’s my duty.”

Mike shook his head once, “No.” His voice dropped, “It’s mine.”

Before you could respond, Mike moved. His hand caught your wrist, not roughly, but firmly. Stopping you from stepping away. The contact alone sent electricity through him, because he had imagined touching you like this a thousand times, and every time he’d stopped himself. But now, now everything was already ruined.

“Mike…”

His other hand came up slowly, like he was giving you time to stop him, to remind him who you were. But you didn’t. His fingers gently tilted your chin upward, just like you had done to him once, “Tell me to stop,” he said softly.

You didn’t, and that was all the confirmation he needed. When he kissed you, it wasn’t carefully, not politely, not restrained. It was months of longing breaking free all at once. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer. Like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on. The kiss was intense. Desperate. Everything he had forced himself to hide for so long.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was uneven. The moment the kiss ended, Mike realized what he had done. The corridor felt suddenly too small. Too quiet. Too real.

Your hand was still gripping the front of his armor, your breath uneven from the kiss he had wanted for months- years, if he was honest. Mike stared at you like someone waking from a dream, “I-” The words failed him. Because the truth was too big. Too dangerous.

His hands slowly released you. Then he stepped back, once, twice. The distance felt wrong immediately. Like something vital had been ripped away. But his training screamed louder than his heart, “You’re about to marry a prince,” he said quietly.

His voice sounded distant even to himself, “I just disobeyed a royal command.”

“Mike-”

“I shouldn’t have done that.” But the way he said it betrayed him, because he didn’t sound regretful. He sounded terrified of how much he didn’t regret it. Mike turned before he could lose the last thread of control he had left, and walked away.

Night had fallen by the time Mike reached your chambers. He had spent hours trying to convince himself not to come. Trying to return to being the knight he had been that morning. But every time he closed his eyes he remembered the kiss. The way you had looked at him afterward. The way he had almost stayed. So eventually he gave up. And came anyway.

He was still wearing full armour, because somehow that felt safer. A reminder of who he was supposed to be. Mike knocked softly. A moment later the door opened. You stared at him, “…Mike?”

You guide him into your room, he looked exhausted. His hair slightly disheveled, armour still gleaming under the dim hallway light, “I came to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For earlier.”

Your expression changed immediately, frustration flickered across your face, “You’re apologizing for kissing me?”

He was, that’s what he should be apologising for, but in his heart, he was only sorry for walking away. Mike looked down, “I shouldn’t have-”

“For Gods sake Michael-”

Before he could react, you grabbed the strap across his chest, Mike froze, “…what are you doing?”

“You’re impossible.”

You yanked the buckle loose, the sound of metal shifting filled the room. Mike went completely red, you’re angry at him but you’re… undressing him? “Your Highness-”

“Stop calling me that right now.” You shoved his shoulder armor aside, “Your entire life is just armor, isn’t it?”

Mike looked panicked.

“Physically and emotionally apparently.” Another buckle came loose. Metal clattered softly as a piece of armor dropped onto the floor.

“Wait-”

“You walk around pretending you don’t want things,” Another strap came undone, “you can’t just let everyone else decide how you’re allowed to feel.”

Mike’s brain had completely stopped functioning, he was listening, but the physicality of it all had heat crawling up his neck, “You aren’t- aren’t uhm- supposed to help knights… undress,” he said weakly.

“You kissed me in a hallway.”

“That was- a tactical error.”

“You’re a tactical error.” Another piece of armor fell away.

Mike looked increasingly flustered, not just because you were standing very close now, but because your hands kept brushing his shoulders… his chest… the edge of his collar. Every touch sent his thoughts spiraling.

“You should stop,” he said quietly. But he didn’t move away, the last heavy plate slipped free.

Mike was left standing there in the softer underlayer beneath the armor, suddenly looking much less like an untouchable knight and much more like the boy who had sworn himself to you years ago.

Your hands paused, and suddenly the anger faded, because Mike looked wrecked. His eyes were bright. His breathing uneven. “You shouldn’t want this,” he said quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m your knight.”

“And?”

Mike shook his head slightly, “You deserve someone who can stand beside you.”

“You’ve been standing beside me since the day we met.”

Mike swallowed hard, your hand moved to his face. He froze.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” you said softly, “And you’re still hiding behind armor.”

Something inside him broke, Mike kissed you again. But this time it was different. Slower. More desperate. The kiss quickly deepened. And suddenly, Mike’s breath hitched. Your hand brushed his cheek. And you felt it. Warm. A tear slipped down his face.

He didn’t stop kissing you. Didn’t pull away. But his shoulders trembled slightly as another tear followed. Your heart twisted painfully, you pulled back just enough to look at him, “Mike…”

His voice was barely a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

His forehead pressed against yours, “For wanting you this much.” Another tear slipped free.

Then slowly, Mike pulled back, just enough to look at you. There was something different in his expression now. Not panic. Not fear. Something more… determined. Your hands either side of his face, tenderly brushing away tears.

“Mike?” you said softly.

