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writetheidea · 8 days ago

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In the Quiet of Us

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. This one was more of a spur-of-the-moment idea, but I hope you still find it enjoyable. As always, I have anonymous ask available for those who would like to express their opinion anonymously.

Pairing: Lando Norris x named!female character

Plot: Lando Norris learns to navigate his girlfriend's hesitation with physical affection, patiently helping her open up and show love in her own quiet, touch-starved way.

Tag: fluff.

Word count: 1697

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

The girlfriend has a name as I wasn’t able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.

Lando Norris had always been an affectionate person, and anyone close to him would tell you the same. Whether it was a warm hug after a tough day or a playful nudge to break the silence, Lando found comfort in touch. Friends and family alike knew he’d be the first to throw an arm around your shoulders, squeeze your hand for reassurance, or wrap you in a bear hug when you needed it most. For Lando, physical closeness wasn’t just a part of life—it was his language, one he was fluent in and spoke without hesitation.

But when it came to Evie, Lando soon realized that physical affection wasn’t something she was used to. She wasn’t cold or distant—quite the opposite, actually—but there was a quietness to her, a shyness that kept her hands tucked in her lap rather than reaching out. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be close to him; he could see the way her eyes softened when he touched her, how her breath would hitch when he leaned in a little too close. But there was always a hesitation, a space she kept between them.

Their first date had been sweet and simple, a quiet dinner followed by a walk in the park. At one point, he’d offered her his arm, hoping she’d take it. But instead, she’d simply smiled and slipped her hands into her pockets. At the end of the night, as they said goodbye, he leaned in for a kiss. She blushed a deep pink, her hands clutching her purse as though it was the only thing keeping her steady. Her hesitation caught him off guard. He’d pulled back, a soft smile on his face to cover the moment’s awkwardness, but she didn’t move away. It was as though she wanted to be closer but didn’t know how to reach for him.

As the weeks passed, Lando began to notice the small ways Evie responded to his touch. She wouldn’t reach for his hand, but she’d linger if he held it. She wouldn’t initiate a hug, but once he pulled her into his arms, she’d hold on tight, pressing her face into his chest like she was grounding herself in his warmth. If he brushed her cheek with his thumb or let his fingers graze hers, her cheeks would flush, her lips parting in a soft, unsure smile. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be close—it was just that she wasn’t sure how to be.

It stung a little at first. Lando had always been so open with his affection, so ready to give, but he quickly realized that Evie just wasn’t used to it. And as he got to know her, he could see how deeply she cared for him in all the ways that didn’t involve touch. She’d make him laugh until his stomach hurt, stay up late just to talk about their days, remember every small detail he shared with her. He saw kindness in her every action, even in her hesitance. And whenever he held her, no matter how shy she seemed, she never pulled away.

She wasn’t rejecting him; she just wasn’t sure how to express her feelings through touch. But that didn’t stop him from being patient, from offering her the space she needed while still trying to show her how much he cared in his own way.

Then, as the months passed, Lando started noticing something else. A pattern, little signs that showed she was trying to be close in her own quiet ways. She’d poke his shoulder after a joke or hold her hand up for a high-five with a shy smile, only to linger a second too long. These gestures became more frequent—small touches, like a light brush of her fingers over his, the faintest hint of a hand on his arm. It dawned on him, in the sweetest way, that this was Evie’s version of physical affection. A high-five, a gentle nudge, an extra glance over her shoulder as he watched her laugh with his family. Each small touch felt like her way of reaching out, even if it didn’t look like much to anyone else.

And Lando loved it. Every high-five, every poke on his shoulder felt like a step forward, like she was learning how to show what she felt in her own way. He noticed that these gestures would come at the sweetest moments—after they’d had a laugh, or when she was watching him with that soft, shy smile of hers, or during the quiet times when they were just being near each other. He realized that Evie wasn’t distant at all. She was just... a little touch-starved, perhaps too used to holding back.

So he decided he’d help make up for all the love she hadn’t had, all the closeness she never felt she could ask for. He started pulling her close more often, wrapping her in warm hugs, brushing kisses over her temple whenever he could. She’d always hesitate at first, that little spark of nervousness in her eyes, but then she’d melt into his arms as if they were the safest place in the world. And every time, he’d whisper soft words of affirmation, making sure she knew how much he loved her, how happy he was just to hold her.

---

One afternoon, while they were sitting together in silence, Lando reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Evie’s ear. She looked at him, her eyes soft and a little uncertain, and he couldn’t help but smile. He liked the way she looked at him, like she was always just on the verge of saying something but couldn’t quite find the words.

“You’re so cute when you blush,” he teased gently, his fingers brushing over her cheek.

Evie turned pink, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I... I’m not good at this, Lando,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Being close... I’m just not sure how to... I don’t want to mess it up.”

Lando’s heart ached at the sadness in her voice. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “Evie, you don’t have to know how,” he said softly, his voice filled with love. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me love you. Let me hold you.”

She met his gaze, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and slowly, she leaned into his touch, allowing him to pull her close. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, as if he were the only steady thing in her world.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so soft, he almost couldn’t hear it. “For being patient with me.”

“You’re worth every second,” Lando murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He meant it with all of his heart.

---

As time passed, Evie began to open up in small, quiet ways. She started to initiate small gestures, things she’d never done before. She would reach for his hand when they watched a movie, her fingers gently curling around his. She would rest her head on his shoulder, her breath soft against his neck. Each small touch was a quiet declaration of her love, her way of showing him that she was learning how to trust in the closeness they shared.

One morning, as Lando was making breakfast, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind. He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the warmth of her embrace. But then he relaxed, covering her hands with his and smiling as his heart swelled. They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, and for the first time, Lando felt like they had finally found a rhythm together—one that didn’t need words, one that was just about being there for each other.

Each day brought something new—a gentle touch, a small kiss, a hesitant hug. She would press a kiss to his cheek, rest her head on his chest as they lay together, ask him to hold her on days when she felt vulnerable. Every gesture made his heart swell, and he made sure she knew how much he cherished each one. With every forehead kiss, every squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, never a burden.

---

In the quiet moments that followed, Lando never stopped showing Evie how much he loved her. With every soft kiss on her forehead, every gentle squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, one he treasured deeply. And in return, Evie began to understand that love didn’t need to be loud or perfect—it just needed to be there, in every little gesture, in every quiet moment they shared.

One quiet evening, after a long day, they found themselves on the couch, wrapped up in each other and a warm blanket. The TV played softly in the background, but neither of them paid much attention. Evie was nestled against Lando’s side, her fingers tracing slow patterns over his hand, her head resting against his shoulder. He felt her breath even out, and he looked down to find her gaze soft and peaceful, a contented look he was coming to cherish. It was a peaceful silence, one that spoke volumes.

After a while, Evie lifted her head and looked up at him, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Do you think I’ll ever be as good at this as you are?” she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Lando gave her hand a gentle squeeze, smiling at her with a warmth that held no expectation, only love. “You’re already everything I need, Evie,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Just as you are.”

She leaned back against him, her fingers curling around his as she closed her eyes, content. And for the first time, they didn’t need words to feel how much they meant to each other. They had found their own way, and it was perfect.

In that silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew that love could be quiet, soft, and yet, more than enough.

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yumeka-sxf · 8 months ago

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Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 1

This is a post series I've been planning for a while and I've finally had the time to complete part 1! 😃 I may have mentioned here before that I got my B.A. in Japanese/East Asian Studies, and even though I'm not fluent, I know the linguistics of the language fairly well. So I thought it would be fun to examine the interesting aspects of the Japanese version of the SxF manga that aren't reflected in the English translation. It might also be an informative experience for those who don't know any Japanese to learn a bit about the language through SxF! I'll try not to get too technical with the linguistics and keep my explanations at a beginner's level.

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Part 1 - Twilight's "honne and tatemae"

One of the main themes in SxF is how many of the characters have secrets they want to hide, so they act a certain way in front of others in order to mask their true selves. Japanese has a word for this phenomena called 本音と建前 ("honne and tatemae").

I remember learning about the concept of "honne and tatemae" during my Japanese college studies – a quick google search will yield a lot of publications on the topic and its relation to Japanese culture in particular. While the idea of hiding one's true intentions behind a fake facade can exist anywhere and is not something unique to Japan, it is enough of an occurrence in Japanese culture that there are specific words for it. The Wiki article has a basic but good definition of honne and tatemae, to quote:

A person's honne may be contrary to what is expected by society or what is required according to one's position and circumstances, and they are often kept hidden, except with one's closest friends. Tatemae is what is expected by society and required according to one's position and circumstances, and these may or may not match one's honne. In many cases, tatemae leads to outright telling of lies in order to avoid exposing the true inward feelings.

Sounds very much like the characters in SxF, doesn't it? Twilight especially, because unlike other characters like Yor and Anya, who simply have secrets they need to keep but don't create fake personas for themselves, Twilight does – the cheerful, friendly Loid Forger is a different person from the cold, calculating Twilight after all. Also unlike Yor and Anya, who speak the same way consistently no matter who they're talking to, Twilight uses different speech levels depending on which persona he's using and who he's talking to.

There are many different levels of speech in Japanese, ranging from super formal to totally crude. These speech levels are distinguished mostly by the pronouns the speaker chooses to use for themselves and who they're speaking to, as well as how they choose to conjugate the words they use. For example, 座ってください (suwatte kudasai), 座って (suwatte,) and 座れ (suware) all mean "sit," as in, telling someone to sit down. But the tone being conveyed is different: the first one is polite, the second one is casual, and the last one could be seen as rude if you're not using it with a close friend/family member.

As Twilight, he uses casual speech with the masculine and less polite pronoun 俺 or オレ (ore). This is the speech he uses when talking to a fellow spy like Fiona, and for his own inner thoughts.

As Loid Forger, he uses the polite 敬語 (keigo) speech, which is basically comprised of using the -ます (-masu) conjugation for verbs and the "to be" verb です (desu). He also uses the pronoun ボク or 僕 (boku), which is the standard male pronoun and more polite than "ore." He uses keigo to address pretty much everyone who doesn't know his true identity. When talking to a higher-up like Sylvia, he'll still use "ore" but will use polite speech instead of casual speech.

Anya is an exception to this: with her, he uses his most casual speech, the same as he uses with Franky.

I discussed a bit about this in part 24 of my Twiyor analysis posts, but this could be because Anya is a little kid, so he doesn't feel the need to put on any airs with her (same with Bond, whom he also uses casual speech with).

An interesting side note is that, as a child, Twilight used the pronoun "boku" but then changed to "ore" as soon as he became an adult/soldier.

