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leclerc-hs · 2 months

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it's cool, we're just friends? - cl16

pairing: college!charles leclerc x fem!reader (friends with benefits!) summary: in which you and a guy in your class are friends with benefits OR you and your friends with benefits might be more? warnings: smut under the cut! thigh-riding, throat-fucking, p in v sex!, no condoms (bad!), badly translated french (pls correct me), angst, pining, NOT PROOFREAD!!!! word count: 4.8k! author's note: so i ALMOST scrapped this entire thing because i wasn't sure how i felt about it so if it sucks, i understand LOL. i had a lot of fun writing this and can see myself writing a lot of scenarios for them like before there was this many feelings involved? like maybe a spring break one shot for them, when they hooked up for first time ;) PLEASE let me hear your thoughts and any comments you have. I love hearing from you guys xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE WEIGHT OF his eyes bore into the back of your skull, a palpable presence as you immerse yourself in the lecture before you. It’s almost become a ritual at this point: a magnetic pull compels you to glance his way, and there he is, a smirk stretching wide across his face, as if he holds the upper hand.

In that fleeting moment where your eyes meet his verdant gaze, a fierce intensity ignites within you. It’s as if a wildfire unleashes, consuming you with an unbridled mix of desire and exasperation. Your stomach tightens with a fervent ache, betraying the absolute irritation you feel at his ability to rile you up with one look.

Internally, Charles wrestles with the urge to gaze at you as though you’ve strung the stars and moon just for him. Yet, outwardly, he remains steadfast, unwilling to reveal his vulnerability when it comes to you. Instead, he masks his emotions behind a practiced smirk—a façade. And the blushing reaction you give him almost every time, only enthuses him more.

“Arrête!” You half-shout, though it emerges more as a whispered urgency amidst the large lecture hall.

Charles leans in over his desk, his lips hovering dangerously close to the shell of your ear, a proximity that sets your heart racing with a rapid intensity.

“Est-ce que je te verra ice soir?” Will I see you tonight?

You kept your head straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the warmth of him being so close, resisting the allure of his voice.

“Peut-être.” Maybe.

At the front of the lecture hall, Professor Bernard stands tall, his expression grave as he prepares his common ‘you guys are smarter than this’ speech about the recent exam grades. He highlights the alarming fact that more than half of the class received a 70% or lower. And true to his reputation as the kindest professor, he extends an olive branch by offering retakes to those who seek improvement before dismissing the lecture.

You gather your belongings, ready to make your exit, when suddenly, a heavy arm wraps around your shoulder just as you cross the threshold of the door.

You? Aced it. Charles? Not so aced it.

Which you knew meant you were helping him study as usual.

You watch as Charles runs his fingers through his disheveled locks, each movement betraying a hint of frustration and determination. His lips form a subtle pout as he fixates on the study material you laid out before him, his furrowed brows highlighting the depth of his concentration.

“Mon chou, je ne pensais pas que tu m’avais invite pour ça.” I didn’t think you invited me over for this.

With a gleam in his eyes, he wiggles his eyebrows playfully as he collapses on the many pillows of your bed behind him. The papers scattered across the bed threaten to take flight, but your swift reflexes saved them from soaring away into chaos.

You narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, but the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrays your amusement at the situation.

“Tu dois étudier.” You need to study.

Charles stares at the corners of your lips, his eyes not straying once from them even as you spoke.

“Embrasse-moi d’abord.” Kiss me first. He nearly begs; his face almost completely covered by the hood of his sweatshirt as he laid on his back beside your cross-legged figure.

“Étudie.” Study. Your words were firm, yet you could feel your resolve slipping under the intensity of his gaze, as it traces a path from your lips to your eyes, igniting a warmth that stirred whenever he was near.

His arm reaches up behind your neck in a swift motion, too quick for you to even see it coming. His fingers grabbing the nape of your neck in a tight grip as he brings your face down to his, your body toppling over his in an unnatural position from his force. His lips collide with yours instantly, and the squeal you elicit gives him easy access to slip his tongue into your mouth.

He groans softly against your mouth, something about how sweet your mouth tastes. The moan that escapes your lips and melded into his mouth drove him absolutely crazy. The grip on the back of your neck didn’t loosen as he held you to him, giving you no opportunity to pull away from him.

Your tank top cladded chest was pressed against the side of his body, embracing you in his warmth. You press a hand to his chest, attempting to push yourself up, but he groans against your lips in detest before loosening his grip on your neck.

“Est-ce vraiment necessaire.” Do we have to? He begins to pepper kisses all around your face, his fingers dipping under the straps of your tank top, tracing intricate patterns of the soft skin beneath.

You slip your hand under the warmth of his hoodie, his toned muscles flexing under your cold fingertips as you trail your hand up his chest and slip one leg over him, straddling his thigh. His skin was so warm. Almost like a furnace.

He sucks in a breath, as if your touch hurt him, but really, he craved it. He wanted you everywhere. The tight leggings that adorned your body did little to prevent Charles from feeling the heat and arousal of your pussy against his thigh. A smirk widened on his lips almost instantly. He knew he had you right where he wanted you.

He could sense your contemplative thoughts by one glance at your eyes. As if you knew he needed to study, but you needed this more.

You could barely concentrate the minute Charles sprawled onto your bed earlier, his legs spread and shorts riding up to expose the muscles of his thighs. It was even harder to think with the way his soft green eyes look up at you, and the way his fingers felt on you.

His hand trails from beneath the strap of your tank top, your hardened nipples more than visible through the thin fabric of it, to the front of your breasts.

“No bra?” His thumb rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger above the fabric of your shirt. “Planning on getting fucked, hm?”

Your hips rut against his thigh almost instantly in response to his words. The feeling of his thigh against your clit, causing a soft moan to slip. It was then, that Charles seemed to lose all restraint as his hand grasped the side of your neck and squeezed lightly, his thumb resting in the center of your neck. He flexed his thigh, his eyes gleaming at the sight of your blown out pupils.

“Regarde-toi,” Look at you. He edged you on. “Just wanna ride m’thigh, yeah?”

Your hips move in their own rhythm, unable to stop. It just feels too good. You nodded repeatedly as you lean over, pressing your chest to his, as he claims your lips once again. His hot, tongue sliding against yours as the stubble of his facial hair scratches your chin.

You struggle, losing the rhythm of your hips until Charles slid his hands down to your waist, guiding your movements. “C’mon mon chou, tu dois travailler pour ça.” You have to work for it.

“We should study.” You mention, the pace of your hips not stopping. As if your body has a mind of its own.

“Nous sommes.” We are. He argues, his fingertips squeezing into the skin of your hips even more. “Now, keep rubbing that pretty little pussy on me.”

“Oh, what about her?” You point to the pretty brunette that was currently leaned against the wall, a red solo cup in her manicured hand, as she was deep in conversation with a few other girls that you haven’t seen before.

Charles sighs heavily, rolling his eyes just slightly. “Why are you pawning me off?” He cracks a smile, his elbows gently hitting your side.

You let out a small laugh before bringing your own cup to your lips. The liquid of your drink resting on the top of your lip as you finished a sip and turned to look at Charles. “M’not!” You shrug your shoulders. “Elle est jolie and keeps looking at you thinkin’ no one’s noticed.” She’s pretty.

He wouldn’t know about the ‘pretty brunette’ you claimed was there. He didn’t know about any other girl that was here. His eyes haven’t left your figure the entire night. Since you stepped in the entrance of the house he was by your side, it was like his body knew you arrived.

“Peu importe ça, m’gonna go dance.” Whatever. You stick your tongue out at him, earning a deep laugh, and saunter off to find one of your friends already on the makeshift dance floor in the living room of the house.

Charles leans casually against the wall, his eyes tracing the contours of your radiant smile from afar. Despite himself, a soft grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you sure you’re not together?” One of his friends, Alex, teases, leaning in close to Charles and handing him a red solo cup, its contents mostly frothy beer foam from an evidently lazy pour. “I was thinking of asking her out.”

Charles’s gaze drift from the frothy mess in his cup to Alex’s expectant face, a furrow forming on his brow. It wasn’t the foam that troubled him, rather, it was Alex’s words that unsettled him. How was he supposed to respond? We aren’t together but I think I’m in love with her?

Charles clenches his jaw, fighting back the urge to speak his truth, as the words “have at it” slip past his lips with a forced nonchalance. With a hollow smile, he raises the cup to his lips, swallowing the acrid liquid with a newfound eagerness that masked the bitter taste of envy and longing festering in his chest. As Alex made his way towards you, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of anguish, knowing that he was relinquishing his chance to confess his feelings, drowning them instead in the depths of a cheap beer.

“Mmm, tu es tellement douée.” You’re so good.

You weren’t quite sure how you ended up in this scenario. All you remember is being dragged away from a game of beer-pong with Alex, his fingers gripping your wrist so tightly it could’ve left marks, and shoving you onto your knees as soon as he shut the bathroom door.

Dwelling on the how’s and why’s seemed inconsequential now. Especially with his cock buried deep down your throat like it is right now, and especially with the praises that slip past his lips.

Charles lulls his head back with a loud groan as he flexes his hips into your mouth, giving you little to no opportunity to breathe. No opportunity to speak. But you didn’t care. You would do anything to please him.

“Tellement putain de jolie, mon dieu.” So fucking pretty, my God.

“Bet you’re soaked under that dress, hm?” His grip on your hair tightens. “Got you all wet without even touching you.” His laugh is deep and mocking. You feel your thighs clench, like it was an automatic response. “Only I get you like this, yeah?”

You press your face forward, not even needing his force as you take full enjoyment in the feeling of him in your mouth.

“So eager, mon chou.”

You moan at the feeling of his smooth cock against the walls of your throat. The vibrations of your moan, immediately sending him over the edge. His white, hot cum spills down your throat, filling you up, before he pulls out. A long string of saliva follows, your eyes completely teary.

He lifts you from your knees, the cool tile of the bathroom floor no longer your support, his thumb gently resting on your chin as he studies you for a mere second. Taking in the streaky tears under your eyes and your swollen lips. He could already feel the blood rushing back to his cock.

“Bet you’re leaking all over yourself, yeah?” You catch the smirk that pulls onto his lips before his lips crash down onto yours. His teeth nibbling on your bottom lip for a brief second before he’s pulling away, pushing you up onto the bathroom sink counter as he stands in between your spread legs. “All achy?” He cocked his head to the side a little, like he knew something you didn’t.

It was so fast, you weren’t even able to ask questions before he leaned forward, his fingers slipping into the lace of your underwear, pushing them aside, and pressing his hot tongue to your soaked core.

You swore you’ve never moaned so loud in your life as you just did in this moment. At the feeling of the kitten licks on your clit, at the feeling of him shoving two fingers into you, finding that spot he knew you loved most almost instantly.

Your fingers franticly reached into his tousled locks, pulling his hair probably harder than necessary, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he moaned right into your pussy. Like he couldn’t ever get enough of you. Like he would stay licking you for forever if he could.

“Mon dieu,” My god. You squeal as your head lulls back against the cool mirror behind you and bite your lip trying to conceal the moans.

You look down at Charles, his eyes already staring at you, his green eyes completely darkened now. It makes your stomach do a multitude of flips. Your attempt to squeeze your legs shut from the pressure building in your stomach, but Charles grips his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh, holding them open.

A series of knocks are heard on the bathroom door which sends you into a total panic to which Charles yells “Va te faire foutre!” Fuck off!

Your body squirms against Charles’ mouth and the granite of the countertop, but he holds you in place as if to say you’re not going anywhere until you soak my mouth.

He ate you out like a possessed man. Your chest is flushed red as the speed of his tongue picks up, sending you into overdrive. It wasn’t until he sucks harshly on your clit, the pressure of it, has you leaping over the edge into your orgasm. You came hard enough that your body arched, your fingers clenching his hair, pulling hard.