He hesitated, then stepped away from you. For a moment he just stood there like he was arguing with himself. Then dropped to one knee.

You sighed, “Mike, you really have to stop doing that-”

But something about this felt different. He wasn’t bowing his head the way he usually did. His heart was racing so hard you could practically see it in the tightness of his chest. His hands weren’t steady. And then, he reached into the pocket on the chest of the simple tunic he’d wore under the armour. Your confusion grew.

“…what are you doing?”

Mike swallowed. When he pulled his hand back out, something small rested in his palm. A ring. Simple. Not gold. Not jeweled. Just a narrow band of dark metal, carefully shaped and polished. You stared at it, there was that burn in your nose, the welling in your eyes, the ache in your heart.

Mike’s voice came out quiet and unsteady, “I know I can’t offer you what the prince can.”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t have kingdoms to give you.” His thumb brushed nervously over the metal ring, “I don’t have alliances or armies or political advantages.” His voice softened, “All I have is… this.”

He lifted the ring slightly, “It’s from my armor. I reshaped the metal years ago,” he admitted quietly.

“Years?”

Mike’s ears turned red, “I didn’t know if I’d ever… find the courage to use it.” He paused. “I just needed it to exist.” He finally looked up at you, his expression was open in a way you had never seen before. Completely unguarded.

“I can’t promise you power,” he said, “But I can promise you something else.” His voice steadied slightly now, “Wether you accept me or not, as long as you’ll let me, I will love you in ways that have nothing to do with crowns or titles.”

Your chest tightened.

“I will fight for you.” His fingers closed slightly around the ring, “I will stand beside you when the world turns against you.” His breath shook, “And I will never stop choosing you.”

He looked down briefly, “But if you wish for me to leave you be, I’ll still guard you.” A small pause, “Even if you marry someone else.”

Your heart nearly broke hearing that. Mike looked back up at you. Still kneeling. Still offering the small ring made from the armor he had worn to protect you.

Sir Michael Wheeler, the knight who had spent months kneeling in obedience, knelt for a completely different reason now. Offering the only thing he truly had. His heart.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

With that, you kissed him, you felt him hesitate like he couldn’t believe it. And when he placed the ring on your finger with trembling hands, you told him you loved him too.

Knowing that this was the best disobedience either of you had ever committed.

[vrsey]

more college!mike headcanons

-you write college mike perfectly

college!mike wheeler headcanons II

──────────── ‘★ mike w. x reader ⸝⸝. pt1

college!mike wheeler who will send you pictures of things that remind him of you throughout the day, followed by an “i found you again” text (it’ll usually range from something like a pretty leaf on the sidewalk to a lipstick stain you’d left on his mug)

college!mike wheeler who can’t stand a moment without touching you. if you’re anywhere near him, he’ll have an arm around your waist, a hand on your shoulder, his fingers warming your side beneath your shirt, his chin in your neck—he clung to you like sweat on a hot summer day, and he was just as annoying.

college!mike wheeler who purposely feigns exhaustion when he gets home from class because he knows you put on that sweet voice and hold him when he’s tired (you know he’s pretending, you like it too) and he gets his princess treatment

college!mike wheeler who sends you instagram reels every five seconds with “🤣🤣🤣🤣” ironically because he likes pissing you off

college!mike wheeler who loves domesticity. he likes doing laundry with you while wearing old, tattered pajamas, he likes the quiet crackling of eggs on a pan in the morning along with your quiet hums, he likes seeing your reflection beside him while you brush your teeth together. In these moments he can only stare at you and think holy shit, he wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of his life

college!mike wheeler who still uses snapchat just to send you selfies with the most atrocious filters on (it’s always somehow when you’re pissed off already. opening your snap to find a picture of your chud loser boyfriend is truly the cherry on top.)

college!mike wheeler who likes taking the long route home. he’ll drive around to that cafe you both spoil yourselves at anytime you see it, he’ll point out that one tree you both would meet at during your first semester, maybe the bus stop you’d met at— it’s like he’s micro dosing dopamine when he sees it. the memories are too precious not to look back on, he takes the opportunity anytime you’re in the car with him.

college!mike wheeler who treasures intimacy. you’ll never catch him using you as relief, never. now, maybe if you’re both drinking a little more wine than you should and you’ve got each other in a syrupy and overly affectionate mood, he makes that exception. but if he’s pissed off because of some paper? maybe a little stressed? he’d rather pick up smoking than get you in bed despite your reassurance that you didn’t mind.

college!mike wheeler who can either be a poet or a fucking moron. you’ll be on the subway with mike beside you obliviously blasting instagram on full volume, family guy funniest moments booming from his phone for the world to hear— then, that same week he’d read you the most well articulated thesis statement you’ve ever heard. he’s truly an enigma.

college!mike wheeler who doesn’t play about fortnite. you’ve never seen someone so driven at something they’re so bad at.

college!mike wheeler who is definitely a cat person.

