#Richard Armitage is FINE to this day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mistergandalf · 2 years ago

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ULTIMATE TOLKIEN BLORBO MASTERPOST

Who is THE blorbo of the Tolkien fandom here on tumblr dot com? Let's find out!

What are the criteria for voting?

What is a blorbo to you? As Aragorn would say: What does your heart tell you? Therein lies your answer. For me, it's who I'd like the whump the most. Maybe for you it's who is the most shippable. Maybe it's the one that means the most to you for what they represent. Maybe it's your poor little meow meow (looking at you, Angbang lovers). Let your feelings guide you.

Is this only supposed to be about the books, or is it based on any Tolkien-based media?

This is about blorbos. Wherever you found your blorbo, that's fine. If you want to be a book purist about it, you're valid. If you love Thorin Oakenshield simply because Richard Armitage is hot, you are also valid.

***PLEASE ALSO NOTE that my blog is a Rings of Power positive blog! If you don’t like it that’s fine, but if you post negative comments or reblogs on my posts, I will block you! I don’t want negativity in my activity feed, thank you!***

When will polls be posted?

Polls will be posted daily at 12pm EDT (GMT -4), staggered by 5-10 minutes on each poll. There will be a day between final votes as the data will be needed for the next poll!

Schedule is as follows: (Updated because I’m dumb and didn’t realize how many rounds the second chance bracket has)

4/23 - Round One 4/25 - Round Two (Primary Bracket) 4/26 - Round Two (Second Chance Bracket) 4/27 - Round Three (Primary Bracket) 4/28 - Round Three (Second Chance Bracket) 4/30 - Round Four (Second Chance Bracket) 5/2 - Round Five (Second Chance Bracket) 5/4 - Round Six (Second Chance Bracket) 5/5 - Round Four (Primary Bracket) 5/7 - Round Seven (Second Chance Bracket) 5/9 - Round Eight (Second Chance Bracket) 5/10 - Round Five (Primary Bracket) - decides the finalist 5/12 - Round Nine (Second Chance Bracket) - decides the finalist 5/14 - FINAL ROUND - THE ULTIMATE TOLKIEN BLORBO

Check the tag #ultimate tolkien blorbo to see new posts! Feel free to share your thoughts in the tag as well!

I have more questions!

Okay, click the readmore then!

Hey! Why did you pair this character with that character?

Because I spent a whole evening googling how tournament brackets work (I am not a sports person) and then I did a lot of math and sorting.

Okay, but I really want to know!

WELL first I thought: "How can I quantify and rank blorbos?" The answer: AO3. I went into the Tolkien fandom general tag and ranked the first 32 characters by the number of fanfics in which they appear.*

Then I split them by story. I roughly kept Hobbit characters with Hobbit characters, LotR with LotR, and Silmarillion with Silmarillion to keep it as fair as possible and give all corners of the fandom a chance to see their blorbo win. Some characters are in multiple sources, like Elrond or Gandalf, so I tried to keep those characters with someone who is probably just as well-known.**

Then I followed the rules the internet told me about how tournaments work. The highest-ranked character goes with the lowest-ranked character, the second-highest with the second-lowest, etc.

And that's how I did it! It was a fantastic way to waste an afternoon.

*I may have eliminated and/or played with a couple options. Some of these characters had fewer fics than the character "OC," which makes sense. I took off Erestor because literally only Glorfindel stans would choose him, and Glorfindel is on here. I also lumped together Elladan and Elrohir because if you can tell them apart, it's because they're both your blorbos. Tolkien did NOT give them distinct personalities. Also if I didn’t lump them together, I wouldn’t be able to fit Celebrimbor, and that would be a shame.

**Characters who appear in multiple stories had their rankings weighted to account for that fact. I got a C in statistics in college, though, so I frankly have no idea if the way I weighted them is correct, nor do I care, because I'm satisfied with how the rankings turned out.

I don’t like how you did this!

Okay, don’t vote then. Nobody’s making you.

FORTH EORLINGAS! Have fun voting! As Gimli would say... May the best Dwarf win! ;)

Round One [results & analysis]

Round Two [results & analysis]

Round Two (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Round Three [results & analysis]

Bilbo vs. Legolas | Éowyn vs. Frodo | Samwise vs. Elrond | Faramir vs. Fëanor

Round Three (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Round Four (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Aragorn vs. Gimli | Merry vs. Finrod | Boromir vs. Celebrimbor | Pippin vs. Arwen

Round Five (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Aragorn vs. Bilbo | Éowyn vs. Merry | Boromir vs. Elrond | Pippin vs. Fëanor

Round Six (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Aragorn vs. Éowyn | Boromir vs. Pippin

Round Four [results & analysis]

Legolas vs. Frodo | Samwise vs. Faramir

Round Seven (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Éowyn vs. Faramir | Pippin vs. Legolas

Round Eight (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Éowyn vs. Pippin

Round Five [results & analysis]

Frodo vs. Samwise

Round Nine (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Éowyn vs. Frodo

FINAL ROUND

Samwise vs. Frodo

#tolkien #the hobbit #lord of the rings #lotr #the silmarillion #silmarillion #ultimate tolkien blorbo

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legolasbadass · 10 months ago

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Office Hours, Part 31

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague.

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: E

A/N: Hi everyone! It feels like I blinked and suddenly I haven't updated this story in over 7 months, ooops 🙈 I moved abroad and went back to school in September to start a postgraduate degree, so I've had very little time to write over the past few months. I hope you can all forgive me and are still interested in Lorelei and Richard's story! If you are, I've tried to make this chapter extra special... 😈

Before I know it, the spring break is over, and I am drowning in emails, deadlines, and assignments to correct. Thankfully, however, the telltale signs of summer bloom across Oxford as the term unfolds. The air, once crisp, now carries a gentle warmth, accompanied by the hum of bees and the fragrance of blooming flowers along the banks of the River Cherwell, which beckons scholars and locals alike to punting excursions. Days lengthen, inviting late-night strolls through narrow cobblestone streets while the evening sky blends into hues of soft pastels. The fast-approaching exams threaten the leisurely atmosphere of the city, but when I walk through the sunlit streets with Richard’s hand holding onto mine, I feel as though time stands still; there are no exams, no piles of unmarked essays on my desk, and Richard is here, and he is not leaving. Not now. Not ever.

I try to be happy and excited for him—I am—but with each passing day, it becomes harder and harder to imagine being thousands of miles away from each other. But we have many things to look forward to; in a few days, we will officially be on summer holiday, and I will move in with Richard. That is what I need to focus on. His imminent departure looms over us, but it does not change the fact that we love each other and are determined to make this work. A year ago, I was offered a lecturer post at Exeter College. It was more than I had ever dreamed of, and I thought life could not get any better. Little did I know I would meet Richard and fall in love with him. The past few months have been a whirlwind, and it still surprises me how fast things have progressed between Richard and me—how quickly he has come to mean the world to me. The thought of losing him terrifies me, but we have been through so much already, so I have to believe that we can get through this next year.

“Lorelei?” A knock and a familiar rumbling voice pull me back to the present moment.

Richard stands in the doorway to my office, one hand resting against the aged wooden frame as he smiles at me. The unbuttoned collar of his white shirt draws my attention to his throat and the patch of hair peeking through. Just like the first time we met.

“Hey,” I say with a smile.

“Lost track of time?”

“What?”

“It’s half past four.”

“Oh,” I breathe out as I glance at the time on my phone. “Sorry—I completely lost track of time, yeah. Hope you haven’t been waiting for me too long.”

Richard shakes his head as I throw my laptop and notebooks into my bag, then rush to the door, but he blocks the way with his arm. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” I reply, smiling at the concern in his voice. “Just have a lot of things on my mind.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and the tender look in his eyes tells me he is thinking of kissing me, but the hallways are busy with students and professors, all rejoicing at the end of the term.

“Good or bad things?” he asks, his hand lingering on my jaw for a moment longer than it should in this environment.

“A little bit of both,” I reply, but when he merely continues to watch me, I sigh. “There’s still so much to do before the move. I haven’t packed any of my clothes or anything from the kitchen—”

“Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you pack. Don’t worry about that.” I nod and offer him a grateful smile. Then he frowns. “That’s not what’s bothering you.”

Sometimes, I wish he did not know me so well. “It’s just the move combined with research deadlines and all the exams I’ll have to correct in a few days,” I say, not wanting to bring up the true cause of my discomfort. I do not want him to feel guilty—he should be excited about this research opportunity, and he deserves nothing less than my unwavering support. “Have you gotten any news on that flat you were interested in?” I ask a few moments later as I lock the door to my office before walking towards the main staircase, trying to appear unphased.

“Not yet, but it’s still early in Boston so maybe I’ll get some news later.”

“Right,” I say with a smile, but it hits me all over again that we will not only be separated by an ocean but by time as well, and the thought of needing to wait hours for a text or call from him when he wakes up each day claws are my heart.

“So I told Michael about Harvard’s offer.”

“How did he take it?” I ask, knowing this was difficult for him as they have been friends and colleagues for many years.

“He took it well. I mean—it’s not like he could do anything if he didn’t like the idea of me leaving for a year; I’m allowed to take time off from teaching for research. That being said, he told me he was happy for me and that it would be great for the department and the college to have one of their professors working with a famous scholar like Stanley Griffin.”

“Just as great as it is for Harvard to have one of their professors working with you, I imagine,” I say, looking up at him.

Richard chuckles skeptically. “Lorelei, he’s Stanley Griffin.” He speaks the scholar's name almost as if he were talking about Shakespeare himself. “His anthologies are used in most English departments.”

“Well, only one of you is a professor at what is arguably the most prestigious university in the world.”

“I guess,” he replies with a sheepish smile that warms my heart.

The sun burns bright in the sky above the dreaming spires, casting long shadows on the cobblestone beneath our feet as we walk through the main quadrangle toward Broad Street. All around us, students rejoice in their newfound freedom, lounging at cafes, iced coffees in hand, discussing summer plans while cyclists whizz by, their wheels clicking against the cobbled paths.

“I can’t believe it’s so warm and sunny today and we have to spend the whole evening indoors for the staff party,” I groan as I step into Richard’s car, throwing my bag on the backseat.

“We don’t have to go,” he says, closing his door and buckling his seatbelt.

“Of course we have to go.”

“Lorelei, these things tend to be really dull. They call it a party but it’s just a room full of tired academics who’d rather be at home or locked in their offices, and they serve ridiculous canapés that leave you starving at the end of the evening. Although, admittedly, there’s always an open bar.”

“Alright, then let’s stop and get burgers on the way and stay close to the bar for the duration of the not-so-party party.” Richard chuckles as he steers out of the parking spot. “Come on, our presence is expected. And it might be the last time you get to see some of our colleagues before you leave.”

He does not say anything for a while, then he reaches out to squeeze my thigh, and I know he, too, is thinking of the long months of loneliness ahead.

In an attempt to change his mind, I intertwine our fingers and smirk as I say, in a light, sing-songy voice, “I bought a new dress for the occasion that I think you’ll really like. It’s navy, and sleeveless—I just hope it’s not too short…”

Richard shakes his head but fails to hide his smile. “I see what you’re trying to do, sweetheart.” As we stop at a red light, Richard notices my expression and sighs. “Alright, let’s go to the stupid party—but we’re not staying too late.”

***

It took longer than expected to get ready at my flat. Despite agreeing to attend the event, Richard prevented me from getting dressed with languid kisses and lingering caresses, but eventually, we managed to tear ourselves from each other and leave.

The city is submerged in the sun’s golden farewell to the day when Richard and I arrive at an imposing, Jacobean-style mansion near The Queen’s College, and as we walk through the tall wooden doors and into the main hall, I cannot help but gasp and look up at the ceiling high above us, causing Richard to chuckle.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, squeezing my hand as he leads me toward the grand staircase.

I nod. “I think I’d prefer to just walk around the building instead of going to the party,” I begin playfully, but Richard shakes his head.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he says, letting go of my hand to hold my back and push me forward. “You practically dragged me to this thing so you better not leave me for even a second.”

I bite back a smile. “What if I need to go to the loo?”

Richard chuckles. “Okay, you’re not leaving me except to go to the loo.”

The hubbub of conversation and clinking glasses fills the air as we step into the grand room lit by the setting sun and the soft glow of chandeliers hanging from the frescoed ceiling. I spot familiar faces in the crowd while we make our way to the bar, but most people I do not know, so I am grateful for Richard’s reassuring presence, and I already dread having to attend events like these without him next year.

“So here we are,” Richard says dispassionately after we order drinks. “Now do you believe me for saying these things are boring?”

I shake my head in amusement, then bite my lips, suddenly feeling shy.

“What is it, sweetheart? You’re blushing,” he points out with a curious smile.

Hesitantly, I lean in and speak in a soft voice only he can hear. “Would it be less boring if I told you I’m not wearing knickers?”

Richard laughs, but then he catches my eyes and gulps heavily. “Are you—you’re really not—?”

I shake my head, slowly gaining confidence as his eyes darken. He laughs again, the sound deeper and hoarser, telling me exactly how he feels about my styling choice.

“This is a work event!” he playfully chastises me, and I giggle as he brings a hand to my back.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure this party wasn’t too dull for your tastes.”

He smirks. “I now suspect I’ll be feeling unwell or tired rather soon and you’ll have to bring me home earlier than planned.”

“Oh, yes? And how will we spend the rest of the evening once we’re back home?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“Well, for starters, you’ll take off that lovely dress and bend over—”

Heat rises up my neck, and I nearly choke on my drink when, just at that moment, someone calls out to us, forcing us to pull apart suddenly.

“Richard, Lorelei!” Professor Bennett greets us with a kind smile. “I was beginning to wonder if maybe you wouldn’t be joining us.”

Richard glances at me, a cheeky grin illuminating his slightly red face, before turning back to Professor Bennett. “Last-minute outfit crisis,” he replies teasingly, squeezing my waist.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the tingling in my belly caused by his last words to me.

“And this is what you landed on?” Professor Bennett says playfully as he looks Richard up and down, causing me to laugh.

“Well, not everyone has your fashion sense, Michael,” Richard responds with a chuckle.

“Maybe we should start being evaluated on that; that way, I might stand a chance against you and win the teaching award for once.”

Smiling, I look up at Richard and then back at Professor Bennett. “Richard was voted favourite Professor again?”