Charles doesn’t come up right away, he licks and licks until you’re pushing him off you. Both of your chests rose and fell in rhythm with each heavy breath, the lingering echoes of the lively party beyond the door gradually seeping back into your consciousness. It felt as though you had just descended from a faraway realm, returning to the bustling reality surrounding you.

His lips glistened, coated in you, as he stares at you completely fucked out on the bathroom counter. An unmistakable smugness in his expression.

His heart clenches as he drinks in the sight of you, so many emotions swirling in his chest. As you stretch your lips into that smile he loves so much, he feels a swell of warmth flood his senses, a tender ache stirring in the depths of his soul.

“Qu’est-ce qui te prend?” What’s gotten into you?

Not that you were complaining at what just happened. If anything, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted a repeat right now.

He nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, one hand leisurely slipping into his pocket, while the other moved to grasp the door handle. With a patient stance, he awaited your readiness before even considering opening the door. “J’avais juste besoin de toi,” Just needed you. He whispers, his voice carrying a tender resonance, emphasizing the depth of longing.

And then he’s swinging the door open, guiding you both back to the party.

“Je pense que nous devrions arrêter.” I think we should stop.

The words felt heavy in your throat as you said them, your hand clasped in Charles’ hand as you sat across from one another in the campus coffee shop.

Charles chuckled softly, taking a leisurely sip of his drink, but when be caught the seriousness in your expression, his laughter faded. His eyebrows knitted together, a pang of pain igniting in his chest and spreading like wildfire.

You watched as he leaned his head back against the booth, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if unable to meet your eyes.

“Que veux-tu dire?” What do you mean? He met your eyes again, and you noticed a subtle shift in their hue—they were slightly darker than their usual shade of green.

“Je ne pense pas que ç ava marcher.” I don’t think this is going to work out. As you uttered the words, a queasy sensation churned in your stomach, making you feel like you were going to be sick. Similarly, Charles felt a wave of nausea wash over him upon hearing your words, his own stomach in knots.

Just looking at him had your eyes burning, but you refused to let the tears fall. Despite the overwhelming love you felt for this man, you couldn’t ignore the reality that it was unlikely to progress beyond the messy situation you found yourselves in. What were you supposed to do? Be friends that fuck for the rest of your lives?

You couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. No, you’ve been thinking about this for so long, but cutting it off was just too hard. Cutting him off was too hard.

As you watched him slowly retract his fingers from yours, his hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose while he blinked, a fiery ache within your chest grew.

“We’re friends, always, right?” You asked, offering him a soft smile, though inside, your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest. You reminded yourself that this was necessary. You needed to go on dates. Not that he was exactly holding you back. It just felt wrong to go on dates while sleeping with another.

“Right,” he responded, his expression devoid of a smile. “Friends.” He nodded slowly, as if carefully considering the weight of the situation before him.

“Est-ce que je peux demander ce qui a déclencé cela?” Can I ask what brought this up? His fingers tapped restlessly along the edge of the table, betraying his impatience as he awaited your answer.

Meanwhile, you sat twiddling your thumbs in your lap, occasionally stealing glances at them. Why did this conversation feel so unbearably difficult?

“Quoi?” What?

“Est-ce que j’ai fait quelque chose?” Did I do something?

You shook your head instantly, a small blush forming on your cheeks. “I just,” You began, but felt flustered as you took a pause to look back down at your fingers and then him again. His eyes made you feel hot all over, the way they never strayed from your face whenever you spoke to him, the way they dropped to your lips every so often as if he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you. He couldn’t.

“I just think I need to go on dates.” You nervously smiled.

“You think?” He scoffed, throwing one arm over the top of the booth, and resting it there as he fell into a relaxed position. His eye twitched slightly, as he flexed his hand and clenched it like he was holding himself back.

You’re not sure how to respond. You had anticipated this conversation to be brief, perhaps along the lines of “I think we should end this,” followed by his immediate agreement. But apparently, that wasn’t the case. You could feel yourself growing flustered the longer you sat here. Why couldn’t he just simply agree, no questions asked.

You nodded, with slight hesitance. Did you really want to end it with him? No.

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling a little smirk on his face as he usually did. “Très bien.” Fine.

And that was that.

Charles decided that he had it up to here when you strolled into the house party, lips shiny with gloss, and you hand held in none other than Alex’s. It was as if you were trying to torture him. Like you knew that he loved you and you just wanted to hurt him a little more.

He’s watching, you can feel his eyes burn into you as you turn your head, pretending to listen to Alex as he rambles on about some story. You don’t let yourself glance over to Charles until later in the night, when he’s leaned up against the kitchen counter, a half-empty beer bottle gripped in his hand, eyes already on you.

You felt your stomach do a multitude of flips from the eye-contact, that you even almost pulled your hand from Alex’s. Like you were caught doing something wrong.

You quickly realized that you had little to no self-control, especially when it came to Charles. With his hair pushed back and the linen shirt half-unbuttoned, allowing the toned and taut muscles of his stomach to peek through, it almost seemed as though he wanted to make it even harder for you to resist. Like he wanted to punish you for not choosing him.

He had you right where he wanted you, sort of.

“Shh,” Charles nips at your earlobe, eliciting a mewl from you as he presses you against the mattress of his bed. “You want everyone to hear what a whore you are, hm?”

Another string of moans leaves your lips as he thrusts into you, the pads of his fingers gripping the front of your neck tightly. His eyes fixed on yours, the pace of his hips was slow, but so deep.

“Tell me,” Charles began, his tongue trailing along your collarbones and up your neck until his mouth hovered over yours. “Still wanna play stupid games with me, jolie fille?” Pretty girl.

You whined as his hips picked up in pace. “Ouvrir.” Open. You did so without a second thought, only to be met with a string of saliva meeting your tongue. Charles groaned as you swallowed his spit, eagerly.

“Still wanna pretend we’re just friends?” He could feel your walls trembling as her hand snaked its way to the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers. It was a tangle of tongues and moans.

“Does he fuck you as good as me?” You couldn’t handle the way he was talking to you, staring at you, touching you. “Gripping me like you’re gonna come.”

You shook your head repeatedly.

“That’s it,” His voice was gentle in your ear. “So good, mon chou.”

Your breaths were jagged and heavy as he took you harder and harder. “Rub your pretty little clit for me, yeah?”

Your body was shaking as you trailed your fingers down, fingers playing with your clit. Charles rested on his knees, his eyes staring at his cock being swallowed by your pussy, and the way your fingers toyed with your sensitive clit. He groaned at the sight of his cock coated in you.

It wasn’t long before you careening forward with a cry, your body arching off the bed, as you came around his cock. Charles fell forward over you, an arm on each side of your head, as he cocooned you. His hips didn’t let up as you sobbed out, your toes curling.

Charles could feel his resolve slipping at the feeling of your soaked walls clenching him. He threw his head into the crevice of your neck, the rhythm of his hips faltering as you wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him to thrust even deeper than before. He rolled his hips, pumping into you with such a fervent rush.

“Mon dieu,” His groans were soft in your ear. “You feel so good.”

It wasn’t until you moaned in his ear, begging for him to come in you, that he lost all control. A deep moan, pressing his hips down against yours as he held you down, pumping his cum deep into you.

For a few moments, it was silent. Just the sound of your heavy breaths as Charles collapsed to the side of you. You both felt oddly at peace, even with the thumping of the house party music heard from the other side of his bedroom door.

Charles stood up, grabbing a towel from his bathroom, before bringing it to you to help clean you up. Something primal filled his chest as he stared at you sprawled on his bed, his cum dripping out of you.

It was the last swipe of the towel when he finally spoke.

“We’re not friends.” He stated. He was sick of teetering around the topic. He was sick of seeing you with other guys at his house.

You opened your mouth to retort, but he held his hand up, essentially silencing you.

“Stop pretending you want any other guy’s cock.” He stood before you as you sat up on the edge of the bed still naked, hands clenched at his sides in a fist. You began to stand up, your face turning red with anger, not because of his words but because he was right.

You grabbed your dress that was in a pile on the floor, slipping it on in a hurry. “Je dois partir.” I need to go. You began, “Alex me cherche probablement.” Alex is probably looking for me.

It was then that Charles raised his voice, if it weren’t for the loud music, you could’ve sworn the entire house would’ve heard.

“J’en ai tellement marre de ça!” I’m so sick of this! He runs his fingers through his hair, pacing the room back and forth. You felt your words caught in your throat as you stood still, your eyes following his every movement until he stood before you, his hands gripping your waist.. “Je t’aime!” I love you! He laughs after he says it, like he’s so pathetically in love with you and you have no care in the world for it.

“I cannot handle seeing you with another man.” He rambles off. “I cannot handle seeing you showing up here, to my home, holding another man’s hand.” He seethes, bringing his thumb and pointer finger to pinch the bridge of his nose as he breathes in, attempting to calm himself down.

“I know you love me.” His fingers grab your hand, pulling it up to his chest and holding it where his heart beats. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed at him, his eyes reflecting a wild intensity, his hair disheveled hair adding to his untamed allure. Sensing your vulnerability, he gently cupped your face with his other hand, offering you a tender touch. You leaned into his comforting embrace, as if seeking solace in his presence. With a silent nod, you pressed your head against his hand, a single tear escaping down your cheek, bearing witness to the depth of your emotions.

“I’m so sick of seeing people with what is mine.” He urged. “You can’t be someone else’s, not when you are already mine.”

“Charlie,” You drew in a deep breath, locking eyes with him, drowning in the depths of his green gaze. Every fiber of your being resonated with love for this man, an unshakeable devotion that consumed your soul.

“S’il te plait.” Please. His voice was a whispered hush as he begged. “Put me out of my misery.”

He opened his mouth to continue, but you didn’t let him. You stood on the tips of your toes, leaning forward to press your chest against his as you pressed your lips to him. His arms immediately wrapping around your waist as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. He groaned at the taste of you in his mouth again, his cock already hardening for you.

You pulled off him, “Really?” He let a small laugh escape his lips as he pulled your mouth back onto his for a small peck.

“I’m a man in love.” He grins, like he has nothing to be ashamed about.

“Je t’aime.” I love you.

Charles tenderly pressed his lips to the side of your neck, his tongue tracing delicate patterns along the velvety skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Répète-le.” Say it again. He whispers, his voice husky with desire. As his lips continue down their intoxicating dance on your neck, his fingers trail the straps of your dress, gradually easing them down your shoulders with a tantalizing touch.

“Je t’aime.” I love you. He placed a small nip to your neck, eliciting a small squeal, as he lifted you up and carried you back to his bed.

“M’so in love with you,” He presses a kiss to your lips. “Don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #f1 one shot

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jester-lover · 2 months

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P4 Relationship Headcanons

Authors Note/ I have read the manga up to the last English translated volume, but I’ll stick to the public school arc characterizations of them for convenience’s sake.

CW/fem! reader but otherwise no physical description , fluff, kindof accurate Victorian courting, a little angst, manga spoilers! I most definitely forgot this arc was getting animated, so I’m late, might be a little OOC, it’s been a few months since I read the manga

Edgar Redmond

Flattery was his main method of gaining your affections: descriptive poems sent to your mailbox, tulips and chocolates left on your doorstep by a mysterious admirer—a carefully held facade that fell apart when Edgar realized just how badly he wanted your affections returned.

While he has always considered himself a free spirit, capable of swiftly moving from one lover to another, he has an epiphany when he realizes he needs exclusivity with you. Edgar has found something beyond flings with you, a woman who can truly make him nervous; make his heart beat against his chest every time you bless him with a glance.