college!mike wheeler who rarely argues. he’s craving wings tonight— oh, you want spaghetti? he hasn’t had pasta in a while anyways! overstimulated at a party? pfff he’s got a paper due tomorrow, might as well head out. mad at him for not doing the laundry? totally his fault, he’ll buy you dinner for the rest of the month. he folds under zero pressure, he wouldn’t dream of raising his voice or frustrating you any further, so why not just comply? happy future-wife happy life

✎𓂃 vrsey’s note … hi guys i’m back yayay! sorry if these aren’t much, i spent like two days trying to think of things ( ﾉД`) i have other hc requests to work on as well as a tonnn of unfinished drafts so hopefully i can get these out, i appreciate and love u guys so so much i missed you kisskiss!!!! ( *˘ ³˘) reqs open, esp for hcs hehe ! also posting this at 12 am, sorry for any typos

💌: @adygrace @someonessupersecretspam @onlinegutz @urofficialstalker @pier4clairofangirl @loonylups @jah0da @itsmetay @fuckodfff @mikewheeler123 @elomavola @glokkitty @dontmentionitseriouslyy

[cherrypickedwords]

reader who works at the mall at a clothing store and mike who works at the video and trading card game store, running over to ask for change and stumbling over his words like an idiot while the pretty cashier is breaking is 100

[cherrypickedwords]

hello! sorry for the delay on my second upload, currently a little over 5,000 words in and i’m not sure i love what i have, so i might scrap and start over, but until then im posting a little mood board for you all based on the WIP for secretly nerdy cheer reader , ignore the mature content label there is no mature content 😭

[doublewheelrr]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ WITH YOUR GENTLE SPIRIT, I AM NOT AFRAID

<33# daphy’s note: i refer to mike as a knight in this because i unfortunately don’t know enough about dnd to call him by his role which is the paladin and i wanted to be semi accurate (not like i know much about knights either), i wish i could play dnd but all my friends are lame and its so extensive 💔 this was honestly an excuse for me to nerd out about zelda and percy jackson while also writing about my bf okay anyways reqs open as always

<33# warnings/content: reader is based on botw princess zelda and mike is based on link except he’s got a big ass mouth (WHERE MY ZELDA BITCHES AT PLZ FOLLOW ME IF YOU LIKE TLOZ AND ST), this honestly could be an au of the mean gf reader bc the reader is mean as hell to mike in this (she’s under a lot of pressure plz cut her some slack), reader is also kinda insufferable and makes stupid decisions ngl (girlfailures stand up). also i got the title from the song elephant by boa so plz listen to that while reading

<33# wc: 3.0k

<33# IN WHICH your father, the King of Northhelm, sends you on a journey with your new appointed knight, Mike the Brave.

𝓨OU WERE PROBABLY IN THE RUNNING FOR WORLD’s WORST PRINCESS. All your other princess friends from neighboring royal families were on fast tracks to discovering the cure to a disease, creating new spells, getting married and ruling two kingdoms at a time.

What were you doing?

Lugging around a knight with arms too long for his body and a sword that weighed more than him on what’s supposed to be a journey of self discovery and the pathway to salvation.

“Hey! Wait up!” You heard the breathless pants of your knight come from behind you. You only sped up, continuing your way down the dirt forest path with your horse trailing beside you.

This was the worst. Ever.

You came from a long line of princesses, queens, and noblewomen who all had an innate ability inside them. Everyone in your lineage was the direct descendant of this super powerful goddess, her name you never bothered to remember because she’s never done anything for you. When you turned sixteen, it was your turn to unlock her gift bestowed upon you long before your conception.

The problem is, you are now eighteen, and still absolutely gift-less. You tried everything. Meditation, prayer, eating random forest flowers, running around in the rain (multiple times). Nothing worked and you never felt more useless.

Your father, King of Northhelm, in an attempt to give you a final push towards unlocking the kingdom’s gift your gift, sent you away into the outskirts of the brick walls you’ve known since forever. In typical father fashion, telling you to figure it out and dusting his hands clean of you until you were of use.

“Hey, it’s typical for the knight to walk ahead of the princess instead of the opposite… Y’know, so I can protect you.” You hadn’t even realized he caught up to you.

“You are hardly a knight, that’s for one.” You snarled, which you were told was pretty unprincesslike, “And I don’t need protection from some scrawny village boy who’s getting a cut from my father!”

“I’m not getting paid…” Mike mumbled to himself, you completely ignored him and continued to stomp along the path in your expensive boots.

“It’s all just so stupid, y’know?” Mike knew that was a rhetorical question, you obviously weren’t interested in his opinion.

“I mean, you wouldn’t know. You just think of me as some useless damsel. Well, I’ll have you know that you are sorely mistak—“ You were abruptly cut off by Mike putting a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet.

You scoffed offendedly, “Who are you to shush me?”

Mike was on high alert now, he unsheathed his sword and with his other arm, he grabbed you and dragged you over behind a tree.

Mike kept his arm over your shoulders and pressed his chest against your back, “Don’t move, please.” He whispered into your ear.

You held your breath, scared that if you did breath, it would sync up with Mike’s in your ear. You hadn’t even heard anything in the distance, but he had.