Another aspect of keigo, besides using the more polite forms of pronouns and verb conjugations, is putting the honorific さん (san) after people's names. Twilight does this all the time with Yor, as she does with him. However, he switches to casual speech and drops the "san" part in her name when addressing her in front of people who (supposedly) believe they're a real married couple, such as Yuri and Fiona – because it would be weird for a real couple who have been married for a year to address each other in such a formal way, especially the husband. In the below panel when Fiona visits them, he's calling her "Yor" instead of "Yor-san" and using casual speech instead of keigo.

Oddly in these situations, while he uses just "Yor" when addressing her directly, he still calls her "Yor-san" when talking about her. During Yuri's first visit for example, he calls her "Yor-san" when telling Yuri how much Anya loves her (talking to someone about her) but then calls her just "Yor" a few moments later when telling her that he'll clean up the spill (talking to her directly). It's strange to me that he wouldn't just consistently use "Yor" whether he's talking to her or about her in these situations...I'm honestly not sure if he does this intentionally or if he just slips up since he's so used to using "Yor-san" in her presence.

*UPDATE* Thank you to @dentedintheworld-blog for enlightening me with the below reply about this!

"In Japanese, when speaking to your spouse's family about your spouse, you address her/him by attaching "san" her/his name out of respect for her/his family. This is also to show her/his family that you respect your spouse. That's why Loid calls Yor with san when he talks about how much he loves Yor to Yuri."

That definitely makes sense for why Twilight switches between "Yor" and "Yor-san" in these situations.

Regardless, this is why the scene in chapter 86 is so significant – when Yor isn't present, there's no reason for him to refer to her as "Yor-san," especially in front of a fellow spy like Fiona who knows he (supposedly) shouldn't have any feelings for her. Yet, even after he just called Yuri by his full name "Yuri Briar" a moment before, he doesn't do the same for Yor and continues to call her "Yor-san" here, much to Fiona's dismay.

In the same chapter, it's also significant that he uses "ore" when addressing Yor directly in his thoughts. Even though he's not speaking out loud, I believe this is the first time he's speaking directly "to" her as Twilight and/or his true self and not as Loid Forger.

But despite all this, I think that both Loid Forger and Twilight are tatemae…they're both masks to hide the person he truly is. The person who fondly talked about his mother to Yor on the park bench, the person who genuinely expressed gratitude for her sacrifice when leaving the resort island, the person who refused to kill Yuri in a life-or-death struggle because he knew it would hurt her…that's his actual honne. But of course, the ongoing conflict of the series is that he has yet to realize this. He won't even show his honne to his closest friend, Franky. Seems like it mostly comes out in dribs and drabs during his interactions with Yor...no surprise there, lol. The man is certainly a work in progress. When he finally starts letting his "honne" show, I'm curious what form of speech he'll adopt.

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Continue to Part 2 ->

#spy x family #sxf #spy family #spyxfamily #loid forger #twiyor #sxf spoilers #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf analysis

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crossingthedreams · 1 month ago

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do better — gregory house x f!reader

a/n: I got a little carried away, per usual, and now I’m late with day 04 of the angstober challenge (still a wyp), but I plan on finishing it and posting later today. but, omg, I can’t believe I'm posting day 05 — do better on time! this is also part of @angstober‘s challenge, which I'm having a blast writing. I do love some angsty vibes. please, feel free to comment or dm me!

summary: a relationship between the boss and his employee has a million ways to go wrong. one, in particular, hurt them the most.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: angst. House is an asshole. mentions of family death. mentions of cancer. struggles with immigration. inappropriate relationship. mentions of smut.

Let medicine be thy food.

That's the quote, or at least you think it is. After a particularly long shift, words in English seemed to scramble together a bit, with it being your second language and all. Usually, you’re a natural, perfect, fluent speaker. There are moments, however, when understanding what your peers are saying or formulating cohesive sentences becomes a herculean task. You didn’t make yourself unintelligible, but it was a little awkward to be with a patient who clearly had no idea how globalized the world was and how many doctors in the United States were not native English speakers, and who looked at you like you had just robbed the white coat from a “proper doctor”.

Sure, dealing with people was shitty sometimes. “Doctors don’t treat people, they treat illnesses”, your boss had once said. But in your mind, people weren’t that bad. The long hours, the sleep deprivation, the lack of a social life — that was the really bad part. And there were, of course, the very short lunch breaks.

Medicine was fun, but it had nothing on a full plate of pasta with those weird looking meatballs. What once was disgusting, now seemed appetizing as hell. Not eating once while working for the whole night could do that to a person. Medicine was not food, at least not literally.

You had taken off your sweater and your white coat a while before going to the cafeteria, where the rest of the team was. As of right now, you and Chase had spent thirty-six hours working. Cameron and Foreman had taken the long straws and gone home last night while you and the prettiest doctor around worked on some lab tests.

That man who, right now, was not really trying to hide how he lustfully eyed you up and down, stopping on your cleavage. You didn’t blame him for looking, though. Firstly, you did spend the night working together and you mentioned that you did not have sex for the last six months, and secondly, you had nice boobs, which was both a blessing and a curse. Also, he was very much exhausted. Thinking about your coworkers in an unfashionable manner to keep awake was better than falling asleep atop of a patient during a lumbar puncture — you had done both, so you could tell, oops.

“I’ll die if I have to do any more thinking”, the pretty doctor said, accent even more prominent, letting his head drop to the headrest of his seat behind him.

“Yes, thinking just doesn’t come naturally to some people”, you laughingly replied, sitting down next to Foreman. He scooched over, making more room for you and your tray. There was enough pasta on your plate to feed two, not to mention the salad, the dessert, the can of Coke and the can of energy drink.

“Damn, kid, do you not have food at home?” You eyed Foreman, a little annoyed at the comment. Why did men think they had the right to comment on women’s food choices and bodies all the damn time? “Don’t give me that look, you know that’s a lot, especially for a girl who skips lunch every other day”.

“Not by choice” you said, taking a lot of pasta into your mouth. “Nof ba chos”, you replied, mouth full, making everyone at the table let out a tired laugh.

It was an uneventful meal. The team was really tired, especially Chase, who almost dropped his head on his plate twice. The four of you rushed upstairs when lunch was over, after being paged by your boss.

The man himself was pacing back and forth in the conference room, brows furrowed and looking extremely aggravated. Nothing new, then, you think, sitting down across from Cameron.

Allison Cameron and you had been friends since med school, and getting to work together was pretty nice. Women in STEM need each other, of that you were sure. The thing is, she was in a weird place romantically, which made you feel weird about getting along with the people about whom she was confused — which hardly makes sense, but it is what it is. She had a crush on your boss for the longest time, and that didn’t work out at all. And then there was Chase, who she had slept with, but had no interest in further pursuing.

Hanging out with Chase knowing he’d seen her naked was a little weird, but the fact they’d slept together wasn’t the problem. He liked her, and that was her problem. Your boss, well, he was everybody’s problem.

Particularly yours, considering… you know. The one-night-that-became-every-night. The HR-nightmare. The doing-the-devil’s-tango. The seeing-each-other-scars. The kissing-and-absolutely-not-telling.

It was fairly easy sneaking around. He was inappropriate, sure, but not big on PDA. He treated you like any other dumbass employee with boobs. If anyone saw the two of you leaving the hospital together? You worked together. If you were seen going towards the same place? You’re neighbors, duh. And if anyone happened to see the two of you having breakfast together in the little café a block around his place? Well, it was a coincidence meeting him there!

If they saw you giving him head while he tried to play the piano, well… There’s no explanation for that.

You looked at him coming and going, and you knew his leg must be killing him. Yesterday when you left his home in the morning to pick up your stuff for the day (which turned out to be the day, the night and the next day), he was popping more pills than usual. Shit.

“New case?”, Cameron asked, looking at the limping man with worry and care in her eyes. You liked her a lot, but she had to stop thinking about your limping man with such care.

Sure, she liked him first. And she probably worried for him just as she would anyone else. And it was ridiculous to be annoyed at your long-time friend for caring for her boss. Still, there was a sting of jealousy that made you want to bitch-slap her.

He finally stopped and looked at all of you. When his eyes finally met you, he looked right at your low cut top and let out a “Yowza!”. When you blushed and stood up to pick your white coat, he called your last name, and said, nonchalantly: “Nice boobs”.

You raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you sat down. It might seem like sexual harassment — and at first, it was a little bit —, but now it was just him being as inappropriate as always. Hiding from his feelings, keeping his distance with pathetic remarks and cold attitudes. It made you sad when you started working for him, but right now, you pinched your nose to stop you from giggling like a sixteen year old cheerleader being noticed by the boy on the football team. Or rather, the boy on the bench cursing at the stupid players.

Dr. Gregory House had a massive crush on you, and that made all the shit he did go away.

You realized Chase started updating House on the patient you spent all night testing and monitoring. Truth is, that guy didn’t stand a chance for a normal life here on forward. At best, he had a benign hereditary chorea. Worst case scenario, it was Huntington manifesting earlier than it should, as you’d been saying from the beginning.

“Shut up”, House said to Chase, making those blue Australian eyes widen. Poor guy, he looked beyond exhausted. “I understand how DNA testing works. I went to med school too, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was seven hundred years ago”, you let out before you could think twice. You teased House a little for being older. Scratch that, you gave him a lot of crap for being older. You just didn’t do it in front of the team, which was why they all looked at you horrified.

Horrified, but Foreman was holding in a laugh.

The ‘old-man’ hit his cane on the desk, turning the attention back to him. “Ouch”.

You smiled, playing it off like a remark made by an exhausted overworked young woman who disliked her boss. House half-screamed some orders to all of you, even though he already knew you had clinic duty.

The hours left to finish on the clinic were manageable, so you could finish it after you did some of the tests House asked.

Time passed by too quickly, and as your day went by, you remembered you had to talk to Wilson as soon as possible. It wasn’t a life or death matter, but a peace of mind kind of thing. You decided to stop by his office before you It was then that you overheard something you shouldn’t have.

Well, that brought the high school memories right back.

It was the middle of the afternoon, also known as the beginning of your third shift in a row, and you were stopping by Wilson’s office to discuss a private matter. A family member of yours had cancer, and then another one. By the time your fourth relative came down with the diagnosis, you decided to check your genetic predisposition. Although the tests came back clean, meaning you were safe for oncology purposes, you still wanted to know his opinion on how you could be even safer.

You looked cancer in the eyes many times. You didn’t want to look at it in the mirror too.

For some godly reason, you stopped before knocking. That’s when you recognized your boss’s voice, complaining about something, per usual.

“She’s a baby! She had never watched Grease, for crying out loud”, the voice and the footsteps made their sounds in harmony. You leaned in closer to the door, to try and listen better.

“Well, you two barely know each other, now it’s the time to know if there’s a future in this relationship or not. And would you ever marry her?”, Wilson’s voice, and the words made you freeze.

