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crossingthedreams · 7 months 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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teaboot · 25 days ago

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hiiiiiii so i have concepts of a story that were halted months ago due to my inability to fathom writing From The Perspective Of A Toddler. & now i have learned that you apparently remember the experience VIVIDLY. & i would like to ask,, if you would be so kind,, if you would be amenable to. giving tips. answering questions. etc

for instance the extremely crucial Do You Remember When You Learned How To Spell Your Name. & What Was Thinking Like

. pretty please i had lost hope

Oh, sure! Yeah, no problem

Kay so I learned how to read at around 4 and was p much fluent around 5- I remember cause I LOVED Calvin and Hobbes and Calvin was one year older than me

When I was 3ish I remember my mom starting with the alphabet, and I remembered learning it in chunks- so I usually didn’t forget just a single letter, but the whole chunk. ABCD-EFG-HIJK, like how the song goes, but if I got stuck on D and couldn’t remember E I’d jump to H just grasping for the next thing I could remember. And she made me learn in German too, so I got the idea of certain letters being able to make different noises

*(English alphabet LMNOP was the hardest cause it sounded like a word- ELEMENOPEE- and since all letter names sound like words I thought it was just one letter, like DOUBLE-YOU and WHY.)

**(My favourite German letter was OOPSILON ‘cause my mom made it sound like something you’d say after falling down in a silly way- like “whoopsie-doodles” or smthn)

So by the time it came to reading and writing, I already had most of the sounds memorized- the hardest things to remember where letters that COULD sound the same but weren’t interchangeable- like G and J- and which letters were usually in pairs and when- like -CK and Qu- -and which directions they faced when I wrote them down.

The most common backwards-letters were J, L, N, b, d, S, Z, a, q, and r.

I’m not getting doxxed today but my name had letter/s that I consistently wrote backwards.

In early grades, our teacher wrote our names on big pieces of paper and taped them to the top of our desks so we could see them every day, and let us decorate around them with pencil crayons so they’d be personalized. So remembering the right letters in the right order was pretty easy pretty fast, but some would still be backwards.

After we had the alphabet song down, we all got workbooks with 26 double-sides pages or so where there was one line of a single letter spelled in dashes we could trace, like Aa Aa Aa, then a line of capitals we had to free-write, like AAAA, then a line in lowercase- aaaa. After there was a line of text using that letter we could trace- Anna ate an apple- and then like five lines where we’d repeat it.

We were only supposed to do one or two a day, and I frequently got in trouble for blowing past that.

We had other workbooks just like that for learning cursive, but IMO cursive was easier because we already knew the letters, we just had to learn how they looked then they were fancy and how to connect them fluidly.

The worst part of learning to write was keeping the pencil steady. Holding a pencil to write when you’ve never done it before is kind of uncomfortable till you find a position that works for you, and it takes a while to get a feel for how close your fingers should be to one end. On top of that, it’s super hard to get a tidy line of any shape until your motor skills catch up- and they only catch up if you DO it enough.

My least-favourite things about learning to write was guessing which words ended in a silent E, whether or not a Wr- word was just an R-, and remembering that Q was always followed by a U.

Th- Wh- Ch- -Ce and Sh- sounds had an entire class one day, and a separate poster on the board with trains and people shushing so we’d know which one was which. Like a cheat sheet! Our teacher would sometimes tape construction paper over them before class started or during recess and we wouldn’t notice until after she announced a surprise pop quiz.

I hope some of this was what you were looking for?

Good luck writing! :D

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feverish-dove · 24 days ago

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Secrets in the Stone World

moments when you share a hidden language with the worlds favorite scientist (well technically he’s the only one, so does it really count?). “this is normal japanese” “this is english” Senku Ishigami x Reader warnings: oneshot, fluff word count: 1,051 cross posted on ao3 this is intended to be a sequel to my other post, Sun Kissed Science, yet can be read as a standalone work!

It had become a daily ritual.

Each morning before the village awoke you sat near the river, carefully applying Senku’s homemade sunscreen. The mixture, though slightly grainy, had saved your skin from the brutal Stone World sun, and you weren’t about to risk another burn.

Today was no different. You were finishing up, rubbing the last bit onto your arms, when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

“You’re up early.”

You glanced up to see Senku standing a few feet away, arms crossed and that usual confident smirk tugging at his lips. His clothes were slightly disheveled, as always, and a few stray strands of hair fell down even more than usual.

You smiled. “I could say the same to you.”

He let out a chuckle. “Science doesn’t wait.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the warmth in your chest. Ever since Senku had made the sunscreen, you’d started spending more time around him—not just because of his intelligence, but because he made the Stone World feel a little less… overwhelming.

He stepped closer, eyeing your sunscreen application with an approving nod. “Looks like you’ve got it down.”

“Of course. I take my sun protection very seriously.”

He smirked. “Good. I don’t feel like making another batch every few days just because you forgot.”

You nudged him playfully, and he easily dodged, chuckling.

Then, before you could say anything else, a voice called out from the village.

“Hey! Senku! We need your help with—”

You winced, struggling to catch the rest of the sentence. The villagers spoke fast, and even though you had learned Japanese before the petrification, it still took you a few extra seconds to process what they were saying.

