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wyvernest · 7 months

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bright red lust

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!trophy wife! reader

warnings: smut, car limo sex, misogynistic undertones (reader feels good about being a trophy wife), pda, teasing, dryhumping, unprotected sex, creampie, cowgirl

summary: you attend a gala with miguel and tease him until he finally gets you to himself in his limo

translation: "que rico" = 'how nice'

Any woman’s dream is to be his wife. For his rank, his money, his reputation, his everything. And it feels so good to know that he's so desired.

Because you’re at his side, not them. It’s you whom he spends his money on. It’s you whom he buys all the exquisite dresses and gowns for, all the best things you could ever want or need. It’s you whom he makes love to after a tiring day. Or after you wake up. Or anytime, for that matter.

You’re irreplaceable, but at the same time at his disposal. You don’t see it as a price paid but rather as a bonus. You’ve never been pampered so good before, loved so good, fucked so good.

So that’s why, whenever he has a new gala or special event to attend, you let him pick your dress out of all the various selections you spend so much time on finding.

“Too long.” he dismisses, vision darting from your mauve-satin covered legs to your face. He’s manspreading on the king size bed of your presidential hotel room, hair dishevelled and half lidded eyes sleepy, relaxed.

“You’re so picky today. I only got a few more!” You giggle with a faux offended expression. Behind the façade of worry that he won’t be satisfied with any of the looks, you secretly love these little fashion runaway sessions, feeling like his own personal top model, trying out different outfits for him. If you weren’t in a hurry, you wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to sit on his lap and accidentally grind your ass on his crotch when you got up as part of the little show.

“Mm.” He hums, seemingly unaffected by your playful frustration. He knows you love it when he acts so pretentious and superior, but he loves you, and he loves the enthusiasm with which you show him everything. “Next, bebita. This one’s sombre.”

After a few minutes and struggles, you manage to pull on the pièce de résistance; a bright, blood-red skin tight satin dress. Miguel’s eyes widen at the sight of you, brows raised in silent approval and admiration. The length isn’t a problem this time, your beautiful legs and thighs peeking out with every step through the long slit on the right. The fabric is wrapped so deliciously around your breasts, slightly pushing them up together, plump and tantalising.

"Maybe this one's a bit too much? I-"

"Do a 360." His eyes lit up, attentive and pleased. You twirl, making sure to slightly stick your ass out, checking yourself out in a full body mirror nearby.

"Me gusta." He gets up from the bed, gripping your waist to place a needy kiss on your cheek, before placing his lips on your own. You take his face in your hands, melting into his embrace. “This is the one.” His deep, low whisper sends shivers up your spine, your brain short circuiting. Who are you to say no to him? To those pretty, dark brown, red-tinted eyes?

"I'm gonna go get ready now. Thank you, papi." You turn around, yelping as he doesn't miss the opportunity to smack your ass as you do, smirking to himself.

When you finally arrive at the gala, you get out of your limo and start flaunting your exquisite dress, proud and flashing. You feel Miguel instantly cling to you, a secure, strong hand on your waist, its touch fervent and possessive.

He doesn’t fail to notice all the other spiders gawk at you, turning their heads too sharply just to catch a glimpse of his beautiful wife. All the lingering looks, the whispered words of admiration, all for you. The hand on the dip of your waist tenses, both in immeasurable pride and a hint of stinging jealousy. But it felt amazing.

All the comments, the remarks.

“Can’t believe he pulled such a pretty thing.”

“Imagine coming home at the end of the day to her.”

“Maybe being the leader of Spider-Society has its perks.”

They thought he wouldn’t ever hear them, but his enhanced senses have little to no limits. He feels his pants slightly tighten at the thought that so many other men want you. And yet, it’s his cock that you beg for, late at night.

And you’re aware of this weakness of his. You know that showing everyone that you’re his gets him hard in no time. And as the brat you are, you can’t help it. Especially not when all eyes are on you two. Not when the paparazzi’s come in.

You run a cursory hand from his chest to his abdomen, arching your back, pretty figure on display for the pictures. Bolder. Your hand finds his cheek, his jaw, your eyes never leaving him. You enjoy feeling like an accessory, something that accentuates him, his masculinity. Something that belongs to him.

No other man has ever made you feel this way.

You gesture to him to lean down, your heels still not enough for you to be able to reach his face without his aid. He does, and you place a tantalising peck on his cheek, light enough so that your bright lipstick doesn’t transfer.

Feeling him stiffen, unsure of your teasing, you decide to risk it and lean your face down to the crook of his neck.

Hundreds of photographs flash as you kiss his neck, your soft lips lingering just a second too late, only for a red print to remain plastered on his skin, for everyone to see.

He turns to you with an expression worth a thousand words. You know that face all too well.

As soon as you get back in the limo following the after-party, you wave good-bye to all your acquaintances and friends. The driver takes a turn and exits the flash-lit area.

Turning to look at Miguel, any conversation or small talk on the event you just attended gets smushed into a heated kiss you both longed for, his hands on your hips, pulling you into him on the back seat, your arms thrown over his shoulders.

When he grabs your thigh, you waste no time in lifting your leg over his waist, straddling him without breaking away from the kiss.

His warm hands slide underneath the red satin, grabbing at the globes of your ass greedily. You start grinding on him, your damp panties rubbing onto his erection in his pants.

Your breasts nearly pop out of your dress during the hazy make out session, and he parts from your lips to start kissing down your neck, stealing a glance down at them. Throwing your head back, your body turns into putty in his strong arms. He licks and kisses at the delicate skin of the tops of your tits, slowly and reflexively grinding up into your heat.

You moan his name, your breathing getting heavy.

He knows that having you in risky places only makes you even wetter for him, and he can't get enough.

"Ah! Oh- Miguel!" You whimper as a heavy hand smacks your ass, making you jerk forward into him, your tender body smushed against him so perfectly.

"Here? Are you sur-"

"Here, yes." Hot, shallow breaths fan your neck as he speaks in between kisses and gentle bites. "Can't wait any longer."

Your hands fumble with his belt and he quickly rips your panties at the seam, making a hole over your slit. Panting and rushing, you pull his hard, meaty cock out and align it with your dripping cunt. You feel him slip into you, nice and slow, filling you up with the familiar euphoria you have craved so ardently for the whole night.

He groans as he enters you, wet, warm and tight. Just when you were getting adjusted to his size, the limo goes over a speed bump and his cock thrusts up into you with the turbulence, its bulbous tip kissing your cervix.

You feel him deep in your guts, and as you begin riding him, he starts to buck his hips up into you, making you see stars.

"Que rico", he pants out, whispered, "having a pretty thing like you all over me." He

Keeping the thrusts quick and shallow, so as not to make your shenanigans too obvious, you bounce yourself on his cock; at first for his pleasure alone. Seeing him drowned in ecstasy will eventually being you your own pleasure as well.

All until he brings a hand to your swollen clit, rubbing furiously, throwing you over the edge in mere seconds. You come all over his dick, eyes rolling back, his name falling off you tongue in a strangled moan, sweet music to his ears.

He feels your pussy pulsate oh so deliciously around his cock, and it doesn't take him much longer to also release his load in your velvet walls, painting your insides white, claiming you as his.