“Not everyone has marriage on the brain 24/7, Wilson”, House replied. Even from behind the door, you could almost hear the engines in his brain turning. “And God, no. I could never marry her. I can do better than a gullible third-world princess”.

You froze.

Of course he’d say that. Of course. Even if he didn’t mean it.

The realization came like an electrical shock flowing through your body. You felt it, and it made the hairs on the nape of your neck rise.

You meant nothing to him.

As an immigrant, the feeling of never belonging is constant. You don’t belong in the place you now live, but you don’t really belong in the place you were born.

You had felt for a fraction of a second that you could find your place here. In House's department. Perhaps, even with House. God, you were stupid. You were a device for him to finish his puzzles, and an object to finish… Well, to finish himself off.

As you left your transe and heard the voices again, you ran as fast as you could back to the clinic, where you had a couple hours left to finish. There was something you needed to arrange with Cuddy, too.

Hours later, you were in the department’s room reading some exams when House walked in.

He eyed you up and down again, eyes lingering on your breasts a little longer than a boss’ eyes normally would. “So”, he took his bootle from his jacket and opened it, popping a couple of pills, “your place or mine?”

“You suck”, you murmured, angrily, but pouting a little. He’d never admit it, but he loved seeing you a little aggravated, crossing your arms in front of your body in a way that made your already eye-catching torso irresistible.

He smiled a little, putting the medicine back in his pocket. “No, sweetheart”, he now fully grinned, “that’s you.”

You rolled your eyes, but let your arms fall and a cold smile creeped into your face.

“Yes, I do, actually”, you rose up from the chair and walked all the way towards him, hitting your hand towards his chest and pressing the paper you were holding against him. “I’m a full on sucker, and ass-kisser, as you like to point out. That’s why your so called mortal enemy offered me a job in New York”.

He took the paper, blue eyes never leaving yours.

“Consider this my two weeks notice”. It was hard to say, but it felt a little good, too. Logically, there were no downsides in this opportunity. Then, why did it hurt so much? “I guess everyone was right. I can do better”.

The double meaning was not lost on House.

Your hand finally left his chest, and he didn’t look back as you left.

Looking at it now, it all seems so simple. It never is, though, is it? Especially with House. And you, an intelligent, kind, talented and ambitious young woman, could definitely do better than attach yourself to a crippled, bitter, odious older man.

You were doing better now. So, why, pray tell, why did this still hurt so much?

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zvhiux34 · 1 month ago

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Pairing: König x You.

(1st pic:@whocaresabouttatical)

König begins to trace your skin for the first time and discovers you have tattoos. But he also finds out the sad reason behind them.

w.c: 1.9k

Warning: Fluff/comfort, not metions of "YN", YN is a sexual abuse survivor (If you are one as well take your precautions) a very small description of the event. Sexual inuendos but nothing too serious. English isn't my first language.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It's funny how the paths of destiny lead you to certain scenarios.

Scenarios like the one you are right now. In a city you don't belong, lying on a bed that isn't yours, beneath a man who works as a mercenary who's twice your height, and he is kissing you in a way that characterizes dedicated lovers...while one of his hands discreetly traces its way under your long blouse.

Certainly, It's been a long time since you've been in a similar position.

When you came on vacation to Vienna, Austria, with a group of friends, you never thought you'll accidentally bump into this gentle giant in a popular bar on the first night of your adventure.

You collided by accident when he stopped you from falling by holding you with his strong arms. You apologized to him with a blush he later told you he found cute, while he let out a small laugh -Because of your blushing- and then assured you in the most fluent english that his accent allowed him to speak that there was no problem.

The next day, as the sun set high in the sky, together along your friends went to tour the Marie-Theresien-Platz museum. When suddenly, surprise! On the other side of the hallway was he, looking with great interest at an old carriage.

It was very easy to notice his presence in the room, but you didn't know if he remembered the foreign girl who fell into his arms.

So you didn't do anything.

Until someone put a hand on you shoulder to get your attention, you were scared at first.

And there he was, showing a warm and frank smile.

-Would it be okay if I invited you to dinner? Or do I have to wait to see you a third time to do so? -He asked you, a little bit amused.

Obviously you accepted, and finally got to know his name: König.

And that night he took you to dinner at a restaurant whose name it's still complicated to pronounce.

There, he confessed to you after the night at the bar, he regretted not having asked your number or your name, but since you're a foreigner, and probably you came to Austria to visit tourist places, he tried his luck visiting places where people like you would go, and to his surprise he guessed right about the third museum he went to.

You acted jokingly as offended by his statement, assuring him that you don't go out with stalkers, while inside you melted at his words. That night was short as a sigh with all that you talked about.

And after a week of going out where you met the most transparent man you ever met, he proposed to you as a formal partner with a frankness you had never heard from a European man.

And you decided to stay in Vienna, It wasn't a problem for you since you work online.

But your friends and family assured you were crazy for such a decision, but you didn't care. It was your life, logically König was delighted with the idea.

Anyway, in your hometown you leave behind sad memories, people who betrayed your trust, situations you would like to erase from your memory...

This decision was not made just to be closer to König.

But to help you overcome all those things by putting miles of oceans in between.

Although, some of those memories are inscribed with indelible ink on some parts of your skin that are constantly covered under the layers of fabric of your clothes.

You weren't a big fan of tattoos, until you read somewhere getting a tattoo related to a traumatic event would help you digest it in a better way.

And that's what you did, but first you decided you'll be the only one who would know about the existence of those tattoos on the paths of your skin, that's why you did them in strategic places and starting to wear wider clothes, not only to avoid the curious glances of people.

Also to avoid answering questions about their meaning.

But tonight, after almost half a year of dating, you realized things were going to change tonight, when König asked you to stay in his apartment.

And because of all the things you experienced togheter...where you could really see the kind of man he was, the same one who loved you with a fervor that sometimes surprised you...

You decided that he would be the first spectator.

And here you are.

You feel how König slide his hand under your shirt, with his fingertips making their path while he bites one of your lips during the kiss. You open your eyes and noticed that he also was looking at you with those blue eyes, excited and expectant at your answer.

And you nodded.

Then he finally slid the blouse over your small shoulders. His eyes traveled all the way down until they stopped at the first tattoo, below your third left rib, a subtle anchor with roses entangled to it.

From his look you could tell he wasn't expecting it, you don't blame him.

-What does it mean, my dearest? -He asks you looking into your eyes with that deep voice you loved of him.

You take a deep breath before saying anything.

-The waves mean... the constant movement of life, and how we can find peace in the midst of those changes. -You affirmed, at the same time you detected the spark of curiosity awakening in his glance.

At this point, König knows everything about you, your gestures, your favorite scent, the names of your parents, the movies that scare you the most, your aspirations, your goals...

But along that spark, you realized he noticed there are things you decided not to tell him.

But he understood, you will told him the story behind the ink at the right time.

He pressed his warm lips on yours again, resuming the soft but demanding rhythm on you, and eager to know the taste of your skin along with the story that was hidden in it. I want to know everything about you, he said, and if you let me...

You will know. -You thought- And you won't wait long to find out.

He slid his mouth down your chin, then down the bridge of your neck to down his path... Until he found the other missing piece of the sentence, a little below your right collarbone, it was a subtle moth.

-Why a moth? -König asked you, you didn't ignore the fact this time he used more direct words.

So, you give him a answer with the same magnitude.

-Because moths always go to the light, and... For me, it's a personal reminder to look for the positive side in the darkest moments. -You finally answered.

König remember you had already told him a couple of bad moments in your life, but when he saw you he knew you weren't referring to any you've already told him.

Yet.

Then he continued his search for more fragments to complete the story that would no longer be unknown to him.

He traced the path of his kisses a little below your navel, securing your waist with his robust and strong hands.

He almost lost sight of it, when something caught his attention on a part of your left hip, and he felt a wave of shivers run down his spine.

It was a Medusa.

It was subtle, but its presence unsettled him in a way the others hadn't. If he remembered correctly from an article he read a long time ago, a Medusa meant...

Survivor of sexual abuse.

König looked up to your eyes, looking for you to deny that horrible assumption, but when he saw you, he understood that his suspicions were true.

Then, you confessed everything to him.

The last job you had before being here, one that you always dreamed of having and after so much dedication you were finally able to obtain.

You remembered how happy you were to reach the job position you longed for so much, and how good you felt with your coworkers, and your boss.

Everyone was so kind to you, your boss helped you with whatever you needed the first few days, since then... you felt understood and valued within the company.

You never suspected, you had never seen any strange behavior on his part, until you decided to stay late at night to get extra work done, just to discover you were not the only one who had stayed inside the building when he put his hand on your shoulder in surprise...

And forced himself on you.

You couldn't do anything against his strength. And just like the other stories...

No one saw anything.

No one heard anything.

No one could help you.

And the justice became a non-existent witness, because it turns out your ex boss is the brother of the state's minister of justice.

Your case was a lost one from the beginning.

But what hurt you the most was the fact no one in that environment believed you. It was the word of that man, with his impeccable behavior, over yours, a newcomer who wanted to take advantage of his kindness.

That's why you had no qualms about moving hundreds of kilometers away from that place.

When you finished telling everything, you looked at him feeling nervous... But in the middle of the sea of memories and painful feelings, you had never witnessed how rage took over a person so quickly.

But you didn't know it was much deeper than that, König felt capable of crossing the Atlantic Ocean to put together a plan to watch, capture and torture in at least 15 ways to that son of bitch who were the responsable of your suffering.

He only needed a name.

But all the plans he had made vanished when he looked back at you.

You needed him more right now.

And with that... the feeling of guilt fell on him like a bucket of cold water, a few seconds ago he was devouring you with the purpose of consuming the fire that burned for you, ignoring you were suffering inside.

He withdrew on top of you and settled on the bed, then he covered your body with the blanket to finally took you and cradled you in his arms.

-There's no need to say... That it wasn't your fault, right? -He whispered, you nodded slightly. Between the blanket and his body, the outside world seemed so far away while you felt warm, and most importantly for him, safe.

Your little grey cloud moved aside at how funny it was for you that you were so small compared to König, but his height and his great corpulence could not compare to his ability to listen to you and validate your pain to make you feel protected.

And free, to release the secret that had been chained for a long time.

When you felt your eyelids getting heavier and heavier over your eyes, the last thing you felt was how König reached his hand to the nightstand to dim the light of the lamp, then gave you a kiss on your forehead and whispered:

-Schlaf, meine Anbetung, ich werde den rest deiner nacht beschützen.

(Sleep my love, I will protect the rest of your night.)

#konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig x you #fluff #trauma #comfort #konig cod #call of duty #konig x oc #konig x y/n #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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photo1030 · 11 months ago

Text

Anonymous asked:

Heyy , so i had this smut idea for a while now, but bare with me please cuz my English isn’t that good lol . Anyway it’s about arthur and f!reader who’s been teasing arthur with a lot of touches and stares all day. But they were all busy that day so nothing happened. Then at the end of the day arthur finally got to be with her alone to sort things out (if you know what i mean) and confront her.

Ik … not very fluent in English lol , but I really really LOVE your writing so i figured i should maybe request something

Hello again, my lovely Anon!

Thank you for the "ask"! This was certainly a fun one to write out. I wasn't sure if you wanted Arthur and reader to be friends with longing tendencies, or in an existing relationship. I went with the latter. Hopefully that is okay. Either way, it ends up with some steamy goodness. If you need it tweaked the other way, let me know.

LEATHER AND LACE - CLOSE, BUT NOT CLOSE ENOUGH

Summary: You and Arthur have been trying to get some time alone together all day, to no avail. But by the end of the day, Arthur finally gets what he wants.

Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW

*This is not my image. I have found it posted on multiple pages on Pintrest but can't find the originator. If anyone knows, let me know for specific photo credit.

Masterlist

The early morning sun tries to cut its way into the woods, cutting the dewy mist with its beams of warm, golden light. The burgeoning glow sets the birds into motion, their busy little chirps filling the brisk air around the camp.

You are dead tired this morning. It was a long, hard day of chores yesterday and when you had turned in for the night, all you wanted to do was rest your weary head on that lumpy pillow of yours atop of that squeaky cot. And with all of the hustling and work lately, Arthur was hoping to have a little “private time” with you last night, too.

But much to his disappointment, you had already passed out the moment your head hit the pillow, already fast asleep before he could even get his boots off. So with a sigh and just a bit of frustration, Arthur lumbered onto the cot next to you for the night.

So this morning, you are reluctant to crack open your eyes when the feeling of Arthur’s heavy arm makes its way around your waist, slowly exploring your midsection and creeping up to your breast with his fingertips. His chest is pressed up against your back as he spoons you tightly to him, his skin radiating a comforting heat that sinks down through your skin and into the very center of your body. You can already feel his half-erect cock finding its place against the bottom of your rear.

In this precious little moment, you are faced with a “difficult” decision: do you try to get some very much-needed sleep? Or do you give in to the temptation of your beloved outlaw?

“G’ Mornin’, Darlin’”

His low, raspy voice, cracked with remnants of sleep, floats its way into your ear and breaks through your mind’s thoughts…and that is all it takes for you to decide. A smile slowly emerges across your face without you even opening your eyes.

“Good morning to you too, my lover.” You playfully reach up to encircle your arm around his head, turning your face back towards his. Your greeting is met with a simple low groan of approval as Arthur’s lips seek out the cuff of your ear.

You gently roll over onto your back, looking up into his awaiting face. His hair is rumpled from the night and his eyes are still heavy-lidded with fatigue. Yet those eyes still sparkle like the bluest sky as they meet your own. And your heart could burst at how that is the first thing you get to see in the morning.

He leans down to gently catch your lips into a kiss. It’s the first of many to come for the day, knowing you two. You push your body upwards to flatten against his, your leg bending up to entwine with his burly ones. A soft giggle emanates from your throat as you deepen the kiss and run your hand along his cheek and up behind his head to pull him down to you. Arthur is quick to roll himself to climb over you, settling himself between your spread legs. Your lips press together, repeatedly working over the other’s as his hands begin to explore along your chest, grappling at the tender flesh there.

You lift your hips just a bit in invitation as Arthur rocks back and forth ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back as your fingertips drag along the thick muscles of his back, trailing through the soft body hair that scatters across his wide frame.

“Arthur? You in there?”

Your eyes shoot wide open, instantly snapped out of your blissful reverie at the deep-sounding voice coming from the other side of your shared tent. Arthur seems to be oblivious to the intrusion at first as his motions atop of you do not slow down in the slightest.

“Arthur?” the voice repeats.

Finally, Arthur collects his thoughts enough to respond.

“Go away, Bill,” mumbles Arthur, pausing in his administrations only long enough to warn the burly man outside the canvas, as he has no intention of stopping right now.

“There’s a group of us heading out. Got a tip on a stagecoach coming through.” Bill pushes insistently. “Come on, we gotta go.”

“Not now, Bill!” barks Arthur as he keeps kissing you, his teeth nipping at the tender skin of your neck and collarbone.

You are trying not to focus on the fact that someone is not only outside your tent at this inopportune moment, but actually having a conversation with Arthur as his erect cock is rubbing against your aching heat, mere moments away from being embedded into the warm cradle between your legs.

“Well, Dutch is askin’ for you. So what do you want me to tell him, then?” Bill asks impatiently.

“Bill!” you suddenly snap, lifting your head to turn your burning gaze over Arthur’s broad shoulder towards the tent flap. “If you do not walk away from this tent right now, so help me God…!”

“Oh!” Bill’s eyes open wide and his face suddenly turns beet-red as the realization of what he is interrupting becomes all too clear. “Oh, sorry! I’ll..uh…come back, I guess.” He snickers as he abruptly turns to hurry-off back to the waiting group.

An exasperated sigh pushes out of your nose as your head plunks back against the pillow. Arthur has finally stopped the amorous actions, but still lays overtop of you, motionless and reluctant to move.

“Well, that just killed the mood,” you huff, noting how Arthur’s face has turned down into a hard frown.

Arthur takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I know I said I can never leave the gang, but there’s moments like this that I am open to the discussion.”

“Don’t tease me, now,” you warn as a tiny grin creeps its way across your lips. Arthur just rolls his eyes and sits up, playfully pushing your legs to the side so he can sit at the edge of the cot to get himself dressed.

Back at the hitching posts, Bill approaches the waiting group with a smirk on his face, shaking his head.

“Where’s Arthur?” asks Dutch impatiently, his gaze looking past Bill’s shoulder when he does not see the man in question in attendance. “You were supposed to go get him.”

“He’s…uh…busy at the moment.” Bill offers this obscure excuse to the men with a quirked eyebrow.

Dutch’s ringed hands land on his hips, his impatience growing by the minute. “Busy doing what, exactly?”

“More like, busy doing who?” chuckles Bill.

It only takes Dutch a moment to realize what Bill is talking about before his dark eyes roll to the heavens. “Oh, for Christ’s sake…”

—-----------------------------------------

Fortunately, the coach job didn’t take too long. Arthur had begrudgingly pulled himself from your warm and loving arms to drudge over to join his companions. He got a good ribbing from the men, as was expected, but all it did was aggravate his already irritable demeanor. He wanted to spend the morning buried between your legs in his tent, not between Bill and John on their smelly horses.

By the time the men get back to camp, you and the other girls are already embedded into more chores. Seems there is always something to do. In fact, the moment he gets back to camp and unpacked, Ms. Grimshaw is quick to get Arthur to the wood pile, stating that the firewood is already low again. He shoots you a quick glance, your eyes meeting briefly across the camp, before giving her an exasperated sigh as he reluctantly heads over to the ax to get started.

As you work with your needle and thread to mend shirts and darn socks, you delightfully treat yourself to observe Arthur as he chops the firewood. His strong arms slam the ax down onto the chunks of timber, causing them to splinter in his wake. His muscled arms flex with each blow, his wide shoulders set beautifully with each stroke. His burly legs set into a wide stance, the tendons there rippling beneath the fabric of his trousers with each jarring blow.

The sight of it makes your heart race so fast that it skips a beat in your chest, knowing that this hulking man belongs to you. Your legs involuntarily cross and squeeze your thighs in an attempt to contain your arousal, a feeling that has yet to be quelled since your abrupt separation this morning. You try to finish your mending as quickly as you can so that you can steal away to go over there.

“Hey, you,” you call to Arthur as you eventually saunter over, swinging your hips with a cheshire-cat-like grin on your face.

Arthur lifts his head as he tosses a heavy piece of wood as if it were feather-light. The second his irritable eyes land on your beautiful form floating towards him, the tension melts away from his weathered face. He stands up straight, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you.”

You hand him a cup of cool water, which he gratefully accepts as your fingers linger across his knuckles like an ivy vine. You intently watch him as he gulps the refreshing liquid down, observing how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. God, how you want to plant your lips all over his neck right now. You shift your weight from hip to hip and bite your bottom lip as you watch him.

You step up even closer, bumping your hip into his and giving him that look. Arthur looks at you with intrigue. He swipes the back of his gloved hand across his mouth, wiping away the water droplets that escaped his lips. He dips his head to kiss you, but halts mid-stride when you hear Ms. Grimshaw’s shrill voice hollering for you from across the camp.

“Y/N! Quit foolin’ around with Arthur and get over here! I ain’t done with you yet!” You and Arthur turn your heads to see the woman standing in the clearing, arms crossed and face twisted up in annoyance.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Arthur mutters. He turns back to you and the disappointment is plain on your face. You could be off wrapping your legs around this man’s waist, but no. You are needed elsewhere…to stitch holes in socks.

—------------------------------------

And so it goes for the rest of the day. It's as if the universe is purposely trying to keep you and Arthur apart. But Ms. Grimshaw is shrewd. Normally, you and Arthur can get a lot of work done when paired together. But when the two of you are acting more flirtatious than usual, the only way she can get anything done is to completely separate the two of you. Like wound-up teenagers, you and Arthur are known to play around and get distracted, sometimes even disappearing altogether. So the matriarch has been keen to assign you tasks on opposite sides of the camp.

Seeing an opportunity to catch you alone, Arthur comes up to you while you’re cooking. You are over at the food wagon, stirring the heavy cast-iron pot for tonight’s dinner when you hear the grass and leaves crunching behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know he’s behind you, as the scent of leather and cigarettes, mingled with clove, permeates your senses. It’s a familiar fragrance that will immediately set your mind to race, making your blood run hot.

Arthur pushes his chest up against your back just enough to create that electricity. You suck your lip in between your teeth to silence any wanton noise that would be in danger of bubbling up from your throat. You turn your head slightly to the side, catching the pale blue color of his faded work shirt as he runs a single finger down the length of your arm.

“Ah, Mr. Morgan, there you are! I haven’t seen you all day.” Mr. Pearson suddenly appears out from behind the wagon with an armload of ingredients for you to cut and chop for tonight’s stew.

“Glad you’re here! Listen, did I ever tell you about the time I got into a fist-fight with a fella from town? He was an honest-to-God boxer. But I was too quick for him, you see. It was a good fight, too.”

Mr. Pearson is so wrapped up in his own story that the disappointed groan that comes from you goes unnoticed. Arthur’s brow settles into a hard, dangerous frown again. If it wouldn’t land him a stinging slap upside the head from Ms. Grimshaw, he’d land his fist in the portly man’s face just to shut him up. On and on Pearson goes, excited to have a captive audience for his rambling. You try your best to be polite and smile and nod along, but Arthur has never been one for social etiquette and quickly finds an excuse to walk away.