“He sure was!” he says, raising his glass to Richard.

“How amazing!” I exclaim, momentarily resting my hand on Richard’s chest. “Congrats, love!”

Richard’s grateful smile is made all the more endearing by the faint blush blooming on his cheeks.

“But don’t tell anyone—I haven’t sent out the official announcement yet.”

Professor Bennett then turns to greet a passing colleague, so I lean into Richard. “I know one person who for sure voted for you,” I whisper with a teasing smile, thinking of Jane Taylor and the stars in her eyes when she speaks to him.

“Shut up,” he responds, though he fails to hide his smirk as he pinches my waist, causing me to giggle.

“Hey, there you are!” Natasha’s familiar voice interrupts us, and I turn to see her squeezing her way around a couple of Ph.D. students. We all greet her, but then she notices Richard and seems to hesitate for a second before she says, “Apparently, congratulations are in order!” Richard smiles shyly. “Working with Stanley Griffin—that’s exciting!”

“Yeah, it is,” Richard replies with a nod, though he momentarily tightens his hold on me.

“I must say, thank God for you, Lorelei,” Professor Bennett begins, causing me to frown in curiosity, “under different circumstances, I’d be worried about losing Richard to Harvard forever, but I know as long as you’re in Oxford, he’ll be coming back,” he says with a fond smile.

I chuckle, then try to come up with a playful response, but I cannot ignore the heaviness in my heart. How can I miss him already when he is still here, holding me tight?

Thankfully, Richard steps in. “Don’t worry, Michael, you won’t even get a chance to miss me. I’ll be coming back periodically to check in on my postgrad students—that sort of thing…”

“Yes, sure. For the students, of course,” Professor Bennett says teasingly, and from the corner of my eyes, I notice Richard staring at me longingly, and heat rises to my cheeks.

As they continue to joke around, Natasha catches my eye and gestures for me to follow her. I reassure Richard I will be right back, then step aside, concerned by the frown on her face.

Once we are far enough from the others, she reached out to caress my arm and asks, “How are you feeling?”

I gulp, suddenly understanding her previous hesitation. “I’m fine.”

She nods slowly, biting on her lower lip. “So he’s leaving for a year…”

I nod, struggling to gather the strength to respond in words.

“That must be really tough for you.”

“Yeah, it is, but… we’ll make it work.”

“So you guys aren’t—aren’t breaking up or anything, are you?”

“Oh, no!”

She lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God! When I heard the news earlier today all I could think of was…” She trails off and laughs nervously. “You guys can make it work. I know you can.”

I smile. “Yeah, I hope so.” Then my smile widens. “Actually, I’m moving in with him.”

“Really?” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up in genuine happiness.

“Yes! We want to make the most of the time we have together before he leaves, and this makes it a little easier to reassure ourselves that we’ll get through this together.”

Natasha nods and squeezes my arm. “I’m so happy for you two!”

“Thanks,” I reply, grateful for her friendship. Then I notice Richard eyeing me from the bar, but before I can say anything, Natasha smiles in understanding.

“Alright, go back to your man,” she teases. “I just really wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ll go see if I can find Sarah somewhere.”

I give Natasha a quick hug before making my way back toward Richard, who is now conversing with two men I do not know. As soon as he notices me, he excuses himself from the conversation and, wrapping one arm around my waist, pulls me slightly to the side of the bar, away from prying ears.

“Everything okay?” he asks in concern.

“Yeah, Natasha just wanted to check in and make sure I was alright given… you know…”

Richard nods, then looks down at me with an exaggerated pout. “You left me alone when you said you wouldn’t.”

“So needy,” I tease as I rest a hand against his solid chest, my fingers absently playing with the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. “You were talking with Michael so I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, new rule: when we’re at an event and you tell me you’re not wearing any knickers, you have to stay within arm’s reach.”

I burst out laughing, though heat rises to my cheeks at his rumbled words. “Alright, I can abide by that rule.”

“You better.” He smirks before leaning in to kiss me. His lips are soft and warm against mine, sweetened by the wine he has sipped. I can feel passion simmering deep within him, and when I reluctantly pull away sometime later, all too aware of our surroundings, Richard groans quietly. He then takes one quick glance around the room before leaning in conspiringly. “I think we might be able to sneak out of here for a little bit,” he says in a quiet voice, then gulps, and I am momentarily distracted by the movement of his Adam’s apple. “You know, to explore the building like you wanted.”

“Right. To explore the building,” I repeat, smiling innocently. He finishes his drink in one big gulp, then winks as he takes my hand to lead me out of the crowded room.

The sound of our shoes against the polished stone floor echoes through the long hallway as we search for a more private place to continue the evening, failing to contain our laughter as we try door after door, in vain. We have nearly reached the other end of the building when we finally stumble upon an unlocked door. We cast furtive glances around us to make sure we are alone before slipping inside what turns out to be a small reading room with bookshelf-lined walls and a few rows of desks, illuminated only by the lamposts in the street below. The sweet, earthy scent of aged paper and leather-bound tomes fills the air, but then Richard wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, laughter lingering in his eyes, and the familiar smell of his cologne surrounds me. I can still hear echoes of the party in the distance, but it all disappears when, with a soft smile, Richard leans in to rest his forehead against mine. One of his hands is now tangled in my hair, holding the back of my head and pulling me closer as we share our breath, lingering in this moment, allowing ourselves to pretend that the rest of the world does not exist.

When he finally claims my lips in a hungry kiss, I let my eyes flutter close and, standing on my tiptoes, circle my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to me as I drown in his passionate embrace, content to pretend that my only worry is knowing we will eventually need to pull apart for air. We move against each other out of instinct, ignoring the time and place, fuelled by an evening of flirting and lingering touches and our impending separation. He lets go of my lips to trace a path along my jaw, down my neck toward that sensitive spot below my ear, and the warmth of his tongue combined with the rasp of his beard sends heat spiralling down my spine. My hands are now buried in his hair, tugging on the soft curls, and he groans into my neck before reconnecting our lips.

Without breaking the kiss, he effortlessly lifts me into his strong arms and sets me on one of the desks, spreading my legs apart with his body. Already, I ache for him; heat swirls through me, buzzing incessantly between my legs, and when he squeezes my left thigh with one of his large hands, I cannot help but buck towards him and whimper, the desperate sound of desire echoing through the room.

“Be quiet, sweetheart,” Richard murmurs against my lips, and a rush of arousal floods my core.

As his hand slides higher up my thigh and slips under my dress, I cannot help but chuckle. “Are we really doing this?”

Richard grins. “Don’t act innocent; you knew we’d end up in this situation the moment you decided not to wear knickers.” I giggle into the kiss at the deep, unbridled lust coating his words. “I can’t resist you.”

He pulls away just enough to watch my face as he teasingly slides two fingers over my folds, coating me in my arousal. Biting my lips, I wriggle on the desk to grant him better access, and when his fingertips brush against my clit, the whole room seems to pulse with the intensity of the pleasure tingling through me. Richard knows my body by heart now—he knows exactly where and how to touch me to have me panting in his arms in no time. He sets up a languid pace, alternating between drawing circles on my clit and slipping a long finger inside me, only allowing himself to increase the pace when I latch onto his shoulders, my hands pulling on his tweed blazer. My breath hitches in my throat when he slips two fingers inside me, crooking them and almost instantly finding the spot that has me arching my back and whimpering his name. My legs are now wrapped around him, my thighs pressing into him as he catches my mouth, taking the breath from my lungs and the moans from my lips.

My release washes over me in a dizzying wave, pulsing through every fibre of my being, leaving me hot and panting as I cling to Richard while he continues to pleasure me, not stopping until I collapse in his arms. A car horn echoes in the distance, reminding me of our surroundings. Even so, as I look up to meet Richard’s lust-darkened eyes, desire flares in me again, and the warm weight of his hardness pressing into my inner thigh reassures me that this is far from over. Licking my lips, I raise a hand to teasingly caress him through his trousers, revelling in the whimper he fails to hold back. One of his hands returns to my hair, gently tugging as I slowly reach for his belt buckle—

The door creaks open.

In an instant, Richard and I pull apart, and I hasten to tug my dress back in place and press my thighs together just as a security guard steps inside. His eyes flicker between Richard and me, his expression a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.

“Er, sorry, guys—this room is supposed to be closed. You can’t be in here.”

Too mortified to speak, I turn to Richard, and he smiles sheepishly at the security guard. “Apologies, we didn’t realize. I was just showing her around.”

The security guard nods, then steps back to let us pass. My face burns as we mumble apologies, but he walks away as quickly as he first appeared, leaving us to stand awkwardly outside the reading room.

“I guess we should stick to our offices,” Richard muses playfully.

My heart still hammering in my chest, I look up at Richard, biting my lip, but then my eyes drift down to the noticeable bulge in his trousers, and I burst out laughing.

“That man certainly won’t be losing any sleep trying to decipher what you meant by ‘showing me around’,” I giggle.

Richard looks down and tries, in vain, to adjust his trousers. “Do you think he noticed?”

“Well, I hope for his sake he doesn’t make a habit of staring at strangers’ crotches. But if he does, then yeah, he definitely noticed.”

“It’s all your fault,” he replies with a grin. Laughing, I wrap my arms around him and look up to meet his tender gaze, but he quickly takes my arms and reasserts a more appropriate distance between us. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” I chuckle as I straighten his blazer, not wanting to let go of him.

“Oh, yes—you look very sorry.”

“How about I make it up to you instead?”

Richard grins. “Does that mean we get to go home?”

“Yeah, I think sneaking away sounds like a good plan.”

The ride back to my flat is filled with stolen glances and lingering touches. As soon as we arrive and lock the door behind us, he pulls me in for a passionate kiss, and I melt in his arms. His touch is tender and possessive, and with each kiss, each caress, we reassert our love for each other, surrounded by the boxes that signal the beginning of our new life together.

Tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc @sazzlep @albionscastle

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters or added to my tag list, let me know!

#richard armitage #richard armitage fanfic #richard armitage x oc #richard armitage x reader #richard armitage x you #professor au #office hours

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mistresskayla-blog1 · 9 months ago

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Awkward & Sweet

A John Standring Fic

Lyn's Writing Event Day 9 - Week 2

May 9th: Week 2: Pluto

Characters: (“Modern day” Alt) John Standring x OC Felicity Boies (scottish)

Fandom: Richard Armitage – John Standring – Sparkhouse

Sparkhouse character, John Standring was created by Sally Wainwright (adaptation of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights)

***Just proof that there’s a fan girl in all of us. Never forget that writing allows you to inspire others to write ***

Location: Date at the Planetarium – West Yorkshire / Leeds area UK

Word count: 2.1k

Timeline Prompt: What if John had met someone before Carol’s father had died, and she came back?

Warnings: angst, pining, awkwardness, first date stuff, kissing, shy male, social masking.

John walked up the street to the grocer, as he did every Friday morning after working at the factory. He got his bread, and some veg and a few other things, nothing much varied in his routine. But he kept going every Friday because of one other thing, to see Felicity. She was tall, lean and sweet natured, her hair kept in a ponytail for work, and John wondered idly as he stood in queue what it looked like down her back, long and blowing in the Northern winds.

Her playful Scottish brogue, warmed his heart on this cold fall morning, as she said, “Morning John, how do you fair?”

John stuttered a bit, smiling, “Good, ya? And you?”

Felicity looked at the backed-up queue behind him, “Just fine. I’ll be off soon, got to go to the doctors”. John shifted to a look of concern, “Oh? Is anything the matter?” Felicity rung through his choices and clicked the register for a total. John thrust a hand full of notes into her hand, with come coins. Felicity answered briskly, “No, just my regulars, you know,”

John responded in kind, “Yeah, sure of course. Well, have a good day then, Cheers”. John grabbed his bags and started towards the door, turning back a second, the next women in line looking at him slightly annoyed. “Look, if you have some time, I’d like to take you out, maybe tomorrow?” The women in queue looked down realizing John’s advance on Felicity.

Felicity paused, but not unflatteringly as she smiled at John, “Yeah. Sure. Come back around, I’ll give you my number”. John smiled broadly and nodded, “Yeah, sure. Of course”. And went back into the line. The line of patrons now smiling at him. John tried his best to look inconspicuous, but it wasn’t going to work that morning. Felicity kept smiling towards him, as his turn in queue inched forward for the next few minutes. When he finally was in front of her again, she scribbled her name and number on a scrap of receipt paper and placed it in his hand.

John asked plaintively, “Where do you fancy going?” Felicity winked, “how about the Planetarium, there’s a show on this weekend”. John nodded, “Right. Yeah, of course”.

Felicity touched his hand again, “ring me tonight?” John nodded, smiled and walked out of the grocer. Felicity smiled too, as he stroud out of the store.

John was a nice man, she always thought so. He had been coming to the store on Fridays since, she started working there, she thought, but probably longer. He’s a creature of habit, she imagined, and Felicity needed more consistency in her life. She had her own apartment, and she lived in the city, she wasn’t sure if John did too. She only saw him at the shops on Fridays, and hardly any other time around town. Felicity finished her shift and headed for the doctor’s office on foot.

John returned to his house in town, put away his groceries and sat at his kitchen table, having some cold muesli with milk. The crunching and chewing sounds filled his ears in the quiet of the flat. That chewing was hypnotic as his mind carried back to Felicity’s smile and his future engagement with her, “engagement,” he scoffed outloud, “I sure hope I can manage to not make a fool of myself at the Planetarium”. John found the pages and looked up the phone number for the Planetarium. A women answered and he asked about the schedule for the event.

“It starts at 7 pm, its about 20 pounds per person, at the door, day of the show”. The registrar said. John thanked her and hung up. John was a traditional sort, and figured offering to pay for her ticket, even in this day and age was still appropriate. John made arrangements to buy them online with his mobile phone, a ratty little Nokia that he didn’t do much with. Who was he going to call, he didn’t have many friends, he just kept himself, kept his head down and worked nearly everyday.

---

At around half 6, John rang Felicity, sitting in his living room, still surrounded by knick knacks from his grandparents. It had that quaint lady’s touch, but it was far from modern. The phone rang out twice before she answered, “Felicity?” John asked.

“Yes?” her Scottish lilt made him smile.

“Its John from the shops”, he looked down at the floor a second, catching his courage.