Senku, of course, noticed immediately.

His gaze flickered to yours, sharp and calculating. Then, in a lower voice, he said something that made your heart stop.

“Do you want me to translate?”

Your breath hitched.

English.

Your native language.

It had been so long since you’d heard it spoken fluently that for a moment, it almost didn’t register.

You stared at him, stunned, before managing a hesitant, “You… speak English?”

Senku smirked, eyes glinting. “Of course I do. I learned it when I was a kid. Comes in handy, don’t you think?”

A slow smile spread across your face. “You have no idea.”

For the first time in years, you felt a sense of ease wash over you. No struggling to find the right words, no awkward pauses while you pieced together sentences—just effortless conversation.

And judging by the look in Senku’s eyes, he understood exactly how much this meant to you.

From that day on, English became your secret language.

Whenever you got stuck in a conversation with the villagers, Senku would subtly switch to English to help you out. Whenever you were overwhelmed, he’d make an offhanded joke in English just to see you smile.

It became second nature.

The others, of course, were completely baffled.

“Why do you guys always talk in that weird code?” Kohaku had asked one day, arms crossed. “Is it some kind of secret science language?”

Senku had just smirked. “Something like that.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

The only person who caught on was Gen.

One evening, as you sat near the fire, Gen plopped down beside you with a lazy grin.

“So, you’re fluent in English, huh?”

You nearly choked on your food. “Wait—you too?”

Gen chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. “Of course~! I used to travel a lot before the petrification, so I picked it up along the way.”

You gaped at him before turning to Senku, who looked entirely unsurprised. “You knew?”

He shrugged. “Gen’s annoyingly talented. It’s not that shocking.”

Gen feigned offense. “Annoyingly? Senku, I’m hurt.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, so it’s just the three of us, then.”

Gen wiggled his eyebrows. “Ooooh, does that mean we have a secret club?”

Senku rolled his eyes. “It just means we have another way to communicate. Which, by the way, could be useful if we ever need to discuss something privately.”

You nodded, understanding immediately. Having a language that no one else knew could be an advantage—especially in situations where secrecy was necessary.

But even beyond that, it was nice.

Nice to speak without stumbling over words. Nice to feel completely understood.

Nice to share something with Senku.

One night, you found yourself sitting beside Senku near the edge of the village, watching the stars.

It had been a long day. You were tired, but your mind was too restless to sleep.

Senku seemed to notice.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, glancing at you.

You sighed, hugging your knees. “It’s nothing. Just… thinking about the past.”

He hummed in understanding. “You miss it?”

You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, in a softer voice, he said, “You’ll see it again, you know. Civilization. Science. Everything we lost. I’ll bring it all back.”

You turned to him, studying his profile in the moonlight. His expression was unreadable, but there was a fire in his eyes—a determination so unwavering that you almost believed he could rebuild the world overnight.

Your heart clenched.

“I know you will.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Damn right I will.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer ‘brilliant.’”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The night air was cool, the sky endless above you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt at peace.

Then, without really thinking, you murmured, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Senku blinked, caught off guard.

You felt your face heat up. “I mean—not that I’m glad you got petrified too, but—just, if I had to be stuck in this world, I’m glad you’re part of it.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, he chuckled.

“You’re such a sap.”

You huffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

But as you turned away, you caught something unexpected—something rare.

A small, genuine smile.

Not his usual smug grin. Not his teasing smirk.

Just a quiet, sincere smile.

And suddenly, the Stone World didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

#dcst #dcst senku #dcst x reader #dr stone #dr stone senku #dr stone x reader #drst #drst x reader #ishigami senku #senku x reader #senku ishigami #ishigami senku x reader #senku #senku ishigami x reader #x reader #my writing

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777bae · 3 months ago

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FLUENT IN YOU WILLIAM EKLUND

Summary :: William starts teaching you Swedish phrases

Warnings :: none

Word count :: 4.7k

It all started as a seemingly casual moment—a quiet afternoon, the two of you lounging together after a morning practice. William had been chatting with his teammates, speaking to them in Swedish, and you found yourself listening more intently than usual. You’d always had a soft spot for languages—how each one had its own rhythm, its own flow—but Swedish? It was different. You’d never really considered it before, but as the conversation continued, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to understand it. The way the words flowed from William’s lips, smooth and melodic, almost felt like music. You’d never really thought about how beautiful Swedish sounded before.

Your curiosity got the best of you. You’d been quiet, listening for a while, but you finally spoke up, breaking the spell that the conversation had cast. “Hey, I’ve got to ask—what exactly are you saying?” you asked, not sure what had prompted you to speak, but the fascination had taken hold. “It sounds so different… What does it mean?”

William glanced over at you, his grin widening slightly. It was that signature smile of his—playful and mischievous, as if he knew exactly what was coming next. He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your interest. “You want to know what we’re saying?” he asked, his voice teasing. “Well, I can tell you, but I have a better idea.”

You furrowed your brow, confused. “What do you mean?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in return.