After you suffer through yet another one of Mr. Pearson’s stories and manage to get tonight’s dinner going, you set off to find Arthur again. The sexual tension is building and you can’t wait too much longer to deal with it. You finally locate him over by the horses.

Arthur is preoccupied with getting Buck saddled up, fixing the straps of the saddle and filling his saddle bags with provisions. He’s bent over at the waist, checking Buck’s hooves for any muck or debris, and you come up behind him, slowly running your hands up his back, pushing your fingertips into the muscle. You can feel Arthur shudder from your touch. But he quickly switches gears, muscles stiffening up under your hands.

“Quit. I can’t be startin’ that now,” he quickly scolds you.

“Oh really?” you purr as you press up against him, thinking he’s playing hard-to-get.

“I mean it. Knock it off.” He spins away from you, putting his hand on your forearm and holding you at arm's length as if you were something offensive.

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “Excuse me?” Your arms cross indignantly over your chest in disbelief.

But he doesn’t mean to be cruel. He has to focus on what needs to be done. He can’t get sidetracked by those improper thoughts of you. And he has so many of those thoughts about you right now.

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Look, it ain’t you, alright? I gotta head out. Dutch needs me to handle something for Strauss.”

You give a long frustrated huff. “Figures,” you mumble under your breath, taking a step back even further away from him.

“Don’t get mad at me for it!” he snaps.

“I’m not.”

His ocean-colored eyes flash at you. “Yeah, you are!”

“Arthur, if I was mad at you, you’d know it,” you snark back.

“Oh, so this look on your face is one of joy, then?” he says with dripping sarcasm as his hand waves inches from your nose.

You slap his hand down, your eyes narrowing at him. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I ain’t bein’ in ass!” His voice raises in volume as his limits get tested. He drags his hand over his face in frustration. “Nevermind. Can we deal with this later? I got things to do.” He plants his hands on his hips in impatience.

“Of course you do.” You give him an eye roll, your hair tossing in the air, as you spin on your heels to head back to the campfire.

—--------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you are walking through the camp. Arthur is nowhere to be seen, which is annoying. You grab the water bucket and head over to the edge of camp to dump it, when you hear a whistle. Confused, you follow the noise as it leads you to the tree line. Suddenly, a massive hand shoots out of the shadows and clamps over your wrist. It's Arthur. He holds his finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, tilting his head to indicate to follow him before you can even utter a word.

You quietly follow as he leads you away from camp and into the dark and awaiting forest, confused as to what in the world he’s up to. When you get to a thick collection of trees, he stops.

“Arthur, what are you doing-” but you can’t get another word out before he spins on you and roughly grabs your face, crushing his mouth into yours. You can’t even breathe, as he sucks the air right out of your lungs. He backs you up a few paces, hands still clamped around your cheeks, until your backside hits a tree, trapped and unable to move anywhere else.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Can’t wait a damn second longer. I gotta have ya and have ya now.” He grabs at the fabric of your skirt without warning or permission and starts to hike it up, but you are quick to grab his wrists.

“What?! Out here? Arthur, someone is going to see us!” you gasp, shocked at his brazenness.

“Don’t care,” he grits out as he pins your body to the tree with his own, his lips attacking your neck. He maneuvers your hands away from his own in order to keep pulling at the skirt fabric which is the only barrier between him and his prize.

“But Arthur-” You try to take a second to try to talk some sense into him, but he silences you again, shoving his tongue down your throat. Your hands shoot up to his shoulders with a feeble push to try to get him to stop. But by releasing your grasp on his wrists, it frees him to reach up further under your skirt and yank your bloomers off, ripping them at the seam.

The sudden jerk causes you to gasp and it’s as if a switch has been pulled within you. The culmination of pent-up desire has come to a head as you no longer care about the world around you two. You look up at him with hungry, needy eyes of your own, but see nothing but pure lust reflecting back at you, like looking into the face of a wolf.

Your own pupils are blown wide with yearning and briefly flick from his captive gaze to his full lips. And with that brief glimpse of approval from you, Arthur shoves his arms under your thighs and lifts you up off the ground, slamming you back into the tree trunk. The motion causes the wind to briefly knock out of your lungs as your arms wrap around his shoulders to hold on and keep yourself from falling to the ground.

His hips grind harshly into you as his mouth devours your jawline and neck. You can feel how hard he is under the fabric of his trousers. Your precious little gasps only spur him on faster. Arthur fumbles with the buttons of his pants, pulling out his rock-hard cock. You can feel the tip of him rubbing hotly against your inner thigh, the length of him dragging along the folds of your heat. He seems impossibly rigid at the moment and you take a split second to wonder if it's actually painful for him. The thought of it causes you to desperately whine and moan in anticipation.

Arthur can be soft and attentive as a lover, and he can also be hot and passionate. But, every once in awhile, he can be just outright insatiable. A downright, dirty outlaw.

“You like that, don’t you?” he smirks, pleased with your reaction to his thick manhood teasing your sensitive skin. Cocky bastard.

All you can do is nod, your mouth agape and gasping for air.

“Good. ‘Cause I ain’t about to stop now.” He lines himself up to you and pushes in, burying himself until his pelvis is flat against yours. You cry out with a wanton little whimper, your head thrown back until it knocks onto the bark behind you with an ungraceful thud. Arthur is large between his legs, always a tight fit within you, but you have zero complaints about it.

“C’mon, baby, let me hear ya,” he coaxes in your ear. He immediately starts to pump into you, quick and desperate. Your back begins to drag along the tree as he ruts into you. The tree bark cuts into your skin, even through the fabric of your blouse, but you couldn’t care any less.

“Jesus, Arthur,” you moan. “Right there…(gasping) just like that…just like that.” You try to lean back, pushing your hips towards him and he grunts with a devilish grin.

“That’s right, girl”.

The beautifully lewd symphony that the two of you create could be heard by anyone in the area if they are close enough. Moans and stifled screams wrap around the wet sounds of tongues and lips clicking, while the unmistakable sound of skin against skin vibrates throughout the ring of trees that encompasses you.

Arthur lets your one leg drop down so that he can use that hand to reach between you. The pads of his fingers find their way to that sensitive bundle of nerves nestled within your folds and he begins to curl and rub. His other arm that is still hooked under your knee pulls your hip up, opening your gait even more, allowing his cock to ram into the back wall of your cunt with full force.

It's too much. You loudly cry out at the additional stimulation, your breath gasping as your hands pinch into the meat of his shoulders.

The sight of you coming undone before his eyes is enough to melt his mind. You lean forward this time, burying your head into his shoulder and letting your whole body go limp in his arms like a rag doll, giving in to sweet pleasure and just letting him have his way with you.

When you cling to him, he immediately pulls his hand away from your heat and lifts you back up again to get better leverage. He pounds into you even harder, chasing that euphoric ending. You are completely at his mercy now, mercy which will never come. The sexual tension that has been building all day like the pressure of a tea kettle boiling some water has finally been released. And like that scalding hot water, Arthur’s lust burns you.

“Baby, I’m…I’m close…” he sputters, his forehead digging into your temple. You can’t even form coherent words to give him a reply. In fact, you couldn’t care any less about anything he is saying right now, only about what he is doing.

Your climax is a tidal wave as your hands dig into his shoulder like the claws of a bobcat. The painful sensation of your fingernails cutting into his flesh is enough to push him over the edge as he quickly drops your legs, pulling himself out of you before his spend is sent hurling into the grass at your feet. Lightning clouds his vision as Arthur lets out a loud moan of release, not even bothering to try to hold anything back. His rough hands clasp the rough bark of the tree behind you, snapping pieces of it off in his palms as he braces himself for his own overstimulation.

As his large body comes down from its high, Arthur hangs his head, leaning it against your collarbone, his chest heaving for air. Your legs are shaking, trying to keep upright as you bring your hands up along the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. Your thumbs begin to stroke his cheekbones to calm him and you press light kisses to his temple as you catch your own breath.

He slowly pulls his face back to look into yours. Both of you are left speechless. That feral beast that drug you off into the woods to be devoured is no longer in front of you. The man you recognize and love oh-so deeply is back, that sweet grin on his lips.

“What the hell was that?” you pant out in surprise.

“A man’s got needs,” he smirks with that devilish grin. “And I needed you.” He shakes his eyebrows suggestively at you as he kisses your still-trembling lips.

“I guess so."

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan x f!reader

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anxiousnerdwritings · 5 months ago

Note

I was thinking the same thing about the Shelbys lmao !!!

I headcanon'ed that Percy was the one to emotionally raise Weasley!Reader because the Reader is the absolute youngest of the seven sons so Molly overlooked him as she fussed over Ginny and tried to straighten out the Twins or chased after Ron and Harry Potter for so many years and Arthur was to busy with work but Percy saw they were special and could really be something one day and didn't want it squandered by bad influences and poverty.

Percy graduated the summer Weasley!Reader got the letter and had already started at the Ministry of Magic but picked up a second, side job to save up money so Weasley!Reader wouldn't have to go to school with hand-me-downs.

It drives jealousy in Ron and the Twins but Percy merely reasons that the hand-me-downs were literally falling apart by the time they got to Weasley!Reader and Molly tries to peace-keep by asking why Percy wouldn't spread the money around so each child could get one or two things new instead of just the Reader and Percy looks blankly before repeating himself, stating that he wouldn't have his son brother go to school with supplies that are literally falling apart because they've seen seven other siblings and, once again, are literally falling apart, woman do you hate your sons that much?

And that's just how it goes each following year, Percy taking Weasley!Reader shopping no matter how much Molly tries to fix the hand-me-downs. He does bring the others gifts during holidays and birthdays but it becomes clear to the older siblings the Percy dotes on Weasley!Reader like a father would and they sort of just observe for a time and realize that Molly neglects the Reader emotionally, maybe even becoming mean sometimes because of the summer shopping sprees, and Percy is the one stepping in for the Reader so they don't really say anything about it anymore

One summer when puberty hits Weasley!Reader like a hexed broomstick, Percy takes his boy to a designer clothing place and buys him an outrageously expensive fitted, three-piece suit, waving off the costs because at this point he's raising high in the Ministry of Magic, surpassing their father, in both position and pay, so it's okay.

"Stick with me, brother, and you'll have a higher standard of life one day too."

And despite Percy blaming Lestrange!OC!Daughter for corrupting Weasley!Reader it was really this moment right here that drove the Reader into becoming a criminal because it was fast, easy and fun money.

Lestrange!OC!Daughter makes him stop wearing English suits and instead start wearing French suits once they become romantically involved since she's French. He still wears the original suit Percy bought him from time to time though. And the higher ups the work with him are always adoring beautiful French or Italian suits because it becomes like an unspoken dress code.