“Oh, yes, John. How are you?” Felicity replied.

“Good, good, ya. Just wanted to let you know about the planetarium, um date you asked about”.

“Yeah, sure. So how much is it? I just wanted to make sure I could cover it”, he could hear her smile over the phone.

“Oh, no worries, I can cover it, if that’s ok with you?” John offered.

“Oh?” Felicity paused,

“You wouldn’t, you know be owing me anything. I wanted to do this right and take you out, proper”.

Felicity visibly relaxed, “That sounds nice, John. Thank you”.

Smiled, “Great! Well the show starts at 7, can I pick you up at half past, or do you want to grab a bite before at the pub?”

Felicity wavered, “You can pick me up here, that’s fine,” she looked around her flat then, trying to figure out how to straighten up in time, “you can pick me up John, I’ll text you the address”.

John smiled, “Great, that’s great. Ok, well I’ll see you tomorrow, then, and Felicity,”

“yeah?” Felicity responded.

“Thanks”. John grinned eagerly as he hung up the phone. He went to his closet and tried to find something intelligent to wear. After about 30 minutes most of his wardrobe was strung over his bed and he just stood in front of his mirror looking dumbfounded.

---

Felicity started to clean up her apartment and set out an outfit for tomorrow night. What would she wear, she wondered. John is a nice, stand up guy, not like some of the scrubs she dated before. She had to try harder to look nicer. Her auburn hair and blue eyes were striking as she picked up a cobalt blue blouse, it buttoned up to a high collar, “Maybe a little too high?” she spoke to her mirror, she tried it on, and left a button undone, feeling a bit more certain. She found a skirt, with pockets, and some leggings. Heeled boots finished off the ensemble, she looked herself over in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door.

“Yeah, that should do it”. She put everything on her desk, next to her bed, the boots on the floor, in front of it.

---

John was standing in front of his mirror at the same moment. He had picked out a decent dress shirt, and lean trousers, sensible boots. John looked confident in that moment, and removed the clothes, slowly, folding them neatly for tomorrow, and setting them on his bedside chair. He re-dressed on his pajamas and started his dinner for the night and watched some telly. A program was speaking about the incident of declassifying Pluto, John sat up a little bit, wanting to learn more, maybe this was the clue to impress Felicity. He didn’t know anything about planets otherwise. John watched it until he fell asleep on his grandfather’s old chair.

---

(I will add to this, just ran out of time. Comment if you want more. thanks)

@evenstaredits @legolasbadass @sweetestgbye @middleearthpixie @lathalea @riepu10

If you want to be added to tag list, pleaae PM Me.

Lyn's Writing Event 2024!!!

#richard armitage #fanfiction #romance #first date #john standring #sparkhouse au #social awkwardness #richard armitage x oc #lyn's writing event 2024 #sweet fluffy fluff

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daveeddiggscurls · 2 years ago

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I am in my ELEMENT right now

Richard Armitage has been my BBC show crush since the Robin Hood days. He’s aged like a fine wine and he’s just released a spicy Netflix TV series which is 18+

#obsession Netflix #richard armitage #Robin Hood #bbc #Netflix

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deadcityhq · 1 month ago

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CHARACTER NAME: thorin CHARACTER FACECLAIM: richard armitage CHARACTER AGE/DOB (if relevant/they're not old af): approaching 200 years old CHARACTER PRONOUNS/GENDER IDENTITY/SEXUALITY ETC: hes just blinking at me. it's fine, WE know what he is CHARACTER FANDOM (if relevant): tolkien universe OC OR CANON: canon CHARACTER TYPE (for example: werewolf, shadowhunter, warlock, demon etc): royal pain in the ass? like sure he's a dwarf but-- HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN IN NEW YORK/WHY ARE THEY THERE ETC: checks watch like an hour, hes very confused IMPORTANT CHARACTER INFORMATION TO NOTE AND SHARE (this could be important headcanons for initial plotting, mini bios etc, supporting docs):

born and raised in a different universe, thorin is about to be SO fucked by the plot it's gonna be hilarious okay, lets fucking go

very early in thorin's life, his entire sense of self and stability was turned upside down. his kingdom, his people, the life he knew… it all came under attack from the great dragon, smaug. the mountain kingdom he called home, the one he was destined to one day rule and lead… all lost in a blink as his people were forced to flee-- the mountain lost and the treasure within now claimed by the dragon that brought pain and suffering to all.

the anger and pain was something that remained with thorin throughout the years. the king in exile did all he could, tried hard to provide for his people and protect them. but always, he would feel a disappointment in his heart. the idea that he could not truly save his people, their home, weighed heavy on the would be king.

until, finally, many years later, the wizard gandalf came to him with a proposition. and so, this is how the grand quest to reclaim his homeland began.

a tough journey, but one that thorin continued to have faith in. through every turn, every horror that became clear… he still had hope.

though perhaps, more terrifying than battling a dragon, was thorin's fight against the sickness that swept over him after they reclaimed the mountain kingdom and the dragon was defeated. thorin had been stubborn, determined to not make the same mistakes of prior rulers-- he did not want to become changed by the treasure hoard, but… the dragon sickness came for him with its cold and cruel grip. it changed thorin, elevated his more heated traits… amplified it, poured in the hate and jealousy and paranoia.

and although thorin came through it, fought his way back to himself, he still does not entirely feel healed from it. it isn't so much that the darkness inhabits his heart, but… the guilt related to how it made him act, that sure does linger. combined with the grief of seeing fili and kili killed in front of him, it left thorin out of sorts. but… he had a job to do. post-battle, there was a kingdom to lead and rule. no time truly to think of anything else.

but when thorin heard of gandalf's newest problem… well. for all the ways he had fought for his kingdom, for a home for his people, for a reclaimed throne… maybe there was something that had become more important than treasure.

not that he's exactly been any good at WORDING THAT,,, but. look. he wasn't FAR behind, okay??? in fact, thorin set off after bilbo and gandalf barely days after the pair had left. he just didn't account for how differently time would run in this new world. what do you MEAN bilbo and gandalf have been there a month already??

THREE AESTHETICS THAT REMIND YOU OF YOUR CHARACTER:

the warmth of furs against skin, pulled close against a biting wind

the feel of someone's fingers moving through your hair, helping to add braids

laughter of friends and loved ones long into the night

admin andy app.

#admin andy app #thorin app #accepted

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firsttarotreader · 1 year ago

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"hi fellow anon, if you are who I think you are we already have crossed paths here last year (when the subject of Michael and Pedro being april 2 aries was brought up). I am also a huge Michel Fassbender fan and I just wanted to add my opinion that Michael filmography as a whole is the type of filmography I would loooove for Pedro to have. Perfect blend of commercial and indie and indie but commercial succesful movies." Hi fellow Fassy anon. I 100% concur with you (especially with my Indie and the disappearing mid-budget bias). I want to have options with Pedro like I had with Fassy in which I could skip a more mainstream film (haven't watched any of the X-men movies to this day) because I have the indie or the commercially successful indie option. I was looking forward to the Almodovar film (which disappointed me, although not as much as my other fellow Nonies and our lovely admin), and I am really looking forward to Freaky Tales and a couple of other indies. As for the erotic thriller... Please let it be good! I am still traumatized by Netflix's Obsession, which was a remake of one of my favourite erotic thrillers, Damage. (And it featured another favourite -and queer- actor as a star, Richard Armitage, so another disappointment here!). Maybe "Shame," but more bisexual (My bisexual bias! LOL)

I would be more than fine with the Basic Instinct remake to be honest. 🥵🥵🥵🥵

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darthstitch · 2 years ago

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the professor wet cat fandom

Imagine that you're a Rose Walker fan.

You remember the first time you saw her book Into the Night on the shelves of your favorite bookstore. Let's face it - the intriguing cover art and the title caught your attention. The synopsis on the book jacket and a quick skim of the first chapter made you bring that book to the counter. Something about the story just resonates with you, the aching sense of loss and grief that Briar, the main character, had felt, the headlong rush into adventure that was a means to escape that sorrow, beckoned by the enigmatic King of All Night's Dreaming.

You read that book in two days. And then you read it all over again. Rose has just opened up a universe that you don't want to leave.

Then the audiobook is released. The voice who did the reading is incredible, a voice that's deep and resonant, like the voice inside your head, seducing you into the very heart of Night.

Everyone thinks it's an actor like Richard Armitage or that other guy with the cheekbones whose name everyone just loves to mangle, Betadyne Carrotene or whatever but he's not credited at all. Either way, you're all in agreement about this.

It's the voice of the King of All Night's Dreaming, the voice of the Prince of Stories.

Fine, you and everyone else just fell in love with the antagonist of Rose's novel. He's not really evil, more a neutral entity than anything else. But he was a bit of a bastard to poor Briar, even though you can understand the reasoning behind his manipulations. He's described as beautiful and mysterious and very charismatic.

Of fucking course he'll be internet catnip. Edward Cullen whomst? Tumblr and Twitter are fighting over their new precious blorbo. There's meta and fan art based off Rose's description of him in the novel and yes, you're among those who check AO3 every day for brand new fan fiction.

You end up trying to find all the articles about Rose Walker. She's a lovely young woman who looks around your age and she talks about going back to university and continuing her studies. She's all mysterious about her voice actor, only saying that "he wants to stay anonymous and really, I got him to promise that he'll read the next book for me!"

And everyone in the fandom rejoices because Rose just officially confirms that there's a sequel.

You're among the first to hit the bookstores when the sequel The Prince of Stories comes out. The cover art is gorgeous, somewhat reminiscent of Yoshitaka Amano or Ayami Kojima, a rendering of the Prince in glorious detail - the fantastic costume in black and gold, the wild black hair, the pale skin, the fine features and the brilliant blue eyes.

On second look, the Prince looks strangely familiar.

Rose Walker doesn't disappoint. The sequel is just as good as the original, expanding a little more on the character of the Prince of Stories. There's also a new character joining Briar and her brother in their adventures all over the Land of Night's Dreaming. He's something of a rogue and adventurer straight out of medieval England, charming, mischievous but ultimately quite noble and kind.

You start chortling at his scenes with the Prince, which are so obviously charged with UST. Everybody to kingdom come is going to start shipping those two. You hit Tumblr and already, there's a goddamn ship name. Oh, this is going to be fun.

You scroll through the blog posts, enjoying the fan art, the fan fiction and the meta and then you see this post:

Is the Prince of Stories based on a real person?

And there's a screenshot of a dedication on Rose Walker's book:

For Uncle Dream, our Prince of Stories.

Oh, come on.

So out of curiosity, you do a little more digging. Rose Walker also has a blog, in which she entertainingly talks about the writing process, answers asks with humor and wit and occasionally, she talks about her family. The antics of her little brother are hilarious. There are also stories about her great-grandmother Unity, who she had tragically only known for a short time, and then stories about her recently found "Uncle Dream."

You can see why the other blog poster had started to blur fiction with reality. Rose's descriptions of her Uncle Dream oddly matches up to the King of All Night's Dreaming, with some added extras, because obviously, magical anthropomorphic personifications of dreams and nightmares do not wander around in Real Life.

Apparently, he's also an adorkable wet cat of a man who unfailingly helped her with the writing process, giggled with her brother over his superhero comics and was completely gone on his husband the history professor.

Hang on a minute. Some of the details sound really familiar.

"Uncle Dream" also teaches on occasion at university, keeps a raven as a companion and is known to talk to him like they really understand each other, outrageously flirts with his husband the history professor in Middle English, in iambic pentameter and in Shakespearean quotations, even if said history professor loathes Shakespeare...

You suddenly raise your head up from your phone because your literature professor just walks in, holding on to a copy of Rose Walker's newest book.

Holy shit. No way.

"Professor Murphy, we didn't know you were a fan of Rose Walker," one of your classmates say.

Professor Murphy has a proud smile on his face. "My niece has quite the story to tell. I've been looking forward to reading her next book."

You can't help it and now, hearing his Voice, you're also suddenly dead sure who Rose Walker's audiobook reader is too. "You're Rose Walker's Uncle Dream?!"

Eventually, you all get to explain to Professor Murphy why you want his autograph as well as his niece's on your books. He's still a little confused about that but he's fairly gracious about it.

He's amused and is barely able to contain his laughter when everyone starts asking if the dashing rogue "Captain Gadlen" is based on Professor Robert Gadling. For once, Professor Murphy neither confirms or denies anything.

-end-

#dreamling #rose walker #dream of the endless #hob gadling #professor mysterious and professor wet cat #in which rose inadvertently launches dreamling in universe #i crack what i want #the professor cryptid wet cat fandom totally becomes a Thing #but they're all protective over their professor dream so it becomes an in campus thing #shhh nobody tell neil

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lathalea · 3 years ago

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Let Armitage Summer Splash Begin!

The summer is almost here so it’s about time to have some fun! Are you a writer or an artist? Have you seen at least one movie or series with Richard Armitage? If so, @fizzyxcustard and @lathalea would like to invite you to join us in our little creative event! Our mission this June is to show some appreciation to this great actor!

☀️ THE MASTERLIST: 💦

🍧 WEEK 1🍧 WEEK 2🍧 WEEK 3 🍧 WEEK 4 🍧 WEEK 5 🍧

🏖 RULES 🏖

It’s all pretty straightforward. Every Sunday (starting May 29th) we’re going to post a set of 7 RA-related prompts for the upcoming week of June. We are going to send the prompts a few days in advance each week so that everyone has enough time to prepare. Posting starts on June 1st. There is going to be one prompt for each day of June consisting of three elements: a trope, a quote, and an image. You can pick one of them, two – or all three of them, whatever inspires you the most. Feel free to create works (fics and ficlets, art and sketches, drabbles, moodboards, gifsets and so on) for all 30 June prompts – or just pick the ones you like. It’s up to you! And now – the details:

☀️ 1. Like and reblog this post. ☀️ 2. Choose a RA character to go with the current prompt of the day, and create a work inspired by it.

☀️ 3. Post your work optimally on the day the prompt belongs to. If you can’t make it, make sure you post between June 1st and July 7th latest.

☀️ 4. Tag each work with #Armitage Summer Splash and with the name of the character you picked. Oh, and please tag both @fizzyxcustard and @lathalea as well so we can see your work!

☀️ 5. We will shower your post with reblog love as a part of our RA Summer Splash celebration!