He isn’t always the most touchy lover, but he tends to take your arm in his while the two of you are out together. (He’ll do nothing more, as he doesn’t want rumors to spread around your private relationship.)

Edgar tends to fuss over you a bit, fixing your dresses, brushing his fingers over your coat, and generally keeping your appearance looking tidy; it’s an act of service that displays his affections for you.

Lawrence Bluewer

When I say all of his sisters gang up on him to tease him about his crush on you, I mean it. Lawrence tried his best to keep his love for you a secret, but his yearning glances over his glasses reveal his truth. They encourage him to speak to you, giving him advice about what women like. (Trust me, he needs it.)

Lawrence is a very dedicated man, particularly when it comes to you. He holds up all of the important customs of an exemplary Victorian man and treats you as an equal in all matters.

He’s adamant on listening to your opinion on matters involving the two of you, but he’ll also ask for your opinions on issues in his home and dorm. Your opinion is important to him.

Lawrence is a very intelligent young man; if you ever find yourself struggling with your schoolwork or a matter of principle in your personal life, he’ll help out to the best of his ability.

Call him by any affectionate nickname, and that carefully held stoicism crumbles before you, and a red tint suddenly appears on his pale face. The only time he ever broke his own rules was after the cricket match, when he embraced you tightly in the stands after winning, so much more proud of his victory now that you had seen it.

Herman Greenhill

It feels as if someone has struck him in the heart each time he lays his eyes on you. He can feel the warmth of his skin and the sweating of his palms each time he tries to talk to you without stumbling through his words. Herman is so utterly rigid and awkward around you, it’s completely obvious he’s head over heels.

He’s often flustered around you, even when you’re already courting, as one of his ideals of chivalry and respect is treating ladies kindly. He acts like a strict old man and a shy schoolboy at the same time, wanting your touch so desperately but bashing himself for it.

You will probably have to enact most of the affection between the two of you, sneaking kisses when your chaperone turns away, holding his hand when you walk into a more private corridor of his residence, and cheering loudly at his games. The easiest way to get a reaction from Herman is by showing off your stockings; he’s a sucker for good hosiery.

Despite his proud and sort of arrogant personality, Herman is a shy and careful lover; he remembers all of your favorites and special days, and he loves receiving your praise. Whenever he achieves something, he immediately looks to you, waiting to see what you make of him.

Gregory Violet

You wouldn’t even know of his existence when he first saw you, but he was always there, with a thick black sketchbook filled with drawings of you, going about your daily routine and interacting with others in a way he only wished he could. The sheer amount of yearning he does could put the poets to shame.

You are his muse; even when Gregory is creating something completely irrelevant to you, he’ll remember you; you are so infused with everything he makes. Because he has put you on this goddess-like pedestal, he doesn’t think he deserves you, which is why he’s so surprised when you agree to court him.

Gregory’s affection comes in bursts; some days he’ll be too nervous to look you in the eye, but other times he’s practically joined at your hip. He’s not the most talkative lover, but when his eyes flit through you, examining you closely with a blush stretched across his features, he appreciates you like you are art.

He plays the role of the gentleman in public, keeping his respectful distance, but he often seeks your comfort in the few moments you can sneak alone, laying his head on your lap as you brush through his two-toned hair and rambling uncharacteristically about the struggles of his role. He’s a non-conformist, and he often wished the society you lived in wasn’t so strict, so that you and him could act as wild and free as you did in the leather binding of his sketchbook.

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wosoamazing · 2 months

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14:00

Warnings: Death, CPR, car accident, blood, head injury, stud’s causing blood, match abandoned, panic attack?, ankle injury, vomit(barely, bile), badly translated Spanish - google translated (has english though too).

A/N: Part 2? If yes Angsty or Fluffy?? Or both??

One minute you were walking down the street with your best friend, the next minute you were on call with 112, about to start CPR on your best friend. Every minute that went by she slipped further and further away. The women who hit her. The women who didn’t even know her was breaking down. Her continuous screams of “I’m sorry” pierced your ears over and over. This women, a women who didn’t even know her was allowed to break down but you couldn't. You had to fight back the tears that brimmed your eyes. You had to stay strong. Watch how her chest caved inward with every compression. Watch as the colour faded away from her body slowly, as blood spilled out of her. Watch as her pupils dilated further. Watch as her chest caved in slightly less with every compression and feel how your arms burnt more with every compression, your breath becoming more ragged with every minute, becoming increasingly aware of your heart that pounded in your chest. A wave of relief should’ve washed over you as you heard the sirens but it didn’t, instead you steadily became increasingly aware of the severity of the situation you we’re in.

“Señorita, ¿puede dar un paso atrás? Nos haremos cargo.(Miss, can you step back, we will take over.)” You didn't even look at him, not even a glance, your mind was laser focused, nothing else could get in. You had to keep going. You couldn't stop. She couldn't die. A hand was placed on your shoulder and it pulled you back, the paramedics immediately resumed CPR, you knelt there, trembling, tears threatening to leave your eyes, but you didn’t let them win.

“¿Puedo comprobarte? (Can I check you out?)” A voice said as they placed a hand on your back, you flinched “No, no, estoy bien, estoy bien (No, no I’m fine, I’m fine)” you reassured yourself. Because you were fine, you weren’t the one dying on the pavement.

----

“Ella ha estado codificando durante una hora, llámalo (She’s been coding for an hour, call it)” “Hora de la muerte 14:00 (Time of death 14:00)” you turned around, walked away, not noticing some of your teammates standing there, they all expected you to break but you didn’t. 14:00 signalled your best friend’s time of death, it also signalled the death of your ability to feel any emotion, you walked straight out of the hospital and back home, like a robot, monotone, you continued to just go through the daily motions of life for weeks, somehow not feeling any emotion. Until Alexia decided to try and get through to you one day.

“Y/N! aquí ahora(here now),” up until this point she was letting you go, when you didn't respond when you ignored her, but she wasn’t letting you go this time.

“Why are you training?” she bluntly said “What do you mean?” you snapped knowing very well what she meant, ever since that day your ankle had been hurting, but you had managed to hide it, until today, you had a slight limp, but you hoped no one noticed.

“Your ankle is hurt.” “No, it's not, I’m fine.” “Y/N,” “I’m fucking fine Alexia, what don’t you understand about that, estoy bien, is that better, do you understand now, can't you just leave me alone, that's all anyone has been doing for weeks.” Alexia was hurt, you had insinuated she was dump, but she wasn't going to continue pushing. she knew you didn't like talking about your emotions, they all did, but your last words repeated over in her head, was leaving you alone doing more harm than good, did you feel like you couldn't show emotion. She didn't know but she had just seen some sort of emotion from you, in your words and eyes, you had been aggressive and defensive, but your last words made her feel you were one trigger, one thing away from letting it all out.

____

It was only a week later when you were forced to show real and raw emotions again, there was a corner, and instead of Hannah Hampton’s glove hitting the ball she punched Lucy straight in the temple, causing the older women to fall to the ground with a thud, laying there lifeless, before she took studs to the shoulder as one of the Chelsea players stumbled backwards. She laid there lifeless blood pouring out of her, she couldn’t die, not this way, not the same way, your vision glazed over as the image of Lucy turned into your best friend, the sudden present of emotions choked you, the cries of the women met your ears again, the sirens, the paramedics, suddenly you couldn’t breath you had to get out of there, you ran, quickly, and found yourself hiding under a bench in the corner of the locker room, your were curled up as physically small as you could get, tears flooded out your eyes as you rocked, your hands squeezing the life from your legs, in an attempt to try and stay grounded.

Alexia had followed you, but she couldn't bring herself to moved further into the room, she just stood in the doorway not knowing what to do.

Ingrid came up behind her, informed her captain the game was abandoned, before the Norwegian women moved towards you and Alexia left, only to be greeted with all of her teammates standing in the hall, she was unsure of what to do, ever thankful that Emma offered they share the Chelsea showers, as quickly as possible your teammates came in collected all their things and quickly left, leaving just you and Ingrid in the room, the women had been trying to coax you out of your head and at least slightly back with her words, trying not to startle you, but it wasn’t working, she had no option but to place a very soft hand on your arm, which caused you to jump in sheer panic, you only ever so slightly opened a gap between your leg and arm to see who it was, but it was enough for Ingrid to see how much of a state you were in, your eyes wide open, pupils dilated in fear, tears streaming down your face.

Once you realised it was Ingrid, someone safe, someone soft, you immediately launched yourself at her, before yet again curling into the smallest ball you could in her lap, clutching at her jersey, which was quickly soaked from your tears, she held onto you tight, placing her chin on top of your head, rocking you softly as you continued to sob, as your body shook, as you were falling apart in her arms, and she was just glad someone was there when you did fall apart, her biggest fear the whole time had been what if someone wasn't there when you broke, when your heart cracked open, when the temporary tape that kept your heart together broke, but here she was, the tape had broken, causing your heart to shatter, and Ingrid was there to hold you. At some stage Mapi had come in, and sat next to Ingrid, she placed a cautious hand on your back and left it there, not moving it.

---

Your mouth started to fill with saliva, and your body rolled forward before you were met with a sour fluid in your mouth, Ingrid quickly moved a sick bag up to your mouth, and you spat out the bile before taking a small sip of water and resuming your tight ball, your eyes were still streaming, although your body had stopped shaking as much as it was. The two women resumed, their positions of just sitting there, in silence, with you, both knowing you would talk about it with time, both knowing you didn't want to be pushed, and you didn't want someone telling you it was okay, or that it would be okay because no one in life actually knew whether it would be okay or not. So they sat there with you, giving you the physical comfort and reassurance you needed, having no intention of moving until you wanted to.

---

“Go,” you said so quietly the two women barely registered it, you didn't know how long it had been, but you felt okay now, you felt ready to go and talk about it.

“Sure, you’re going to stay with us though okay,” you didn't say anything, just nodded, you were thankful you didn't have to go home to your cold apartment which was once filled with warmth from your best friend, the apartment that was once filled with laughter, once filled with joy. Ingrid lifted you up with her, and as you stood your ankle was throbbing, but it had been for the past week, what was different, however it was different when you took your first step towards the exit, a simple step caused so much pain, from one simple step your knee buckled under you as a shooting pain rose up your leg. Ingrid quickly wrapped a hand around your waist, steadying you.

“I-Ing, um, c-could we, p-pos-posibly g-go t-to the, the physios f-first?” you softly stuttered, she looked at you slightly bewilder that you had opened up so quickly about your ankle that everyone knew was hurt, the one that was clearly hurt the day Alexia called you out for it and you insisted you were fine, even though it was evident you weren't, both of them were concerned that it had somehow gotten worse in the past hour both just standing there not knowing what to do, “my-my an-ankle,” she nodded, and Mapi quickly moved ahead of you both to see if the Chelsea physios were still there and whether they could look at you or not.

“Our physios aren’t here, but the Chelsea physios are going to take care of you,” they looked over you, before getting an x-ray. “It's broken, but we are worried about ligament damage since it looks to be a stress fracture, she is going to need to get scans at the hospital,” your body stiffened at his words, as your eyes widen and you started trembling “no-no-no hospital,” you pleaded, “Can’t you just put her in a boot and give her crutches, other than possible surgery what else would they do different if it was ligaments too.” Ingrid tried to reason with them, “We can but there is a possibility that if we don’t do the scan on her ankle today she could have to have a bigger surgery and longer recovery, or will be in pain every time she plays forever” “Qué más va a hacer una semana o dos? ya ha pasado un mes” (What more is a week or two going to do. It has already been a month)

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #barca women #ingrid engen x reader

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originalaccountname · 10 months

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Mori Ougai’s belief as the boss is [...] “The boss stands on top of the organization, and at the same time, be the slave of all.” For the sake of the organization, the boss must always take the “logical optimal solution.” That is the duty of the boss. [...] “Therefore, no matter how much your heart aches, you have to ignore your personal feelings.”