As soon as he comes down, catching his breath, he smothers you with another fierce kiss, groaning into your mouth as you stir with his still sensitive cock inside you.

"We should do this again sometime, Mr. O'Hara." You tease, your lips straying away to nibble at his pulse point.

"Oh, we will, bebita."

divider by @cafekitsune as always

a/n: finally wrote this 7 mesozoic eras after it was requested sorry man

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astolfofo · 1 month

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…I had a thought about the halovians(specifically sunday) and want to know peoples opinions. do u think he has nesting instincts? :3 thank u for listening to my ted talk.

hi (i did say i was gonna answer this 2 weeks ago unfortunately I forgot i'm so sorry.) But anyways, thank you for your ask, and 100% he does.

tw: non-con, forced pregnancy, dark content. truly the unedited sleep deprived trying to write.

Okay i finished writing this i know you didn't ask for acutal writing but i went ahead and did it anyways because why not hope u don't mind

also excuse the fact that thus was posted at 4am and I was half falling asleep already while writing this.

There were three days in your life that you could have called the worst.

The first one was the day when Sunday took your life away from you, and claimed you to be his "wife". The second was when first time he chose to be intimate. The third was when you got pregnant as a result.

Nothing had ever stuck to you like the day after that. You felt like washing the sheets until your hands would bleed. You wanted to submerge yourself in bleach until every fiber of your body burned, shriveled up, and died.

You wanted to forget that it happened. That the events in the previous night ever happened at all.

But the soreness between your legs was a constant reminder. And even though the pain went away after a few days, it was replaced by something much worse. Something you feared.

You saw the signs from the second you got them. Your body felt heavy. You were constantly tired. You had lost interest in eating. It was obvious what was going on.

And for a few days, you tried to hide it. The longer Sunday didn't know, the better it was for you. That way, you could slowly while away your last few moments in peace before everything was taken from you in entirety.

After a few weeks, you couldn't hide it anymore. You remember staring at the double line on the pregnancy test.

You almost instantly broke down into tears. It wasn't anything that you hadn't already know n, but maybe part of you still just believed you were ill, that maybe there was another reason why you had missed your period that month. That the pain you kept experiencing was just from some kind of illness.

The last thing you could keep away from Sunday was taken away from you that day. The sense of freedom you could've had.

To Sunday, you suppose this was the final step he needed to take to bind you to him. Another way to control you. Another way to keep you in his arms, and make sure you wouldn't let go.

And if you didn't want to get murdered by the press, if you didn't want to further sabotage both your own and Sunday's public image, you knew to take it.

You had no choice but to take it. You were no more than an insect trapped under his thumb.

out of the two of you, there was only one person that was particularly enthusiastic about having a child.

It certainly wasn't you.

Ever since you had first found out about the pregnancy, you had felt empty. As if someone directly sucked the soul out of your body.

You weren't yourself anymore. You hadn't been for a long time.

Sunday didn't seem too bothered by it though.

You weren't sure if it was just his own parental instincts, or whether he could tell that it was almost time for you go into labour. Maybe it was a combination of both. You didn't care. You couldn't care less.

All you knew was that his presence was suffocating. Overbearing. Invasive, even.

You couldn't do anything by yourself. Sunday felt the need to assist you with everything you did. Even basic tasks such as grabbing an object, he insisted that he would get for you.

But what set you off the most, was his intense urge to keep the house in order. You had never seen him having such intense urges to organize a room even when just the slightest thing was out of order. He couldn't stand seeing the slightest speck of dust, he couldn't stand seeing the furniture just an inch out of place.

It drove you to madness.

If you had even slightly misplaced something Sunday you would notice Sunday getting slightly agitated.

From the moment he came home, to the moment he would fall asleep, he spent every waking second making sure the house was perfectly in order, before obsessing over you. At some point you just wanted to wave him off. Lock yourself in the bathroom and sleep for a long period of time, until you had no concept of reality anymore.

You didn't have it in you to keep going. week after week, month after month, Sunday's final goal had always to perfect you into an obedient wife that would do as they were told. And no matter how you tried to fight it... you were always forced back into obedience.

There's two cold fingers touching your chin, and lifting your face up, until you're forced to meet a pair of eyes.

They're bright. Everytime you see them, you can't help but try to look away. They were as bright as the sun, and just like the sun, you felt as if you were going to be blinded jfyou looked at them for too long. You guess it could've also been a sentiment to the power he held over you too.

"Dear, did you hear a word I just said?"

It's an obvious answer. But, you know better by now just to answer the question. You slightly shake your head, which supposedly satisfied him enough, to let go of the fi gers holding your head up.

He sighs, you're not sure in annoyance or in disappointment.

"If you keep acting like this, I'm going to need to resort to drastic measures..."

You look at him one more time. You remember how when you first saw him, you thought of him to be beautiful. To be almost ethereal.

You regret falling into that hypnosis. You regret looking at him at all.

Look at where it got you.

#yandere sunday x reader #yandere sunday #sunday x reader #sunday smut #yandere hsr #yandere x reader #hsr smut #hsr x reader #sorry if i butchered your ask its like. late rn. 💀

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lowkeyerror · 1 month

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The Family Business Ch.5

WandaNat x Reader

Work Count: 1.2k

Chapter Notes: Angst, Violence

Summary: The guilt Wanda feels for missing your important milestones boils over and you're left trying to comfort her.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Dinner was over, but the chatter continued. Wanda had snuck off to the restroom somewhere amidst the conversation. Once she had finished up, she couldn’t fight the urge to go into her old room.

It was exactly the same as she left it. The light blue walls were littered with her old posters. Her bed still had a few old stuffed animals on it. Her desk was covered with post it notes, she used for keeping track of her important things.

Had she grown more than she had realized in the last five years? Was it selfish to assume that you wouldn't have?

“Something’s bothering you.”

Wanda startles at the sound of your voice. You stand in her doorway.

“Nothing, Y/n.”

You don't believe her.

You close the door behind you and fully step into her room. “You were quiet the entire dinner.”

“I was thinking,” she replied shortly.

“About what?”

She takes a seat on her bed and exhales, “A lot has changed since I’ve been away.”

You take a seat next to her, “You were gone for awhile.”

Her eyes meet yours, “I didn’t want to be. I didn't want to miss everything.”

She began to tear up. You hadn’t seen Wanda like this before. Wanda never let anyone see her be vulnerable. Her head rests on your shoulder, and she grabs one of your hands, seeking some comfort.

“Wanda it’s alright,” you try but she cuts you off.

“It’s not, I missed your graduation,” she began to sob.

You begin to internally panic, but you have enough sense to know that this is about more than your graduation. Your arms wrap around her, pulling her closer to you. She ends up straddling your lap. Her forehead lays against yours. You do your best to wipe her tears away.

“Forgive me, Y/n. Forgive me,” her cries grow louder.

Hesitantly you grab her face in your hands. Through the tears she sees the look of worry on your face. Wanda starts wiping at the tears with her sleeves.

You stop her, “There’s nothing that you missed that I can’t tell you about now. No one blames you for missing anything. I don’t blame you. I’m just happy you’re back.”