☀️ 6. At the end of each week, please fill in this form and let us know about your posted works. We will include them in our masterlists for the event!

☀️ 7. If you complete all the 30 prompts, let us know at the end of the event via a DM - we’ll have a little something for you as a thank you for participating!

☀️ 8. We gently encourage you to, share, comment and reblog works of others creators taking part in this event. Let’s cReAte some buzz and appReciAte all the wonderful creators! ☀️ 9. Have fun, be kind, and stay positive 💙

☀️ 10. And remember, normality is cheese sandwiches! 🧀🍞

🍹 FAQ 🍹

💦 Do I really need to write one fic/create one art every day in June? Not at all! You can choose to use as many prompts as you like. It can be one prompt a day, one prompt a week or one prompt in total — whatever feels best for you. The only requirement is to post the final works not later than on July 7th. We encourage you to post your works on the days they belong to (so it’s best to post a fic for June 1st prompt on June 1st) , but we know everyone’s lives are busy so it’s okay if you happen to post them a bit later.

💦 How long should my fic be? How detailed should my art be? Because of the nature of this little event, we chose to leave this decision to you. It’s a busy month for everyone! Your work can be as long (or short) and as detailed as you like. No requirements. Your fic can be one sentence long and your moodboard can contain two or three images, including the one in the prompt, and it will still be fine!

💦 Can I write fics/create art in advance? Of course! We only ask you to post it in June (preferably on the prompt dates). In case you are a bit delayed, make sure to post your last works on July 7th latest so we can add it to our masterlists.

💦 I want to write a fic about Thorin, but the prompt feels like a Modern AU to me. Can I write modern!Thorin instead? That’s a great idea and yes! Any AUs are allowed, go wild and write spaceship captain Raymond de Merville, victorian Lucas North, pirate John Thornton, inquisitor Father Quart, bodyguard Thorin - whatever your imagination throws at you. As long as these characters are unmistakably themselves, all is good! (And yes, Everyone Lives AU is also a valid choice!)

💦 Can I create a NSFW piece? Yes, of course you can. Just please remember to tag it in an appropriate way and use all the usual tumblr precautions for posting NSFW content.

💦 I don’t want to miss out on any announcements for the Armitage Summer Splash. Can you tag me in your posts? We’ll be happy to! Just let @lathalea or @fizzyxcustard know and we’ll add you to the taglist.

💦 Can I use the image from your prompt in my work? Feel free to do it! You are welcome to use it as an illustration for your fic or as a part of your art. We don’t own the images – all the credit goes to their respective owners. Thank you, Pinterest!

💦 And what about you? Are you going to sit back and just read our fics/look at our art? No! We’re going to take part in this event too, along with everyone else. Apart from that, each week we’ll create a masterlist of all the fics/art created in this event by the participants!

💦 I have another question… Feel free to send an ask or DM to @lathalea or @fizzycxustard.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️ Armitage Summer Splash ☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️ Weekly Prompts/Masterlists:

🍧 WEEK 1

🍧 WEEK 2

🍧 WEEK 3

🍧 WEEK 4

🍧 WEEK 5

Please let us know if you’d like to be added/removed from the taglist: @legolasbadass @linasofia @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @sketch-and-write-lover @dumbassunderthemountain @enchantzz @justfollowtheroad @thewarriorandtheking @guylty @knitastically @guylty @mezzmerizedbyrichard @jassy2101 @sweetestgbye @shrimpsthings @estethell

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fizzyxcustard · 3 years ago

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Birthday (Armitage Summer Splash. Day 25)

As part of @lathalea and I’s Armitage Summer Splash, I present to you, day 25.

Masterlist of fics for Summer Splash

Prompts: “I'm sorry.“ / Birthday trope.

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Angst, insecurity.

Summary: Amy has been stood up by Lucas on her birthday.

Comments/Notes: If anyone would like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please say. This story doesn't run in line with the previous ones of Lucas and Amy; it's purely stand alone, but does have some connections to Covert Eyes.

This was Amy's first birthday that she would have since starting a relationship with Lucas. They had been together a grand total of three months. Everything seemed fine from what Amy could tell. They were practically sewn together at the hip with Lucas informally living with her at her maisonette flat. The only thing that ever seemed to be an issue was his job, as a police officer. Sometimes he would get called out for night shifts, or have to bail on her in the middle of a romantic dinner. But Amy had always accepted that.

This, however, made her stomach churn with anxious uncertainty. It was just past seven, the evening of her thirty third birthday. Lucas had been gone since the evening previous, twenty four hours now. No word. No Happy Birthday text, no present. Nothing.

Amy's colleagues at the local JobCentre had shown more interest. Her team had put money together in a collection to buy her a cake and gift consisting of art supplies as Amy was quite the budding artist.

There was nothing for the rest of the evening, and rather be a nagging pest, Amy decided not to text Lucas and bother him. Obviously whatever he was working on was taking up all of his time, and it was more important than wishing her a happy birthday.

The next morning was grim. Rain was bouncing off the pavement as Amy walked down the street, umbrella in hand. The weather was reflecting her mood: dark and dreary. Still no word from Lucas.

The cafe that Amy normally frequented a few mornings a week, was quiet. However, as she stepped inside, she saw a familiar figure, sat at their normal table towards the back. Was that a candle she saw flickering?

Amy approached, bile, anger and sadness raging in her throat and chest. Tears were threatening to fall down her cheeks, but she soldiered on and sat down opposite Lucas, not breaking eye contact with him. "Morning," she said, her voice stern.

"Aim, I'm sorry," Lucas sighed. He reached across the table to scoop up her hand, but she moved it away and dried away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. Her dam had been broken. "I know I can't make it up to you."

Amy's eyes fell upon a muffin that was in the middle of the table with a single lit candle in the centre of it. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a second, trying to gather her breath and thoughts. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to break her down in just a moment? Why couldn't she be angry with him?

"I wanted to be with you yesterday. So much," Lucas began. "I...I need to tell you something. I can't do it here in public, but I need to be honest with you. I'm not really a police officer. And this is why I couldn't be in contact with you yesterday."

Amy crossed her arms. "Lucas, I want you to tell me now, please," she said, assertion raging in her voice. "It doesn't have to be a war and peace story, but I need to know what's going on."

Lucas glanced around and leaned in towards Amy. "I work for MI-5."

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @linasofia @guardianofrivendell @meganlpie @knitastically @sketch-and-write-lover @lilacpulse @rachel1959 @msjava1972 @spidergirla5 @asgardianhobbit98 @medusas-hairband @enchantzz @luna-xial

Richard Armitage tag list: @eunoiaastralwings @cryptichobbit

#Lucas North #Lucas North x OC #Spooks #MI-5 #Fanfiction #Richard Armitage #Armitage Summer Splash.

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sorisooyaa · 2 years ago

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I posted 456 times in 2022

That's 456 more posts than 2021!

63 posts created (14%)

393 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@i-did-not-mean-to

@fizzyxcustard

@linasofia

@sorisooyaa

@middleearthpixie

I tagged 405 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#armitage summer splash - 137 posts

#other people's awesome work - 113 posts

#richard armitage - 100 posts

#thorin oakenshield - 45 posts

#soriyaa graphics - 43 posts

#the hobbit - 35 posts

#raymond de merville - 27 posts

#angel's writings - 27 posts

#fizzyxcustard - 27 posts

#haldir - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 103 characters

#sleepwalker is always gonna be a movie that stays close to me as i have experienced sleepwalking before

My Top Posts in 2022:

Birthday - June 25th

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Movie: The Hobbit

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea

“I’m sorry,” Thorin whispered gently into your ear as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, “I’m certain this wasn’t how you would celebrate your day of birth in your world, amrâlimê.”

The both you of were currently seated at the edge of the forest, near the cliff he had first found you, during his quest to reclaim his home. You were a shivering mess on the ground and bare feet, with nothing a fine thin dress that wrapped around your figure.

He had taken you in, a stranger he found so endearing and in need of help. You were sure, he if had left you that day, lost in this unknown world, you would have been long dead by now. But he took you in, accepted you for who you were, a human from another world that can be mistaken for a dwarrowdam.

He had learned to love you, as you had learned to love him. Day in and day out as the quest continued the depths of those mesmerising sapphires he possessed would haunt your dreams. You had never seen anything as beautiful as his eyes, there were so pure and raw, an enchantment that forever pulled you into its depths.

“You’re mistaken, my love,” You turned your head to pressed your lips softly against his bearded jaw, “It was more than enough... I’m here with you, in your world, with your people. What more can I possibly ask for you?” You whispered to him, as you rested against his chest, sighing in content.

Your world wasn’t always kind to you. It threw the worst of the worst at you, and you would have to climb with your bare hands and teeth, while everything pulled you down.

Here you laid content, safe and happy with everyone you loved around you. Bombur had even taken the opportunity to bake your favourite cake, it was only his first try and hence it was a small one, but it was his hard work that counted, presenting you with something you missed from your world.

Fíli and Kíli of course hadn’t stopped addressing you as their auntie and Dís loving you as her own sister. This is what you received, a family that loved you and a husband that believed in you greatly with so much faith and love.

There truly wasn’t anything more you could possibly ask for...

109 notes - Posted June 23, 2022

See the full post

122 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

Haldir

See the full post

140 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

Body Swap - June 21st

Characters and Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield and Thranduil / Thorin x Wife!Reader

Movie: The Hobbit

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea

AN: Ok, Thorin, Thrandy plz don’t come at me, this was just a joke!! Love you both!! 😂 @i-did-not-mean-to this is what I meant Angel! Also, I’m sorry no graphic for this, and I’m really busy for the next few days. Ok bye bye, Haldir is whining for my attention again! 😂 - Haldir: Shalini! Get off that thing and look at me chasing my tail or I will chew your slippers again!

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144 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Looming Anniversary - June 27th

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Wife!Reader

Movie: The Hobbit

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea

A/N: Dedicated to all of us that desperately wants to give Thorin a hug!

You sighed and made your way over to your king and husband. He hadn’t been listening to a word you were saying for some time now. You had even left the room a few minutes back. He had not noticed your exit nor your return.

He sat there, on the chair of his study desk and gazed off into the distance. His eyes forgetting the present and being immersed in whatever his mind played as he gazed out into the outside. The cold draft blew in through the open doors of the balcony and he hadn’t even moved to close it, he simply gazed out into the view it gave him, but it wasn’t the low clouds or the wind that danced with the tops of trees, and bristles or fallen leaves he watched.

What he watched was in his mind’s eye and made him fade away from this world, mentally, because physically, he was still here. But how can one truly be here without bringing themselves to feel and react to the emotions a moment in time had brought forth?

You carefully placed your tray on his desk, and the aroma of the strong tea and freshly baked biscuits filled the room, but it was only when your hand had accidentally brushed against his did he awake into the moment again.

“Amrâlimê...” It was a heavy whisper laced in light shock as his eyes travelled to you, taking in both yourself and your movement. You smiled softly at him and grabbed the chair he had always set aside for you.

Sitting down carefully, you rested your hand on his, allowing your thumb to caress his strong calloused hands. These hands travelled through battlefields with the tight grasp of heavy weapons, powering through, channelling his bravery through every fight, but they also loved and caressed those close to his heart, one he cherished. So, you should know, for these hands held you tenderly close at night, keeping you warm and safe, made you come undone with their gentle but fast and firm strokes, caressing your skin as if they were silk on silk, and wiped away every tear that ran down your cheeks.

“I thought you would like some tea,” You said, cheerfully and grabbed the teapot. This time Thorin watched you, carefully, as you poured the tea into the mug, you were well known for those clumsy hands throughout this kingdom. They weren’t strong and made for heavy lifting like every other dwarrowdam, for you were half-human, inheriting all but your height from your mother.

You placed the mug carefully on the table and brought his hand towards it, he willingly let you, before he grabbed it himself and took a long gulp. You took your bottom lip in between your teeth, a little worried, hoping it wasn’t too hot to burn his insides.

“Don’t,” Thorin scowled, releasing your bottom lip from the hold of your teeth. The habit teased him endlessly and once he dove himself forward to release your lip with his own teeth, before pulling you in for a heated passionate kiss that led the both of you into bed for a night of ecstatic moans and whimpers.

Today, however, there seems to do much weighing on his mind to even think of making love, even though he would still gladly grant you the permission if you requested. But you didn’t, knowing it was the comfort he needed right now, rather than a release, the both of you can set that once aside for later... or after.

“Alright, but will you tell me what plagues your mind, husband?” You asked as you dipped a piece of biscuit into the tea and brought it to his lips.

He took it, the taste of it bringing little to no comfort to him, then, Thorin had signed out, “Nothing, dearest.”

You frowned, but it slowly turned into a light glare and you cupped his face gently, turning him to you, “Don’t lie to me,” You spoke the words sternly, “We are married, your bearings are also mine, husband. Do not keep yourself locked up from me,” You said, your thumbs caressing his face, and he hung his head down in shame, but your brought his gaze back to you, “I’m your one, know that I’ll never judge or dishonour you, for you are the breath of my life. I love you just the way you are, and I would like to comfort you in your time of need, just as you do for me.”

Suddenly, a broken sob reached your ears, and your heart sank, shattering at the sound of your strong dwarven king and husband breaking down in your arms.

“Husband? Thorin?” You pleaded, trying to brush past his tears and address whatever was their cause.

“The days are nearing to that time once again,” Thorin released his words in a strangled sob, a part of him shamed to allow tears near his beloved; allow him to destroy the walls he kept high and let you see the broken dwarf behind it all, but you were his one, his wife and queen, if he dared to share a tear or any broken part of himself, it would be with you, for he trusted you with everything within himself.

“Tell me, what days are nearing again? Thorin?” You gently brushed his hair and wiped away the tears streaming down his face and over his bearded cheeks.

“The days my grandfather was killed, how we lost so much and more during the battle of Moria, the disappearance of my father... everything!” He growled out, trying to keep his tears at bay.

“Oh, Thorin!” You immediately stood, and wrapped him to you, letting him bury his face into your body as you gently rocked him and ran a hand through his hair. He snaked his arms around your waist, gripping you tightly as he released a sob, that he had been trying to hold in. The sight fractured your heart into tiny pieces it was almost impossible to put it back together, at least not until you saw your husband smile again. You know by ‘we’ he had meant himself and his sister.