Without missing a beat, William’s eyes sparkled with that characteristic mischievous glint. “Do you want me to teach you some Swedish?” he asked, the suggestion so sudden and effortless, it caught you off guard. “I promise, it’ll be fun. And I can teach you some useful phrases.”

You chuckled, still unsure of whether he was serious. “I don’t know if I’m ready for a whole new language,” you replied, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Swedish sounds so complicated. I mean, I can barely handle English half the time.” You let out a small sigh, almost as if you were talking yourself out of it. The thought of trying to tackle a completely new language, especially one as intricate as Swedish, was intimidating.

William’s grin didn’t falter in the slightest. If anything, it widened, like he was savoring the challenge of convincing you. “It’s not complicated, I promise,” he said, his tone full of certainty, making it sound like the easiest thing in the world. “And I’ll make it easy for you. Don’t worry. I’m a good teacher. Think of it like learning a secret language, just for us.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and despite your initial hesitations, there was something about his offer that intrigued you. It wasn’t just about learning Swedish—it was the way he said it, the twinkle in his eyes, the warmth in his voice. He made it sound like a game, something fun and lighthearted, a little adventure just for the two of you.

The idea of learning something new, especially with him by your side, felt appealing. Plus, the thought of sharing this private thing with him, something just between you and him, made it feel like an invitation to something deeper. You smiled, realizing you couldn’t resist the temptation.

“Alright,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “But don’t make fun of me when I mess up.”

William raised his hands in mock defense. “No promises there,” he teased, his grin turning even more mischievous. “But I’ll try to be nice.”

And that’s how you ended up here, sitting on his couch with a notebook in hand and a pen between your fingers, ready for your first lesson.

The afternoon sunlight poured through the window, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. The warmth of the light seemed to fill the space, adding to the quiet comfort of the moment. The living room felt peaceful, almost like a little bubble of calm in the midst of the day’s hustle. You sat on the couch, a notebook open on your lap, nervously clutching a pen, and tried to calm the fluttering in your chest.

Beside you, William seemed effortlessly at ease. His posture was relaxed, his legs stretched out, one arm resting casually along the back of the couch. The look on his face was one of someone who was completely comfortable in this setting, like a natural teacher with no hint of tension or hesitation. You, on the other hand, felt like a beginner in every sense of the word. The thought of speaking a new language, especially one you had never even considered before, made your nerves spike.

Still, you had agreed to this—you were here, ready to learn—and there was no one better than William to guide you through it. He had a way of making things feel effortless, even when you were still fumbling with the basics. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was meant to be fun, that you were here with him and that you didn’t need to be perfect. You were ready to dive in.

“So,” William said, his voice pulling you from your thoughts, his tone light and warm. He reached for his phone, swiping through a few screens as he set it aside, clearly preparing for the lesson. “Let’s start with the basics. Something simple to begin with.”

You nodded, feeling a little more relaxed now that he was diving in, and you could focus on the task ahead instead of your racing thoughts. “Okay, I’m all ears,” you said, managing a small smile, trying to settle your nerves. “Hit me with it.”

He shifted slightly, facing you fully now, his eyes soft with amusement and that familiar playfulness that always made you feel at ease. “Alright, here’s where we start,” he said with a small smirk. “‘I love you.’”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected phrase. The seriousness of it made your heart skip a beat. “Wait… what?” you asked, chuckling nervously, hoping to brush off the sudden rush of heat that rose to your cheeks. “We’re starting with ‘I love you’?”

William��s grin only grew wider, a playful gleam dancing in his eyes. It was the kind of grin that you knew all too well—one that promised both mischief and something deeper. “Why not?” he replied, his voice light but earnest. “It’s essential, don’t you think? And, I’ll teach you how to say it properly so you can tell me in my language.”

Your mouth parted in surprise, a laugh escaping you at how bold he was being. “You’re really starting with that, huh?” you said, trying to mask the blush creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, feeling both embarrassed and flattered by his words.

William didn’t miss a beat. He simply nodded, his expression softening slightly, though that mischievous smile never quite left. “Yep. You’ve got to know how to say it, especially if I’m going to teach you this secret language.” His tone became quieter, almost a little more serious. “You’ll want to know how to tell me.”

His words struck you in a way that you didn’t expect. Something about the way he said it, the warmth in his voice and the sincerity in his gaze, made the simple sentence carry far more weight than you’d anticipated. It wasn’t just a language lesson anymore—it was something personal, something shared. You felt a rush of warmth spread through you, and it wasn’t just from the sunlight streaming in through the window.

William cleared his throat and then spoke the phrase slowly, the words rolling off his tongue with ease. “Jag älskar dig,” he said gently, as if offering you a glimpse into something meaningful and intimate. He repeated it again, his voice soft but firm, emphasizing each syllable, letting the words linger between you. His eyes were fixed on you, watching your every reaction, as if he were both teaching and sharing something important at the same time.

You swallowed, focusing intently on his pronunciation, trying to absorb the foreign sounds and make them your own. “Yahg… ehl-skar deeg?” you said, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar sounds, your voice a little unsure.