Wanda stops crying. She sniffles a bit with a sad smile on her face, “I remember that night when you came to the door.”

Your breath hitches. Her thumb follows the path on your check where the glass had cut you.

“You were so-”

“Helpless,” you finish.

Wanda shakes her head, “You are so strong. Anyone else wouldn’t have made it to the door. I was going to say you were so pure. The world was so cruel even though you were nothing but a light.”

“Wanda-”

“Now, I’m hearing from everyone how you’re not like that anymore, that you’ve changed. I hate having to find out about you because I should know. My wife knows about how many people you’ve killed, and I didn’t even know you had fired a gun. I hate that it feels like I don’t know you anymore.”

You were taken aback by her words. Even with her being away for 5 years, you felt like she knew you better than anyone; even Pietro. Wanda had such a deep understanding of your inner workings that it scared you a lot of the time.

It took little effort to interlock your fingers with hers. You wait for her to look at you and when she does you speak, “You know me better than anyone ever has.”

“I used to,” she tries to drop your hands.

You don’t let her, “I can’t say that I haven’t changed at all, but I’m still me Wanda. I still watch reality tv as a guilty pleasure, I still eat my cheese puffs with a fork, and I still get a little antsy in the dark.”

She laughs a bit, and the sound brings a smile to your lips. Your nerves ease as she seems to relax.

“You’re still my little krolik then?”

You blush a little but move her off your lap. You stand and hold out your hand. She doesn’t grab it, instead turning her back towards you.

You roll your eyes, “I’ll always be your little krolik. Now can we go back downstairs.”

Wanda hesitates, “Would you tell me what you told Natasha?”

“About my first kill?”

She nods lightly, “If it’s alright with you.”

You nod and sit at the desk chair across from the bed. It’s not much easier telling Wanda than it was telling Natasha. If anything, it was harder knowing how the woman had reacted in the past when you had been hurt.

“I should’ve known about this,” she’s seething, as she speaks.

“You had just lef-”

“I don’t care if the plane was mid fucking flight! I would’ve turned that bitch around!”

Before you could try to de-escalate the situation Pietro came into the room. “Is everything alright in here, you’ve been up here for a long time?”

Wanda jumps out of the bed and grabs the man by his collar. She nearly lifts him in the air, then beats on his chest. She’s moved him from the room to the hallway., You’re too stunned to intervene.

“WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME? NO ONE THOUGHT TO CALL ME? SOME JERK FELT HER UP AND SHE SNAPPED HIS FUCKING NECK AND NO ONE THOUGHT TO CALL ME?”

Pietro remains calm, his hands rest on top of hers “Wanda it was nearly 5 years ago.”

“So why is this the first time I'm hearing of it?” The drop in her voice snaps you out of your trance.

“Wanda put him down,” Dragos voice booms in the hallway.

She let Pietro go and instead redirects her glare to her father, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I knew you'd react like this. You’ve always been able to handle your emotions unless Y/n was involved,” his words only seem to anger her more.

“I’m the one that can't handle my emotions when it comes to Y/n? Are we sure about that? Because if you want to play ball I will swing for the fucking fences,” she combats quickly.

You watch as the color drains from Pietro’s face and even Dragos seems to stand down a bit.

“Wanda.” Natasha’s voice is strong as she speaks, “Let’s go, ok? I think everyone just needs a little space right now.”

Wanda doesn't seem like she’s done with the conversation.

“Y/n, sweetheart I think they're staying in your building. Why don't you take them there,” Flora suggests.

You nod, unable to speak at the moment. You can see Wanda about to argue again so you slip your hand in hers. You don’t waste time pulling her towards the stairs. Natasha holds her other hand, clearing some of the tension from her system.

You get in the drivers seat while Natasha sits in the back with Wanda. Your brain was slightly clouded as her words sat with you. Wanda knew something that made Pietro and Dragos cower in regard to you. You wanted to press on, but you knew she was in no shape to answer.

Glancing at her in the rearview mirror, you could see that Natasha was whispering to her, trying to calm her. You’d never known Wanda to have a temper, but apparently, when it came to you her rage seemed unrelenting.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat

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honeyhenry · 1 year

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Apple Pie and You and I

A little story of the Seresins aka Hangman being a softie for his girl. Fluff, no warnings, please enjoy!

Jake Seresin, a lone star state boy through and though, always found himself feeling closer to home with a warm apple pie and a country song playing with a gentle thrum on his Pop’s old record player in the room next door.

The only time he felt closer to a sense of home was with you - his lovely lady who had managed to lure and capture the Hangman hook line and sinker by batting her pretty lashes and making him work hard for her attention. It had taken him 3 weeks of smirks that turned to smiles, and insistence that turned into nothing shy of begging, for you to agree to a date. The only holding back he’d done was in omitting to state the thought that had urged him to act in the first place; “Oh, she's gonna be my wife someday.”

The typically cocksure brazen pilot hadn’t the need to utter those words for another 14 months, past the utterly exclusive dating period, nor in between months of loved up sweetness and the pained inevitability of month-long deployments. He’d told you the very moment after his 1 month deployment - which had extended into 7 and a half weeks - of a monogamous routine, where a few pictures and fond memories were just not cutting it any more.

The tarmac had scratched the khaki material of his bags as he'd dropped them with a heavy thud to the ground, only eager to reach your arms sooner. Your little sundress catching in the soft wind, the warmth of the sun heating your cheeks and nose as he engulfs you in his arms, holding tight before he'd pulled his head away to take a proper long look at your pretty face - and then brought your lips to his. He'd kissed you over and over and over, the smile on his face growing every time, your eyes clear and watering, having waited for this moment.

And quietly, once the decision was made to catch your breaths, he'd whispered, lips ghosting over yours, that you were it for him. That he was going to marry you.

According to the Navy, Hangman had no one at home, no next of kin unless you provided the contacts of his parents down in their ranch a few states away should there ever be the need for the passing over of belongings and dog tags to fatefully occur. But Jake Seresin? He had a whole life to get back to; one he needed to kick start with a ring and a question.

The ring itself would be an heirloom, no doubt about it, and had required a trip back to Texas to see his family and share with them his upcoming plans. Having met you a handful of times over Christmas and on big family birthdays, the Seresins were entirely on board. Jake's Momma had given him a close hug with tears in her eyes while his Dad and siblings cheered and grinned the classic Seresin smile. Their family often grew each year, but his Momma and Grammie had worried that their headstrong, flirtatious boy would get too caught up in the ways of the world to settle down. He was a softie at heart, and you had been the best thing to ever happen to him.

They adored you. Enough for Grammie to take her grandson into her study, and open the jewellery box safely nestled inside a locked cupboard door. "This one is a diamond", she'd said as she'd taken out a piece." It's been in the family since before I was born. It's even got the family name engraved inside." Jake had taken it, listening respectfully to his Grammie but still lost in the thought of how the ring would look so beautiful on your finger. Thinking of you being his, forever.

That had been 18 months ago now, and the glinting stone on your ring finger, alongside a shiny golden wedding band, showing that all had gone to plan. Hangman proudly wears his ring too, occasionally looping it around his dog tags if need be. However currently, in the Lone Star state, the dog tags are off and his ring fits snugly on his fourth finger as he holds you close.