Fleur always compliments criminal!Weasley whenever seen in the French suits, maybe even recognizing the craftsmanship and complimenting his taste although she rotates between fluent French and broken English and then gets ten times more excited when criminal!Weasley responds in perfect French with the hopes of easing her anxiety a bit as she struggles to get her point out, maybe even with a Parisian accent, because his beloved taught him, and it makes Molly ten times angrier, especially when Fleur and Lestrange only exclusively speak to each other in French, forming a strong alliance because of Molly's obvious dislike of both of them.

I could even imagine Weasley!Reader being Ginny’s twin, therefore adding even more to him being neglected in favor of his sister. But he and Ginny are very close and even she hates how their mother doesn’t even look twice at the Reader cause she’s so focused on Ginny. I also, really love the idea of Percy basically raising the Reader, mainly emotionally but I could see him picking up the slack when Molly takes to rocking baby!ginny more then she does baby!Reader. Or Percy stepping in to take over baby!Reader’s nightly feedings cause Molly has all her attention on baby!Ginny and ensuring she gets taken care of first cause she’s her precious babygirl and Arthur is working a late night. Just the thought of Percy feeling a desperate need to take on physically caring for his youngest baby brother because he can’t trust his mother not to forget about the Reader cause she has such tunnel vision on finally having her babygirl. Percy literally ends up raising the Reader himself through a majority of his upbringing and even then Molly doesn’t acknowledge it.

I could imagine Percy going as far as opening an entire secret vault at Gringotts just for the money he’s already saved for the Reader and continues to save for his precious youngest baby brother who deserves to have something for himself. Whereas the Reader takes up being a criminal to financially provide for his entire family, Percy takes to working himself to the bone for his youngest brother and he happily goes about it too.

Percy spoiling the Reader whenever he can meanwhile the Reader has never asked him for anything, Percy just freely gives it to him case it’s what he wants his brother to have. He knows his brother is special, special in a way that only Percy can see and he fully intends to make way for his brother to fucking shine. Now that doesn’t mean Percy doesn’t love and care for his other siblings because of course he does, but the Reader is different. The Reader needs him more than any of the rest of their siblings ever have and Percy will be damned if he isn’t there for him.

I could see Weasley!Reader maybe coming to a point of realizing what all Percy has done for him and wanting to repay him so he ends up doing some illegal stuff to get the money to do something nice for his older brother for once and becoming addicted to how easy and fun it was in the end. Given how much younger the Reader is in this scenario I could see his reasoning to becoming a criminal being a bit more selfish, like there’s still a part of him that wants to support his family but not so much his mother or father, only his siblings. Like, If they need anything the Reader would happily help them out cause he has the means to in more ways then one, but if Molly especially needed something the Reader wouldn’t be moving too fast, if at all, to lend a helping hand.

Also, I could wholeheartedly see Percy taking the Reader out of the Burrow once he’s graduated and saved up enough money to get a small flat or something where he and the Reader can live comfortably. At this point, Percy has just taken it upon himself to care for the Reader entirely so that’s exactly what he’s going to do. When Percy inevitably finds out about the Reader’s criminal activities I could see there being a moment of him asking himself where he went wrong in being up his youngest sibling. He’d blame himself entirely for doing something wrong for the Reader to end up down this path. But then the Reader divulges the whole entirety of the empire he’s built himself and it’s then that Percy realizes that no he didn’t go wrong, he didn’t go wrong at all. Percy would still become very involved in the Reader’s business as said before. He’ll utilize his power and position in the Ministry after so many years of moving up the ladder to further aid and protect his brother all the more.

I absolutely love the idea of Lestrange!Daughter, Bellatrix, Fleur, Narcissa and Andromeda all conversing in French together, especially when Molly is around cause she knows damn well they’re all taking shit about her and they very much are doing just that. It would enrage Molly all the more when the Reader joins the conversations, talking in fluent French that she didn’t even know he knew. At first she thinks the Reader is defending her and their family from the French speaking women but eventually she comes to the conclusion that that’s not what’s happening at all. It certainly doesn’t help that when she asks the Reader what they all were talking about he always answers with something vague, and she knows full well that’s bullshit.

I think Lestrange!Daughter and Fleur would be very good friends, even if they don’t really interact too much outside of the family but they most definitely gang up when they’re around Molly. Also, I think Weasley!Reader would be very close to Fleur in a platonic way of course. After all he was probably the first one in the family to truly befriend her when she got into a relationship with Bill and not judge or hate her like his mother and sister did. But he also wasn’t completely captivated with her because of her being part Veela either, fortunately cause he already had Lestrange!Daughter by his side.

#anxious answers #yandere percy weasley #yandere lestrange!daughter!oc #yandere harry potter concept #yandere concept

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stormflower8 · 1 year ago

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take some south asian!ballister headcanons

okay so ballister is, at least partially, based off of his va, Riz Ahmed, who is south asian/pakistani (like me!) and speaks Urdu (like me!), so I think I have some stuff to throw in the Headcanon Pot

when ballister was in the orphanage before he did his whole Jump The Gate Out Of Spite And Desire To Become A Knight, he primarily spoke Urdu and was in the process of learning english

also, when people learn english in countries that don't speak english, they typically learn british english, which ties in nicely to ballister's canon accent

this means that he had to learn a fair amount of english at the institute

he might've also been bullied for his questionable grammar and accent by todd and the other knights

ambrosius did his best to help in teaching ballister english and mostly helped in his grammar and vocabulary. they went through a little phase where ballister would pick up more obscure objects and ambrosius would say the english word for them.

ambrosius has only heard ballister speak urdu a handful of times, but every time it happens, he swears he falls a little more in love with him

after he was regarded as completely fluent in english, he didn't speak much urdu, but he never forgot it

post-canon, he once went on a tangent in urdu and nimona heard him and her jaw just DROPPED

"you're bilingual?? why didn't you tell me??" "you never brought it up...?" (doesn't think it's a big deal)

she thinks it's the coolest thing ever and went through a phase where she tried to piss off ballister JUST to hear him talk in urdu

eventually, he realized what was going on and had to sit her down and explain "you don't have to do all that, all you have to do is ask and I'll talk to you in urdu."

she definitely exploited that eagerly, but she still occasionally does the whole "piss him off just to hear the rambling of Words She Doesn't Understand" for fun

ballister has absolutely no idea that both ambrosius and nimona love how he speaks urdu or he would talk way more in it

honestly I love the concept of ballister speaking urdu, but almost always when I'm speaking urdu it's for a joke, so I've kinda ruined that language for myself LMAO

also, about the south asian thing of eating pretty much everything with one's hands,

first day in the mess hall. ballister grabs the food that looks the most familiar to him- rice

sits down at a table alone and starts to eat with his hands (or is it "eat with his hand"? he's only using one hand to eat but it feels strange to have hand in singular here)

immediately todd, who was going to go pick on him anyways, notices and makes a huge deal about it

the next day, ballister did his best to work with the fork, but it was an adjustment and he stuck out like a sore thumb with his clumsiness with the utensils

when he was befriended by ambrosius, they would sit together in the mess hall

at first, ambrosius tried to help ballister become more comfortable using utensils, and ballister was eager to learn

until one day he just thinks to himself "what am I doing? the same thing as todd but nicer?"

that's when he starts sneaking meals into his room so he and ballister can eat in there together- alone, peacefully, and with whatever damn utensils (or lack thereof) they want

ballister would eat with his hands, ambrosius used chopsticks, they would chill and vibe and, when they got older, slowly fall in love (or quickly, if you're ambrosius simp goldenlion)

ballister also teaches ambrosius how to eat with his hands there, and in turn, ambrosius teaches him how to use chopsticks

they continue to eat together in that room all the way until the knighting ceremony, and it was one of their favorite routines

post-canon, the trio had rice for a meal, and nimona saw ballister eat with his hands (probably his flesh hand- even though, culturally, you're supposed to eat with your right hand, I think a prosthetic is a pretty damn good exception)

she stared in shock for a few moments, then slowly dropped her fork and attempted to mimic his motions

ballister noticed and was flattered beyond measure, and was more than happy to help her out

rice is the ONE AND ONLY thing ballister can (and is allowed to) cook, so he makes it whenever he can

and when he makes it, everyone eats it however the hell they want, society standards be damned

I have more south asian related headcanons, but this is long enough already, so I'll do a part two later! :D

-Storm

#nimona 2023 #nimona #ballister boldheart #riz ahmed #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #south asian #desi #don't you just love projecting your culture on cartoon men #cause I do

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liliesof-the-valley · 3 months ago

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How do you say…

They react to the fact you can speak another language. So sorry if this isn’t really accurate or that good, I just had the idea and seemingly needed to write it down! Other brothers will come later, in order. As well as side characters!

─── ୨ৎ────

Lucifer

Lucifer already knew that you could speak another language , considering he had gone through your files when he was selecting you as an exchange student.

Though he didn’t exactly pay this information any attention, that is until he heard you speaking this language. The first time he heard the words coming from your lips he was quite stunned. What did you say?

Nonetheless, he is quite amazed at the fact you can speak another language and if you can speak multiple, his pride in you just skyrockets.

In my opinion, he would most likely be able to speak a multitude of other languages, hell, there’s probably a spell to understand and speak different languages in the devildom.

Yet you, someone who has learnt and understood a different language and did so without any form of magic— more likely just hours of memorising grammar rules, pronunciation and translation, isn’t it obvious that he’s going to show you off?

At parties hosted by Diavolo, occasionally you can hear your name uttered by lucifer, a grin on his face—undoubtedly he is boasting about you.

He also does love to hear you speak it, how the pronunciation rolls off your tongue, how you annunciate the vowels, anything really about it.

What stunned you however , is how one day whilst you were watching a series in said language lucifer appeared and sat on the couch next to you. Then he began to speak and that’s when your emotions turned into a mix of stunned and impressed.

If your ears didn’t deceive you, you heard lucifer speaking in your language, fluently it seemed. ‘What are you watching?’ Was uttered , a soft chuckle following afterwards at the sight of your raised eyebrows and confused expression.

Afterward, he explains how it was just a temporary spell he used to speak the language for a period of time. Once he asked you to teach him some of your language and he got the hang of it almost instantly.

Mammon

The way mammon found out is when you were stuck on dinner duty and he was helping , you had needed to ask him to pass something when the word couldn’t translate into English in your head.

‘Whatcha need me to get then?’ He asks, heading to the kitchen cabinets

‘The, uh, the thingy’

‘What’d ya mean the ‘thingy’?’