You two watched from the shadows as large, slimy monsters crossed the path you were just on. Demogorgons. Your father told you about them, how they have the faces of flowers, yet they aren’t nearly as delicate as one. You remember bedtime stories about how their diet consisted of disobedient little princesses (you wondered if that was still true).

“A demogorgon…” You spoke quietly, to yourself or Mike, you didn’t really know. “I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“We have to kill them all the time at the academy.” Mike responded. You could feel the calm beating of his heart. He wasn’t nervous in the slightest.

You tried your best to pay attention to the monsters only a few feet away and not the warmth coming from the boy behind you. You felt the soft brush of Mike’s hair against your cheek, he was resting his chin on your shoulder. How inappropriate for a knight to be this close to a princess?

A feeling bubbled at the bottom of your stomach. You didn’t know if it was fear or embarrassment or desire. They were all the same, maybe.

You decided it would be embarrassment. What sort of future ruler couldn’t even detect a monster that was less than ten feet away from her?

You spent years in classrooms and cooped up in the palace studying these creatures, studying techniques to take them down. And yet, when the time came to apply it, you couldn’t. Just like how you couldn’t unlock your powers.

Anger built in your chest. You furrowed your brows and shoved Mike off of you, him making a noise of protest and surprise.

You snatched Mike’s sword out of his other hand and marched towards the monsters. You would prove to him and your father and this stupid goddess you didn’t need a protector. You would be the protector. Of yourself, your kingdom, and Mike too.

“Princess!” Mike called out frantically, chasing after you.

You ignored his pleas not to get close to them. Admittedly, you didn’t know what to do at all. You hadn’t so much as held a sword, let alone fought a real monster with one. If Mike’s scrawny ass was able to do it, it couldn’t be that hard, right?

Wrong. You tried to lift the sword, only realizing it didn’t just look heavy, it was extremely fucking heavy. You attempted to swing once and got put on your ass by one of the demogorgons. It roared in your face, goo flying everywhere.

You flinched away, your arms crossing in front of your face in a lousy attempt to protect yourself (similar to your sorry ass attempt to kill three demogorgons by yourself).

You waited for your impending doom for a couple seconds, but it never came.

You heard grunts and the cries of the demogorgons. Cracking open your eyes, you were met with Mike, fully clad in his clunky silver uniform, sword drenched in thick monster blood that matched the splatters on his face. He was panting, his eyes filled to the brim with some indiscernible emotion. You stopped breathing.

“Mike…” You forced yourself to speak, it felt like the only word you could say was his name.

He turned towards you, the anger in his face immediately melted away and was replaced by a softer expression. You realized he looked at you like that a lot.

“Princess!” He ran towards you, “Are you alright? Can you walk?” Mike immediately knelt down beside you, his hand coming to move stray hairs out of your face.

“I’m… I’m fine!” You huffed, trying your best to calm your aching heart, your eyes shifted from his long nose to his sharp cheeks and pretty lips. You wondered what was his blood and what was demogorgon blood. That would’ve been your blood on him if he was a moment too late.

“Don’t lie to me,” He said sternly, your heart skipped a couple beats, “It’s my duty to make sure you’re okay, I need to know the truth.”

You rolled your eyes, “Your duty? Because you were appointed by my father?”

Mike looked genuinely confused, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Him in your face saying these things with his calloused hands brushing the dirt from your cheeks was just too much. As a royal, you were taught from birth your title came before all. Before fun, before friendship, before anyone. That meant you were destined to be within arms length of everyone, even your family.

Mike was the first person to ever get this close to you, to be this affectionate with you. You felt dizzy and sick and smitten all at once.

Your first instinct was to pull away from him, to shove him far, far away and snap that you didn’t need his help. You weren’t some prissy princess, and you weren’t a failure.

But maybe, you could be soft with Mike because he was the only one to be soft with you.

You shook your head no, knowing if you tried to speak you’d probably embarrass yourself even more. Mike simply nodded and lifted you up in his arms. He whistled and you watched your horse come running (which you forgot was there, what a terrible owner you were).

“It’s almost sunset, we’ll find somewhere to sleep for tonight, yeah?” Mike asked, a less than professional smile on his face. You nodded again, unable to make direct eye contact with him.

Mike set you on the saddle and came behind you to pull the reins. The warmth of his chest pressed against yours again. It was weird to feel so warm and safe out of nowhere after years of being cold. You don’t even think you realized you were so, so cold before.

Eventually, Mike pulled your horse's reins to stop at a clearing in the darkened, dense forest you were traveling through. You recognized this place from somewhere deep in your memory, you just couldn’t place it.

In front of you was a huge pond, more like a fountain. A large stone rock with familiar symbols carved into it stood tall behind the pond and from atop it, clear water gushed into the pool below. Flowers and multicolored rocks scattered the ground. You watched Mike’s eyes follow the fishes and creatures swimming in the water.