It's campfire night at the ranch, and you sit on his lap, curled in and admiring the way his face has caught the sun, inspecting every detail of him in the glow of the fire he had helped to start. He looks between his family; uncles, cousins, grandparents, now and then but his main focus is always you. Your hands clasp his left one as he uses the other to nurse a beer after working up a sweat teaching his youngest nephews to play football earlier that day. It had been so endearing to watch as you'd prepared the barbecue and baked fresh cookies using the special Seresin recipe, with his Momma and sisters.

"I got the recipe from your Mom, for the cookies, so we can have them at home." You'd whispered sweetly as the chatter around the fire continued. "Do you know", Jake murmured, looking deep into your eyes as his green ones pierced into your soul. "Do you know how much I love you?"

Your giggle had been soft and the eye roll that followed made Jake smirk lovingly. Still in awe of how he got the girl that barely spoke to him but was still batting her lashes and playing hard to get. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing the point just above where your rings lay on your finger.

"The kids'll love 'em. You're gonna be a great Mom." He stops smirking and now looks at you, fully focused with a soft, genuine smile. Placing the beer down, he rests his hand on your stomach, underneath the sweatshirt of his you've borrowed that splashes the words University of Texas, Austin on the front. It's old and thinning out but it smells of Jake, so it's something you will happily bask in and nap in and snuggle in until you have to leave his family home once more.

"Shhhh. I already think Grammie knows", you scold him. And she does. Grammie knows and as his Momma watches the two of you interact now, she's certain that she knows too. Call it a Mother's instinct. Jake's little check-ins throughout the day had not gone unnoticed, nor had your daily naps that you blamed on the heat, despite it only being the middle of May.

"But Grammie knows everything, a few more days and I can finally tell 'em all. Been dyin' to sweetheart." His hand rubs your stomach gently, not to raise suspicion but also to comfort you. Sure, as the cookies and apple pie were brought out, he had felt a little nostalgia, but with you in his lap wearing his ring, and his baby in your belly, Jake Seresin had never felt more at home than in that moment.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic #unsure what else to tag but i wanted to write a little something #so surprise ? i need a snack now so i'll post and hope for the best

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astrumark · 1 year

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── YOU GOT ME SLIPPIN', ACTIN' LAZY ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: you see aemond with his hair up for the first time, and it is distracting.

WARNINGS: fluff, curse words, suggestive themes.

WC: 1.4K

You believe you are having a very vivid dream, that you are still wrapped in silky sheets and foolishly thinking you already started the day. This could mean you were late to your daily practices with the one-eyed prince, and that could simply not do. He would be beyond displeased. But the sight in front of you could have easily been the fruit of your imagination.

When you moved to the Red Keep after your betrothal with Prince Aemond for proper courting, you were astonished by his fervent desire for you to begin to train with the sword and to learn self-defense. Personally.

"I cannot have my future wife being defenseless, can I?" He said. "As much as I love protecting you, my darling, it's beyond my power to guarantee I will always be around."

You cherished it. Your first encounters as betrotheds, like is commonly done, to walk around the gardens or drink tea during the afternoon was filled with awkward silence and useless small talk, but not the training.

It was a lot more smooth since there was a purpose to your meeting. You moved your bodies around and got too occupied to talk beyond the necessary, and somehow, it seemed to improve your relationship more than any other activity you have tried before. It's a fun way to bond before the wedding and you felt yourself getting closer to the prince each day. The air between you rapidly shifted for one of mutual respect and slight teasing.

And it was rewarding as well, to test and improve your body and abilities. The soreness of your muscles became pleasant, and you have grown to feel more motivated and stronger, looking forward to it each dawn.

Your only complaint is that it was too early, having to be awake even before the sun was entirely up. To look at your window and see a gray sky was simply distasteful. Aemond claimed it was necessary to avoid undesirable attention and comments. Usually, it was only the two of you and very few passing servants.

And this is how you would always find yourself in the chilly training yard first thing after you'd awake, a mist often covering the spot in the early hour.

The same mist that makes you doubt your eyes, but when the tall man stops just a few inches away from you, there is no mistaking it. Aemond has his hair up in a ponytail.

And he looks fabulous. You are unable to avert your eyes, never have seen him with any other hairstyle besides the half-up one. His angled face full on display makes your stomach tingle with excitement.

You could almost visualize him in an extravagant armor competing in tourneys if only he liked it. It made him look like a warrior, but you also noticed the intimacy of it. You could see him with his hair in such a style in your private chambers during the morning as well, chest exposed and thin sheets wrapped around his waist after a passionate night. Warmth flooded your body, and suddenly, all your sleepiness disappeared.

"Good morrow, my lady," He says quietly. "Slept well?"

"Yes, my Prince, thank you. What about you?" You bring your attention back to the table full of throwing knives in front of you.

"As usual." He hums. "Would you like to try these first?"

"Yes, please."

"Choose one or two and come." He orders, already placing himself near the target.

You watch him from afar for a minute, completely amused, you don't think you have ever considered him as handsome as right now, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest any minute.

Aemond sets himself behind you as you position yourself as he taught you before, holding the other knife for you. You are grateful for his mercy since it was much easier to resist the urge to stare at him when he was out of your sight.

You aim the knife at the wooden target and it flies through the air, landing close to the center, but it trembles terribly and falls to the ground.

"It didn't stick because you're standing too close," Aemond explains. "When it spins, if the blade is angled down when it falls, it indicates you need to step back. Half of getting the knife to hit the target is about where you are standing."

You listen attentively and try a new stance. This time, the knife lands on the right of the middle and sticks. You grin.

"Good, now let's try something else."

Your face falls slightly. "Already?"

"You seem to handle the knives nicely, although you still need practice. But you are awful at hand-to-hand combat, and so it must be our priority."

"You flatter me."

"Come and fight me, my lady." Aemond teases going to the middle of the yard, bouncing on his feet.

"You won't be as thrilled for it once we're wed."

He rolls his eye, and you mirror his stance. But it's distracting, the way his ponytail swings with each of his jumps, almost hypnotizing.

The sudden punch in your jaw makes you stumble backward as you wince and rub your cheek.

"What was that?" Aemond's voice is thick and intimidating as his slender fingers tap lightly at your cheek as if to wake you up. "Are you still asleep?"

"No."

"Then pay attention, you didn't even try to block it." His voice lowers. "Did I hurt you?"

You shake your head. He never does, his blows are weak, but warning. You've hurt yourself more seriously falling to the ground or striking him than from receiving any of his punches. He's awfully careful.

You go back to your positions, and though you do not stand still as before, you know you are being slow. When Aemond spins, aiming to elbow you, the ends of his hair brush your face, and the smell of lemon verbena soap invades your nostrils, once more distracting you. Unfortunately, you lose the timing to move away and try to protect yourself from his strike in the clumsiest way, flinching as you do so. Not necessarily effective, and most definitely not what you have been learning for weeks.

Aemond says your name exasperatedly, sending you a bewildered glance. "We've been past this."

"I know."

"This has not been an issue for you recently."

"I know." You repeat with a grunt.

"What is happening?" He asks.

"Nothing is happening, my Prince."