William didn’t laugh or make you feel embarrassed, though. Instead, his eyes softened with pride, and he offered a small nod of approval. “Close,” he said, his voice warm and patient. “You’ve got the right idea. Let’s try again, but slower this time.”

You took a deep breath, your heart still fluttering in your chest but feeling more determined now. You wanted to get it right, to do this properly, for him, for yourself. You repeated the words again, more slowly this time, focusing on the rhythm and the softness of the syllables. “Jag älskar dig.”

When you finished, you glanced up at William, your eyes meeting his. The pride in his expression made your heart swell. He was watching you so closely, his gaze soft yet filled with affection. “Perfect,” he exclaimed, his voice sincere, lighting up with warmth. “That’s it. You’re a natural.”

A laugh escaped you, the sound both relieved and a little awestruck. It wasn’t just that you’d gotten the pronunciation right—it was the way William had looked at you. His words weren’t just about the lesson. There was something in his eyes, a deeper meaning behind the praise, and it made the flutter in your chest return with a force that left you speechless. It was as if he was genuinely proud of you, not just for speaking a foreign language, but for being there with him, sharing this experience together. You couldn’t help but feel like you were learning more than just Swedish in that moment.

You gave him a small, shy smile. “I didn’t think I’d be saying ‘I love you’ so soon,” you teased, though the words felt strangely significant in your mouth, like they carried more weight than you expected.

William’s grin softened, his eyes locking with yours as he gave a small, almost intimate shrug. “I think you needed to learn it. You’ll use it one day, I’m sure of it,” he said, his tone quieter now, as if the moment was more than just about the words. There was something deeper there, a silent acknowledgment that this lesson was a bridge between the two of you—a connection built on shared words, shared meaning.

With the first phrase under your belt, William’s playful side began to surface. The atmosphere in the room shifted, and the lesson lightened. You no longer felt the pressure to be perfect with your pronunciation, and you both started to enjoy the learning process more. Each time you stumbled over a word, William would smile and encourage you, never making you feel self-conscious. Instead, his laughter would fill the room, and the entire lesson felt less like work and more like a fun game.

“Okay, now for something really important,” William said, a mischievous gleam lighting up his eyes as he leaned toward you, clearly about to spring something unexpected on you.

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s that?”

William’s grin widened, if possible. “I’m going to teach you something every person should know.”

You chuckled, leaning back slightly, not sure if he was being serious. “What’s that?”

He gave you an exaggerated serious look before breaking into a grin. “It’s ‘My cat is wearing a crown.’”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, what?” you asked, your voice filled with both confusion and amusement. “Are you serious?”

William’s grin only grew, and you could tell from the playful twinkle in his eyes that he was definitely messing with you. “Yes. This is a vital sentence,” he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “You never know when you might need to tell someone your cat is wearing a crown.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was truly serious or if this was just part of his playful charm. “You’re kidding, right?” you asked, laughing lightly at the absurdity of it all.

He shook his head with mock indignation, clearly delighted by your reaction. “Nope, not kidding. This is real knowledge. You have to be prepared for anything.” He raised an eyebrow in playful challenge. “Min katt har en krona.”

You stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. The phrase was entirely new to you, the sounds unfamiliar, and you didn’t immediately know how to translate it. William gave you a moment to digest the words, and when he saw your slightly confused expression, he added with a wink, “It means ‘My cat is wearing a crown.’”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, your mind processing the absurdity of the phrase he was teaching you. “Wait… so that’s what we’re learning? Really?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Absolutely. It’s important to know. Imagine a situation where you need to tell someone that your cat is wearing a crown and you don’t know how. What then?”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I’m not sure when this situation would ever come up, but okay. If you say so…”

“Try it,” he encouraged, clearly having far too much fun with this. “Say it, and you’ll be ready for anything.”

Still laughing, you focused on the phrase, trying to repeat it, though you were struggling to get the pronunciation right. You said, “Min katt har en… krona?”

It wasn’t perfect, but you gave it your best shot. The sounds felt strange on your tongue, and you could feel yourself stumbling over some of the unfamiliar words, but you didn’t mind. William’s face lit up when he heard it, and he burst into laughter, clearly delighted by your attempt.

“Perfect! That was great!” he said, clearly entertained by how seriously you’d tried to say it. “Now, you’re ready for anything.”

You laughed with him, shaking your head at the silliness of it all. “I’m glad I’m prepared to tell someone my cat is wearing a crown,” you said, still amused at how absurd the entire lesson was. “I feel so much more… equipped for life now.”

“Exactly!” William said, still chuckling. “You never know when it’ll come in handy, right?”

You both laughed together, the sound of it filling the room and making you feel more at ease than you had been when the lesson first started. The tension that had come with trying to master the new language had faded, replaced by a lightness, a sense of ease, as the lesson turned into a shared joke between the two of you. The whole thing felt so carefree—no pressure, no expectation, just the joy of being in this moment together, laughing and learning at the same time.

As the laughter settled down, you glanced up at William, your heart lighter than it had been all day. You realized that this wasn’t just about learning Swedish—it was about something deeper. The way he made the lesson feel personal, how he’d managed to turn an absurd sentence into a moment of connection, was more meaningful than you realized.