Kafka Asagiri, for the BSD exhibition

On Mori and regret.

This man acts based on his perceived "optimal solution". It means relying on cold logic, detached from (his own and others') emotions. In that way, he fits right in as one of the smart characters of BSD, contrasting for example Dazai's way of working with/around people's feelings, and Fyodor's way of manipulating and twisting those feelings into monsters.

Mori remains cold, logical, distant, efficient. It meant disregarding Yosano's and the soldiers' deteriorating mental health during the war because the concept of an army that cannot be wiped out was too good. It meant following Natsume's plan and taking the old boss' place himself to fix Yokohama's underground and protect the city and its people. It also meant disposing of Mimic by sacrificing Oda in order to get the special ability business permit, despite (and perhaps because of) Dazai's attachment to the man.

The thing is, humans are not logical creatures, and will inevitably encounter conflicting emotions.

(does this look like the face of a man without regrets to you?)

Mori in Dark Era tried to pass on to Dazai his practice of putting aside his own feelings for the sake of choosing the most efficient solution that will benefit the group. It backfired spectacularly, so much so even, that Mori regrets it to this day.

For the BSD exhibition, Asagiri wrote some individual character commentaries, all very interesting insights into their characters and the writing intentions. For Mori, here's what he wrote:

“He who fell out of the optimal solution” Mori Ougai’s belief as the boss is described in the novel “Dark Era” and “Dazai, Chuuya, Fifteen”. That is “The boss stands on top of the organization, and at the same time, be the slave of all.” For the sake of the organization, the boss must always take the “logical optimal solution.” That is the duty of the boss. There is an unspoken additional point to it. “Therefore, no matter how much your heart aches, you have to ignore your personal feelings.” We can catch a glimpse of that in this scene. [the ADA-PM alliance meeting] Mori’s expressions after “Burnt it.” and “Like what you did to your predecessor”, gave us a glimpse of his true feelings that were made sacrifices for the sake of the “logical optimal solution”. (By the way, it goes without saying that Dazai is inducing Mori’s thoughts by words that will make him regret the past. It is to make him decide to form an “alliance”.) source and translation: Popopretty

(notice the inclusion of Hirotsu in this scene. Remember that later, Hirotsu suggests that Dazai knows why Mori did what he did to overthrow the old boss, which, in my opinion, is both a proof of Dazai's support in Mori's goal, and a reminder to uphold it.)

One of my favourite parts of the Dark Era light novel is a small scene during the epilogue that was not adapted into the anime. This is two weeks after Dazai defected:

To quote Asagiri again, "Therefore, no matter how much your heart aches, you have to ignore your personal feelings." Mori is conflicted about the outcome of the Mimic incident. He holds in his hands the Silver Oracle he himself gave to Oda, and reflects on its purpose: to "help the man mentioned above without hesitation in the face of any and all trials". Didn't he fail to do just that with Oda? Didn't he set him up and sent him to his doom? Didn't he abandon him to his trial?

But he rationalizes the events by saying he got the permit they so badly needed. No matter if he sacrificed one of his men. No matter if he drove Dazai away. He accomplished his priceless goal. It was a total success.

And yet, he poorly folds a paper airplane with the very Silver Oracle he gave Oda, throws it, watches it crash immediately, and mourns the loss of his right-hand man, without ever moving on.

But we have a direct example of Mori expressing regret.

The perception that Mori in BEAST is a completely different character than Mori is in canon, when that perception doesn't extend to any other character from that universe, rubs me the wrong way. The characters in BEAST are very similar to their canon selves, with some core traits getting a new twist. They are all one or two major life changes away from becoming these versions of themselves. As far as we know, Mori's only life-altering event was being forcefully removed from the Port Mafia by Dazai, and secretly put in charge of Atsushi's old orphanage.

Mori unambiguously made that orphanage a better place, as stated by Atsushi himself. BEAST!Mori is a lot softer, vulnerable and honest. That Mori offers to be a father to Atsushi while he heals. He also expresses regret in not being able to help Dazai when he was in his care.

I think it's very interesting, especially when knowing that Asagiri wrote both BEAST and Fifteen at the same time for the Dead Apple movie, because in Fifteen we have this:

The beginning of the first chapter of Fifteen is a gold mine. It is narrated from Mori's point of view, the man of logic and calculations, and yet it is full of doubt. He is alone and struggling to fix everything with so many people against him. But, throughout this scene about grasping at the Port Mafia's power, there is also this secondary thought being woven in, of Mori having started to actually care for Dazai.

The teenager is scary to him, smart enough to be a threat should he decide to be done with all this and turn against him, and yet, he immediately (and with a hint of sadness) finds that Dazai reminds him of himself. This lonely, lonely man found a kindred spirit, bright enough to grasp any situation in seconds and prone to using an uncomfortable obsession to divert and keep you guessing his true intentions. Mori entered Mentor Mode™ then. He taught Dazai his ways, he shared his struggles and thought process, he fought tooth and nail to keep him alive.

So when he asked Dazai why he wanted to die, it was with the concern of someone who has started to care. It was with the mind of someone who is trying to prevent the worst by fixing the problem at its source.

(translation: Reneray)

But it's also that self-projection/ability to relate that made him drive Dazai away, when he pushed too hard and forced Dazai to adhere to his optimal solution philosophy. Because Dazai cannot separate himself from his attachments, could not ignore his emotions like Mori does, and chose Oda over Mori's logic. From Dazai's point of view, that was betrayal. Mori and him were accomplices!

Dazai planted the idea that Mori was afraid of him taking over as boss, and Mori seems to agree with that thought (would it be because he feared for his life, or for Dazai's ability to replace him?) Yet, for a man afraid of his closest subordinate backstabbing him, he seems to be hanging on quite hard to the possibility of Dazai coming back, leaving his seat open to this day, inviting him back twice in the same arc, and...

(yeah I used this picture at the start too. "I hAvE nO rEgReTs" he says)

Mori may try to convince himself he feels no regrets and no guilt over his own actions by weighting gains and losses objectively, but he still hurts and has a very hard time moving on. He's human despite his best efforts, prone to mistakes and doubts. He's lonely and wishes to impart his knowledge onto others. His cold logic has both helped him in fixing the city, and alienated him from some of the people he most cared about.

In a similar vein, should the ADA employee transfer be of topic again, and should Mori clash with Yosano again, I wish we get to see some similar conflicting emotions in Mori between the usefulness of Yosano's ability, and Yosano herself as a person. The war was 14 years ago, that's a long time, and I want to believe that counts for something.

#there carrot i finished it 4 u #i can't be normal about mori and i've been having Many Thoughts about him #i needed that out of my system and lost the plot twice so uh. I hope this reads somewhat fine.#i could have started on twelve different tangents i have SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT MORI #i love mori i'm not even going to excuse or justify myself read the post #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd analysis #bsd meta #bsd mori #bsd mori ougai #bsd beast #bsd beast spoilers #apparently i talk sometimes #what does it mean about him trying to get yosano back all these years later now that she's a grown-up with the means to oppose him?#is it only about her ability? or did 14 years of hardships made him reflect in any way at all?#food for thought (while we wait to see if that plotline gets cancelled or goes anywhere interesting)

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dollwrites · 1 year

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𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 — 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!marleyan!reader, obvious manipulation, reader definitely takes advantage of Reiner’s not so healthy mental state so dub con, mild angst, handjob, needy!sub!reiner, body worship, size kink, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ originally posted on 02.28.2023. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ perverted by elita

“What would you do for me?”

“Anything…” Reiner moaned, his hips jutting forward. you slide around on his lap, but you don’t mind. his face is buried between the open buttons of your uniform top, panting hot air against your cleavage. his tiers smear grateful kisses over the tops of your breasts, but he doesn’t dare reach to unclasp your bra without permission.

bring him back.

that had been what your superiors told you.

they could tell that the Armored Titan had changed; whether that meant he was slipping out of Marleyan control or had simply lost himself over the years he spent on Paradise Island, it didn’t matter to them. they’d sent you with Zeke, straight to where Reiner had been resting in the infirmary; the whole time you’d walked side by side with Zeke, you wondered how he could be okay with this.

how was it that he, like the Marleyans, didn’t mind playing mind games with his soldiers?

“He likes you.” Zeke had broken silence once the two of you were just outside the infirmary.

“You’re his War Chief,” you replied, looking away, “he would listen to you if you ordered him to. There’s no need to bring me into it.”

“He likes you.” Zeke repeated, taking a long drag off a cigarette, “Of course he’d listen to me, but he needs more than orders right now.” he’d given you a knowing look from beneath the rims of his glasses, staring down his nose at you. “I know you’ve done it before, when he first came home.”

your brows knit together, and you tried to glare at him, but in the end, your gaze fell to your own feet. “I told the general I didn’t want to do that anymore.” you grumble; that familiar, sick sensation twisting your stomach into knots. Reiner was a good man, if not a little misguided, and even though you knew that he must know that the Marleyan military uses you against him, that you only visited him, kissed him, slept with him because you had been ordered to do so, he didn’t seem to mind. you did, though. because you knew he deserved more.

you just couldn’t give it to him, and he wouldn’t seek it out on his own.

“With all due respect,” Zeke started in a low tone, “I don’t really give a damn what you think of me for bringing you here. If you think I’m wicked for toying with Reiner’s head, then you may be right.” you glare up at him, open your mouth to speak, but he’s no longer looking at you. “My Vice Chief is standing on a metaphorical ledge, and I don’t want to see him jump. If dangling your cunt in front of him will talk him down from it, then I’ll do that. If the general permits it, I’ll drag you to him whether you want to or not. I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you, kicking and screaming, to his bed every night if it will keep his head on straight.”

you could’ve slapped him— it was well within your ability to make his cheek burn red with the imprint of your hand, and even he wouldn’t have stopped you, but you don’t. something about the way he spoke, with the certainty he used, told you it didn’t matter how you protested. he and the general shared the same sentiments. they didn’t care how badly you messed Reiner up when you played with his heart; they only needed him to fight.

Pieck was waiting at the door, a lazy smile gracing her lips, and she waved you inside, leaning against one crutch. you pondered, for a moment, about telling Zeke how despicable he was. but, it would do no good. so, you simply trudged forward, slipping inside and allowed the Eldian girl to lead you to Reiner’s room.

to your duty.

“Anything?” you repeat, biting back a frown. you didn’t want him to see how much you loathed how easily he threw himself into the flames for you. your svelte digits caress the bulging veins on his cock in butterfly strokes. it stood straight up between your clothed bodies, swollen, jabbing at the air and the palm of your hand when you wrapped a fist around it, begging for attention from you. you tilt your head back and exhale when he sucks hard on your clavicle, both massive arms wrapped around your midsection and keeping you pulled tight against him. he was big, much bigger than you, and that always made you a little nervous. nervous that he might, one day, stop being so submissive. “Reiner—“ you breathe, unsteady, and he whimpers against your skin, rocking his hips more fervently now that you’ve called his name. he always loved the sound. “What would you do for me?” you repeat, the gentle pad of your thumb teasing his slit. precum frosts it, and the muscles in his arms draw taut.