"You are distracted," He affirms. "Leave these thoughts behind, focus only on the movements of your body. You will notice that with our practices your body almost knows what to do on its own if you permit it."

You try to follow his advice, and it works for a while. Your footwork becomes meticulous, avoiding Aemond's offenses gracefully, your arms solidly shielding your face and chest.

With the effort, beads of sweat start to cover Aemond's forehead and nose. And your eyes are drawn to his hairline, especially to the wavy little hairs sticking to his skin. Adorable.

You realize you have lost balance a second too late, the twat successfully tackling you to the ground. Your back hits the dirt floor with a thud, and you lose your breath for a second. He hovers over you, pinning both your arms with his hands. A displeased noise leaves his mouth.

Another perk of training is the proximity. In no other context, other than fighting would be acceptable for betrotheds to stand so close, to find themselves pressed like this. The touches always held more importance than they should, a taste for what's yet to come.

"Foolish mistake." He releases your arms. "What is it? What's bothering you?"

You don't answer, and your attention drifts to his hair once again, the ponytail is falling to the side and very close to your face. You cannot control the urge to touch it anymore and your hand moves, the strands are softer than you previously thought, but it's also thin. You twirl it around your fingers as concentrated as a babe with their new toy.

Realization crosses Aemond's eye, and he chuckles wryly, pressing his body even closer to yours, making you feel all the outlines of his body. You whimper. Cunt.

"Is it the hairstyle?" He asks teasingly.

You wet your lips, throat closing up. He holds your chin, making you look directly at his violet iris. "Do you like it?"

You nod. "A great amount."

He grins wickedly, and he leans his face dangerously close, your noses brushing. "Then I will make sure to wear it around you more often, wife."

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fluff

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romanoffsbish · 5 months

Text

Dance the Night Away

Natasha Romanoff x R

Natasha loves you… | NSFW undertones, but no Smut | WC: 1,724 | Flashbacks between the funny lil lines

It was a quiet night in the Romanoff household, Natasha had only just gotten home from her last mission ever. Then she left again, taking your eldest daughter, Ella, and the bundle of toddlers, Milo and Andrey out for frozen yogurt. Your heart ached to be apart, but it also swelled as she never failed to give them her time. You knew she was tired, her mission was meant to be two days and yet it turned into weeks.

——

Your admiration for your wife only ever grew in these moments, and it was made more wholesome as your ears picked up on something special. Memories of a once blooming love story came back to you as you sipped on a glass of rose, now halfheartedly reading your book as the needle swirled around your favorite vinyl record. It was Adele's greatest cover- To Make You Feel My Love. It was the song that played at your wedding as you danced together as one, a perfect encapsulation of your story, from start to finish. Except fortunately for you both, there was no end in sight.

"When the rain is blowing in your face, and the whole world is on your case. I could offer you a warm embrace; to make you feel my love..."

A flow of happy tears streamed down your cheeks, you then closed your eyes and got lost in the nostalgia.

~•———•~•—————•~•—————•~•———•~

"Excuse me," you didn't have much time to react before your body jolted, a callous hand on your exposed hip the cause for your bodies reaction.

The club was jam packed, bodies shoved up against one another, but this bodily shock felt different. It almost felt like a message with the upmost urgency. Normally you'd shrug the person off, give them a few choice words for having the audacity to touch you, but all you did was shift your body around to face her.

You couldn't tell if it was a mistake, your fronts now flushed as she purposefully pushed you back more. Trapping you against the bar as she'd felt it too, the urge to be close to you was overwhelming and in the same breath it was also the most calm she'd ever felt.

"H-hi," you stuttered, eventually, after what felt like ages of just staring up at her chiseled jawline. Your knees nearly gave out as she chuckled, it was hoarse and the dazzling smirk to follow had you hooked.

"Sorry," she said, forgoing the greeting as her hand went to leave your side, but you reflexively stopped her and offered a nervous smile. "It's okay, I don't mind."

Natasha grinned. "So, you just let people touch you?" You knew she was teasing you, but you couldn't care less. "Not unless they're as good looking as you are."

Natasha hummed as she grabbed the shots she ordered from the bartender behind you. It wasn't her intention to leave the club with anyone tonight, but she did not want to miss out on such a gorgeous opportunity.

So, she let your words hang in the air and, suave as ever, threw her head back to down one while lifting the other up to your lips. You'd parted them without even questioning it, and she poured the alcohol down your throat with a knowing smirk as you instantly coughed.

"What- was- that?" You inquired in a fit of uncertainty, and the redhead chuckled, "Vodka; the Russian kind."

Once you stopped coughing she pulled away from you, watching in amusement as your body lurched to chase down her warmth. "May I have this dance then?"

The booze led you to say yes, rather enthusiastically, and it ended with you two outside of the club. Rain fell from the sky, though it hadn't been forecasted, and you melted into her warmth as she kissed you fervently.

The cab was coming, and soon enough you'd be too.

~•———•~•—————•~•—————•~•———•~

A proposed one night stand that turned into a forever. Natasha knew then that she'd likely fall for you, and the odd thing was she wasn't even scared to do so.

The two of you danced yourself into a lifetime.

There was no end to the amount of times you could reflect upon, Natasha never let the spark die out, even with how busy she was saving the world. Whenever she was away, and the kids were tucked in bed, you'd take moments like these to get lost in the memory cycle.

Sometimes you'd be so out of it, mind too elated to hear the world around you. Like now, you were too lost in the reminiscing to hear the lowly rumbling engine.

~•———•~•—————•~•—————•~•———•~

"Natasha..." The redhead looked at you instantly, her heart racing as she saw you in your wedding dress, you looked perfect. Yet it was somehow bad luck, which is what she shrieked as her hands flew up to her eyes.

"My love," you whispered, hands gripping her wrists so you could pull her hands down to your waist. "You don't even believe in that superstition, and neither do I. Stop letting Wanda get to you, please look at me."

A heavy sigh rushed over your done up face, and her eyes of emerald green opened to look into yours. It set off alarm bells when she saw your eyes were glossy.

Were you getting cold feet? What had happened? She had to find out because if you were running, then she would be right there behind you, on your heels.

"Detka, what's..." You shook your head and cupped her cheeks, she'd yet to do her makeup so it was okay, the dry, bare skin brought you the comfort you craved. "I just needed to see you, that's all. I hated being away from you last night—all these rules make no sense."

"I know," she sighed, "Letting Wanda wedding plan is surely biting us in the ass, hm?" You giggled and the brick that had settled on her chest quickly dissipated.

"I just want you," you whispered, lips ghosting over Natasha's but never touching to keep your gloss intact. She took in a sharp breath as she controlled her urge to kiss you, silly or not, she liked the idea of saving today's first kiss for the altar, but it was hard to refrain. "It's all too much, especially without you by my side."

Natasha knew just what you needed, so she pulled back and extended her hand out to grab yours...

~•———•~•—————•~•—————•~•———•~

"May I have this dance?" You smiled instantaneously, back to your wife as she extended a hand over your shoulder. Seconds, that was all it took for your book to fall from your lap and her hand to envelop yours just before her body did. Natasha pulled you close, soft lips pressed against the warm skin of your cheek, it was unclear if it was the alcohol or her touch that got you to this moment of weakness, but truth be told it was both.