You smiled, looking at him with appreciation. “Thanks for the lesson. You definitely know how to make it fun,” you said, feeling genuinely happy with how things had gone.

William gave you a warm smile, his eyes softening with affection. “Anytime,” he said, his voice quieter now, filled with warmth. “I’ll always make sure you’re ready, no matter what.”

As the lesson went on, the initial nerves you had felt started to melt away completely. William’s presence beside you was steady and reassuring, his focus entirely on you. There was something incredibly calming about the way he interacted with you—no rush, no judgment, just the quiet encouragement of someone who genuinely wanted you to succeed. Each phrase you learned, each new word you mastered, felt like a small victory, and with every accomplishment, you felt more connected to the language and, surprisingly, to William himself.

The words were still unfamiliar on your tongue, the sounds sometimes difficult to wrap your mouth around, but every time you stumbled, William was there with a smile and a gentle correction. He never made you feel self-conscious about your mistakes. Instead, he made each misstep feel like a part of the learning process, something to laugh about together rather than a failure. His encouragement felt like a soft anchor in the sea of newness, and with every word you said, you felt more at home in his presence.

But then, just as you were beginning to settle into the rhythm of the lesson, something shifted. William’s tone, which had been light and playful, softened. His usual teasing smile faded into something more sincere, more intimate. His eyes, which had always been warm and inviting, became even more focused, and there was a quiet intensity behind his gaze that made you pause. You looked up at him, suddenly aware of how close you both were on the couch, the space between you feeling smaller than before.

“You’re doing great,” he said, his voice quieter now. There was a tenderness in his words that you hadn’t noticed before. His eyes locked with yours, and you felt a flutter in your chest, something deeper than the simple joy of learning. “Now, let me teach you something I really want you to know.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the seriousness in his tone. You couldn’t tell whether he was still talking about the lesson or if there was something more in the words he was about to say. It felt like this was no longer just about Swedish—there was something unspoken, something in the air between you that made everything feel different.

You looked up at him, your voice soft as you asked, “What is it?”

He paused, as if carefully considering his next words. When he spoke again, his voice was even more gentle, almost like he was sharing a secret with you, something that mattered deeply. “It’s Du gör mig lycklig,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue in a way that felt intimate, personal. His eyes softened, and the intensity in them grew, making your pulse quicken. “It means ‘You make me happy.’”

You repeated the phrase after him, your voice faltering slightly as you tried to absorb the new sounds. “Du gör mig lycklig.” The words felt heavy on your tongue, but they were beautiful in their simplicity. And as you said them, something about their meaning sank deeper into your chest—more than just the translation, more than the language itself. The weight of the phrase, the truth in it, settled in the quiet space between you.

William’s smile returned, but it was different this time. It wasn’t playful or teasing—it was something warmer, more tender, as if he was allowing you to see a side of him that was rarely exposed. He nodded at you in approval, his eyes full of affection. “Perfect,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You make me happy too, you know?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze, the sincerity in his words hitting you harder than you expected. The phrase—Du gör mig lycklig—suddenly felt like more than just words. It felt like a declaration, a shared moment of truth between you two. It wasn’t just about learning Swedish; it was about the way William was making you feel. It was about the way his words reached you, deeper than you had expected, and how they seemed to confirm something you hadn’t fully realized until now: that he truly cared about you, not just as a student, but as something more.

You looked into his eyes, the words carrying more weight than just the language itself. It wasn’t just about learning Swedish—it was about the way he was making you feel.

The lesson continued, but it was clear that something had shifted in the air between you. The words you were learning, the phrases you were repeating, had begun to feel more significant, more personal. As William guided you through each new phrase, there was an unspoken understanding building between the two of you. It wasn’t just about the language anymore—it was about something deeper, something more intimate. With every word, you found yourself drawn closer to him, and each time he smiled at you, each encouraging glance, made your heart beat just a little faster.

The afternoon light cast a warm glow over the room, the soft golden beams drifting through the windows, wrapping around you both in a quiet embrace. The room felt still, the world outside fading away as you focused entirely on William and the lesson that had taken on a new depth. You felt his presence next to you more than ever—the way he was so attuned to you, how his every word seemed to draw you closer. The distance between you, both physically and emotionally, seemed to shrink with each passing minute.

William’s voice softened, no longer the lighthearted tone of a teacher, but something deeper, more meaningful. He moved just a little closer, his eyes locking with yours, and there was something in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure what it was, but you could feel the change, the moment that you both seemed to cross a line into something more.

“I think you’re ready for the final lesson,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though the words were meant just for you. The air between you both seemed to thicken, the tension building in a way that had nothing to do with the language itself. “This one is very important.”

Your breath hitched at the softness in his tone, the warmth in his eyes making your chest tighten. You couldn’t help the way your heart began to race a little faster, the quiet anticipation settling in your veins. “What’s that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, though you tried to keep it steady.

William’s lips curled into a smile, one that seemed to carry all the warmth and affection he had for you. Slowly, he leaned in just a fraction closer, his voice lowering even more as he spoke the words. “It’s Jag är så glad att du är här med mig,” he said gently, his words lingering in the air, their meaning settling over you like a soft blanket. “It means, ‘I’m so happy you’re here with me.’”