As you were watching Mike’s attention get held up by something else other than you (which was foreign to you, having had the knight in your orbit for years now), you noticed a gushing scar on his chin. It was caked in blood, his or a demogorgon’s, you weren’t sure.

“Mike, your chin,” You croaked out, “Let me bandage it.”

You reached up to touch the gash on his chin, half expecting him to flinch away. But he didn’t, he simply kept his eyes trained on yours and let you touch him.

“I’m sure it looks worse than it is, princess.” He tried to reassure.

“You may be a hotshot knight, but last time I checked I give the orders around here, yes?” You corrected him in your usual condescending princess voice.

It seemed like the knight academy in Mike forced him to stand straighter and nod on command. You smiled in triumph and ushered him to sit next to you on the waterlogged stones surrounding the fountain.

As you were dressing Mike’s scar, all you could pay attention to was the looming statue of the goddess on top of the spring. She watched over you two with what felt like a disapproving glare. You were never meant to get this close to someone, to experience something as intimate as nursing him back to health.

You sighed, listening to the gargling of the water cycling through the spring. It hurt being here, seeing the statue that stood atop it molded from stone.

“What’s the sighing for, princess?” Mike asked, his eyes had been on you the entire time. Flickering over your body to make sure you were really okay now.

“You wouldn’t understand.” You huffed, pulling Mike’s face closer to yours to make sure all the blood was off of his freckled skin.

He looked like a god in this lighting, it was close enough to the one carved in stone nearby.

“Why do you keep saying that?” Mike questioned, the stern, “knight-like” tone came back to his voice, “Why won’t you let me understand?”

“You want to?” You asked in genuine confusion. No wit, no callousness.

Mike was the first person to ever try to understand, you realized. You were so used to people having their preconceived notions of the failed princess that you never wanted to make an effort to get them to understand you.

“Everyone deserves to be understood. What makes you so different?” The same hand he used to hold his sword came to cover the hand you had on his face. His palms were much softer than you thought.

“I’m not meant to be understood.” You said quietly, like if you spoke any louder the goddess would hear you, “That’s just the way it is.”

Mike leaned in nearer, if that was even possible. The clanking of his armor alerting nearby critters, forcing them to scurry away in alert. The goddess inside you wanted to keep your distance, but the person inside of you wished to fuse souls with Mike, to get impossibly close to him.

“Then, will you let me be different with you, princess? That way I don’t have to understand, we can both be misunderstood together.” He breathed out the question, like it was natural for him to say these things.

His long hair fell around his armored shoulders and shielded his eyes from yours. You didn’t need to see them clearly to know he was being disgustingly sincere. That was the problem, he could only ever be honest with himself, with you. It just made everything all the more real.

“Don’t call me princess,” You tried to diffuse the tension, “I have a name.”

“It’s unprofessional to call a royal lady by her name.” The light from the goddess statue made Mike’s nervous smile shine brighter than all three suns that shined in the sky during the day.

“Calling me [Name] is unprofessional but pressing up against me is not?” You laughed for the first time in a long, long time when Mike’s face became as bright as the red apples your horse was currently munching on.

He stammered, “To protect you! I never meant to make you uncomfortable, believe me—“ He flailed his hands around, resisting the urge to grab your shoulder that was so close to his.

Your hysterical laughing only cut his rambling off, “I’m not uncomfortable, Mike.”

A dorkish grin took over the boy’s face. It made you notice just how young Mike was. You both were the same age, of course. You grew up watching him and his friends run around the knight academy as you were escorted to another panel, another treaty signing, another etiquette class.

You heard the whispers of “Mike the Brave,” the young knight who was rumored to be the chosen one, with his big sword bestowed upon him by the king himself.

But sitting here, with your knees touching, your soft breaths leaving your lungs and entering his, you realized that under all of the “chosen knight” murmurs, Mike was just a boy. A boy devoted to protecting you. A fact that used to make your face burn hot with indignation.

Now, it felt like a comfort, like being fed warm soup in the middle of Northhelm winters.

“I’m glad, [Name].” Mike hesitated at your name, but eventually he pushed it out his mouth.

You liked how it sounded coming from him. He wasn’t addressing you as some otherworldly entity like everyone else, he talked to you like a person.

“Prin—“ Mike started, he corrected himself quickly, “[Name], I want you to know something.”

At this point, you finished dressing Mike’s chin. The white bandages were stained red from his blood, so were your finger tips. You tried to pull back from him, but Mike wouldn’t let you. He gripped your hand on his face tighter, not forceful, but like he needed your touch. Like it wasn’t the bandage helping his wound, it was you.

“I’m not doing this for the kingdom. I’m not doing this because your father appointed me on this mission.”

“Then what are you doing it for, Mike?”

“I’m doing it for you.” Mike proclaimed, like it was the most logical thing in the world, “All the king’s knight stuff… It means nothing to me. I’ve worked so hard to get here, to become Mike the Brave just to be close to you.”

You wanted to take his sword and slash him for daring to say something like that to you. How could he look you in the face, in all your failure, and say something like that to you? How could he think you were worthy of that?