‘You know…the thing that’s used to season stuff’

‘You’re gonna need to be more specific... There’s about twenty-somethin’ things that could be that ‘thingy’’

‘Get me the chili flakes’ you say, though ‘chili flakes’ is said in your language. He looks back at you, even more confused. Finally, you give up and head to the cabinets pulling out the chili flakes.

‘Yo, that’s not what they’re called , is it?’

And then the realisation that you were speaking in a different language set in but he was still a little confused ‘why’d ya say it in a different language if you don’t speak another…YA SPEAK ANOTHER LANGUAGE?’

I mean, I feel like pride is one of the things that all the brothers would feel when learning this piece of info. Mammon is very much enjoying the fact that you, his human was fluent in a different language , by Lord Diavolo he was absolutely thrilled. Could he somehow market this , let’s see… translator maybe? Well, then he realised he’d have to share your ability with the world and hid din takes over. No one’s gonna hear you speak this other language other than him, ya hear?

Though, his efforts to hide this from his brothers are all ruined when he accidentally spills it whilst in conversation over the dinner you’d just made. Actually, it wasn’t like you were keeping this a secret, mammon was but well, that didn’t go as he planned.

Needless to say he is very excited to hear you speak it,finding your pronunciation and you in general ‘decent enough’ (he means incredibly attractive) and frequently asks questions like

‘How do you say lucifer needs to gimme more money for allowance?’ Or ‘how’d ya say *insert swear word/profanity*’

I also feel like he’d be the type of person to ask ‘how do you say my name in your langauge’ as if it wouldn’t be the same 😭😭

He had had a case in which when he was mad / irritated at one of his brothers he swore at them only in said language and after he was done cussing them out, burst your door open and with his hands on his hips and a devious grin on his face.

‘What did you do?’ Is the first thing uttered from your lips when you saw him

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obmswd #obey me brothers #obey me writing #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me scenarios

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raythekiller · 1 year ago

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Hi, I've been reading your works and I'm envious. Your scenarios and headcanons are so cool :D I was wondering if you could make a headcanon for the creeps living with a Latina recruit who is sassy but caring to the point she (or they) will aggressively take care of someone if they aren't feeling well. Hope it isn't too much out of your comfort zone. Have a good day and take care

<3333

🗒 ❛ Sassy But Caring Latinx! Reader ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Masky

#Notes: as a dad friend sassy latino myself this one was right up my alley ty

pronouns used: none

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

You definitely give him a lot of shit. When you first arrive he's all cocky thinking he has a new victim, but then as soon as you opened your mouth, boom, he got dragged. Since he's quite the troublemaker, you'll probably be screaming at him a lot.

"¡Jeff! ¿Que chingado estás hacendo?"

"Slender, the new recruit is speaking tongues again!"

Secretly thinks it's kinda hot when you speak Spanish. The rolling r's just do something to him. While he's absolutely not gonna try to learn it, he ends up picking up a thing or two just from hearing you and the context of the situation. Can't speak it to save his life, though. Still, he makes fun of your language all the time.

"What, you forgot English already?"

Also, he's like, terrible with self care. Not as bad as Ben, but still pretty bad. Doesn't shower for days and hates drinking water. You'll have to threaten him with a chancla to get him to actually take some care of himself.

"¡Jeffrey Woods, chingada madre, limpia tu habitación!"

"You can't fucking make me!"

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

Little mister Hasn't Showered, Slept Or Eaten In A Week over here. I swear, this guy is helpless. Spends all his time cupped up in his room playing videogames and eating nothings but trash like some kind of fucking raccoon. You'll have the hardest time trying to take care of him.

"Ben, how long has it been since the last time you showered?"

"Uhmm... I don't know, about 9 days?"

" *sighs in spanish* "

Genuinely terrified of you when you get mad and start cussing in Spanish. He'll clean his room, he promises, just please put the chancla down!

Will actually be really happy if you make him Hispanic food. Not only does it taste good, but you made it for him because you care about him, and that means the world. He can't handle spicy stuff though, so be careful.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

Not too bad in general when it comes to taking care of himself, but he does just... Forget to eat. All the time. He will just suddenly get light headed and remember he hasn't eaten a bite of food in the last 3-4 days. Another one who loves if you make him Hispanic food, but unlike Ben, he likes his shit extra spicy. Probably one of the only creeps who will try to learn Spanish to understand you better, even if you're fluent in English.

"H-hola, Y/N. Como- como estás?"

"Estoy bien, pero no necessitas hablar conmigo en español, chulo."

Yes, you call him "chulo". He will also listen to the music and just try to learn more of the culture in general to make you feel more welcome. Overall, genuinely puts in an effort in taking better care of himself so you don't have to worry about him as much.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

I'd be surprised if he didn't know Spanish already, which was probably a bit of a shock to you, but a good one nonetheless. He's not normally into gossip, but there's something extremely funny about talking shit about someone while they're right there and they have no idea what you're saying.

"Jeff es tan jodidamente estúpido."

"Sí, ¿verdad?"

"The FUCK you two talkin about?"

You won't have to worry about him much, he takes basic care of himself unlike most of the others. If anything, he's scolding rhe others WITH you. You're basically the parents of everyone else at this point.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky

Has the biggest fucking crush on you and will forever be mad about it. I said this in the ideal S/O post - he needs someone who gives him shit but also looks out for him and the others. The fact that latino people are extra hot is just a bonus. Unfortunately, this also means he's extra mean to you.

"Tienes que dejar de fumar. Te va a joder los pulmones así."

"Sorry, doll, I don't speak 'freak'."

Like Jeff, secretly thinks it's hot when you speak in your language. Hates when you scold him, loves it when you scold others, especially if you get extra mad and start cussing in Spanish. It's just amusing to him. Plus, you make things easier for him now that he's not the only one parenting these weirdos and he's genuinely glad you came along.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #ray.writes #jeff the killer #ben drowned #ticci toby x reader #eyeless jack #ticci toby #jeff the killer x reader #ben drowned x reader #eyeless jack x reader

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ko-existing · 1 year ago

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i’m not this anon https://www.tumblr.com/infiniteko/733096338423726080/hello-i-have-been-following-your-instagram-since but i wanted to add to it and also ask a question<3 i have had experiences where repeated daydreams actually occurred. sometimes literally in minutes or years. i was still into loa so i thought maybe imagination is reality. now i think it’s awareness? but as you said even that cannot actually describe it. anywho i acted as if i was living my dream life. did not believe anything else as true. did that for about a month before i gave up because it just didn’t manifest. funny enough i did enter the void state so many times during that month and also the fastest. i guess what i’m asking is in that post did you mean once something is observed it is? and anything else is an illusionary interpretation? so in order to get rid of that interpretation you just need to disbelieve in it? i kinda got confused i’m really sorry. i think i might need it dumbed down because i did execute a similar thing to what you described but it never happened physically. i kno now that anything else is illusionary but when will it actually happen? or is that also another limitation? ahhh thank you anyways i hope this wasn’t confusing

Hi anon, i know words can be confusing and difficult to understand. I'm not fluent in english and have no idea how else i can put it into words😆 but i'll try my best—

What i meant by "IT is and everything else is an interpretation" was that when you are aware of something, before putting a label on it and interpreting it as "this is a good situation or this is a bad situation" or "I like/hate this", you are only aware of it. Nothing else. When you look at a flower, you see a flower. Only when you start thinking about the flower, you come to conclusions like "i like the color of it" or "that flower smells bad". Those are just meaningless thoughts. Prior to thinking, you are seeing a flower. That is it. There's only awareness of it.

Where does the idea of "this is physical, this is mental" come from? When you are only aware of something, do you make a destinction between "imaginary, physical" ? Or is there no such thing, only "Being Aware"?

Your idea of a physical, tangible reality stems from nothing but thoughts but if you deeply reflect on it, is it true? If "you" were to lose all 5 senses and the ability to think, wouldn't you still have that "sense" of "existing" even though you cannot feel, see, smell, hear, taste your surroundings nor think about it?

Thoughts and labels come and go but what is ALWAYS there, is "THAT". The "sense" or "awareness" of Being.

#nondualism #nonduality #awareness #atman #brahman #advaita vedanta

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punkeropercyjackson · 6 months ago

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Afro-dominican Percy Jackson headcanons but by a black dominicana cause y'all write him like an oreo

His name is actually short for Perseo and his middle name is Isadore.Percy is a nickname given to him by Sally so he took it on willingly instead of assimilation but also gringos are always pronouncing Perseo wrong,including monsters and that only encouraged him to not use it in full

Sea green eyes but also darkskinned,4d textured hair,thick lips and a big nose.He's 6'4,his gray streak naturally faded to white and he has a wide variety of hairstyles per book:Baby dreads(TLT),wicks(TTC),twists(TLO),afro(for most of SON because he dosen't remember what styles he likes),dreads(SON finale),adds beads(MOA)and long locs(Tales of Dead Seas)

He calls Sally Mamí,obviously???

His favorite dominican food is blue flan

Third gen inmigrant and monoracial(lightskin Percy with loose hair is fake,that is a NIGGA 100%)

Sally had him grow up on Discovery Kids

Trilingual-Fluent in english,spanish and greek

Haircare and skincare king

Uses nigga enough that it's a common aspect of his vocabulary

All his durags/bonnets/beads are blue

Huge Pokemon fan(It's a latino meme that we love anime based things)

Sally taught him exactly zero latino machoism or black toxic masculinity and he's actually transfem bigender and femme.She uses she/he and a bunch of neopronouns and her womanhood is extremely afrolatina with her mannerisms and tastes(doing black woman hairstyles and makeup on herself,her favorite Disney Princesses are Tiana and Brandy's Cinderella,post transition she learns she deserves to be high maintenance and tons more things)

He listens to Mcr,D'Angelo,Meet Me @ The Altar,Rihanna,Megan Thee Stallion,Ice Spice,Lo-Fi beats and hiphop

He's demisexual and his type is princess-y black women(Perseus' wife was Andromeda,the princess of Ethopia afterall and names have power in the Pjo world)

Bro is romantic-He's a guygirl so that automatically gives him an advantege with rizz but she's autistic so that boosts it by 100+ points.No regards to social norms,just unfiltered kindness and acts of service that would kill any other nigga to even think of.Also i'm obsessed with the idea of her calling his s/o 'Strawberry Pop' because i'm a Demeter Kid

As per canon he's punk but i'm not boring like Rick so i do a deep dive into it.He uses 'Punkero' for himself too and he's crustpunk,afropunk,seapunk and solarpunk and he knows how to diy things that don't even exist,uses an emulator and only phone and secondhand bought games on anti-capitalist principal,defaces public property,did a lot of research after finding out punk is an actual culture and not just an aesthetic that was surprisingly easy to focus on and starts dressing punk too as he slowly finds the right thirft stores and learns to make clothes.He throwns black/dominican influences in his outfits and in Tods he gives himself that multicolor mermaid hair where you keep your og hair tone still for that Ocean Girl swag