You repeated the phrase after him, the words feeling both foreign and incredibly meaningful. “Jag är så glad att du är här med mig.” The words felt like a promise, like something more than just a translation. As you said them, you felt them resonate deeply within you, a quiet acknowledgment of how much this moment, this connection, meant to you.

William’s eyes softened as he listened to you, the smile on his face turning tender. He nodded slowly, his pride clear in the way he looked at you. “You’re really getting it now,” he said, his voice thick with meaning, as though the words carried more weight than they ever had before.

You could feel William’s gaze on you, and for a moment, everything else in the room seemed to vanish—there was nothing but him, his eyes locked onto yours with a softness that made your heart skip a beat. The world around you blurred, the faint hum of the room fading into nothingness as the space between you seemed to shrink. The warmth of the sunlight still filled the room, but it felt like it had settled around you both, enveloping you in a cocoon of quiet intimacy.

William’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a hint of something deeper in them that made your breath catch. He reached out slowly, as if the very act was deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. His hand, warm and steady, gently cupped your cheek, the touch light but firm, grounding you in the present. His thumb brushed softly against your skin, and it was as though the whole world had stopped moving. Every other thought, every lingering doubt, disappeared in the wake of his touch. His hand on your cheek felt like an unspoken invitation, a promise without words—inviting you closer, drawing you into a space where the world beyond didn’t matter.

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat thudding louder as you held his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away. It felt like an electric charge in the air, a current of something that you both couldn’t deny. The closeness between you seemed to grow with every breath, the space between you becoming smaller and smaller, and it was impossible to ignore the heat that flared between you. Every inch of your body seemed to lean into him, drawn in by the quiet force of his presence.

“Jag är så glad att du är här med mig,” William whispered, his voice lower now, soft like velvet, a careful, deliberate sweetness in the way the words left his lips. The phrase, one you had just learned, felt even more powerful in that moment as he repeated it, the quiet intensity in his voice carrying a depth that took you by surprise. You could feel the sincerity behind the words, the warmth of them, as they seemed to hang in the air between you.

Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse quickening. He leaned in closer, and everything inside you felt like it was suspended in time—your heart, your breath, the very air itself. You could feel his breath mingling with yours, soft and warm, each inhale and exhale blending together as the distance between you vanished entirely. It was as though your bodies were pulling toward one another, as if you were being drawn into a magnetic pull, an unspoken understanding that this was where you were meant to be.

And then, the moment stretched out, just a fraction longer before he closed the distance, his lips brushing gently against yours. The kiss was slow, soft—a tender exploration that felt more like a conversation than a gesture. His lips were warm, almost impossibly soft against yours, as though he was savoring the moment as much as you were. The kiss wasn’t rushed, there was no urgency—just the quiet, intimate connection between the two of you, full of meaning and unspoken words.

Each second of the kiss felt like it held everything—the lessons, the laughter, the connection you had been building over time. It was as though this kiss was the culmination of everything that had come before it, all of those little moments of vulnerability, those shared smiles and glances, now woven together into something undeniable. His lips were so gentle against yours, the sweetness of the kiss lingering even after he pulled away just slightly, his forehead resting gently against yours.

For a long, breathless moment, you stayed like that—close, your foreheads touching, your hearts still racing in time with one another. The softness of his breath brushed against your skin, and the space between you both was filled with a quiet intimacy that made everything else feel distant, unimportant. There was only him, only this moment, and it felt like everything in the world had led you to this.

When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his eyes fluttering open and meeting yours, you were both breathing softly, as if the world had slowed down to a gentle pace. You couldn’t find the words at first. Your chest felt tight, your heart still beating faster than normal, and everything in you was full of warmth—of something more than just the kiss, more than the lesson. It was something that lingered in the space between you, something that felt unspoken yet understood completely.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me, too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, and it felt like the words had been there, waiting to be said. You realized then that it wasn’t just about the Swedish phrase anymore—it was about the truth you had found in each other, the connection that had deepened without either of you needing to say anything more.

William smiled, his eyes warm and full of affection as he met your gaze. He didn’t need to say anything more, but the way his fingers brushed against your cheek, the way he pulled you just a little closer, spoke volumes. “Always,” he said softly, his voice rich with meaning. “You’re always welcome here, älskling (darling). Always.”

#nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl x reader #william eklund #william eklund x reader #william eklund imagine #william eklund x you #san jose sharks #san jose sharks imagine #we72 #fluff #nhl x you #san jose sharks x reader #sj sharks #we72 imagine #we72 x reader #we72 x you #777bae

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yumeka-sxf · 1 year 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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zvhiux34 · 7 months 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.

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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 · 1 year 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 · 11 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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nottooblue · 7 days ago

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I think the idea of Boomer hardly speaking English but speaking fluent Spanish is hilarious (the idea was originally from a anonymous ask from @hostilemuppet, link is above my drawing) I wanted to make all the Blues bilingual/multilingual, so Bubbles can speak Japanese (and to animals), Boomer can speak Spanish, and Brat can speak Russian (I don't know why, it was just the first language I thought of).