“Fuck,” he slurs, dragging his open mouth over your breasts, his brows furrowed, “anything! I’d kill for you.” his breath is shaky as he lifts his head, his golden gaze desperate to meet yours. you avoid it, mostly, and stare at the dusky rose colored blush across his cheeks. “I—I’d die for you…” he moans, and you allow your hand to gather all of his essence and use it to ease the friction as your hand glides south, back down to squeeze the thick base. “If that’s what you want from me, I’ll do it, I will…”

“Sh, sh, sh…” you croon, filling your voice with as much honey as you could murmur, pursing your lips and pumping your fist in slow, firm strokes that had a sordid whine rumbling in his throat, “I don’t want you to die for me, Reiner. I want you to live for me. I want you to fight for me.”

he was nodding, leaning as close to your lips as he could, his own working to capture your couplet, even as you kept them just out of reach. to kiss him would only make lying to him harder, even if he wanted to live in the fantasy so badly. your pace quickens, only just, and his grip around your smaller frame tightens. “I will, I am.” you knew that, if he wanted to force you, it wouldn’t be difficult. he could easily overpower you, steal what he wanted ( which, right now was your kiss ), and you could do nothing to stop him. but he doesn’t. he begs you, just under his breath, moaning your name until you’re lightheaded. “Kiss me… please…” you knew he was close; he was throbbing in your hand, bucking his hips to hump the tight fist you used to jerk him off. he was going to cum, and he needed your kiss to push him over the edge.

“As soon as you promise me.” you urge, running your free hand up to grasp at his cropped, golden hair at the nape of his neck. you didn’t have to pull at it, he leaned back willingly, his lips leaving a peppering of needy, heated pecks over your jaw, as if pleading to be able to land one on your tiers. “Promise me you’ll fight for me.”

“Please…”

“Promise you’ll fight with me.”

“Fuck, p—please…”

“You won’t leave us.”

Reiner nodded to every syllable, his eyelids fluttering weak, but he managed to keep his eyes on you, sucking on your jawline, inching up, hopefully, to kiss at the side of your mouth. “I s—swear… I’ll fight for you. I’ll fight… I’ll do whatever you want, I’m yours to command… use me on the battlefield or off, I don’t care. Just please… kiss me!”

you shudder.

you were using him. he knew that. he was just too obsessed with you to care.

pumping harder, faster, you allow your lips to part, and a gentle tilt of your head towards him encourages his to find yours, as if rewarding him for being the most obedient toy soldier he could be. Reiner grunts and devours your mouth in hard, desperate kisses, locking you in place with his powerful biceps. you keep pumping, the other hand still buried in his hair as he comes undone, panting and rumbling a pathetic slew of thank yous into your cavern.

his head drops forward when he needs air, leaving you panting, too, and praises your soft breasts again. his tongue tracing what you thought might be his name as he snorts against them, glazing your hand and his twitching cock in the warm release that erupts in furious, little spurts. he’s still so pent up, even though you’d seen him a couple of months before, and you wonder if he ever slept with any other women.

or, did he always save himself for you?

“You’re good, Reiner.” you whisper, before you even realize you’ve done it, resting your chin on the crown of his head. carefully, you pet the damp tendrils back, and nibble on your lip. “So good.”

Reiner lets out a partial moan, but it’s mostly a heavy sigh of relief, before he nuzzles into your cleavage. “Don’t leave me yet.” he mutters, shifting underneath you. you move, too, slow to allow him to pick the position. he guides you on to your back, and lays against you, keeping his face buried in your heaving chest. he closes his eyes, breathing easier as you run your fingers through his hair. “You can sneak out later just, please wait until I’m asleep.”

#reiner headcanons #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner x y/n #reiner smut #reiner braun x you #reiner braun smut #reiner #attack on titan #attack on titan x female reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x you #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader

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dollwritesarchive · 1 year

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𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 — 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ requested by anonymous!! i’m always down to make reiner pathetic. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <; 3

“What would you do for me?”

bring him back.

that had been what your superiors told you.

how was it that he, like the Marleyans, didn’t mind playing mind games with his soldiers?

“He likes you.” Zeke had broken silence once the two of you were just outside the infirmary.

“You’re his War Chief,” you replied, looking away, “he would listen to you if you ordered him to. There’s no need to bring me into it.”

your brows knit together, and you tried to glare at him, but in the end, your gaze fell to your own feet. “I told the general I didn’t want to do it anymore.” you grumble; that familiar, sick sensation twisting your stomach into knots. Reiner was a good man, if not a little misguided, and even though you knew that he must know that the Marleyan military uses you against him, that you only visited him, kissed him, slept with him because you had been ordered to do so, he didn’t seem to mind. you did, though. because you knew he deserved more.

you just couldn’t give it to him, and he wouldn’t seek it out on his own.

to your duty.

“Please…”

“Promise you’ll fight with me.”

“Fuck, p—please…”

“You won’t leave us.”

you shudder.

you were using him. he knew that. he was just too obsessed with you to care.

or, did he always save himself for you?

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childrenofthesun77 · 4 months

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Okay, commentary based on rough translations for servamp chapter 139 under the cut

Mahiru gets to use his uncles weapon to make the night sky as bright as midday (aka what mahiru's name means). That's so cool!!! I'm a bit suprised that he can use the weapon though because he's has no magic abilities according to tooru and I thought the weapons could only be used by magic users? Maybe being an eve helps? Or maybe it has something to do with whatever is special about mahiru. Anyway, the ritual requires a moon to work so I guess turning night into day might help to stop that.

On another note, tooru is still badly injured and starts to bleed again, please don't die on us uncle tooru.

Kuro finding the strength to stand up again as he sees mahiru's light was sweet to see. I believe the sloth demon says something about always going to remember mahiru's name when he sees dazzling light and kuro tells tsubaki that midday is no time for vampires.

I think misono is telling lily that he doesn't believe lily that it was all a farce, that he does have expectations of others and that he does want to repent for his sin, calling back to misono's talk with the lust demon at the end of the lust arc. Don't trust my translation on these things though. Anyway, misono says that you can't end a game of chess without the kings on the board by a checkmate, but you can end the game in other ways like a stalemate in which no moves are possible anymore, which is the situation misono goaded lily into, ending the game and freeing misono from the spell. Ironically the only pieces remaining on the board are pawns (aka characters/chess pieces lily seems to see little value in). Back in the garden lily turns into butterflies and vanishes while misono is confused because it should be night, but it's as bright as midday.

We also return to sakuya and mikuni. Mikuni attacks sakuya, but sakuya reveals that he used his powers and the spot he attacked was the sakuya from five seconds ago (?). Then sakuya attacks mikuni, but it's not the real mikuni either? I didn't really get it, but there seem to be multiple mikunis (I think 13 or 12 now that sakuya killed one) in different locations and tsubaki's subclass are facing them trying to stop tsubaki from destroying himself (whatever power tsubaki is using right now seems to harm him and he can only keep going because of mikuni's help. If mikuni would stop helping tsubaki might be forced to stop the ritual/would not be able to complete it. Or maybe it's about some barrier spell mikuni used? I'm not sure what exactly mikuni is doing to help tsubaki).

Higan is facing one mikuni and something prompts him to talk about the time he lived with a woman who for a short time made him feel like an artist and not like an abnormal being.

All in all it seems as if things seem to turn around this chapter! Mahiru got to use a powerful attack that seems to have filled the other heroes with hope, even though we don't know yet what exactly it managed to do (is pandora finally destroyed so the eves and servamps can finally split up into smaller battles again?), but since the moon seems to be a big part of the ritual it might help in that regard.

I still have no idea why the hell mikuni is doing any of this (his main attack, granted he developed it when he was 16, was about judging those who kill humans. So why is he okay with killing millions to gain power? Has envy's curse turned him insane too?) and I guess lily returned to his side after misono freed himself?

It's great to see that misono is now free and able to share what he learned from lily once he runs into the other characters again.

With tsubaki's subclass now also trying to stop mikuni and lily's plans (and tsubaki from destroying himself) the protagonists should be able to convince them to fight together with them right? Now that they have the same goal.

Really liked this chapter, servamp has their protagonists on the losing end a lot more often and longer than I'm used from other stories so it's nice to see the protagonists get some wins.

#servamp #servamp 139 #servamp spoilers

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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afdhjdjd so. Reaper!Rook brainrot anon here. Back again, because 3 is the magic number, and apparently I'm a liar and I actually have one last piece for you. Partly as thanks for putting up with me and my loonnngg text walls for the past couple days, and partly a "I hope you feel better soon! So here's something extra sweet"

So as you can imagine, the indifferent, apathetic, unbothered nature of Baker!Reader means they aren't generally flustered by things. Rook's flowery language is no exception, and conversations between the two generally look something like this to the outside viewer:

Rook: Alas! Your metal heart is missing! Where could it have wandered, from where I last saw it? MC: Second drawer on the right. (translation: Rook couldn't find the tea strainer. Your tea strainer happens to be heart-shaped.)

However, there are some things Rook does which make your chest feel warm. This is usually when he's speaking to you without much verbal dressage, and his voice is lower, and there's something softer in his eye.

The first time you really took notice of it was the first time Rook was ever late. Rook was always punctual to a fault, which, considering his line of work, was a true testament to his abilities. He always, without fail, returned to your bakery at 4:30am, since the day you met him. But it's now 5:30am, and he hasn't shown up yet. You're already halfway through prepping the bakewell batter, when you realize you're out of almond extract, and you remember you weren't even supposed to be making bakewell tarts today. Rooks absence weighs on the back of your mind a lot more than you'd ever expected it to, and you move through the prep in a distracted daze. You'd wondered before, in passing, if Rook would just simply disappear one day, once his curiosity was satisfied. You'd never dwelled on it long, because the thought was sour in your throat.

Rook arrives a little closer to 6. There's a lot of blood on him, and for the first time you wonder if any of it is his - if he can bleed at all, or be wounded. His shirt is also badly torn, but there dont seem to be any marks on him. The next thing you know, you're standing right in front of him, hands hovering awkwardly in the air before crossing over your chest. If Rook is surprised, he doesn't show it, but his typical, polished expression does seem a shade apologetic. He hands you a burlap sack as he launches into one of his flowery speeches. The words run over your head, but the gist of it is him apologizing for being late.

Inside the sack are three things: a wrapped cut of meat (from what? you have no idea), some dried lavender that appears to be glowing faintly, and - at this you blink - almond extract. You look up at him, only to find him watching you, with a cross between curiosity and... anticipation? Rook was very hard to read at times.

And it's hard to parse exactly what you feel, in that moment, but it's... something. Something that makes you get on your tip toes (your hand grabbing his shoulder for balance - it doesnt budge under your weight, like he's made of marble, or something), and press a kiss to his cheek as you tell him "thank you". Rook blinks, then smiles - a soft, fragile thing, unlike the strong, crafted ones that typically grace his face. He simply says "You're welcome," in a softer, quieter, tone than before. And you feel warm. A warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with the large ovens behind you.

(annnddd scene. I had this last piece of tooth rotting fluff stuck in my head, filed it away because I've poured sooooo much brainrot about Rook in your ask box alreadey, but then read that you have a cold so. I thought "You know what? Let's do it. Let's send in the extra sweet fluff like it's a get-well-soon card for one last hurrah")

Excuse me while I IMPLODE. Holy shit this is BEYOND ADORABLE. EVERY PART YOU'VE SENT IN IS A WHOLE ASS TREAT AND IT'S KILLING ME. I HOPE YOU KNOW HOW AMAZING YOU ARE, FRIEND BECAUSE AHHHHHHHHH

But yup. Nope. This cinches it. Hello Word Doc, my old friend. Welcome to a new Hyper Fixaxtion Hell

And thank you, thank you!! I'm hopefully getting over my ick! (Went to comic con this weekend while already not feeling 100% and it took me out. Been lying around like a dehydrated slug for the past two days lol) This is such a lovely treat. Thank you~ 💚 💚

#Asks #Monster Mayhem #Rook Hunt

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middleearthpixie · 1 year

Text

Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter One

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all.

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore his own growing feelings for her, besides, he has more than enough on his plate as it is.

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…

A/N: This is loosely tied into my Christmas fic, Yule, which can be found here. Post-BOTFA Where Everybody Lives

Summary: Dís arrives in Dale to ask Sophie to come to Erebor to work with Bifur.