“Oh, my love,” You whispered. You wanted to ask for how long he had been holding this in, shoving it down into the pits of his heart like it did not matter and keeping up the appearance everyone expected of him.

But that was now important right now, “It is alright, their souls are safe. They have lived and taught you everything they possibly could. They are proud of you. You have come a long way. You, Thorin, my dear husband, raised your small family of your sister and her sons, reclaimed your once lost home, gave meaning to your nephews’ lives, and allowed your sister to seek out happiness again, with Dwalin. You have done so much, and more,” You held him closer, and kissed the top of his head.

“When my mother passed,” You began slowly, remembering the day how she had grown weak and frail; the final moments before humans had passed into the unknown, “My father told me, ‘when you loose someone... you gain a star, and they will look over you, shining in the sky for you’ live by that Thorin,” You whispered, holding him tenderly close.

You had dearly wished that Thorin and yourself had found each during those times. Therefore, from the very beginning, he could have sought the comfort he longed for. In all honesty it was Fíli and Kíli, that found you in the old human village, lost and in need of a blacksmith to strengthen your father’s sword.

They had led you to their home, a small wooden house at the end of the road. There, your future beloved was sitting on the couch just returning from his work, and Dís was within the kitchens trying to cook. Then, almost every day of the week you travelled to the other side of town, something drew you to him, and a part of you knew darn well, but could he take you, half-human and half-dwarf in?

While Dís and yourself had become quick friends, in seeing that you were close in age, only a few years younger than herself, with Thorin ,it was harder to befriend, even though you had caught him watching you from afar many times.

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175 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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legolasbadass · 2 years ago

Text

Office Hours, Part 13

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 5.3k

Rating: T (some chapters E)

A/N: For those who have been asking: Oxford University is made up of different colleges, Exeter (where Lorelei and Richard work) being one of them. So they are not quite the same, but that's why sometimes they will say they work at Exeter, and other times at Oxford. Hope this clarifies any confusion!

Thanks to @middleearthpixie for helping me with this one💙

Warning: Some angst (I’m sorry)

Read on AO3

When I knock on Richard’s office door the next morning, I feel as though an immense chasm has wedged itself between us, and in the seconds before his deep voice invites me inside, a sudden urge to walk away takes hold of me.

Soft, grey light illuminates the room from the large window behind Richard’s desk. Outside, rain soaks the city in a cloud of mist, and though the old stone walls let in a chill, warmth fills me when Richard’s gaze meets mine. His hair is all tousled, and exhaustion veils his eyes, but I cannot tell if the pile of exams before him is to blame or if it is the same gnawing feeling that has settled in my heart.

“Lorelei,” he says, sounding surprised, though he offers me a tired smile.

“Hey,” I say, my hand still wrapped around the doorknob. “Are you busy?” He shakes his head, and I immediately shut the door behind me. “Did you get a lot of work done last night?”

“Yeah, not bad actually. You?”

I shrug.

“Are you alright?” he asks suddenly, worry now marking his handsome face.

“I don’t know….” I sigh, then press my lips together as I try to gather my thoughts. “I’m sorry—I know I shouldn’t be here, but … I just wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? What for?”

“I’ve been so inconsiderate,” I say, shaking my head. “I was so anxious yesterday at the thought that Natasha might know about us that I didn’t even take the time to ask how you were feeling.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Richard says with a frown as he stands and walks around his desk to grab my hand. “Don’t worry, it’s alright.”

Looking up into his deep blue eyes, I gulp. “Is it though?”

Richard’s frown deepens.

“I’m not ready to tell people about us, but are you really okay with that? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about this. I want you to feel comfortable with the situation.”

The gentle touch of his hands against my cheeks as he cradles my face chases the morning’s chill from my body, and at last, I allow myself to reach out to him and wrap my arms around his waist.

“I’ve told you since the beginning that I will wait until you’re ready. I meant it.”

“But last night you cancelled our plans and I just worried that maybe it was because—”

“I had a lot of work to do, that’s all,” he reassures me.

I nod slowly, but my heart still feels heavy. Then, with a low sigh, Richard closes the space between us and leans in to capture my lips in a tender kiss as comforting as a warm cup of tea on a chilly day. When he pulls away, I hold onto him more tightly, as though afraid of what might happen if I let him go, and a soft smile creeps beneath his beard.

“I promise you everything is fine.”

I let out a deep breath I had not realized I had been holding and smile back at him.

“Okay,” I reply, pressing my lips together. “We can cancel our dinner with my parents this weekend if you’re too busy—”

“No, it’s fine,” he replies immediately. “I mean, cancelling would give them a very bad impression of me.”

“Yeah, okay,” I chuckle, but for some reason, his answer leaves me uneasy, so I stand on my tiptoes to press my lips to his, hoping his kiss will offer me the reassurance I need.

***

On Saturday evening, Richard pulls into the driveway of my parent’s house. I sit still for a moment after he parks the car, looking up at my childhood home and the overgrown rose bush that has begun to crawl up the brick walls. No roses are blooming at this time of the year, of course; now, there are only dried branches, all intertwined as though shielding themselves from the chill.

“Are you okay?”

Sighing, I turn to face him. He tried to tame his wild hair, but a stray lock has escaped and now hangs over his forehead. “Just a bit nervous,” I admit. Then, hesitantly, I ask, “Do you think we could … not tell them we’re colleagues?”

All week, I hesitated to ask this question. Since we realized that Natasha might know about our secret, there’s been unspoken tension between us, and I’m afraid of making it worse, but I also desperately want to avoid unnecessary confrontation with my parents.

A heavy silence reigns in the car as Richard stares back at me. “You want me to lie to your parents?”

“Not telling them is not lying—not technically,” I say, then shake my head as I realize how childish I sound. “Look, it’s just that my parents’ won’t approve—they’re a bit traditional like that. And they really won’t like it that you’re older than me, either. So let’s just let them get used to that first. They’ll get to know you and once they see how great you are, then neither the age gap or the fact that we’re colleagues will matter.”

Another silence ensues, and with each second, my heartbeat grows heavier. Then he nods. “Fine.”

And with that, he steps out of the car. The slam of his door when he closes it leads me to think that perhaps it is not fine, but he is already walking up the steps to the front door, his hands buried in the pockets of his dark wool trench coat. Guilt twists my insides, but there is no time for me to utter an apology or a reassurance before he rings the doorbell. Almost instantly, the large wooden door opens, and I find myself standing face-to-face with mum.

“Lorelei, darling! Finally, you’re here!” she says with a wide smile, and I rush to hug her tightly before she invites us inside.

“Sorry, we’re a bit late. There was traffic,” I explain as mum closes the door behind us, but her attention is fixed on Richard. “Uhm, mum, this is Richard. Richard, this is my mum, Heather.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Browning,” Richard says with a kind smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“That makes one of us,” mum replies with a disapproving glance in my direction. “It’s lovely to meet you, Richard. Here, let me put away your coats.”

A few moments later, she leads us into the sitting room and offers us wine, which we gladly accept. As mum apologizes to Richard for the nonexistent mess, I look around.

“Where’s dad?”

“He had to go back to the shop because he forgot to buy carrots,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “I’ll be right back with the wine,” she adds, then disappears into the kitchen, from where hints of sage and rosemary reach my nose.

My parents painted the sitting room a pale cream colour in the summer, but otherwise, it looks just as it always has. The old grey sofas, misshapen from years of movie nights and afternoon naps, the floral curtains over the bay window, and the old telly they refuse to get rid of. A fire burns low in the hearth, filling the sitting room with its gentle crackling. Through the large window at the back of the room, I glance into the backyard, where the trees are bare and leaves of all shades of red and orange cover the grass. Near the willow tree stands an old swing set; every year since I was a teenager, my dad has refused to get rid of it, and the thought brings a smile to my lips.

“I can see where you get your love of literature,” Richard says suddenly, and I turn to see him gesturing to the overflowing bookshelf tucked in the corner of the room next to the stone fireplace.

“Yeah,” I chuckle as I move to stand next to him. “Those are my dad’s books. He loves medieval history, as you can see. I’m sure he’d love to talk about Richard III with you.”

Richard wraps his arm around my shoulder and squeezes my arm reassuringly. Then, he leans in and points to an old picture frame on one of the shelves. A young girl with bushy hair wearing overalls and a bright green t-shirt smiles at the camera while holding a heavy book in her arms.

“Is that you?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I reply with a laugh. “Small, socially awkward Lorelei.”

Richard chuckles. “And is that—”

“Lord of the Rings in my hands, yep.”

“How adorable!”

At that moment, mum returns from the kitchen with three glasses and a bottle of wine. She smiles as she glances at Richard’s arm wrapped around my shoulder, and I suddenly wonder if perhaps I was scared of this evening for no reason.

“So, tell me,” she says as she sits on her favourite powder blue armchair and begins to pour wine into our glasses, “where did you two meet?”

As I open my mouth to reply, the front door opens, and dad’s voice echoes through the house. “I’m back!” I hear him take off his coat and boots, then he steps toward the kitchen, grocery bag in hand, but he halts when he notices us in the living room. “Lorelei, hi!”

“Dad!” I exclaim as I rush to hug him.

Holding me tight, he says, “Finally, you’re not too busy for your old man!”

“Very funny!” I reply, shaking my head. When I pull away, he turns toward Richard, and I don’t miss the way his eyes narrow. “Er, dad, this is Richard. Richard, this is—”

“Mr Browning,” dad interjects with a curt nod.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr Browning,” Richard says without faltering despite dad’s glare as he holds out his hand.

Dad doesn’t say a word as he shakes his hand, and an uncomfortable silence seizes the room. Mum’s eyes flick between Richard and me while dad continues to stare at Richard.

“I was just admiring your book collection, sir,” Richard hesitantly attempts to break the ice, but it is no use, and now the ice becomes lodged in my throat.

“Oh, right. I’ll just go put this away in the kitchen and I’ll be right back.”

“Lovely,” I mutter when he is gone, and mum reaches out to caress my arm.

“I’ll go talk to him,” she says, then offers Richard an apologetic smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

Sinking back into the couch, I let out a deep sigh and try to block out the hushed whispers spilling from the kitchen. I feel the weight of Richard’s body as he sits down next to me, then one of his large hands squeezes my thigh. When I turn to face him, he hands me my wine glass, which I gratefully accept.

“I’m sorry about my dad.”

“Well, at least your mum doesn’t look like she’d accuse me of witchcraft if given the chance.”

I chuckle at that, then lean against his broad shoulder. “Still, I’m sorry.”

When my parents come back into the sitting room, Richard takes his hand off my thigh.

“So, you were just about to tell me where you two met,” mum says as she takes her place on her armchair.

“Right,” I say, glancing at dad as he leans back on the other sofa. I don’t remember ever thinking dad looked as intimidating as he does now. “We, er, we met when I first moved to Oxford. Richard offered to show me around, and here we are.” I briefly glance at Richard, who is looking back at me. Not technically a lie, right?

“Oh, how lovely!” mum replies, and I smile in relief. “Lorelei knows this of course, but that’s how her dad and I met. I had just moved up here from Brighton after being offered a teaching position at the elementary school just down the road. We bumped into each other at the shop and we instantly hit it off. Isn’t that right James?”

Dad merely leans forward and glares at Richard. “So what do you do for a living, Richard?”

Even mum rolls her eyes at his tactlessness.

“He’s a professor, too,” I hasten to say as I feel Richard tense next to me. “At a different college, of course.”

“Is Richard unable to answer for himself?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, growing increasingly annoyed by dad’s behaviour. Not that I expected any different, of course.

“So what do you teach?”

“Er, literature, as well. Shakespeare, more specifically.”

“Dad, you like Shakespeare, right?”

“Who doesn’t?” he retorts, and I don’t bother to hold back my annoyed sigh. But I will not give up so easily.

“Richard did his master’s at Birmingham just like you. Isn’t that a cool coincidence?”

“Oh really?” Richard says in surprise.

“Class of 82,” dad affirms. “What about you?”

“I graduated in 94, sir.”

Dad nods slowly. “So that makes you twenty years older than my daughter, doesn’t it?”

We walked right into that one, didn’t we?

“Almost twenty, dad—”

“That’s splitting hairs and you know it,” he answers, his disapproval now clear in his narrowed eyes, and I cannot deny how much it hurts. Mum puts down her wine glass and rubs her forehead.

“Dad, come on! We’re both consenting adults!” I retort, my voice growing louder than I intended. “And quite frankly, it’s none of your business—”

Richard interrupts me, his hand coming to rest reassuringly on my thigh. “Mr Browning, I can understand what you might think. But you must know, I care about your daughter so much—more than words will allow me to express. I have never felt the way I feel about Lorelei about anyone before. From the moment we met, I knew there was something special about her, and it quickly became evident to us that the age gap between us doesn’t matter. It changes nothing to how we feel about each other.”

Deeply touched by his words, I reach for his hand and squeeze it tight. He responds by intertwining our fingers, and the gentle brush of his thumb against mine is like a warm blanket on a cold winter day around my heart. Dad remains silent for a long while, pondering over Richard’s words as mum and I exchange an uncertain glance. Then, just as the log on the fire pops, dad sighs.

“Lorelei is my daughter. My only daughter. And I know she’s almost thirty now, but to me, she’s still the little girl who always stayed up way past her bedtime to read a book that was probably heavier than she was at the time.” Mum chuckles at this, and when dad’s eyes meet mine, I notice the softness shining in them, and, despite everything, I offer him a small smile. “I am just trying to protect her. Maybe you mean well, but I can’t know that for sure because I don’t know you. And I do not give my trust to just anyone.”

Richard’s fingers tighten against mine. “I respect that, sir.”

Dad nods and sinks back into his chair, now directing his attention to mum. “Dinner smells delicious, love.”

Mum smiles. “It should be ready soon. I just need to set the table,” she says. “Lorelei, darling, could you help me with that?”

“Er…” I glance at Richard hesitantly, but he nods to let me know he will be fine. “Alright.”

Once in the kitchen, I take plates out of the cupboard, then bring them into the dining room, which overlooks the backyard, now submerged in the starry night. A dark linen tablecloth, which I gifted to mum a few years ago for Christmas, shields the antique table from spills and adds just the right touch of coziness to the panelled room. When I turn around to go gather utensils, I find mum standing in the doorway. The low, orange glow coming from the pendant light above the table softens her face, but I don’t miss the slight frown creasing her forehead.