She's a Latino Memes Queen OBVIOUSLY but her favorites are cat ones and she's also huge on energy drinks(cotton candy bang stan just like me fr fr)and legos(i'm pleasently surprised at how many lego shows fans are latinos).White people jokes are her jam also and Luke's colonizing fascist ass got the worst of it before he killed his ass

He is 100% Nico and Hazel's mom and dad,as per canon.Nico is black too because it fits perfectly and Hazel's got black hair and brown eyes because fuck exoticification so it gives them a special connection and La Residencia Jackson is a bit of a cultural melting pot because of it.Dominican flag hung on the wall behind the couch,even more hang gesturing and loud inside voices than normal,New Orleans cuisine and everything inbetween.Percy calls Hazel 'Mamita' and Nico 'Papito',do eachother's hair,they hang out almost 24/7,he radicalized them so now Hazel's pastel goth punk and Nico's goth punk,there's a lot leaning against him for emotional support or even just out of younger sibling/child love,Percy guilt-trips Poseidon into giving him money for Nico's meds and aids and helps Hazel out with girls,beach days with them are made straight up tropical with Percy's powers and they're every white man and Karen's worst nightmares combined as one big happy familia with Sally as the topping who seems easy to speak over but Percy said herself she got her rebellion against shitty people from her

Percy Jackson is NOT Peter Parker.C'mon now,don't fall for the boyloser propaganda and be real-We all know he's Hobie Brown and that his Spider Variant is an older Spiderpunk.Speak the truth with me

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

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Request: POLYGLOT STEVE??? WHO SPEAKS FLUENT FRENCH, ITALIAN, KOREAN, POLISH, SPANISH, ENGLISH AND PORTUGUESE??? EDDIE CONSTANTLY BEING FLUSTERED AS HELL HE FINDS IT REALLY HOT THAT STEVE SORAKS SO MANY LANGUAGES AND HE WILL CASUALLY USE THEM IN CONVERSATION????? WITHOUT MEANING TOO???? LIKE HE'LL FORGET A WORD IN ENGLISH & SAY IT ANOTHER LANGUAGE WITHOUT REALIZING????

MY LOVE! OKAY SO LET ME PREFACE BY SAYING I AM A LAZY PIECE OF SHIT WHO DID NOT WANT TO EVEN ATTEMPT GOOGLE TRANSLATE BECAUSE IT IS OFTEN WRONG ANYWAY OKAY. Also, English is my first and only language (damn Americans amirite) and while I did take a year of Spanish and two years of French in high school, my auditory processing is so shit, I can pretty much barely get through an introductory conversation in those languages. But I tried to still make this cute and fun! - Mickala ❤️

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

“Gówno!” Steve exclaimed from the kitchen.

“Everything okay?” Robin yelled from the couch.

Eddie looked at her with wide eyes.

“The fuck did he say?” he asked quietly, not wanting Steve to hear him.

“Shit.”

“No, what did he say?” Eddie asked again.

Robin stared at him, annoyed.

“He said, ‘shit’ in Polish.”

“Steve knows Polish?!”

Robin rolled her eyes and got up to physically check on Steve.

Eddie sat and stewed in this new knowledge.

But this was only the first of many surprises.

—-------------------

“Mama, no.” Steve’s voice came from his bedroom as Eddie made his way up the stairs.

His mom was here?

And then Eddie heard Steve speaking in…Spanish? It was too fast to tell for sure, but it definitely wasn’t English.

He peeked his head through the door, relaxing slightly when he saw Steve was on the phone.

Steve gestured for him to come in while he spoke, so Eddie slipped his shoes off and sat down on the bed, getting comfortable.

But then it sounded like Steve started talking in another different language.

It was close to Spanish, but some of it sounded almost French?

Eddie blinked at him, his free hand gesturing wildly as his voice got louder.

Eventually, he sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. Eddie rubbed his back in a totally friendly, not loving, manner.

“Okay. See you then,” he sounded resigned, tired.

Eddie hated it.

When the phone was back on the hook, Steve sank back against Eddie and sighed again.

“My parents will be here next week for a couple days. They’re organizing the sale of the house, so they are packing what they want to move into a storage unit and having a cleaning company come get the rest to be donated. I have until the end of the month to be gone.”

Eddie looked down at Steve’s hand, how it was playing with the edge of Eddie’s shirt, how tense the rest of his body was even as Eddie played with his hair.

“You speak Spanish?”

That wasn’t really what he meant to say, but the shock hadn’t quite worn off from hearing him speaking in another language. Or two.

“I speak Spanish and Portuguese,” he replied.

“Oh. Well…why?”

Steve sat up and looked down at Eddie with a smirk.

“Because my mom’s family is mostly from Spain and Portugal and if I wanted to talk to my grandparents, that was my only option.”

“Oh. I…had no idea.”

Steve rested his head against his chest again, finally seeming to relax a bit.

“I really only speak it with her now. I took Spanish in high school for the easy A.”

“Makes sense.”

They remained quiet for a few minutes, Steve coming down from the stress of his phone call and impending parental visit.

“So you wanna live with me?” Eddie finally asked, casually.

They weren’t…well. They just weren’t. And that was okay. Eddie told himself that if all he was for Steve was a great friend who could hold him when he needed it, then that was enough.

But they also kind of…were.

It was very confusing and he was constantly balancing between pushing too far and not pushing enough.

“What? Like, in your trailer with you and Wayne?”

Eddie shrugged.

“Wayne wouldn’t mind. Long as you help clean up sometimes and maybe chip in for groceries.”

Wayne also was team Eddie-tell-Steve-you’re-in-love-with-him-before-I-do and would absolutely support this type of thing.

“But you guys only have two bedrooms.”

“You can share with me or like, we can work something out where we section off a part of the living room? I dunno. It’s not perfect, but I know you don’t have quite enough saved up for your own place yet.”

Steve hid his face in Eddie’s shirt for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll share with you for a bit. But probably only for a few months, I swear. I have almost enough to get that house by Robin,” he said.

It was a house for sale in Robin’s neighborhood, and it wasn’t selling because it needed quite a bit of work done to the yard and bathrooms. But Steve knew he could do it, he just needed to make sure he had money for everything first.

He wouldn’t let anyone chip in, either.

“No rush. But, yeah, I’ll talk to Wayne about it tomorrow.”

—-------------------------------------

Steve moved in the next week after a long argument with his parents, who didn’t seem too thrilled about him becoming “trailer trash.”

Eddie thought about the last words Steve said to his parents before leaving: “I’d rather be trailer trash than your son.”

About how he’d spit them at them, poison from his lips.

About how he’d said it in French.

He probably didn’t think Eddie understood, probably didn’t realize that most of the reason Eddie had been so quiet on the ride to the trailer was because he was turning over Steve’s words in his head.

He still hadn’t quite come to a conclusion more than eight hours later, but he was busy helping Steve unpack the last of his things anyway.

“You seem quiet,” Steve said from where he was putting some of his tapes by Eddie’s boombox.

“Hm?” Eddie looked over at him, smiling to himself when he saw Steve putting Eddie’s tapes on top of his. “Oh. Just thinkin’.”

“Thinking about…?” Steve looked over at him.

“Just what you said earlier.”

Stev’s brows furrowed as he thought about what Eddie meant.

“You mean before we left?” Eddie nodded. “I said it in French though? You understood?”

“I’m not fluent, but I took it for three years in high school. One of the only classes I passed with flying colors.”

“Really?” Steve asked in French. “So I could say something in French right now and you would know what I’m saying?” he continued, still in French.

Eddie understood enough to nod.

“So if I told you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and that I wish I could hold your hand right now, you’d say…”

Steve’s blush gave away some of what he was saying, though Eddie had to admit to himself, he hadn’t quite understood some of it.

Steve sounded so natural, was speaking so quickly, Eddie wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Um. I guess I’m not so good at it when someone as natural as you speaks it,” Eddie awkwardly said, turning back to the closet where he was moving some of his things so Steve would have room for his clothes that couldn’t be folded.

He felt Steve’s body heat behind him, knew he would be right there if he turned back around.

Steve said something in Italian (how many languages did he know?) and then something else in a language Eddie didn’t recognize.

He finally turned to see Steve blushing, looking down at the floor of his room.

“What was that one?” he asked, moving in a bit closer, barely leaving any space between them.

“Korean. My dad insisted on all of us learning it when he acquired a business in Korea.”

“So you know…how many languages?”

“Seven counting English, but I’m also learning Russian from Robin. Kind of a way to ‘own the trauma’ or whatever she tells me,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“You know seven languages?” Eddie squeaked.

“Oui,” Steve smirked up at him.

They were so close. He could almost feel Steve’s breath against his lips, closed his eyes and imagined how he would taste.

“Eds,” Steve breathed out.

“Hm?” Eddie felt high, or like there was a severe lack of oxygen in the room, maybe both.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

Eddie’s eyes popped open, his jaw dropping in shock.

Steve asked again, this time in French.

Eddie groaned and threw his head back.

“You’re killing me.”

“...so that’s a yes?” Steve teased.

“Oui,” Eddie replied.

Steve’s lips were warm against his, surprisingly soft, though demanding.

His whole body was demanding, pushing Eddie backwards until his back hit the wall with a thump. Eddie had never been so glad that Wayne was at work.

His hands found Steve’s waist, squeezed until he was sure he left bruises, only tightening his grip more when Steve moaned against his mouth.

Steve’s body was flush against his now, their shirts rucking up just enough for the skin of their stomachs to rub together, sweat slicking between them.

Eddie couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t really want to, didn’t want to part from the closeness he’d been hoping for for so long.

Steve did pull away though, even if only enough to rest his forehead against Eddie’s.

He whispered something in Spanish, then opened his eyes.

Eddie was hot.

“It’s really fuckin’ hot when you do that,” he admitted.

“Do what?”

“Speak any of the 100 languages that you know.”

“Oh?” Steve kissed the corner of his mouth, then his chin, then his jaw.

He kept whispering things in different languages, right against Eddie’s skin, until he was practically ready to fall to his knees.

“Steeeeeeve. You’re killing me,” Eddie complained.

“I can stop,” Steve said against the curve of his neck and shoulder.

“No, please don’t,” he groaned out.

So, he didn’t.

Steve spent the next hour kissing, and teasing, and whispering things Eddie didn’t understand against his skin.

He didn’t stop until Wayne knocked on the bedroom door to let them know he was home and was cooking burgers on the grill.

Eddie smiled as Steve left the room to help Wayne with dinner as he’d been looking forward to doing.

He thought about how long they weren’t anything but friends who could have been more.

But now they were. Hopefully they always would be.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #request #polyglot steve harrington #simp for it eddie munson

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