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm

Characters:Thorin Oakenshield, Sophie

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,239 words

Khuzdul Translation:

mimûna - little one (f)

zubdabudê - my little lady

’amad - mother

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Sophie Asharm held tightly to the little hand in hers. “Please, stop fidgeting, love,” she said softly, but sternly. “Mama’s nervous enough, you know.”

Large blue eyes blinked up at her. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

The apology in the little voice made Sophie forget her nerves for a moment and she crouched before her daughter to smooth Heather’s delicate dark ringlets away from her face before lifting the little girl in her arms to give her a squeeze. “No, you need not apologize. This is a big change for both of us. It’s hard to fault you for fidgeting.”

“Will we live here for always?”As she spoke, Heather tilted her head back, her eyes going wide as her gaze traveled the length of the massive labradorite façade that made up the main gates of the Kingdom of Erebor.

“We will for now, at least,” Sophie told her, giving her another squeeze. “Are you scared?”

Those dark ringlets bobbed. “A little.”

“Me, too. But, I think we’ll be all right in the end.”

Heather met her gaze then. “Adam said the king is scary. Is he?”

“I don’t know, love. I’ve never met him. But, his sister is very nice, so I’d imagine he is as well. But, he has much to do and many responsibilities, so that might make him appear scary. Plus, he was very badly hurt not too long ago, which probably means he’s still in some pain and probably grouchy.”

“Like Papa used to be.”

“Yes,” Sophie tried to ignore the pang at the sadness in Heather’s voice, “like Papa used to be.”

Heather sighed and rested her head on Sophie’s shoulder and without thinking, Sophie smoothed her hand over the silky curls. “It’s all right, baby,” she murmured.

A smaller door within the gates opened and a stern-faced dwarf with a full, heavy-looking dark beard and mustache and cold blue eyes glared out at them. “State yer business.”

“I’m Josephine Asharm. Lady Dís has hired me on to work with Narnerra for one of your warriors who was wounded and lost the ability to speak Westron.”

“He’s regained that ability.”

“I know, but his speech is very limited, according to her ladyship. And since speech therapy is what I do, she thought perhaps I might be able to help.” She shifted Heather to her other arm.

Heather picked up her head. “Are you angry at us?” She directed this at the dwarf.

“Heather!” Sophie tried to keep her voice a whisper, then offered the guard a smile. “She’s only four.”

To her surprise, those blue eyes warmed some. “She’s yer little girl?”

“My daughter, yes. Lady Dís told me we’d both be welcomed. Is she here, then?”

“It’s her home,” came the gruff reply, “where else would she be?”

“Well,” Sophie cleared her throat, “if you would fetch her, she will tell—”

“She did tell. She simply made no mention of a little one coming with ye.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. There are plenty of children here for her to play with, if ye’ll allow it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Dwalin!” A stern, feminine voice floated out from the depths of the guardhouse, “stop giving Mrs. Asharm a hard time and let her and the child in already!”

“I beg yer pardon, yer ladyship.”

Dwalin disappeared from view and a moment later, the gates rolled open. Heather lifted her head once more and just stared. “Mama… do you see this?”

“I see it.”

“It’s so… big!”

Dwalin and a woman dwarf stepped from the shadows and Sophie smiled. “Good afternoon, Your Ladyship. I apologize for being late, but sometimes trying to get the little one ready to go…”

“Say no more,” Lady Dís Durin said holding up a hand. “I have two boys of my own and remember well the hassle it was. I’m just glad you’re here. Do come in and pay no mind to Grouchy, here.”

Sophie bit back her smile as the lady swept a hand toward Dwalin. But, Heather did no such thing. Instead, she reached for his beard, saying, “That looks so soft!” as she gripped it with both hands.

“Heather, don’t!” Sophie tried to grab at least one hand, but wasn’t quite quick enough.

Dwalin chuckled. “It’s quite all right, Mrs. Asharm. She means no harm.”

“Mama, down!”

Sophie set her down and she held out a hand to Dwalin. “Play with me?”

“Heather, no—”

But Dís chuckled. “Oh, I think he should definitely play with her. In fact, Dwalin, why don’t you take her down to the nursery and see if Gimli is about? He spends far too much time alone as it is.”

With that, she turned to Sophie, her dark blue eyes serious, “Unless, of course, you would rather she stay with you.”

Sophie hesitated, but then Heather bobbed her head. “Please, Mama?”

“Very well.” Sophie nodded. “It would be fine. There aren’t many children her age in Dale, so, it would probably do her good.”

“She’s in good hands, Mrs. Asharm,” Dís assured her, her hand coming to rest on Sophie’s shoulder. “Dwalin looks and sounds like an utter grouch, but he’s actually quite good with the little ones. Watch.”

Dwalin held out a hand and as Heather slipped hers into it, he said, “Do you want to fly?”

“Fly?’

“Yes. You know—” He flapped one arm—“Fly.”

“I can’t fly.”

“Care to wager on that?”

He swept her up and held her high over his head, and Sophie held her breath as Heather let out a shriek and then burst into giggles. “Mr. Dwalin!”

“See?” Dís turned back to her. “She’s in some of the safest hands in Erebor.”

“I can see that,” Sophie replied for lack of anything else to say. She certainly couldn’t scold the king’s sister for basically handing her daughter away. Although, her gut instinct told her Lady Dís would not hand over any child to a dwarf she felt would be unsafe.

But, at the same time, her experience with the dwarves of Erebor was limited at best. Prior to the arrival of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, she’d lived in Esgaroth, where she managed to keep a roof over their heads after her husband, a fisherman, went missing.

But then that same Company woke the dragon Smaug, and that was the end of Esgaroth. For the last three months, she and Heather called Dale home, until she’d answered an advertisement to work with several dwarves who’d been wounded during the Battle of the Five Armies.

At the interview, Dís had been blunt. She didn’t want to hire a daughter of Man, as the dwarves referred to the people of both Esgaroth and Dale, but they had little choice since she was basically one of four qualified people and Dís had taken, in her words, ‘an instant dislike’ to the other three.

So, there she was, just inside the gates of Erebor, a kingdom she’d heard of, but had never seen. No one had in nearly a century, actually. And as she tried hard not to stare, Lady Dís said, “Let me take you down to your apartments. Your belongings arrived yesterday, so I took the liberty of moving them into your chambers as well. And then we can go down and you can meet with Narnerra and possibly Bifur.”

“Thank you.” Sophie nodded as she fell into step with Lady Dís, who only came to her shoulder. Like most of the dwarrowdams, as Sophie learned they were called, Dís proudly bore a heavy dark beard and a dark mustache as well, and into both she’d braided colorful beads that clacked as she walked. She was strikingly beautiful, and animated when she spoke and as she led Sophie down into the city’s depths, she offered up a brief history of the kingdom.

All around Sophie, the walls glittered with gemstones that ran in veins through the polished granite and obsidian stone. Even uncut and unpolished, they were stunningly beautiful, and glittered with the light given off by the thousands of sconces lining the walls.

The apartments were three levels below the main one, the air cooler and more damp than it was above. A chill bit into Sophie as she listened to Dís and as if reading her mind, the dwarrowdam turned to her. “Your chambers will be far warmer than this. The first order of business was to get the heating system up and running. You will have heat and hot water by nightfall.”

“I mean no offense, but how do you know when it is nightfall?”

Dís let out a silvery chuckle. “Clocks. You’ll find them throughout the city and they are maintained almost as well as the forges. Worry not, you will adjust in no time. Just like you adjust to the lack of natural light as well. Any time you wish to see the sun, there is a courtyard off the kitchens and of course, the ramparts are open to all. There are certain areas that are for the king and his family only, but, should you happen to wander into one, you needn’t worry. Thorin isn’t one much for scolding people over something so trivial.”

Sophie stopped at that. “What is he like? I’m afraid I only ever caught a glimpse of him before and I should hate to happen upon him and accidentally insult him or something.”

Dís laughed again. “You would have to set out to insult Thorin. His skin is far thicker than that of most men. He’s… he’s my brother, so I don’t know if I’m the most unbiased source, but he’s a decent enough man and a good leader. A bit gruff. No… not a bit. He’s a lot gruff. But his is a good heart and he has put the people of Erebor before anything else since he was but a boy.”

“And he doesn’t mind my being here? Or my daughter being here?”

“Not one bit. And even if he did mind, I wouldn’t worry. You’re likely only to ever see him in passing, if at all. He’s still recovering to a certain extent, and prefers to solitude over anything else these days.”

Sophie sighed softly. “It’s difficult to fault him.”

“It is. He—” Her eyes clouded for a moment as she leaned back against the stone. “He’s been through so much, and he carries a quite a bit of guilt and I’ve yet to convince him he can and should forgive himself for what happened here.”

She met Sophie’s gaze. “I assume you know what happened when he left Esgaroth.”

“Vaguely. We heard rumors, but honestly? We were just trying to survive, and it was difficult to concern myself with the royal family when I had my own to worry about. No offense, of course.”

“Fair enough and none taken. Now,” Dís pushed away from the wall and smiled once more, “let’s go find Narnerra. I’m sure she’ll want to sit down with you as well.”

Thorin rubbed his forehead and leaned his head back, his eyes closing for a moment. “Where is Dwalin?”

“Apparently he’s gone up to the gates,” Balin replied softly. “I believe the new healer has arrived.”

“Ah… Dís is at work again, making decisions I should be making.”

“And you’re surprised by this, why?”

“Well, I’m not, actually.” He lifted his head and opened his eyes to focus on Balin. “All right, it can wait for now. It’s late and I am meetinged out, to be honest. I will be glad when everything is behind us and I have no need to deal with Bard or Thranduíl again.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

Balin fell into step with him as they emerged from the Throne Room. Thorin bit back a sigh. He was tired. It had been a long day and he hadn’t slept well the night before. But so what else was new? Sleeping soundly was a thing of the past and had been since he’d left the Shire on his quest to retake his home. He tried not to let it get to him, but it wasn’t easy.

They made their way along the corridor and were nearing the main staircase when all of the sudden, a small cannonball with long dark curls hurtled toward him. He crouched and caught her easily, swinging her up into his arms with an, “Easy, mimûna, you’ll hurt someone otherwise.”

The little girl blew her hair out of her eyes and cocked her head at him. “What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“That word. Mimoona.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “That’s not my name, you know.”

“I know it isn’t.”

She smiled, showing off pearly little baby teeth. “What’s your name?”

“Me?” Thorin pressed his free hand to his chest. “I am Thorin, and this is Balin.”

She looked from him to Balin. “He’s old.”

Balin chuckled. “Some days more than others, I’m afraid. Where is your mother, wee one?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and looped her arms about Thorin’s neck. “Are you a dwarf?”

Balin laughed. “He is not only a dwarf, zubdabudê. But he is the king of the dwarves.”

“Balin,” Thorin growled, glaring at him.

He turned back to find her staring at him in wide-eyed wonder. “You’re a king?”

“I am, indeed.”

“If you’re a king,” she said slowly, tilting her head as if pondering him, “where is your crown?”

“I left it in my room. It’s dreadfully heavy, you know.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as if she wasn’t whether or not to believe him. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Do you ever wear it?”

“From time to time, yes, but if I tell you a secret, will you keep it for me?”

Her eyes went perfectly round. “A secret?”

He nodded. “Will you protect it for me if I tell you?”

It was her turn to nod, and she did so solemnly. “I promise.”

“I try not to wear it whenever possible. I don’t really like it, so, if I don’t absolutely have to wear it, I don’t, but let’s not tell anyone, all right?”

She smiled and a silvery laugh rang out. “I can do that!”

“And can I ask you one more favor?”

“Of course, Mister Thorin!”

“Let’s not tell anyone I’m the king, either, all right?”