“Don’t be too hard on your dad for tonight.”

“I rather think he’s the one being too hard,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest. “Richard did nothing wrong, and yet dad acts as if I invited Grendel over for dinner!”

She tilts her head, telling me my joke was not well received. “Twenty years is a big age gap, darling.”

“Oh, not you, too,” I groan.

“Lorelei, please,” she speaks in a voice that tells me I ought to be silent and listen. “I am just looking out for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Biting my lips, I think of the difficult week I just went through. The agonizing tension between Richard and me. The fragility of our secret. But I also think of all the precious memories that have warmed my heart for the past two months. Our first date, cuddling while watching telly, reading together in bed, our trip to Bath. Every single moment spent with Richard has been more perfect than I ever could have imagined.

“I’m happy,” I reply with a smile. “ I’m happy with him.”

Mum smiles in return. “Then I’m happy for you.” A huge weight falls off my shoulders when she hugs me tight. Then she steps into the sitting room to invite the others to the table, and I take a deep breath to prepare myself, hoping my dad will warm up to Richard soon.

Richard’s hair is slightly more tousled when he comes to sit next to me, telling me that his nervousness has not yet passed, so I reach out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Did I mention I’m sorry?” I say, causing him to chuckle. Then, biting my lips, I lean in closer and whisper in his ear, “I’ll make it up to you.”

He squeezes my arm in response, but further discussion is impeded as mum asks me to bring the veggies and mashed potatoes to the table. Once everything is set and everyone seated, I eagerly dig into my meal, grateful for the distraction it brings.

“Everything is delicious, Mrs Browning,” Richard says, and mum smiles warmly.

“Thank you! And please, call me Heather. ‘Mrs Browning’ makes me feel so old,” she says, causing Richard to chuckle. “You know, we are so happy to have you here. It’s been so long since Lorelei introduced us to a boyfriend of hers.”

“Mum!”

“What? It’s true,” she replies with a shrug, seemingly oblivious to my embarrassment. “You and Jason broke up years ago and there’s been no one since—”

“Mum, I am begging you, can we please talk about anything other than my dating history?”

“Alright, alright,” she says, then takes a sip of wine. “How’s work then?” she asks as she hands me the mashed potatoes.

“Great!” I reply, grateful for the new subject. “I’m swamped lately because of finals, but I love correcting assignments so I don’t mind it that much.”

“I wish I could get you to correct things for me,” Richard says, causing me to chuckle.

Mum laughs and then shakes her head. “How long have you been teaching at Oxford, Richard?”

“Eight years,” he replies as he puts down his wine glass. “I still can’t quite believe how I managed to get where I am.”

“Richard is too modest,” I say, reaching out to caress his arm. “He’s earned his place at Oxford; he’s a top researcher in his field … and all his students love him.” Those last words earn me a dirty look from Richard, but he fails to hide his smirk. “Just last week, we were in Bath for a Shakespeare conference where Richard was the keynote speaker. I’m telling you, I’ve never seen anyone get so many research proposals and invitations to conferences.”

“That’s wonderful!” mum says with a genuine smile on her face, causing Richard’s already deep blush to darken.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I tell him hastily, squeezing his shoulder. “He gets embarrassed when I praise him like that but I can’t help it.” I look up at him once more. “I’m proud of you.”

Mum’s smile softens, but dad still seems less than impressed.

“Why don’t you tell them about your new project?” Richard suggests.

“What new project?” dad asks.

“A colleague and I are organizing a conference at the college—dedicated to otherworlds in medieval literature. We actually just got the news this week that the college approved it all and would give us the funds we asked for.”

“That’s amazing, Lorelei, congratulations!” mum exclaims.

“Your mum and I are very proud of you,” dad adds, and I smile all the more.

“Thanks, dad. That means a lot.”

“You have every reason to be proud of her,” Richard affirms. “She really is a brilliant scholar and professor. Everyone in our department is impressed by her.”

I turn to face Richard, and I melt under the softness in his deep blue eyes. I usually get embarrassed when he praises me like that, but now I’m simply grateful for his unwavering support.

“‘Our’ department?”

I frown. “What?”

“You said ‘our’ department,” dad says, glaring at Richard.

A pause.

“I thought you said you worked at different colleges?”

Fuck.

Richard glances at me, then sighs, ignoring the look I give him. “No, we work together. In the same department at Exeter.”

“Richard—”

“Is that true?” mum asks, and when I notice the disapproval in her eyes, my heart tightens in my throat.

“Yeah, it’s true,” I admit in defeat, pressing my lips together.

“Why didn't you say that before?”

I try to remain calm, but the words tumble from my lips with an edge. “Because I knew you would make those faces!”

“Can you blame us?” dad retorts, his face twisted into a deep frown. “Aren’t you worried about what might happen if you two break up? What does your boss think of this?”

“We aren’t breaking any rules or laws, I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” I say, though I know I don’t sound convincing.

“So your boss is okay with this?”

I find myself unable to meet his gaze as I say, “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Why not?”

I can’t answer that. Not here. Not now. I can feel Richard eyeing me from aside, and though his hand is right next to mine, he does not reach out to hold me.

“You’ve worked so hard to get where you are,” dad goes on, “are you really willing to risk that for him?”

“Of course not!” I reply before I can think twice about my words. “But … it’s not about that—”

“No? It seems perfectly clear to me that you are jeopardizing your career by dating him! I mean, really,”—his fist bangs against the table as he looks at Richard— “you claim to care about my daughter, but you let her lie to her boss for you?”

“Dad, you have no idea what you’re talking about! It’s not his fault—”

“Sir, believe me, the last thing I want is for our relationship to get in the way of her career,” Richard interjects, his voice soft despite the storm I can feel brewing inside him. “ I kept my feelings hidden for a long time because I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but there is no doubt in me now that it is. We do intend to let our boss know about our relationship in due time, but we chose to wait—”

“You should have told your boss right away. It’s the right thing to do,” dad interjects, now looking down at his half-eaten dinner.

“Your dad is right, darling,” mum says, her voice calm. “It’s not a good idea to lie to your boss when it’s your first semester at the college.”

I want to respond with something clever and unassailable that will convince them that I’m not acting unprofessionally or putting my career at risk, but the truth is that I cannot even convince myself of that fact.

The realization hits me like a punch straight in my chest, and I take an uneven breath as I rise from my seat and mumble, “I need to, er, powder my nose,” before rushing out of the dining room.

Once the bathroom door is locked behind me, I lean against the sink and let out a deep sigh. My head is pounding, as though my mind is trying to escape the chaos inside me. I’m sick of this secret—sick of disappointing Richard, but I’m too scared of what might happen if we reveal our relationship to the world. I don’t even have the courage to go back into the dining room and face my parents again. All I want is to go home and let Richard hold me until I fall asleep.

A knock on the door startles me, then Richard calls out my name, instilling both relief and unease inside me. When I open the door, he towers over me as he leans against the door frame.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a strained voice as he scratches his beard.

I shrug. “Sorry I left you out there. I just— I just really needed a break.”

Richard nods, then raises a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Your mum says dessert is almost ready.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.”

“We should just go, I think,” I say, looking down at my feet.

Not waiting for an answer, I take a deep breath and walk back into the kitchen, where mum and dad are putting the dishes in the dishwasher. They exchange an uncertain glance as they notice us, but I speak before they can say anything more.

“We’re gonna get going.”

Dad crosses his arms over his chest as mum says, “Oh no, I was just setting the table for dessert.”

I offer her an apologetic smile, but I don’t need to say anything more for her to understand. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Of course,” she replies, smiling hesitantly. “And Richard, you are welcome back anytime.”

I recognize guilt in her voice, and if I didn’t feel so awful, I would have appreciated that at least she was remorseful for how poorly they had treated Richard.

After a quick goodbye, Richard and I step out into the cold, dark night. It has started to rain, and as we hop into the car, water streams down the foggy windows. Neither of us says a word for a long time as we drive away. The mere sound of my shaking breaths feels too loud, and I press my lips together, trying to swallow all the emotions clogging my throat. It’s strange, really, how quickly things can fall apart. Just last weekend, we were in Bath, and everything seemed perfect. But now … now everything feels astray . I want to believe him when he says that everything between us is fine, but I know him well enough to sense that tonight, something has changed. And it terrifies me.

“Lorelei, talk to me,” Richard breaks the silence in a pleading voice.

I shrug. “What do you want me to say?”

The trees on each side of the narrow road create a tunnel that seems to be slowly closing in on us.

“I don’t know … Are you okay? Are we okay?”

The worry and insecurity in his voice pull at my heartstrings, yet somehow, I find myself saying, “Why did you tell them?”

“What?”

“Why did you tell my parents we work together?” I groan.

“It just slipped!” he replies, raising his free hand. “Wait—you’re not actually blaming me for this?”

“No, I just—”

“What does it matter if they know?”

“What does it matter? Don’t tell me you enjoyed being put on trial by my parents?”

“Of course not but—Christ, Lorelei—you really would have preferred that I lie to your parents? Are you that ashamed of our relationship?”

“What—of course not!” I hasten to say despite the knot forming in my throat at his raised voice.

“No matter what I do, you’re never ready to take the next step. It feels like you’ll never be ready to tell people about us.”

His words, sharp and unexpected, are like a claw around my heart, and suddenly I feel very alone.

“I asked you just a few days ago if you were still alright with this—with us being a secret. And you said you were! You said you would wait until I was ready!”

Richard tightens his hold on the steering wheel as we enter Oxford via High Street. “And I meant it! But it’s one thing to want to keep our relationship secret from our coworkers and another thing entirely to ask me to lie to your parents. And you didn’t even tell them about us at first. I just … I want to be with you, but lately it feels like I’m more invested in this relationship than you are.”

I stare at him, feeling small in the face of his rebuke and my eyes shining with unshed tears. My heart tears further in my chest, and I wonder how I could have failed to see the depth of his insecurity until now. These aren’t words he has thrown suddenly and carelessly at me; these are feelings that have festered inside him for a long time.

“Richard…” I take a deep breath past the painful constriction in my throat, but my voice remains brittle. “I know I haven’t always been the best girlfriend but … but I want to be with you! I’m just not ready—”

“I get it, alright?” he snaps, and this time I can’t hold back my tears. “You’re not ready to tell everyone about us. You’ve said that a thousand times before.”

Suddenly, the car stops, and I belatedly realize that we have arrived at my flat. The street is deserted, but in the distance, I can hear loud music and the cheers of partying students.

“You’re not coming in?” I ask when I notice that Richard isn’t moving. He simply stares back at me, his eyes filled with tears, and I swallow hard. “Richard, please, come in. We can talk about this in the morning—”

“Be honest, Lorelei,” he interrupts me, his voice thick with emotion, “Are you really just worried about what our colleagues might think about us? Or are you just not willing to commit to this—to us?”

“How can you even ask me that?”

“I’m asking.”

I blink, trying to clear my blurred vision. “Look, I’m just trying—everything is still so new to me. This city, this job—everything! I’m still figuring it all out!”

“Then maybe this isn’t the right time for us. Maybe you need to figure it out before you’re ready for a relationship.”

“Don’t say that,” I hasten to say, shaking my head. “You don’t mean that.”

At last, he reaches out to hold my hand, and I cling to him desperately, even if I know he will let go before I’m ready.

“Lorelei…” His voice cracks as he speaks my name. “I just … I can’t do this. I can’t keep holding on when you won’t even fight for us.”

“Please … don’t say that,” I plead, no longer caring about the tears streaming down my face. “Please, I want … I can’t—”

I swallow back my words when he shakes his head, and lets go of my hand. And just like that, I know. I know no matter what I say, it’s over.

I stare at him a moment more, as though hoping he will gaze back at me and pull me tightly into his arms to kiss me, but of course, he does no such thing, and before I lose control entirely, I grab my bag and haul myself out of the car.

Standing on the pavement , I watch him drive away, my hand tingling from the memory of his touch, and a sob breaks free from my trembling lips. A few months ago, I was terrified of getting hurt, but in the end, I am the one who hurt him.

—

Taglist: @lathalea @linasofia @mcchiberry @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist or tagged in future chapters💙

#richard armitage #richard armitage fanfic #richard armitage x oc #richard armitage x you #richard armitage x reader #professor au #office hours

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mistresskayla-blog1 · 9 months ago

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Reclaiming Purity

Lyn's Writing Event Day 8

May 8th: Week 2: Andromeda (plant – Lily of the Valley – white bell shaped flowers in spring)

Characters: AU - Dr Mikhel Astrov x OC Cassandra (18+)

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Plays – Dr. Astrov (Uncle Vanya)

Dr Mikhel Astrov character was created by Anton Chekhov in a play called Uncle Vanya

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: age play, angst, kissing, natural decay, smut,

A young woman, with wavy brown hair is laying in a field, lily of the valley surrounding her in the warmth of the sunny spring. She ties up her hair from her face with a scrap of string from her bound books. Her journal lay open in the grasses, pencil holding its place among the pages. The breeze was warm and it smelled of flowers and blooming grasses.

Cassandra rolled back to her book, and started sketching again, the blooms of the flowers she was drawing blowing in the breeze. She sipped some water from a travel jug, and set the stopper back into the hole, making a suction sound. Birds chirped and flew overhead, playing in the afternoon breezes busy with their chores. Cassandra smiled up at the sun kissing her cheeks. When she brought this back to the Doctor, she knew he would be pleased. But would he be so pleased that he entertained more with her?

----

Gripped by anguish Dr Astrov sits at his desk and weeps openly. The trees in his forest are dying, dying from some organism he cannot control. Mushrooms are creeping up all over the forest, bright red and shelf like at the base, indicating a rash of what the dendrologist called, “heart rot”.

He couldn’t believe it. He had worked months tirelessly with his assistant Cassandra replanting the fields and protecting the larger deciduous trees from this plight. Dr Astrov felt helpless and utterly broken. He pulled the cork out of the bottle on his table, and poured it into a glass, nearly overfilling it, then just gulped down the fruit bearing liquid directly, putting his lips to the bottle. He took a gasp as the brandy burned down his throat. And coughed a bit, rambling as Cassandra came into his study.