The redhead quickly readjusted the needle, allowing the special song to replay as she pulled you closer. It was never enough for her to have you in her arms, if she could absorb you wholly she probably would, but she'll settle for slipping her hands under your shirt. Her fingertips grazed over the indented lines that covered your hips and her lips found yours forehead.

Natasha inwardly admired your strength, and the work it took for you two to build this life. Her hands never wanted to leave your body, but as the songs blended the mood wordlessly shifted. "Where are the kids?"

Natasha spun you out, then pulled you back in, your face nuzzled against her chest, so you felt as she softly sighed, "They're at Lena's for the weekend, I wanted to surprise you with a few days just to ourselves."

Once the vinyl came to an end you felt a shift in the air, no music needed to play as the energy carried your collective movements. Natasha spun you around, and you responded by pressing your backside into her. Tension left your soul to have her this close again, but it flooded your every sense as she sensually swayed your bodies in sync with the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Natasha moaned against the skin of your neck as your hand reached back to slide into her hair. Your nails scratched at her scalp, melting away the remaining tension from her body that she brought home with her.

Your mind went hazy the longer she moved you, her hands were firm and the thrust of her hips into your backside became a bit more incessant. The redhead turned you around abruptly, your hot breaths mingled as you now shared your air more directly. There was a warmth radiating between your cores that could be felt the longer your fronts swayed together, it was hard to ignore too once you started to whimper at a graze.

Natasha wanted to kiss you, it took everything in her not to, because it'd been nearly a month since she had. At least in the way she was about to, pecking your lips in greeting would never compare to what's to come.

Which is why she refused to do it in such a rush, she planned to take her time with you instead. "Go upstairs," she gently commanded, her tone soft but you knew she wasn't simply asking—she was telling. "I'll be right behind you detka, don't you worry now."

Natasha gave your ass a love tap as you walked away, and chuckled as you squeaked. You sent her a playful glare just before obediently following her request.

Once you were gone she worked quickly to tidy up the room, throwing the boys toys into the right bins, and settling your book with a placeholder on the table.

When she entered the room with her hands full you knew you made the right call by undressing. A bag of organic trail mix stuck out of her jacket pocket, her go to sex snack, then you peered up to see the half empty bottle of wine, and two glasses sat in her hand.

"You always did know how to read my mind..."

•~~ “I could make you happy, make your dreams come true. Nothing that I wouldn't do, go to the ends of the Earth for you—To make you feel my love.” ~~•

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x wife!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg

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sweetiecutie · 1 year

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Pairing: husband! Tom Riddle x fem! wife! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, kinda public sex but there’s no one around, fluff!!, kinda domestic and soft, inaccurate bc there’s no way sexy two pieces existed back in the 1950’s💀, once again my horrible knowledge of basic grammar

A/n: really felt like writing lil something for hubby Tom🥰 Sorry for disappearing for such a long period, I have lots of cool ideas and drafts but my adhd never allows me to finish any on them;( Anyways, wish you a very pleasant reading and hope you enjoy💖

It was a sultry sunny day, the kind you experience in the middle of September, when calendar summer is already gone but the sun still gladdened people with last warm days.

It took you only a few days of bothering and fake accusation of not loving you to convince your husband Tom to finally take a day off from his job at ‘Borgin and Burkes’ and go have some fun together on a beach. He was grumpy and pouty for the first half an hour, but then seemed to accept his fate, indulging your little whims and wishes.

You didn’t manage to talk him into taking a swim together, no matter how hard you tried, but Tom did, eventually, took his shoes off and rolled up the cuffs of his trousers, standing ankles-deep into warm sea water, watching you dive and dork around in salty waves.

You were currently laying on your side on a soft picknick blanket facing Tom, left arm bent in elbow, head propped up on your hand, your eyes lazily wandering all over your husband’s side profile. He was laying on his back right next to you, arms thrown behind his head, nape resting on his palms.

Tom had changed. The juvenile plushness was long gone from his cheeks, instead leaving place for his sharp jawline and protuberant cheekbones. His hair was a slightest bit longer than it used to be during your school years, framing his pale face in dark silky waves. You noticed how he was nibbling on the inside of his bottom lip ever so slightly - a telltale sign that Tom was thinking intensely about something faraway. You fought the urge to trace the outline of his nose with gentle fingertips, knowing perfectly well how grouchy and whiny he’ll get at this action.

Your eyes wandered lower, taking in his outfit - even despite the scorching sun and high air temperature Tom refused to ditch his usual suit trousers and, this time, baby-blue shirt - instead opting to undo quite a few buttons, allowing a generous view on his pale chest.

A sudden idea visited your mind so you sat up from your semi-lying position, throwing one leg over Tom’s hips, settling yourself atop his pelvis comfortably. Your nimble fingers ran up his chest, caressing exposed areas of his skin with tender touches, all the way to his face, cradling it softly in your hands; you leaned down to scatter small kisses all over his cheeks, nose and lips.

- Y/n, what are you doing? - Tom chided you softly, the corners of his lips tugging up in slightest of smiles, even though it was pretty obvious that he was unpleased with you interrupting his thoughts.

- Trying to seduce you, - you replied stoically, not a hint of embarrassment nor unease could be heard in your purring voice.

- Right here? - Tom asked, you could hear his voice rising just a slightest bit, giving out his astonishment.

- Yeah, why not? - you said offhandedly, your lips stretching in a cheeky smile, gazing down at your husband mischievously.

- What if someone sees us? - Tom rose yet another question, cocking one of his perfect eyebrows at you.

You made a show of looking around the deserted beach, not spotting a single soul being around; not only this place was secluded by dangerously high cliffs, making it extremely hard for reaching, but also the fact that it was Wednesday - a middle of a working week - reduced chances of anyone being around to zero.

You brought your sight back to Tom, shrugging your shoulders theatrically:

- I can’t see nor hear anyone, Tommy. - one of your hands reached behind your back, gripping on the straps of your two-piece swimming suit, tugging on it slowly, un-doing the tight knot. You didn’t bother to untie the second knot on your neck, instead deciding to pull the bra off over your head, throwing it teasingly on top of your husband’s chest. - I think you’re just being a buzzkill that you are, Riddle.

You made an accent on the last word, watching Tom’s eyes wander to your now exposed tits, noticing your hardened from still unpleasantly damp fabric of your bra nipples. You cupped your breasts, pinching your nubs with thumbs and index fingers, all while slightly rocking your hips against Tom’s clothed groin, sighing erotically at the slight friction it created against your clit.

You repeated your movements a few more times, circling and swaying your hips so sensually, putting more pressure into your thrusts, increasing a pleasant feeling against both your sexes. You peeked down at Tom through your eyelashes, noting the way his chiseled jaw clenched, his dark eyes never leaving your perfect body.

You smiled widely at his hungry stare, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his chopped from salty sea wind lips - he kissed you back almost immediately. Tom’s hands came from under his nape, picking your bra from his chest and tossing it aside before coming to rest on your waist, thumbs pressing gentle circles into your heated skin.