“Why?”

“I like to keep that a secret as well, so can you?”

“I will.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good. Perhaps next time, if I’ve got my crown on, I’ll let you try it and you can see for yourself how heavy it is.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Heather!”

“Ahhh…” Thorin smiled at the girl as the unfamiliar voice floated their way. “Is that your name?”

She nodded. “It is.”

“Well, Heather, mimûna is khuzdul for little one. And you certainly qualify as a little one. Is that your ’amad?” He turned to Balin. “I think we’ve solved the mystery of her mother’s whereabouts.”

“No, I don’t have an ’amad.” Heather shook her head. “That’s Mama.”

Balin laughed along with him this time and Thorin gave the girl a gentle squeeze. “She sounds upset. Did you run away from her?”

Before Heather could answer, a woman came skidding about the corner and Thorin’s smile faded at the sight of her. He’d never seen her before and he knew this because he had no doubt whatsoever he would remember having seen her.

This woman was breathtaking. Absolutely and utterly breathtaking, with the same jet colored hair she’d passed onto her daughter and the most unusual tranquil gray eyes he’d ever seen.

“Does she belong to you?” he managed to ask despite his mouth going as dry as the plains beyond Erebor’s gates.

“I am so sorry,” the woman said, somewhat out of breath, no doubt from chasing her little one through Erebor’s maze-like corridors. She bent slightly, drew in a deep breath, and straightened up with a, “Heather, you know better than to run from me that way. What if you’d gotten lost? This city is unfamiliar and has some very dangerous places.”

“She’s right, you know,” Thorin told Heather, meeting her eyes. “You should never run from your mother.”

“I didn’t mean to make you mad, Mama,” she replied, turning in his arms toward her mother. “Gimli and I were having fun.”

“Gimli.” He smiled. “He’s a good boy. I’ll wager he is thrilled to have someone his age to play with.”

As he spoke, Thorin brought her back toward the dark-haired woman who still frowned. Up close, she was even more striking than he’d thought, with eyes that seemed to hover between pewter and silver set beneath delicately arched dark brows. He’d never seen eyes that shade of grey before. She managed a smile as she caught her breath finally and said, “I am so sorry if she’s interrupted you two,” as she looked from him to Balin and back.

Balin smiled. “You needn’t worry, Miss. We were just heading up to the Great Hall for supper. You are welcome to join us.”

“He beat me to it,” Thorin said, moving to hand Heather off to her mother, “but I would also like to extend the invitation.”

She took her daughter, and to his disappointment, shook her head. “Thank you, but I think we will have our supper in our chambers this evening. It’s my first day here and I’m not quite back into my sorts yet.”

“Your first day?” He frowned, but then nodded. “The therapist who will be working with Bifur, am I right?”

“Sophie Asharm and yes, I am. And this, as you probably know by now, is my daughter, Heather.”

“Mama! Guess what!” Heather reached for her mother, snuggling against her as she said, “He is the king!”

“Oh, mimûna, you promised me you’d not tell anyone.”

She clapped a hand to her mouth, her cheeks going red and her eyes round with horror. “I’m so sorry, Mister Thorin!”

Sophie looked equally horrified. “Heather, you do not call him that!”

“It’s quite all right, I assure you,” he smiled. “Thorin Durin and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Asharm.”

He held out a hand and a hint of color came to her cheeks as she accepted it and said, “I am so sorry if she was trouble for you. She was supposed to stay with Gimli.”

“His papa called him to supper,” Heather explained. “And I was trying to find you, Mama, but,” she cast her eyes downward, “I got lost.”

“It’s understandable,” Thorin replied softly. He’d half-hoped Sophie would tell him there was no Mr. Asharm, and tried to ignore the sense of disappointment when she did no such thing. “Erebor is a confusing place at first, but—” he smiled at Heather—“I’ll wager you a slice of Bombur’s chocolate cake that you know your way around here by the end of your first week here.”

Heather’s eyes widened. “You have cake?”

“Oh, indeed. Cake. Pie. Bombur is a wizard in the kitchens. So,” he looked from her to Sophie and back, “if it is all right with your ’amad, you will give me a tour come Friday and if you know where everything is, I owe you a slice of cake.”

A frown creased her forehead. “But, what if I don’t?”

“We can worry about that if it happens. I don’t think it will, though.” He lifted his eyes to Sophie. “This is, of course, as long as you have no objection.”

“You don’t need her underfoot, Your Highness—” Sophie began.

He held up a hand. “Thorin, please, and she won’t be underfoot at all.”

“Can you make me fly?” Heather chimed in. “Dwalin made me fly.”

Thorin chuckled. “I can certainly make you fly, mimûna, if you wish.”

“Heather, you really shouldn’t—”

“Again,” Thorin broke in gently, “it’s of no trouble. As long as you don’t mind, that is.”

For a moment, he thought she was going to say she very much did mind, that Heather was not to bother him again, but then she sighed softly. “I have to admit, I’m impressed that on her first day here, she’s charmed the captain of the Royal Guard and the King himself. So, no, I don’t suppose I would mind at all. Although,” she offered up a shy smile, “I wouldn’t mind a slice of that cake myself.”

“Done.” He bobbed his head. “So I will see you, mimûna, on Friday.”

“When?”

“I’ll come find you before supper, if your ’amad is quite comfortable with that, and you can show me where everything is then. Have we a date?”

“We do.” Heather bobbed her head sharply enough to make her curls dance.

“Good.” He looked over at Sophie. “And you would be welcome to join us, Mrs. Asharm.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Fair enough.” He turned to Balin. “We should be going. It was lovely to meet you ladies. And welcome to Erebor.”

Sophie sighed softly as she and Heather watched the two dwarves continue on down the corridor. She hadn’t realized she held her breath until Heather said, “He is nice for a king.”

The king. Sophie bit back a groan. “Heather, you need to take care, love. You cannot treat him as if he was like one of our friends in Dale. He is the king and should be treated with respect. Tell me you didn’t pester him.”

She shook her head. “No, Mama. I ran into him on accident, though. But, he didn't seem mad, did he?”

“No,” she admitted softly, glancing up at Thorin’s retreating back once more. “He didn't seem mad at all.”

“Can I have cake if he lets me?”

“I don’t see why not.” Sophie smiled at her. “But, you have to be honest in what you tell him. If you don’t know your way around, don’t pretend you do just to get cake. That would be cheating.”

Heather’s blue eyes were all seriousness as she nodded. “I won’t. But, Mama, how funny would it be if I had the king as a best friend?”

She chuckled. “He would be a powerful best friend, indeed. Especially the King Under the Mountain. But, you have to remember, he’s very busy, too, and don’t be a pest.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“I know you won’t. So, come along and tell me all about Gimli.”

Heather lunched into the retelling of her afternoon and the story lasted through most of the quiet supper they shared in their new apartments and long after she tucked Heather in, Sophie sat on the small sofa, just watching the flames dancing on the hearth.

Their first day in their new home, in their new lives, and already her daughter had won over the notoriously grumpy King Under the Mountain. She smiled even as she rubbed her tired eyes. She looked forward to the change, to the coming days. The dwarves she’d met so far were kind and welcoming and nothing like she’d been warned about when word spread through Dale that she’d taken the position with Narnerra. But somehow, from what she’d seen, she’d made the right decision.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Richard Armitage

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teecupangel · 1 year

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Here for the same every week.

Pd: I was scared for the look in the face of Noah :(

My thoughts on Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6

Official English translation (the free chapters anyway) here

So, before we get to the ‘meat’ of my thoughts for this chapter, Edward is doing good on his part but the mystery is mostly contained in the modern-day part right now so that’s where I will focus on.

I will have to ask, is this something that Edward knew on his own?

Or is this meant to be something Noa did that goes against history?

Are we saying Noa’s Animus has the ability to change the past as he sees it? (Not the real past though but the past that the Animus is loading)

Annnyywaaayyy…

My head pretty much hurt when I was reading the modern-day part because it sorta doesn’t make sense?

This dialogue makes it seem like rejecting the memories would worsen the Bleeding Effect but that’s not what happened to Cal’s father in the film. He went blind because he refused to cooperate with the memories yet there was no mention of how he suffered from the Bleeding Effect.

I supposed the film’s side effects would have less canonical standing than ‘Shimazu’’s words in the webtoon?

Also… this part…

Are we saying that Edward, who wanted to meet his daughter after learning about her, the same Edward who returned to London with her, the same Edward who made a name for himself as a noble and made sure to provide for both his daughter and his son…

We’re calling Edward a deadbeat dad???

Look… let’s be clear, Edward made grave mistakes. How he left Caroline is a big red flag that points at him being a deadbeat husband even if he says he’s doing it for them but the ending of Black Flag shows that he wants to be better, he wants to be a good father.

Edward: Will you stay with the Assassins? Anne: No. I haven't got that kind of conviction in my heart. You? Edward: In time, aye... when my mind is settled and my blood is cooled. Sailor: Sail ho! Coming into the cove! Anne: You're a good man, Edward. And if you learn to keep settled in one place for more than a week, you'll make a fine father too.

And Edward's part in this webtoon is set 3 years after Edward and Anne had this conversation.

Edward was a lot of things but I refuse to believe that he was a deadbeat dad to Jenny growing up.

Dude, don't do Edward dirty like that.

I think this is Noa projecting his hatred for his father but Edward is not the right person to be used for this entire thing.

Hey, Noa. Wanna know who fucked up the Kenway family so badly?

This motherfucker.

The whole Kenway family drama started when he had Edward killed, Jenny sold off and indoctrinated Haytham into becoming a Templar.

For all Edward Kenway’s shortcomings and foolish decisions, I refuse to believe that he was ever anything but a good father to his children and Noa’s words, while I know came from the eyes of someone who don’t know Edward enough and someone who has a very bad relationship with his own dad, still managed to irk me.

At least Desmond had an actual bad dad to push his daddy issues to with Haytham and we can't even really call Haytham a deadbeat dad since his 'lack of contact' is because he didn't even know he had a son in the first place.

I'm just saying the Kenway men (actually, the Auditore-Kenway men) are not the right people to call 'deadbeat dads' in this scenario. An argument can be made for 'deadbeat husband' for what Edward did to Caroline but NOT deadbeat dads.

Now, for the other ‘main character’ of the modern-day era…

This line does not bold or add single quotation marks on the Shimazu so this could mean that she does believe she’s a Shimazu but the boss lady doesn’t believe she’s a Shimazu. Of course, this could also be an indication that the boss lady calling her ‘Shimazu’ with quotation marks was meant to show that she was stressing the name instead of implying she’s not a real descendant of the Shimazu clan.

Another thing… (this is more of a personal thing than anything so you can ignore this)

No.

God, no. Please don’t.

I already have a low tolerance for tsunderes in general, if this webtoon makes ‘Shimazu’ a tsundere with the development being she’d become more and more ‘dere’ for Noa, I’ll probably lose any interest I have in her. Tsunderes aren’t really my thing, especially if they physically abuse their ‘dere’ target which ‘Shimazu’ kinda did using the goons she had with her.