“You’re a liar and a lousy knight, Mike.” You frowned, trying to wrap your head around it all. Around his words and touch.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, [Name]. But I am no liar. It’s in the oath I took to be true to you.” Mike moved his hands to your face now, holding you in a way full of unfamiliarity and affection.

You wracked your brain for the line in the knight oath where it commanded them to be honest always. Then you realized.

“Not the knight’s oath. My oath to you.” Mike watched the realization hit your face with a slight smile. It wasn’t a smug smile, it was true.

Mike didn’t need to explain anything else. You were suddenly overcome with an overwhelming feeling. Fear and embarrassment and desire, all cycling through you at once. You didn’t want to choose one this time, you understood now they were all the same.

You kissed Mike before the goddess watching could intervene. Mike’s hands trailed over your entire body, in places where no one ever touched. Your neck, shoulders, down your arms and around your waist. He sighed into the kiss, he tasted like relief.

Kisses always felt transactional to you. Being a royal, romance was an economic opportunity. You watched your friends get married off, receiving cheek kisses in the form of golden coins and a fresh new empire to rule over.

But Mike’s lips, his kiss, his romance wasn’t anything like what you would have imagined. It was desperate but not invasive. He let you lead when you wanted, pushed you a little more if you wanted the backseat. This wasn’t something you could study in a handbook or during a fencing class.

You pulled away first, giggling slightly when Mike’s lips chased after yours. You brought your hands to run through his bangs, moving them out of his line of sight. His eyes were so bright as dark as they were.

“Say you won’t leave me, ever.” You demanded, hopeless that this moment wouldn’t last beyond this journey, “Please, Mike.”

“I promised to live by my oath even beyond the end of my days,” Mike leaned into your touch, his breath shallow as his eyes flickered around your face, “My dying heart will beat for you. You know that.”

You did know. And that was enough for you.

taglist!! @vanillaberrimade @myleftnutsack @pissylivvie @pl4yboybunny @chloereadss @harrysguccihandbag @minsingular

[cherrypickedwords]

hello! i’ve posted the first chapter of my paladin mike au that you all voted on, hopefully i’ll begin work on the other fic from my poll soon, thank you so much for all of the support on that, both of the options were super close at the end!

i’m sorry the first chapter of the paladin au is so short, but u was to see if people are enjoying it before i dive head on to the ideas i have! this is my first time writing publicly or running a blog of this kind, so im taking things sort of slow:)! i’ll try to be as active as possible but i do still have university and work to attend to, so im not sure how frequently ill be able to write significant chunks for text, so if people do enjoy or don’t mind the shorter chapters let me know! anyways i hope the rest of your day/ night is lovely, thanks for reading my rant!

[cherrypickedwords]

𝕭𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔓𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 - Paladin! Mike Wheeler x Princess! reader

Warnings -use of y/n, no description of skin color/ hair texture, though the reader is described as pale in a sickly/ creepy way. Slow burn, not proofread, nothing else im particularly aware of, let me know if you see something you think I should add a warning for.

𝕮𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝕺𝔫𝔢 - A Moonless Night

Inside the glittering moonstone walls of the Hawk’s Isle castle, a lavish celebration takes place for the 5,000th anniversary of the countries salvation by the moon goddess. Commoners mix with Nobles, Priests, Royalty, and wealthy traders from across the globe until the wee hours of the morning underneath an empty sky. They dance, feast, and drink themselves silly, while the nation’s princess solemnly prays in the gardens. Her loyal knight, Micheal, a few paces behind her, the tip of his holy blade digging into the exposed soil between gaps in the cobblestone path. It was now nearing midnight, and the sacred spring surrounding the pedestal that blade once rested in, and the statue looming over it, that on any other night would appear to hold the moon in her delicate hands, was beginning to freeze in small sections. Regardless, the princess did not waver in her prayer. She kept her hands clasped tightly to her bust, head craned towards the new moon, whispers of a language long lost to most leaving her mouth in wisps of white, merging with the wind to reach the heavens. She repeats incantations until her feet are numb, the water has soaked so far into her clothes that her gown has tripled its weight, and the cold has seeped so far into her body her chest burns.

Every few generations, the royal family of Hawk’s Isle has a daughter who is born under a new moon, and is said to wield extraordinary magic, that can only be mastered through incredible devotion and endless worship. Princess y/n was born under a new moon, with frightfully pale skin, and a bizarre calm about her, so much so the wet nurse who aided in her delivery thought for a moment she had died during birth. She remains so to this day, the perfect example of poise, intelligence, and grace. Her calm presence and quiet nature giving her an ethereal, almost eerie presence. Or, so thinks the rest of the world. Micheal knew better, carrying the burden of blessing himself, having pulled the sacred blade of the moon goddess’ will from its pedestal in a rush effort to defend the princess from an attack when they were young, was quickly appointed as her personal guard. In the following years in constant proximity, he has learned the princess is a lot more… troubled, than she lets on.

“DAMMIT!” She cried out suddenly after hours of quiet prayer, her fists hitting the springs surface so violently the ripples it sent cracked the forming ice sheets.