She moved the bottle as he went to grab it again, “mm No, that’s mine” Astrov slurred. Cassandra shook her head and took it across the room, “No, that’s enough. We cannot fix this issue with drinking. You know that doctor”. He smirked at her, “well then can we fix it with something more fun than drinking”. Cassandra smiled coyly, “Not, -- look what you have been doing to my notes, its all” she acted disgusted, as she cleaned off the desk and removed her journal from the desk. Dr Astrov turned to her as she wiped her journal off with her skirt.

“I was reading that”, Astrov said, growing slightly annoyed, “And I think you may be onto something”. Cassandra looked amused, “Oh, do you? Is that the brandy talking?” Astrov burped and stood up, “No, no, no look, look,” he snatched the book from her hand, “Its all in here, the way you drew the bells on this plant, if we let them grow around the bottom of the tree like a girdle, than maybe we can prevent the rot from even touching the root of the tree”.

Cassandra looked at him, with endearing grace, “I know that, I wrote it”.

Astrov looked at her, smiling broadly, “Its brilliant!” he grabbed her face between his hands, squishing her cheeks and placing a triumphant kiss on her pursed lips.

He dropped his hands straight away, and stepped clear of her, “I,… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that” he walked back over the desk, trying to busy himself with his papers, running his hand through his fallen brown locks.

Cassandra still a bit stunned, leaned against a bench and looked down a moment, “Its, fine, really” she tried to hold back a grin. She had wanted him to kiss her for a long time now. Cassandra had worked with the doctor, training under him for about 18 months now and this was the first time he had seriously touched her.

Astrov turned back towards Cassandra, leaning against the desk, “I, just wanted to say, (looking at his feet, than back up to meet her gaze) I have really appreciated your help this past year, and all the work you are doing, trying to sort me out (he scratched the back of his neck, looking back at his desk)”. Cassandra nodded, “Of course, yes. I am honored to do it, Doctor. Really”.

Astrov looked at her, moving towards her again, “But, its not appropriate for me to take advantage of your; virtue and grace, when, I” he trailed off, and held himself back from touching her, while Cassandra stood in suspense desperate for him to touch her.

“Doctor” Cassandra, “Mikhel?”

Astrov looked at her, “my name on your lips sounds, (smiles) beautiful, Can I kiss you?”

Cassandra nodded.

Astrov moved towards her again, taking her face in his hands more gently, and when there lips met, the lightest brush of skin and heat to skin. They both held their breaths, then sighed gratefully into each other’s mouths. Astrov pulled her close with his hands around her waist. Cassandra’s hands moved into Astrov’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Astrov deepened the kiss in response, and then lead her back to the desk. He pivoted his body, carrying her against his chest, and boosting her into the desk. He swept things off of it with a crash of papers and tools, and leaned over the desk, kissing her neck and moving towards her skirts, her knees rising up.

---

Cassandra was panting and excited. After waiting so long, he was finally going to touch her, in the way she had been fantasizing about, been writing about (thankfully in a separate journal). Her head was swimming with thoughts and anticipation. Astrov continued his kisses, moving down her throat, and reaching for the buttons on her blouse, muffled he groaned into her breast, “You smell like those flowers”. Cassandra smiled, holding his head against her breast, “I’ve wanted you for so long,” she breathed.

Astrov came up from her cleavage, her blouse opening further, her belly exposed to the open air of his breath, “You… wanted me?” his voice was a question in between his heart thundering in his ears. Astrov looked over Cassandra, “The first day I saw you, I was hooked, and then you shared with me your mind, and your comfort, I… I never thought, I”. He kissed her passionately again, and Cassandra ran her fingers through his soft hair.

Cassandra spoke through her kisses, “I.. never.. thought.. you would..” Her hands digging into his hair deeper, as they kissed. Astrov kissed down her neck again, and into her soft and inviting cleavage. His beard tickled her soft sun kissed skin and she giggled. His lips trailed down her belly then, moving lower. Cassandra’s need was palpable, her core throbbed at his every touch.

“yes” she bid him, as he looked up at her again, heat in his eyes, as he moved to her skirts and moved them up against her thighs, his hands slowly moving in season with his lips. He started at her ankles and up the slope of her calf, and he nibbled behind her knee, and she let out a gasp, looking over the billow of her work skirt. He chuckled, “you liked that?” She sighed a ‘yes’. And he continued onto her inner thigh, Cassandra’s breath gulped in a nervousness, and Astrov felt her tense. He paused, “I can stop, if your not,” he trailed off, resting his head against her thigh, seeing the curls damp against her knickers.

Cassandra whimpered, “I want you to,”

Astrov groaned under his breath, and licked the inside of her thigh, all the way up to her knickers. He scooped his hands under her bum and slid them down, discarding them casually on the floor, as he shifted onto his knees, and buried his face in her nubile curls. His breath toned husky, as he took in her scent and kissed her folds softly. Cassandra cried out at the delicateness of it. Astrov’s hands caressed her ass, and her thighs, moving in to touch her, but for now, he wanted to just taste her. Drink in her essence, his cock twitched in his trousers as her scent hit his sharp nose. He nudged his nose against her sensitive clit, and she moaned beautifully.

There she was spreadeagled on the desk, her skirt billowing over the Doctor, on his knees before her, in total submission to his cause. He moaned against her sex and licked playfully parting her sweet folds with his tongue. It played at her entrance, and pushed his way in a little, feeling her tightly wound around his tongue. His cock strained against fabric even more. He pulled her closer, deepening his kiss and his tongue into her core. Cassandra moaned a little louder, grinding against his face with her burning need. Her core was swimming in this sensation, wanting to build this over and over again. Cassandra was so excited she barely noticed the wave overcoming her. Astrov moved his tongue faster, and rubbed her clit with his thumb, strumming her along, knowing exactly how to make her complete her ascent into madness and relief, his breath against her mound, “Tell me..” he panted. Cassandra sat up on her elbows, pushing her skirt out of her way to look at him, “Please doctor, I want you inside me”. He smiled broadly and sucked on her clit, pushing his finger inside her, as he stood up, hunched over her and worked at getting his trousers off. She climaxed against his finger and he groaned in acceptance, pulling out slowly as she shuddered, her cunt wet and creamy now, ready for him.

Astrov teased at her entrance, stroking his cock in his hand, making it slick, at the tip. Cassandra mewed at him, her legs gripping at his hips, drawing him closer, “Easy, easy my dear,” he cooed back at her in his deeper voice. Astrov leaned down between her legs and kissed her mouth again, her flavor mixed with the brandy on his breath was intoxicating and she caressed his hair again, keeping him close. Astrov moved and pushed into her entrance, Cassandra gasped as the stretching of her flesh against his intrusion, had her seeing stars. Her pussy gripped his cock so tight, Astrov shuddered and gaffawed, sliding deeper, Cassandra’s tongue entered his mouth and danced with his. They were joined now, and their hearts thumped in unison. Astrov began to stroke into her slowly and shallowly, easing it in and out, she adjusted well and still she clung to him with limbs and cunt. His arousal was at its peak and he wanted to thrust faster and harder, but he steeled himself to continue to go slow, for her benefit.

Cassandra, panted against his ear, as he held steady, letting her pussy throb around his shaft,

“Please, please,” she begged, “Please more”.

Astrov did not hesitate, he sunk all the way in and she cried out her legs gripping him harder, her hands digging into his shoulders and hair. He shuddered again, “God, you feel so good,”

Cassandra smiled playfully, as she whispered against his beard, “harder”.

That pushed him over the edge and Astrov started to pump against her pressure, building them both to the summit, to the wave that would inevitably crash against both of them in bliss. The heat inside his loins was growing and growing. And inside her core, Cassandra was overwhelmed by all the sensations, her body simply reacting to his, and in righteous chorus of expletive joy. Astrov kept at it, moving faster and faster, a little harder, and a little faster. Sweat was gathering at his brow, he tore his shirt open, and she clawed at his chest. He looked at her, deeply as he came close to his edge. Cassandra’s walls clamped down on him and he seized, pulling out quickly and spilling himself onto the floor. She clamped against the emptiness, for mere seconds, as his fingers slid into her and he pumped again and again as she shuddered over him.

Astrov dropped to his knees again and feasted on her, licking her clit and making her scream against her sleeve, biting down, as his fingers and tongue and lips just suspended her in utter pleasure. She shook on the desk, as he held her legs over his shoulders. His tongue quieted to languid licks against her folds, and peppered her thighs with kisses, before he replaced her skirts, and helped her up to a stand. He stood, above her, and kissed her sweetly on the mouth, his hands cradling her face again. Cassandra looked up at him with sleepy eyes. He smiled as he looked at her, “Such a treasure, I’m so glad to have the wonder of all of you, thank you, Cassandra”. Cassandra was still swimming in her waves, but she was stable in his arms, and that is what mattered. He picked her up and carried her to his bedroom, lying down next to her, still half dressed, there limbs lying softly with each other. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheek, and finally her mouth. Her eyelids drooped heavier, and he whispered against her forehead, “Rest now”, in his soft and sultry voice.

Raspy and confused Cassandra mumbled up at him, “What.. what happens now?”

Astrov looked at her, “you mean with the trees?”

Cassandra burbled up a giggle,

Astrov smirked, “oh you mean with us,”

Cassandra nodded,

“Let’s just learn to grow together” Astrov smiled and kissed her again, gently. And held her close to him all night.

END?

Tag list:

@legolasbadass @middleearthpixie @riepu10 @evenstaredits

@scariusaquarius @sweetestgbye @lathalea

#richard armitage #fanfiction #romance #richard armitage x oc #dr astrov #virginity #doctor #uncle vanya #Lyn's writing event 2024 #smut #oc is a virgin

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astrovian · 3 years ago

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Richard Armitage tweets (13/09/21):

To the new owner, I’m delighted that Gizzy’s jacket found a new home. Thank you for sharing the beautiful story about your parents and for your generosity…here are some answers to your questions:

Question #1 from NJO (New Jacket Owner):

While he was filming Hannibal as Francis/Red Dragon, did he recall that in one of the first few Spooks episodes he was unpacking a box of personal items to decorate his new flat and one of the items was a photo of the Red Dragon and that Lucas was a fan of Blake’s? Question: Do you believe it to be simply a bizarre coincidence you were asked to play Francis or perhaps, could it have been kismet? Have there been any other similar kismet-like occurrences in any of your other works?

Re; Hannibal and M15 (you’re in the US!!!) I use William Blake a lot for research and inspiration but it was a coincidence.

Question #2 from NJO:

I’ve often thought that performing any Shakespearean play on stage would be quite a challenge in part due to the length of the monologues and soliloquys. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if Shakespeare had a hatred of actors, despite having done some acting of his own, and that writing these lengthy passages was an intentionally devious act to make life difficult for actors. RA has commented that he would like to play Richard III. Question: If you were put on the spot, say in an interview or a dinner party (presuming you weren’t too far into your cups) could you recite the opening soliloquy of Richard III by heart?

I absolutely could recite the opening soliloquy to R3. Probably would get a bit ‘paraphrasy’ according to how much I’ve imbibed!!!

Question #3 from NJO:

In almost every movie/TV show I’ve seen RA in, at some point, he picks up and carries a woman somewhere. Most of the time he’s carrying them to a bedroom. (How truly gallant of him to carry these women that are apparently so drowsy they cannot walk on their own to the bedroom to go to sleep?) Must keep this G-Rated. Question: So, Mr. Half-Century man, how is your back holding up?

My back is just fine. Looking for someone to carry me in my next role.!!!

Question #4 from NJO:

As we know, RA likes to write bios for his characters to help him realize the characters’ persona. The director of The Stranger, Danny Brocklehurst, took some of those ideas and added them to the series. While promoting it, RA stated that one of the story lines in the show was something that Richard had experienced himself. Question: Would you be willing to share what experience you and Adam had in common?

Adam Price has a conversation with Johanna Griffin (the amazing @SFinneranTV ) he tells a story about how he met Corrine; the story was peppered with real details about a time I was working in Africa. (Strike Back)

Question #5 from NJO:

RA has been filmed extensively on horseback. Actors often comment on how hard it is to get a nag to hit its mark while filming. According to the “Equine Actors Guild, **” (EAG) these beautiful stallions are well trained in their craft and their hooves do NOT miss their mark. The EAG suggests it is perhaps the fault of the actor on the back of the steed and not the mount itself. Question: Have you ever had trouble getting your hirsute, four-legged thespians to hit their mark? What about the two beautiful Borzoi in Oceans 8?

With regards to horses hitting their marks. I’ve had great experiences and made some firm equine friends on film sets. I did, however, ride a thoroughbred for a short time on Robin Hood, he knew showbiz was a step down from racing, and decided one afternoon to bail…

He tore the bit, and sped off with Gisborne on his back riding with only one rein. So the jacket might have some ‘sweat’ stains, but also I agree with the horse. Racing V Showbiz? No contest!!!

Question #6 from NJO:

WikiFeet, which I didn’t know was a thing until a minute ago, ranks RA’s feet 4.77 out of 5.0 compared to other famous people from Leicestershire. I am not a foot person and do my absolute best to not draw attention to my own feet and quite frankly I don’t notice other people’s feet, including RA’s. Question: How do inane “news” stories and rankings on such stupid things sit with you? As a shy(ish) woman, it would make me uncomfortable, and quite frankly, would chap-my-ass be I in your shoes – pun intended. At this point in your career, are you numb to the idiocy of this and can ignore it and move on with your day, or does it chap-your-ass as well, or do you adhere to the adage that all publicity is good publicity?

I rarely read anything written about myself, apart from items that are brought to my attention (by very kind friends). I try to keep my brain full of the useful stuff; there isn’t that much room for anything else.

#@njo if you follow me i know you probably wanna stay anonymous #but can i just say #well done 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼#and also #I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU BROUGHT UP WIKIFEET #me reading that artivle about WikiFeet before I posted it: wow this is groos I hope RA never finds about this #🤣😭#@RA I swear we're not all weirdos okay #richard armitage

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

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And the Woman Clothed With the Sun...

3x09

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, nightmares, talk of children and having them

Author’s Note: I really really liked this episode. I love playing with dynamics SO MUCH. I hope you guys like this?