His slim fingers wandered all over your body, eventually reaching your plushy thighs - rough fingertips glided up and down your skin, rising herds of goosebumps in their wake, stopping on your ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You could feel Tom’s dick hardening at your simple manipulations, his bulge growing noticeably bigger in his pants, rubbing against your soft ass with every smallest move you made. You didn’t bother taking Tom’s trousers off, just undoing his zipper and pulling his semi-hard dick out of his underwear. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, pumping it slowly a few times, your eyes never breaking an eye contact.

You straightened up, standing on your knees; you struggled quite a bit while taking off your bottoms, since this position wasn’t the most comfortable. You heard Tom muttering quiet ‘oh god’ under his breath in feigned annoyance, obviously teasing you, for which you lightly smacked him on the chest.

Once done and completely naked you slightly scooted forward so that your awaiting pussy was hovering right above Tom’s heavy cock. You gave him a few more jerks before leading it to your slicked folds, sliding them along his throbbing shaft, properly slicking him up with your juices. After a few more moments you aligned his swollen tip with your pulsing entrance, lowering your hips slowly, gently sinking onto his length. A satisfied sigh left both of you once Tom was fully buried inside of your quivering warmth, your ass pressed tightly against his thighs.

His broad hands came to rest on the swell of your hips, molding and playing with soft flesh in between his long fingers. You let out a small whimper as you could feel Tom’s cock stuffing you full, his tip was pressed against your cervix so deliciously, all along with a pleasant stretch on your plushy walls.

You rose your hips carefully, still adjusting to your current position, sliding off half of his length, and sank back down onto his cock, providing such desired friction. You watched his adam’s apple bob as Tom swallowed heavily, and you repeated your actions a few more times, until you found a comfortable rhythm, impaling yourself over and over again on his steady cock.

Your hands came to rest on Tom’s chest, supporting yourself against his body, back arching at the pleasant feeling of his dick grazing all the right spots inside of your throbbing pussy. Soft moans spilled out of your lips as one of Tom’s hands went down to play with your clit, skillfully circling and massaging swollen nub with the tips of his fingers. Your head lolled back, a loud cry of your husband’s name rolled off your tongue as you quickened the pace of your thrusts, rocking against him so passionately.

Tom rested one hand on your nape, putting a bit of pressure into his touch, indicating for you to lean down. You did so, lowering your torso until your chest was pressed flush against his; your lips found his in a matter of moments, connecting in a fervid kiss, his tongue slithering into your mouth, making you gasp in surprise.

Your loud moan was swallowed by Tom’s greedy mouth as he unexpectedly thrusted his hips up into your perfect squelching pussy from underneath; his free hand was gripping onto your waist tightly, fixating you into this position. You broke your kiss, burying your flushed face into the crook of his neck as his hips picked up a quick pace, fucking your pussy raw with his throbbing cock.

- Yeah? You like that, you little minx? - Tom rasped into your ear, his lips brushed against your ear shell, making you tremble slightly. You nodded your head ‘yes’ fervently, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over the side of his neck.

- I love it so much, Tommy. Please, don’t stop, please, please, - you babbled out incoherently, your mind hazed and barely working from intense pleasure rolling through your body in waves.

Tom slid his hand from your nape and along your spine, all the way down to your jiggly ass, especially relishing to grab and mold your pliable flesh with his fingers. The hard, smooth strokes of his cock inside your slicked pussy caused ecstasy to well up inside you, your body prickling, almost painfully, in foretaste of a nearing orgasm.

Your hands grabbed on Tom’s biceps, you could feel his muscles flexing underneath your touch. You bit down onto his shoulder, eliciting a quiet hiss from the man underneath you, knowing how much he disliked when you left hickeys in such obvious places. His hand left your waist to slide in between your pressed bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles onto it, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

- Tom, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, please don’t stop, - you mumbled into his skin, hot and bothered, and you felt him nod at your words, his hips picking up faster pace, snapping loudly against your pliant body.

White stars hit your vision, as you felt your orgasm rippling through your trembling form, setting every nerve in your body on fire in intense pleasure. You didn’t register all the moans and pleadings slipping past your lips as you babbled in your euphoria, your quivering pussy along with dirty words only brought Tom closer to his own release.

Tom followed you soon enough, cumming with a groan and a low moan of your name, dumping his thick load deep inside of you. You laid rigid atop him, both of you trying to catch your breaths, listening to the soft whisper of wind and sea. Surprisingly, Tom was the one who broke the comfortable silence:

- A few more moments and I’d go deaf on one ear, - Tom commented and you didn’t understand what he was talking about. It took you a few moments to realize that all this time you were moaning and screaming uncontrollably mere centimeters away from his ear, surely causing a lot of discomfort, especially knowing how sensitive man was to any sort of noises.

You chuckle airily, muttering quiet ‘sorry, darling’ under your breath, your hand going up to comb your fingers through his silky, now knotted, hair, massaging his scalp lovingly.

Dragging Tom all the way here was definitely a good decision.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is basically the only thing that keeps writers creating new content

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avatar-anna · 1 year

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The Newlywed Game

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

young dad!harry and young mom!reader play the newlywed game!

wc: 5k

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

“Okay, Mom, Dad, please state your names for the video.”

Harry and Y/n shared a look like they couldn’t actually believe they were doing this. It was a quick one, though, and Harry was the first to snap his head back towards the phone propped up on a tripod. “Hello, I’m Harry. Collette’s dad.”

Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes. As long as she’d known him, Harry always introduced himself like he was some random guy that taught at the local high school and not a world famous musician. Harry caught his wife’s stare and raised his eyebrows at her, a question in his eyes. Y/n ignored it and proceeded to introduce herself as Collette’s mom.

A few months ago, Collette decided she wanted to start a YouTube channel. Since they tried to keep all six of their kids out of the limelight, it wasn’t something that Harry or Y/n were exactly thrilled to hear about. At first, Y/n had said no, telling her second oldest daughter that she was too young and didn’t have any business making videos on the Internet for the general public. She felt bad at how quickly she shut it down, especially since Collette was rather upset about being told no, but her mind was still made up.

What was most surprising was that Harry was the one who convinced her to say yes. Y/n couldn’t believe it. In all the time they’d been together, her husband appeared on his social media accounts only a handful of times. He was practically anti-social media, yet here he was, encouraging her to change her mind. “I talked to Jeff, and he said he would help keep an eye on things.”

“I don’t know, Harry. She’s seventeen. And the internet can be so cruel. We’ve done such a good job keeping them away from all of that.” Every one of their kids’ social media accounts had their comments turned off. Most, if not all, of their social media posts were pre-approved before getting posted, though that was becoming harder and harder the older they got. Simone, who was in college now, was still careful, but she wasn’t telling her parents about each picture she posted on her Instagram either.

“I think it’ll be fine,” Harry had insisted, kissing her cheek as she got the next day’s lunches ready for the twins, Collette, and Natalia a couple of hours after she had said no. Her daughter had groaned and looked like she was about to stomp her foot in frustration, but instead she told Y/n that she was the worst mom in the world and was ruining her life. Y/n was more than ready to tell her daughter that she better not be speaking to her that way, that fiery, argumentative side rising to the surface of her typically calm demeanor. They argued for a few minutes, then eventually left each other alone to blow off some steam. Collette stomped up to her room, but knew better than to slam her bedroom door, and that appeared to be that.