#please don't add romance between noa and 'shimazu'#the one between cal and sofia was already a bit iffy af #but atleast sofia was sorta kind to cal #'shimazu' has been nothing but a haughty bitch to noa this entire time #god there relationship does have a lot of similarity between cal and sofia #tsunderes are reaaaalllyyy easy to fuck up #assassin's creed #teecup analyze more than necessary #noa kim #edward kenway #teecup analyze and reacts to acft webtoon

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ladymorghul · 11 months

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I genuinely think they tried to add complexity to Aegon but it looks like some clash in the writers' room because he is written and acted one way on screen and then he is described as someone who is doing these horrible things off screen. Also the rape storyline was done to create a conflict for Alicent to solve and kind of bond with Dianna over traumatic experiences but it wasn't conveyed very well on screen and they threw Aegon under the bus in the process. They might think he will "pay" for his crimes when he will be badly injured and the audience will sympathize with him like they did with Viserys whose suffering was shown in detail. Especially compared to Aemond who was shown as a tough guy who didn't cry (they even showed him smiling) when he lost an eye and his recovery process was skipped completely, so the audience doesn't really sympathize with him because they don't see an effect it had on him, it's left off screen. I think it's too early to say where they're heading with both Aegon and Aemond.

i don't think they genuinely tried. i mean if i try to take the writers' comments seriously it honestly doesn't sound good? like they're like "we made him a monster but he's not a monster" because they describe the horrible things he did but then only verbally do they say he's not that bad and worth of sympathy. none of that translates in the show. either they lack the ability to write him the way they thought they would write him or they just never wanted to. they literally wrote him comically bad. his only temporarily good quality is being somewhat self aware but he's also not doing anything worthy with that information and it goes away as quickly as he's handed some power. yes, he's had a complicated relationship with his mother and a horrible one with his father and i've discussed this in the past at length, i would have to dig up the asks, but at the end of the day, there's plenty of characters who have had... a worse experience? of course it offers you insight as to why he turned out the way he did and makes you sympathize with him as a child but he never actually stands up and does something good for anyone to sympathize with him. he doesn't take his responsibilities seriously at all, he is presented as being mean to his siblings, not caring about his wife or children or dragon, constantly disappointing his mother by doing terrible things, making gross comments to women in his vicinity, being cruel to children etc.

i'm sorry but genuinely.... if that was an attempt from them it was a poor one. my final opinion is that they did a very bad job with aegon and whatever comes in s2, no matter what it is, is shaped by the bad job they did in s1.

we can agree to disagree though.

#asks #i've seen people support the writers takes about him and the sympathy for the fictional abuser and i won't get into it but that's just now #like there are limits to where you can take your character and where any sympathy stops #idk

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ophelyia · 2 years

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SATURN

Discipline and boundaries

Saturn in Capricorn

You are ambitious, self-controlled and you have organizing ability. You can be a disciplined, patient, hard worker who eventually receives the deserved rewards. There is a tendency to take life very seriously and duty and responsibility are very important to you. You understand that time and suffering serve a purpose and that happiness is not the final goal of existence. You may find it difficult to divide your energies between work and play. You have the ability to translate abstract concepts into concrete terms. You may experience feelings of loneliness and inadequacy and that could be one reason why you tend to work so long and hard. On the negative side, prestige and social standing may be extremely important to you and you will be tempted to do whatever you have to in order to acquire them. Selfishness and a great love and desire for power can also be present.

Saturn in 7th House

There may be the tendency to attract older, more serious partners. Partnerships may involve much duty, responsibility and hard work. There may be a karmic tie from the past to the partners in this life. Whatever the case, there may be a feeling of restriction, bondage, depression and anxiety in your relationships. They certainly can be enduring, though.

Saturn here indicates you need to learn to cooperate with and to develop empathy for others. You are perhaps cautious about marriage, but, when committed, may find it very difficult to leave your marriage partner, even if you are unhappy. You may marry for security rather than love. Discipline is needed in relationships.

There may be a very self-controlled and sometimes calculating attitude towards all forms of partnership. You are inclined to seek a partner who will awaken your sense of responsibility and give you a greater sense of purpose and will to succeed. For a woman there may be a subconscious desire to marry a father figure and the partner may well feel an urge to organize your life on a more effective basis.

The responsibilities of marriage or the fear of marriage may delay marriage. If Saturn is well aspected in your natal chart, then this position usually indicates that one loyally abides by marriage vows and faithfully carries out marital duties. With a well placed and well aspected natal Saturn, the partner is likely to be a person of integrity, faithful, steady, reliable, industrious, persevering and economical, perhaps not over-demonstrative and preferring deeds to words, and providing a real anchor for the partnership.

If natal Saturn is badly aspected, then there is a tendency to endure an unhappy marriage rather than to lose face by breaking up. If you neglect to make your partner happy, your own happiness will be affected in the same proportion. This position can also mean a second choice marriage, which endures in spite of boredom, unhappiness and a lack of love. In other words you may have wanted to marry someone else but settled on a second choice instead. The partner may act in such a way as to become a burden, and may be uncommunicative, narrow in outlook, cold, and over-critical. In some cases the spouse may be much loved, but prone to ill health. Marriage to a widow or widower is possible.

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dailykoreanpop · 1 year

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ATEEZ, K-POP’S RESIDENT PIRATES, AREN’T DROPPING ANCHOR ANY TIME SOON

At London’s O2 arena on Feb. 22, darkness engulfs a packed crowd of thousands, leaving just a constellation of illuminated light sticks patterned across the room. A flood of red lights then spotlight the eight members of ATEEZ, the first fourth-generation K-pop group to headline the iconic venue.

Dressed in cloaks that cover them head to toe, they walk from the main stage to a second one near the center of the room, striding with a measured intensity that says they know everyone is waiting for a big release. As the opening bars to their Earth-rattling song “New World” starts, one by one the members’ faces are lit up by neon tube lights, each to an eruption of ear-ringing screams by fans (fondly dubbed by the group as ATINY).

The concert then kicks into high gear with pyrotechnics and light shows as the group commands its dancers with puppeteer-level control until their cloaks are shed and they stand face-on, resolute in their power. It’s a feat of production, a thrilling assault on the senses that combines their typically booming musicality with a razor-sharp narrative vision that places them at the center of a fictional anarchist regime. This sensory overload is a far cry away from the first time they performed in the city in 2019, in a venue with about one-10th the capacity for fans.

A few days before the concert over a conference table, all eight members — Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho — sharply dressed in dark and tan suits, break out in a chorus of “whoas” and “aaaahs” as I show them a badly taken video in my Instagram archive from the rafters of that first London show. It captures them occupying the small stage alone in matching white shirts, performing with the kind of synchronized ferocity that has earned them a record legion of fans in the short time since. There are no backing dancers, no 40-foot screens showing them in close-up and no fireworks, except the ones they create themselves. All there is is ATEEZ, introducing themselves to fans with the same sentiment they’d open their biggest European tour to date with four years later: “Hello, world.”

“I'm still nervous before I perform onstage,” says Hongjoong, the intuitive leader of ATEEZ who takes on the responsibility of steering most of our conversation. Reflecting on those initial smaller gigs, he says “we have grown up so much and we are now so comfortable when fans see us onstage, but I think there’s the same mindset from back then because we still want to show more things.” He says a constant desire to get bigger and better keeps them hungry. “At the shows, I always think that I want to be back here to see fans again, but if we want to do that work, we have to try harder. So it’s the same mindset.”

That first world tour came just five months after the group debuted in late 2018 with dual singles “Pirate King” and “Treasure,” proving that conquering the world was never just intended to be kept within the confines of their overarching pirate-themed concept. Despite a global pandemic halting the ability to travel and even perform in front of live audiences at home, ATEEZ have barely slowed down their expansion. Through songs like 2020’s “Inception,” 2021’s “Fireworks,” and last year’s explosive “Guerilla,” which their current world tour is inspired by, they’ve grown not only in tone but in popularity, pioneering a sound replete with as much passion as melodiousness and which has translated to millions of views on YouTube and spots on global music charts. It’s also tangibly materialized in their ability to fill arenas wherever they decide to tour and a secure place in the global conversation about K-pop’s global boom.

Since 2022, much of ATEEZ’s time has been spent on the road, first with The Fellowship: Beginning of the End and now The Fellowship: Break the Wall. Both names are a nod to their pirate roots and the idea of taking on the world together as a unit. They’ve done so much traveling, in fact, that when asked whether there was anything they’d like to see in London while they’re here, they joke they’ve already seen most of it from the number of times they’ve been. (For Wooyoung, a walk across Abbey Road’s iconic crosswalk, a Chelsea FC game, and a trip to the Harry Potter studio remain on his to-do list. “It’s the third time I’ve failed to do it so next time I’ll book tickets before I leave Korea,” Wooyoung sighs.)

Gaps in their intense touring schedules have also been filled with musical releases like EPs, standalone singles, music videos, and music show performances in South Korea. Such a packed diary could make it hard to stay motivated or think ahead creatively, but the members each have different ways to combat that burnout. “I search my name on social media,” says Seonghwa. “So many ATINYs give encouraging words, and that’s how I get my support.” Next to him, Wooyoung echoes, saying, “even if it’s hectic and we have one thing after another, we know that there are ATINYs who have been waiting even longer to see us.” He also adds that he enjoys when he’s recognized in the street on tour, as it reinforces the reality that he’s a famous singer who has a responsibility to keep pushing himself for fans.

“I get inspiration from games, animation, and things I’m doing online,” Yeosang says, pointing to fan art interpretations of himself and the group on social media. ”I see ATINYs’ drawings, and that gives me inspiration. If I see something I like, I try to make it happen onstage and make it look as good.”

“They’re so fast!” Hongjoong enthusiastically chimes in about their fans’ art, “and they make us look cooler, so we try to copy the outfits.” Yunho laughs next to him, calling ATINY the group’s new stylists.

Honjoong then dives into his own inspiration, as someone who composes much of the group’s music. “I always say to many people that my role model is David Bowie as he always tried so many creative things, so I try to get inspiration from everything. Like, even in our interview, if I get new praise or hear a good sentence, I write it down in my [phone] memos so that I can continually be creative.”

The constant desire to push forward and improve is palpable within ATEEZ, a group whose creative mental exertion is matched only by the sheer amount of physical labor they exercise on stage. Barely a moment during their set, which is packed with more than 20 songs spanning their almost five-year discography, is spent not doing some kind of energy-expending choreography. Here, the intersection of tiredness and adrenaline converges as the group tries to balance getting enough rest with the thrumming afterbuzz of performing to a room of thousands.

“It’s different for every member,” Yunho says about their post-concert wind-down. He says he likes to play games on his phone or scan the Internet, which is the same for Jongho, who called his cellphone his greatest essential when going out on tour. But they’ve recently, as a group, also developed a new way to mellow out that high. “After a show, we immediately get on the tour bus and ask it to just drive us around,” says Hongjoong. “We usually talk about our show, the mistakes we made, or sometimes we’ll joke and talk about the parts that were really good and that we should try again. We like to review the show.”

With their mind on performing while onstage and, seemingly, offstage too, you’d be forgiven for thinking the eight members have little time to dedicate to their own well-being. However, despite their constant churn of output, which includes new music coming at an unspecified time later this year, they’ve each focused on hobbies and goals coming into 2023.

Jongho immediately and enthusiastically says that he wants to take up golf more when he gets back to South Korea, while Yunho and Yeosang want to improve their gaming. San says he wants to start playing volleyball but needs to convince others to join him: “I’m alone,” he says as the room laughs, “so I need some friends.”

The group also just realized Wooyoung and Mingi have a knack for bowling after a group trip during a recent tour stop in Germany. “They were so good! We were so surprised,” says a bewildered Hongjoong.

As for Hongjoong, whom ATINY also call Captain, he wants to showcase more of his photography. “Last year, I did an exhibition of film photos, so I want to do that again this year,” he says, adding, “I try to take a picture everywhere [we go].”

Everywhere they go feels like a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled by ATEEZ. Their lore has always centered around the idea of travel, be it as pirates coursing the seas in their debut to dimension-hopping in a search for utopia in the connecting storylines of their music videos. In everything they create, there is always an eye for what they can lay claim to next.

After their show, as I’m led backstage to chat with them one final time, the group enthusiastically waves me off, saying “see you next time!” — which sounds more like a commitment than anything else. The post-pandemic era of ATEEZ’s journey has really just set sail.

Credit: Elite Daily

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