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary: As the search for Francis Dolarhyde (Richard Armitage) continues, Will starts imagining himself in Dolarhyde's tormented psyche -- and asks Hannibal for help with the serial killer's profile; a new woman (Rutina Wesley) enters Dolarhyde's life.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95 @sweetgoodangel

(not my gif)

“That’s the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court,” Hannibal said. He turned around slowly, acting as though he were not surprised to see you and Will together. The thin line of glass between the two of you Hannibal seemed so thick.

The truth was, you had never truly gotten over Hannibal. You had pretended to, for the sake of Will, but you had never really stopped thinking about what he could be doing. There was a link that the three of you had with each other that was unexplainable. You had started a new life. But your old one still called your name.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter,” Will said simply. He was contained. You fed off of his energy to keep yourself in check as well.

“Hello, Will. Y/N.” He stepped closer to the two of you. “I believe congratulations are in order. I apologize I couldn’t make it to the wedding. Alana gave me some pictures, to taunt me presumably.” You smiled. You thought about Hannibal holding the pictures of you and Will laughing, beaming at each other. “Did you get my note?” You nodded.

“We got it. Thank you,” you said simply. You and Will stood close together. He had his coat draped over his arm and you held the papers from the cases.

“Did you read it before you destroyed it? Or did you simply toss it into the nearest fire?” Hannibal asked. You scoffed a bit.

“We read it. Then he burned it,” you promised. He nodded.

“And you came anyway.” Hannibal eyed you. “I’m surprised you let that happen.”

“We all falter in some ways,” you said simply.

“I want you to help me, Dr. Lecter,” Will said to break the conversation. He still didn't trust Hannibal with you. Reminiscent of the days you used to work with Hannibal.

“Yes I thought so. Are we no longer on a first-name basis?” Hannibal asked.

“I’m more comfortable the less personal we are,” Will said. Hannibal looked over at you, eyeing your entire body. He made note of the scent. The scent off of both of you.

“Your hands are rough Will. I smell dogs and pine and oil beneath that shaving lotion.” He looked at you. “Did you steal that perfume from my home?” he questioned. You stiffened. You had gotten some perfume from his home as they cleaned it out. You ended up liking and buying another bottle over the years.

“I’m here about Chicago and Buffalo. You’ve read about it, I’m sure,” Will said.

“I’ve read the papers. I can’t clip them. They won’t let me have scissors, of course. You want to know how he’s choosing them,” Hannibal commented. You held up the case file.

“Thought you might have some ideas.”

“You just came here to look at me. Came to get the old scent again. Why don't you just smell yourself Will? Or your wife?” Will let out a sigh.

“I expected more of you, doctor. That routine is old hat.” Hannibal nodded stiffly.

“Whereas you are new people,” Hannibal said. “Let me have the file. An hour, and we can discuss it like old times.” You nodded happily at that, pleased he would help. You shoved the file through the document tray and into the cell. Hannibal came close to collect it.

“Thank you,” Will muttered.

“Family values may have declined over the last century, but we still help our families when we can.” He took the papers. “You’re both family.”

Will grabbed you around the waist, eager to leave. Your eyes lingered on Hannibal’s for a moment longer before you and Will left the room, swallowing his true words.

You looked around Alana’s office. You hadn’t seen it since she had moved in. It looked better than when Chilton had run it. Perhaps that was just because you liked Alana more. The problems you once had with each other had mostly scabbed over. She was maid of honor at your wedding. Interesting, considering the fact you had once fought feverishly over Hannibal.

“It’s good to see you looking well. But I can’t help wishing you weren’t here,” Alana said. She sat on her couch. Her suit was pristine, her hair perfect. You admired her.

“You aren’t the only one,” you commented.

“I was surprised Jack came back in one piece,” she said. You nodded, running a hand over your pants before sitting down on the couch beside her. Will stood up, looking out the window.

“You weren’t the only one,” Will said, turning to both of you.

“How did it feel to see him again?” she questioned. You looked at the ground. Will sat down beside you, in between you and Alana.

“Like Hannibal was looking through to the back of my skull. Felt like a fly flitting around in there. I had the absurd feeling that he walked out with me. Had to stop outside the doors and look around, make sure it was just Y/N,” Will commented.

“I know that feeling. At least Jack Crawford’s pleased.” You pursed your lips but stayed quiet.

“He showed me pictures of the families. I looked at Y/N and couldn’t say no,” he argued.

“Damn my presence,” you joked softly. Will slung his arm around the couch behind you, his fingered brushing your shoulder.

“And Jack was counting on it.”

“Are you still with Margot?” you asked, eager to change the subject. She took a deep breath and nodded, thinking fondly of her wife.

“Yes. We have a baby. A Verger baby. A son,” she said. You smiled. You and Will had talked about kids. You wanted one. You were working for one when Jack spiked both yours and Will’s stress levels.

“Good for Margot,” Will said.

“Good for me. I carried him. He’s my son. He’s the Verger heir.” You smiled.

“Then what are you doing here? You’re set for life,” you pointed out.

“There are only five doors between Hannibal and the outside. And I have the keys to every one of them,” she said. A daily ‘gotcha’ to Hannibal. Will admired that. “Hannibal has never been great with boundaries. ‘He who sups with the Devil needs a long spoon’.”

“I am not letting him in, Alana. Don’t worry about me,” Will said. She looked at you sympathetically.

“Last time, it didn't’ end with you Will.”

“I want you to stay here,” Will said, standing outside Hannibal’s cell door. He hadn’t stepped inside yet. Hannibal could not see him. You scoffed.

“We’ve been over this. I follow you, even if you say no.”

“This time, I mean it. I think I’ll get more out of him if he isn't’ distracted with you.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You sure you aren’t jealous?” He gave you a look. “Fine, fine. Please be quick.”

Will stepped into the room, leaving you outside to wait. Hannibal looked up at him from his desk.

“This is a very shy boy, Will. I’d love to meet him,” Hannibal said. He looked around. “Just us?”

Will nodded.

“Just us.”

“Have you considered the possibility that he’s disfigured? Or that he may believe he’s disfigured?” Hannibal asked.

“That’s interesting.”

“That’s not interesting. You thought of that before.” Will nodded.

“He smashed all the mirrors in the houses, not just enough to get the pieces he wanted. The shards are set so he can see himself. In their eyes. Mrs. Jacobi and Mrs. Leeds. And their families,” Will said. Hannibal pulled out the picture of a dead Mrs. Jacobi.

“Could you see yourself in their eyes, Will? Killing them all?”

Will instantly regretted leaving you outside.

The two boys imagined themselves in the crime scenes, looking across the dead bodies of the families.

“The first small bond to the killer itches and stings like a leech,” Hanibal said. “Like you, Will, he needs a family to escape what’s inside him.” Wills head shot up but he did not look at Hannibal. “You know a fair amount about how these families died. How they lived is how he chooses them.”

“How is he choosing them?” Will asked.

“I was surprised to hear you actually married Y/N. Not because I thought you weren’t a match made in heaven but it made more sense for you to start a family from scratch. No one that had even an inkling of me in their eyes. Find a mom with a stepson or daughter, not having to breed. You know better than to pass the terrible traits that you fear the most,” Hannibal said. Will did not look at him. Hannibal continued. “But Y/N wants children with you. How will you stand to look at a child you may have ruined before they were even born?”

Will desperately wished he hadn’t left you outside.

“Why are there no descriptions of the grounds? I see floor plans, diagrams of the rooms where the deaths occured, no mention of the grounds. What were the yards like?” Hannibal continued, satisfied with how he had shaken Will’s personal life.

“Big, fenced, with trees. Why?”

“If this pilgrim feels a special relationship with the moon, he might like to go outside and look at it before he tidies himself up. If one were nude, say, it would be better to have outdoor privacy for that sort of thing. One must show some consideration for the neighbors, hmmm? Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will?”

Will suddenly saw himself in place of the killer, naked, drenched in pitch black blood.

Will snapped back and nodded quickly.

“Thank you Dr. Lecter,” he said before stumbling out of the door. You sat on the outside in one of the waiting chairs. Will looked over at you and seemed to relax but not completely.

“Will?”

He grabbed you and you stood up quickly, hugging him tightly. He buried his head in your neck and you let him, rubbing your back.

“This is why you don’t go without me places,” you muttered. He scoffed but his breathing was already evening again. “What did he say?” He moved back and shook his head softly.

“We’ll talk about it later. I want to see the backyards.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, I suppose.”

He walked out of the asylum, holding your hand tightly. Freddie snapped a couple pictures from the bushes.

“Have you come to wag your finger?” Hannibal asked as Alana entered the room behind him.

“I love a good finger-wagging.”

“Yes, you do. How is Margot?” Alana ignored the remake as she gleaned down at the picture of her as Botticelli’s Fortitude.

“Your cogs are turning, Hannibal. I can hear them clicking.”

“Click, click, click, boom,” he whispered.

“I don’t know what you’re planning with the Grahams. But you’re planning something. Why wouldn’t you be? You’ve already cracked the lid, can’t resist peeling it back.”

Hannibal pursed at the name. Alana noticed this.

“You can’t comment on her last name anymore you know. They’re married. She is, in the eyes of the law, a Graham now.” Hannibal stiffened.

“They came to me,” Hannibal said, ignoring her words.

“Yes, they did.”

“I advised them against it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t have Y/N and Will’s best interests in mind?” he asked. Alana scoffed.

“I’m stating it as a fact.”

You stepped into the room with Hannibal’s cage. He looked up, quite surprised to see you. You held your purse in both hands, stepping closer to the cage.

“Hello love,” he said quietly. You let his words fall off of you like rain. They stayed for a moment, dripping down your arm before hitting the ground. “I don’t imagine you’re here to talk about the murder cases.” You shook your head softly. He walked up to the glass quietly. You stepped close to it, so you were really only a couple of inches apart.

“I came to yell at you,” you said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever for?” You smiled gently and shrugged.

“Lots of things. Firstly, you didn’t kill Jack when you got the chance. I’ll never forgive you for not feeding him to me in soup.” His eyes went wide.

“Careful Y/N. Alana watches these tapes.”

“She would probably agree with me.” You took a deep breath. “Secondly, not coming to my wedding. I know you were otherwise indisposed but I thought it was rather rude.”

“I thought it was rude of you to get married.” You shook your head playfully. The same banter. Joking with a cannibal serial killer. Just another Tuesday.

“Third, I told you to leave.” The air seemed to calm.

“Does Will know you’re here?”

“No. I didn’t tell him.”

“Did he tell you he’s scared of his own children?” You raised a finger, shaking it gently.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Will is no longer my boyfriend I dated a couple of months. He’s my husband. You can’t wedge yourself between us no matter how hard you try.” You wanted to put your hand against the glass but you didn’t. “But I miss you.”

“Where do you work nowadays?” You shrugged.

“I had to get another secretary job but I’ve mostly worked up enough to take this amount of leave. My last employer wasn’t exactly the best reference.” He laughed.

“I suppose you’re right.” He paused. “Eating well?”

“Better. No people in the diet these days.”

“Pity.”

“Will!” You broke Will out of his thoughts. You were standing in the back of the Jacobi house. Will had just found a small sign on one of the trees. He was about to get into it but you had broken him out of his mind. “It’s Freddie.”

Will walked out from the trees and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Now are you just keeping America clean or is that evidence?” Freddie asked.

“You’re trespassing, Freddie,” Will said sternly.

“I was trespassing before the blood dried. When did they call you? Interesting to see The Bloody Valentines back at action. Beautiful ceremony by the way.”

“We aren’t talking to you,” Will said, grabbing your arm. You followed him.

“We’re co conspirators, Will. I did for you and your cause.”

“You didn’t die enough. You came into my hospital room while I was asleep. You flipped back the sheets and shot a picture of my temporary colostomy bag,” Will said, turning to her.

“Covered your junk with a black box. A big black box. You’re welcome,” she said.

“Justly so,” you argued carefully.

“You culled us the ‘murder threesome’. Little crude, don't you think?”

“You did run off to Europe together. Doesn’t help that the two of you ended up getting married. How does the Tooth Fairy compare to Hannibal Lecter? Haven’t seen anything like this since the Massacre at Muskrat Farm. Funny thing about that massacre. Not only did Dr. Bloom survived, she got rich. Lecter’s living in the lap under her care. What kind of arrangement you suppose they have?” Freddie asked.

“A complicated one,” you said sternly.

“Couldn’t be more complicated than your relationship with Hannibal. Both of you. You paid him a visit? Before you lie, know that I know that you did,” she said quickly.

“Good-bye Freddie.”

“I read your note before my office forwarded it to the Grahams,” Jack said, standing in front of Will. Hannibal swallowed, understanding.

“To whet their appetite or yours? You’ve placed him back in the pot and you’re letting him cook.”

“We’re all in this stew together.”

“Arguable considering how close Y/N is to drowning you.”

You stepped into the hotel room where Will was already sitting on the bed. You ran a hand through your hair and let the chilly cold wash over you as you entered the warm room.

“How are the dogs?” he asked.

“Good. The dog sitters said they were missing us but other than that, they’re okay,” you promised. You looked down at the dog that was laying on the ground beside the bed. “She’ll be right at home with them.”

You sat on the bed and Will sat up, putting his arms around you from behind. You smiled about him, happy to see he was feeling better.

“I’m worried about the kids,” he whispered.

“The kids who don’t exist?” He laughed gently.

“Yeah. I don’t want them to end up like me.” You nodded slowly.

“So that’s what Hannibal said that got you worked up.” You took in the information. “If the kid isn’t like you I don’t think I’d be able to love them as much as I love you.”

It was his turn to take in the information.

“You’re just saying that.”

“Nope. I’m serious. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I’ve had the pleasure of loving you Mr. Graham.” He kissed your neck gently and smiled to himself.

“I love you too Mrs. Graham.”

You let out a small sigh of relief.

Will screamed as he sat up quickly, sweating aggressively, blankets flying. You got up just as quickly, turning to him but he had already gotten up, rushing into the bathroom. You followed him, sleep that had just taken you over long gone.

You practically ran up to him. He was looking at himself in the mirror, fear in his eyes at his reflection. You grabbed him quickly and he turned to you, wrapping his arms around you. You didn’t speak. You didn’t ask questions. You just held him as close as you could get him.

Nightmares had come back. Neither of you had had those in a while. You rubbed his back and let him breath.

3x10

#will graham x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal imagines

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