Also I started thinking of how the swapped townspeople (like Robin, Princess Morbucks, etc) would act. I forgot who first drew this idea, but I liked a drawing someone made of Princess Morbucks (from Townsville not Viletown) wanting to become a Powerpunk Girl so I thought that Swapped Princess Morbucks (I gotta figure out a new name for her) would try to become a Powerpunk Girl to have power as a villain but she accidently does good things and acts as a hero. Since Viletown is basically a dictatorship under the rule of Opposer Plutonium, Swapped Princess Morbucks (and her family) is used to feeling powerless so she associates villains with power which is why she tries to become one. After the PPNKG reject her, Swapped Princess Morbucks still tries to defeat them which makes her a hero. Maybe Swapped Princess Morbucks gets a suit and her "powers" from Jomo Momo and he helps her try to fight the PPNKG. Since this is a swapped universe, Swapped Princess Morbucks is poor so she couldn't afford make her own suit.

Anyway, you can let me know what you think and comment any suggestions for Swapped Princess Morbucks name.

#ppg #ppnkg #ppg bubbles #rrb boomer #ppnkg berserk #ppnkg brat #ppnkg brute #ppg blossom

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tgmsunmontue · 5 months ago

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Season to Taste - 31/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN (interlude) ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY (interlude) TWENTYONE TWENTYTWO TWENTYTHREE TWENTYFOUR TWENTYFIVE TWENTYSIX TWENTYSEVEN TWENTYEIGHT TWENTYNINE THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTYONE

“Your dad’s name isn’t Charles?”

“No. It’s like… it’s Italian actually. Giacomo. Got mangled by everyone except my grandparents obviously, so everyone just calls him Chuck.”

“Huh. Giacomo Seresin. That’s a very Italian sounding name.”

“Did you think I was learning Italian just for you?” Jake asks, smirking and licking his lips and Bradley flushes.

“I mean…”

“I figured it wouldn’t be a bad thing to learn about my heritage and culture. But you were also a consideration. Just incase we ever crossed paths again.”

“Just in case. Lucky me I guess.”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

… … …

He knows it’s only a matter of time before he gets the call. The episode aired three weeks ago now and he’s starting to feel a little worried about Ice’s mentality acuity. Maybe he’s just waiting, making Bradley sweat. He wouldn’t put it past him, has thought about what he’s going to say, thought more about why he hasn’t told him. Talked about it with Silvia, dealt with her scolding tone as she talked about family. Okay.

He’ll be ready when Ice calls.

… … …

“Fuck. We just need to get directions. Is everyone being deliberately obtuse because they think we’re tourists?”

Jake would argue that right now that’s exactly what they are, but he also has an idea. Leo is probably awake right now, paying attention to the time difference doesn’t really make much sense when Leo’s hours are all over the place. Jake’s Italian is passable now, pretty fluent from talking with Leo when he’s in the right head space, but more importantly when Leo video calls Leandro and Silvia Jake tries very hard to solely speak Italian; he hopes it helps them like him. They seem to like him, but they’ve never met in person.

Yet.

So while his Italian is passable, he’s still very clearly American, walking around talking English with a group of four of them. He’s pretty sure they’re being given the run around and he’s over it; they have time, but it’s not unlimited. He can’t help the wide grin when Leo picks up after only two rings.

“Hey babe.”

Phoenix makes a gagging motion and Jake flicks her a middle finger, but he can’t help grinning. They’ve been deployed together a few times now and he’d go so far to say they’re friends. At different times she reminds him of any of his sisters and it makes him homesick and lessens it all at once.

“Hey. To what do I owe the pleasure of a long-distance phone call?”

“Well. Uh. We’re trying to find that little restaurant you told me about, but we cannot get directions out of anyone.”

“You’re trying to visit Gallo’s?” Leo asks, and his voice has gone high pitched and Jake wonders if he should have maybe asked if this was okay.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve got some limited shore leave, and… I know it’s not ideal. But I’d like to meet them. If that’s okay?” Jake asks, and he’s slipped into Italian, because he doesn’t need the other knowing he’s maybe fucked up. “No one will give us directions though… And it’s like it’s been taken off all maps. Does it still exist?”

“Oh. Yeah. Uh. Definitely still exists. What street are you on?”

Jake walks up to the corner and peers up at the side of the building where the street name is attached to the side of a building. He reads it out and Leo lets out a sharp bark of laughter.

“Wow. I wish I was there with you, you know. Visiting the scene of the crime as it were…”

“What crime?”

“When you stole my heart…”

“Wow. That’s cheesy.”

“Yeah. I thought so. Blame it on my Italian and French training…”

“I like your Italian and French training…”

“I know you do.”

Then Leo is giving him directions and Jake is walking, waving a hand for the others to follow him. There’s lots of traffic and people to dodge, but Leo is clearly very familiar with the area still, describing what Jake should be able to see, colored awnings and street names as he crosses them, cars honking angrily as the others scurry to keep close. Then he’s there, standing in front of a glass door with Gallo’s written on it in gold. There is also a woman standing just inside and she’s scowling at him. He tries to smile winningly but it simply makes her scowl more and he wonders how they treat customers.