“I’ve been here for hours. I’m exhausted, freezing, my prayer garments are completely drenched; I’m hungry and miserable. But everyone else gets to party? What a load of shit.” Y/n grumbles, slowly dragging herself out of the water, layers of silk, beads, lace, cotton, and gems falling back to her form as they leave the waters surface. When she escaped the water and began to wring as much water as she could from her soiled clothes, she let her sights fall on her knight.

“Micheal.” She starts as he twists his neck to meet her gaze (or so he thinks. For all he knows she doesn’t even have eyes under all the adornments on her head).

“… yes, your highness?”

“You pray quite a lot, no?”

“I try, your highness.”

“What do you pray for?”

“Well- a great many things, I suppose. My friends and family, mostly. My sister, Nancy, is of age, and has several suitors. I’m praying whoever she chooses treats her well, and pays a fair dowry.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” The princess responds absentmindedly, “Tell me then, paladin, do you think the moon goddess hears our prayers?” Her head tilts slightly and the great many beads, jewels and chains on her headdress clink together.

Caught off guard the Knight’s lips part slightly, but no words come out. After several minutes he lifts his head, and gazes reverently at the statue. “I’d like to think so.” He speaks softly into the air, his response like a prayer in itself. After a moment he returns his attention to y/n. “Is..everything alright your majesty?” He asks her, the sweet concern in his voice is sickeningly soft, it makes her stomach churn.

“You don’t always have to call me that, you know. y/n is perfectly fine.” She mutters back, sounding almost offended, dropping her hands back to her sides. Her pouty response eliciting somewhere between a huff and a laugh.

“Of course Ms. y/n. And, for the record, I too think it rather ridiculous you must worship during festivities.”

“Thank you! It is! Now, come along, I desperately need a meal, and a hot bath.” The princess complained, as she begins to trudge forward, grabbing what fabric she could in a futile attempt to make the long walk back to the castle more bareable. It was a ridiculous, really. Since the princess was but an infant she’s never been seen without a tremendous amount of fabric and embellishments. Not even her hair, eyes or hands were exposed, on rare occasions her mouth may be without cover, but that was the extent. Micheal swears he remembers a time which he saw her, when they were very, very young, scampering around the servant’s quarters after escaping her dressing maids, but everyone he’s told had dismissed it as a dream.

After close to an hour the princess finally felt the warm embrace of a hot bath chasing the cold’s bite from her spent frame. From the window in her bathing chamber she was able to see the moon goddess’ statue, the colossal stone monument mocking her from a distance. The princess sighs, glancing at the door, right on the other side of which stood Micheal, who seemingly slipped into his role so perfectly, it makes her feel like crawling in a hole and returning herself to the earth to leave another to come solve the ancient riddles left between her and whatever magical ability she was allegedly granted. Like Jane, a wonderful mage, and the daughter of the Island’s navy captain, surely she’d have this figured out by now. ‘Whatever’ y/n thinks, as she sinks her head in the water, before immediately returning to the spiral. Jane was already close with Micheal anyways. She and him has some sort of courtship in the past. They’re probably closer than y/n could ever be to him. He’s probably sick of following her around by now. He probably wants her to hurry up and finish with her stupid bath so he can retire for the night and go she her and all his other friends. She remembers them faintly too. An impressive artificer already apprenticing in the blacksmiths shop, another knight who has great accuracy with his bow and arrow and has made his way to be a ranger on the navy’s ships, a cleric that she often sees in the library, reading ancient texts, a girl either exceptional speed of wit and horse-riding, and of course, Jane. Who was lovely, really, they’d made acquaintance more than once, and the girl is frighteningly sweet but, the princess can’t help but feel a sense of bitterness at how naturally her own magic comes to her. Really, y/n is no slack herself, she knows perhaps every spell the average mage could possibly need, it’s just the one that really matters evades her. Eventually when the princess feels her lungs start to burn she pulls her head back out of the water, and tries to quiet her mind, staring down at her fingers which still have a hue of purple.

When the sun peeks out from the horizon y/n drags herself out of the tub, lingering rose petals and lavender buds sticking to her soapy skin as she drags her body to the bell to summon a maid, who appears promptly with a towel, her night garments, a warm cup of tea, and a group of knights to relieve Micheal of his position for the night. The princess watches Micheal’s head disappear behind the door crack silently from her position in the corner as the maid approaches her. She returns to her bed as the sun begins to hang in the sky, tucking her knees into her chest, curling herself as tight as possible and boring holes into the intricate gold stitching on one of her pillows until the weight of her eyelids felt too much to bear.

a/n - this is my first time posting my writing, criticism is welcome! This series pulls inspiration from Legend of Zelda, Dune, Genshin Impact and more but you do not need to have interacted with any of these medias understand / enjoy this series. This chapter is sort of short to just gauge the reception for this au, if you have any questions or comments feel free to send an ask/ anon, or comment/ dm:)

[tonspresso]