“Uh. Okay. Is there a woman standing near the door?”

“Yes… she’s looking at me and doesn’t look pleased.”

Leo laughs.

“Normally Silvia is on the front, but it’s early. Pass Maria the phone.”

Jake does, even as she looks confused and takes it from him. He can vaguely hear Bradley talking Italian and she’s answering back, their pace of conversation far too fast for Jake to follow. Then her eyes are lighting up and she looks at Jake more closely, eyes suddenly shrewd as she takes him in, but she’s starting to smile, tone of voice changing to something clearly happier.

“Leandro! Silvia!”

Those names he recognizes at least, and then there are more people, and a lot more noise and he can feel Phoenix, Javy and Fritz all pressing in close, likely feeling overwhelmed. Jake can at least tell the yelling is happy excitement and he hopes he’s the cause. Then they’re there, Leandro and Silvia, looking at him, a little shocked but it quickly turns to wide smiles.

“Jake!”

“That would be me…”

Then he’s being swept into a warm hard hug, air squeezed out of him by surprisingly strong arms. Then he’s doing introductions, everyone being hugged and welcomed. Leandro’s English is surprisingly flawless, which Jake finds surprising. Then there’s an order to close the restaurant and he shakes his head, but Silvia is nodding, ignoring him, telling the other woman to call the family and oh shit… he’s starting to really wish Leo was here, is glad he has Javy, Phoenix and Fritz at least.

It becomes a party, and he’s really fucking glad he has the level of Italian he has now. Leo’s family is huge, and there are aunts and uncles, cousins, grandmothers who pat his cheek and call him Leo’s paramor which makes him blush for stupid reasons. They’ve been together for three years. There are enough people there that speak English that he’s sure that none of his friends feel left out. Then the food starts coming; they’re treated to a wide variety of different foods, Leandro watching him with the same level of intensity that Leo has, and Jake can see where he gets it from now.

There isn’t any sauce and he’s honestly not brave enough to even ask, simply eats and enjoys it. Better than getting stabbed by Leo’s mentor. Father. The closest thing he has to a father now anyway and he catches him smiling in Jake’s general direction a few times, so he’ll take that as a reassuring sign. Then there’s dessert and they’re all groaning but also unable to say no to second helpings. They try and pay at the end and are waved off, given kisses and Sylvia presses extra food into their hands and Phoenix slaps a hand over his mouth when he politely tries to decline.

When he finally chances a look at his phone he sees a stream of heart emojis from Leo.

… … …

“Why didn’t you tell me about your boyfriend?”

No hello. No name. Just out the gate.

“Shit.”

Ice doesn’t say anything, lets the silence stretch between them. He will wait Bradley out for hours if he has to. Has done before and he also knows Ice is hurt. That hadn’t been his intention and he’s going to have to make this right somehow.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out that way. I…” he pauses, wonders if he should apologize again. “I… I haven’t told him about you and Mav.”

“What about us?”

“Well, that you’re Uncle Tom and he’s…”

“He’s Maverick.”

“Yeah.”

“I would have thought, assumed, that you were simply keeping these two areas of your life distinct and separate. However the fact that Slider not only knows who it is, but has met him several times… tells me you’re not.”

Fuck. That it’s that which Ice sounds the most upset and hurt about makes him feel worse. This has kind of backfired, because he’s let it drag out far too long and that’s all on him.

“No. I’m not. I’m… Originally I didn’t want to freak him out with your rank. And Mav’s…” Ice snorts at that, because there’s no way to accurately summarize Mav’s Mav-ness.

“Is that the only reason?”

“I… no,” Bradley admits quietly, guiltily. Because Silvia had pointed it out to him, that maybe he was doing it to hurt them, like they had hurt him. Even though it’s been fifteen years and Ice never left him alone. He’d denied it initially when she’d brought it up, but it had made him think. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I think I wanted to. I really am sorry.”

“Hmm.”

“Uncle Tom…”

“Well I can’t say I’m not hurt. Did you think I wouldn’t be happy for you?”

“No! Of course not! But also, uh, I wanted to tell Jake about you, and you about Jake, but…”

“Ah. So we are your dirty little secret.”

“No! Well…”

“Hmm. So… Jake. Would that be… Lieutenant Jake Seresin?”

“Did you just look him up? Ice!”

“I have a mind like a steel trap. I remember all sorts of names. Now, I have a favor to ask…”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Good. I hope you mean that.”

“You know I do.”

“Will you listen to him? Mav. When he calls you.”

“Why should I?” Bradley asks, although he knows that he will. If only to now assuage his curiosity.

“He has something to tell you. And I think it’s important that you hear it.”

Bradley freezes at that, his mind flooded with worst-case scenarios.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine… just,” Ice lets out a long tired sounding breath and Bradley frowns, wonders if Ice is okay. “I’ve been trying to get him to talk to you for fifteen years. And it occurred to me that you might not want to hear what he has to say. So… when he calls, please hear him out.”

“If he calls you mean.”

“No. It’ll be when.”

THIRTYTWO

#Season to taste #Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #AU

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