PALADIN!MIKE HEADCANNONS

contains: afab reader, smut, public sex, kinda (?) forbidden love trope, fluff, slight submissive mike

paladin!mike would sneak over to his dear princess’ balcony to make sweet love to her right there and every part of her room. every corner of your room has a reminder of you and him in various positions that you always fail to forget each time you’re alone and missing him.

paladin!mike who gets jealous and sulky when he sees you being courted by different princes to win for your affection.

paladin!mike is the type to get so turned on everytime he sees his princess in pretty night gowns that compliments her features and lets you leave it on when he fucks you.

paladin!mike would bring you flowers and sweet treats everytime he goes out on trips.

paladin!mike would be the type to press kisses along your neck and back everytime you ask him to tie the ribbons of your corsets and dresses.

paladin!mike who’d be so flushed and hot when you offer to massage his sore body and treat his wounds after his trainings and fights. he’d melt when you kiss and gently touch his wounds.

paladin!mike could literally fuck you against the tree after your afternoon stroll with him. he couldn’t even care less how risky it is.

paladin!mike who got so shy when you offered to bathe together as if he wasn’t inside you minutes ago. your back pressed against his chest as you hum songs that almost lull him to sleep.

paladin!mike who yearns for your attention and follows around you like a lost puppy.

paladin!mike who swears to run away with you because he can’t stand seeing you marrying someone else other than him.

this is my first time doing headcannons so apologies for any mistakes 🥲🥲 i fear the world needs more paladin!mike x princess/maiden!reader fics so i decided to put into hands and do it because i #needthat real bad

[vrsey]

ꨄ︎ ゛ college!mike texts IV

‘★ mike w. x reader ⸝⸝⸝

no use of y/n, mikes cat, mentions of heated rivalry

more texts yay !! sorry if these are cringe….ive got bad cringe blindness when it comes to texting

taglist: @adygrace @breakingintoheavn @onlinegutz @dontmentionitseriouslyy @laufeysvalentine @aliisabel @akumatizedmuffin @someonessupersecretspam @urofficialstalker @pier4clairofangirl @loonylups @mikewheeler123 @glokkitty

[cherrypickedwords]

𝕸𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

:𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

Mike Wheeler | 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖

by the pale moonlight paladin! mike x princess reader - more parts coming soon

modern mike hcs modern & general mike wheeler headcannons

call my bluff! mike wheeler x transfer student! popular! secret nerd!cheerleader reader! - coming soon

everyone else … coming soon!

a/n i will add tags to this as fics are actually posted i do not wish to flood any tags with an empty master list right now ♡

[cherrypickedwords]

hello! i have a couple of ideas for my first fic to post, all of these will be x reader, and the gender presentation of the reader will likely lean more feminine, but as i get more comfortable i am open to ships & more gender neutral (or possibly even male leaning or male) readers in the future, so please do not let that discourage you from feeling welcome in my blog | 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖

here are the fic ideas i’m considering to be my first wip /post and some accompanying blurbs so you can see the vision:

1. a paladin! mike wheeler x princess! reader - series that would possibly include blurbs, hcs, and oneshots

mike is the readers personal knight, in the kingdom of Hawk’s Isle, a thriving, isolated kingdom that worships the goddess of the moon. The Mysterious, eerie princess of Hawk’s Isle is known across the land for her rumored beauty, and foretold magic. She is often found wandering the palace gardens at night, praying to the statue of the mood goddess. her knight dutifully marching behind her. Under this moonless twilight, on she turns to him to ask “Tell me then, Paladin, do you think the moon goddess hears any of our prayers?

this series would draw inspiration from the legend of zelda breath of the wild and genshin impact for lore and world building, but it would not be necessary for you to have played, or be interested in those games to read and enjoy this series, it may just be that fans of said games would notice and enjoy some easter eggs <3

2. an enemies to lovers mike wheeler x transfer student! popular!cheerleader! reader, but plot twist, the reader is just a weird girl that had a glow up… one shot or series… not sure yet…

the base idea i have for this is the readers father works for the government, and he transfers from Washington, d.c. during the summer of season 3 to come monitor the lab in Hawkins. The reader, dreads her new school, as she was always bullied back home, and had a hard time making friends due to her appearance and nerdy/“boyish” interests (comics, video games, star wars etc.) However, on her first day at Hawkins High school, things are totally different! When she walks in the School’s welcome committee representative, Stacey, greets her, and she’s…nice? she shows the reader to her classes, lets the reader sit at her table at lunch, and invites her to the cheer try outs! the only issue…she seems mostly interested in the readers hair, and outfit… which was supposed to be for a good first day impression only! before the shiny new “transfer” logo wore off and the reader could blend back into the crowd… oh! and the cheer try outs are on the same day as the cool dungeons and dragons club recruitment! :( but… she’s already met the cheer team.. and she’s not being bullied… maybe she should just stick with them? but what happens when things start to feel off in this little town? and… what’s what weird scratching sound?

Which fic should be my first!

paladin mike!

weird girl glow up reader!

Voting ended onFeb 14

thank you to everyone who votes ♡ so excited to get started!