Harry had come home to a tense house, his wife and daughter in their separate corners and not talking to each other. He’d gone to Y/n first, asking her why the house was so quiet when it was usually buzzing with some sort of chatter. That’s when Y/n told him about Collette’s request, her answer, and the blow up that followed. Harry had gone upstairs a little while later to smooth things over with Lettie, who was quick to rest her head on his shoulder and vent about her mom.

“She doesn’t get it, she never does,” she’d said.

Harry ran his hand through his daughter’s hair, careful not to pull too hard on any knots. “Did you ever stop to think that she said no because she loves you and wants to keep you safe? Your mum has been on the receiving end of a lot of hate,” he said gently. “We don’t want to see that happen to you or your brother or sisters, peanut. It feels extreme, but we’re just looking out for you.”

Collette didn’t have anything to say in response to that until she eventually grumbled, “She didn’t have to be so mean about it.”

“Maybe not. Did you try to explain why you want to do this?”

“She didn’t even give me a chance! She just flat out told me no.”

He could hear the shakiness in Collette’s voice, the same shakiness that always appeared when she was frustrated. Whether she liked it or not, she was like her mom in more ways than she would ever know. It made a small smile flicker on Harry’s face to see a reflection of the woman he loved so much sitting next to him. His daughter.

“Your mum and I want to do what we think is best for you. You know that our lives aren’t as normal as we’d maybe like them to be.”

“Dad, I know, but I really want to do this. All my friends get to post about their lives whenever they want and I have to check with you or Mom first. It’s suffocating sometimes. It just feels like you don’t trust me sometimes.” Collette stopped for a moment, and Harry knew that this was something that had been on her mind for a while.

“That’s not why we have these rules, Collette. Not at all.”

Harry wanted to give her the world, and in a lot of ways he had, but he’d never really thought about how their rules might feel restricting, having only ever wanted to keep their children safe. And Simone never really had a problem with it, so Harry and Y/n figured it would be the same for the rest of their kids. But of course it wasn’t the same. All their kids were different and dealt with things differently.

Simone was more on the introverted side, had a close group of friends that were okay with keeping to themselves—although as Harry thought back, perhaps his oldest daughter was just going along with their rules but felt different on the inside, he would have to ask her about it later. Collette was the opposite, though. She had a large group of friends that liked to go to school sports games and parties and the beach. She’d always liked photography and taking pictures of her family if they were willing, Natalia usually her main subject; it was a feat if she managed to get Harry or Y/n in front of her camera, though. In a way, he shouldn’t have been surprised that this was something Collette wanted.

“Tell me more about it,” he’d said then, and his daughter’s responding smile was enough to make him crack. But he couldn’t say yes yet, he had to talk to his wife first.

So after making good on his promise and talking to his manager, making sure his little girl was safe and happy, they let her make her videos.

They were mostly pretty short, just of her doing her makeup in front of her camera and answering questions about her family. Sometimes she would ask Harry if she could borrow his clothes, and he would say yes because she was always borrowing something of his to wear to school, but to his surprise, it ended up being for a video, something with a title along the lines of turning her dad’s grandpa sweaters into something “cute.” He frowned when he watched it with Y/n in their bedroom one night, but she just laughed, more on board with her daughter’s hobby than ever. In other videos, she let her siblings join in—she’d do their hair or makeup or take them shopping or making food in the kitchen.

It wasn’t until Y/n appeared quickly in one of Lettie’s videos to do her hair for homecoming that requests came in to see more of her parents. She’d come to them and asked if they would sit down and play a game for one, and after lots of begging, they eventually caved.

“Tell us what you’re going to be doing today,” Collette said from behind the camera, a set of questions ready to go in her lap.

Harry looked relaxed in jeans and a sweater, his hair artfully messy as it always was. Y/n was in a pair of leggings and one of Harry’s old sweatshirts. It was black with the print faded to the point where it was barely visible, but through the sharp lens of Collete’s camera picked up what looked like a picture of the earth with words printed over it. Collette had frowned at her parents’ casual attire, but she decided not to comment on it seeing as she got them to film this video in the first place. And not that it really mattered anyway; in pajamas or dressed up for one of Harry’s events, her parents always looked fantastic.

“Erm, we are here to play the…sorry, peanut, what’s it called?” Harry said. His brows furrowed, like he was trying to recall the title Collette had given the video a few days ago.

She’d printed out a list of questions that they were going to answer today with the title printed in bold at the top. Like Y/n, Collette was very organized and had a list for practically every little thing that she did. Y/n looked over the list thoroughly while Harry decided to wing it on the day Collette said they were meant to film her video.

“Babe, don’t call her peanut on camera,” Y/n chided, shoving her husband’s arm lightly. She saw Collette’s frown from behind the camera when the name left Harry’s lips and was quick to correct him. She knew that all the stuff her daughter didn’t like could just be edited out, but Y/n figured things would go a lot smoother if their daughter didn’t get flustered and upset with them in the first five minutes of filming this video. Smiling cheerfully at the camera, Y/n said, “We’re playing the newlywed game, remember?”

“Right!” Harry said, his face lighting up at the familiar name. “Right, I remember because we’re playing a game for newlyweds even though we’ve been married for years.”

“Yeah, well, this will be a test to see how well you know each other after being together for so long,” Collette replied.

After that, they recorded the rules of the game—writing their answers to a number of questions about each other on little individual white boards, each right answer won them a point, and the one with the most points won the game.

“Okay, first question,” Collette said, looking down at her list. “When is your spouse’s birthday?”

“Spouse?” Y/n muttered, writing her answer down without hesitation. “Kind of formal, but alright.”

“But isn’t that what we are, love?” Harry asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

Y/n merely hummed before turning her whiteboard over. “Easy. February first, nineteen ninety-four.”

Harry flipped his own board over, his answer correct, too. From there they answered more trivia about their relationship—anniversaries, favorite colors, zodiac signs, how old they were, and so on.

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“Who’s the better driver?” Collette asked.

Both of them were quick to jot down their answers. When they lifted their boards up to show their answers, Harry scoffed. “That is not even true.”

Y/n looked at her husband’s board, and saw that he’d written himself instead of her. “Not even! I’m a much better driver.”

“Y/n, I love you, but every time you get behind the wheel you drive like we’re in a high-speed chase.”

“I do not!”

Looking beyond the camera, Harry asked Collette, “Lettie, back me up here. I’m the better driver, right?”

“No, no. That’s not how that works. You can’t ask her,” Y/n said. “And besides, she’d disagree with you anyway.”

“It’s not that deep,” Collette said, trying to diffuse the argument before her parents could get started. Over the years, she realized that her parents didn’t fight very much, but their silly arguments could get quite intense, as both her mom and dad liked to be right. “Can we just move on, please?”

“I can’t believe you think I drive like a fugitive,” Y/n muttered as she wiped her answer away in preparation for the next question.

“I love you,” he said in reply, kissing her cheek when she grunted at him.

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“What is the best gift you ever gave to Dad?”

“Oh, I know exactly what he’s going to put,” Y/n said confidently.

“No you don’t,” Harry pouted.

Y/n resisted the urge to tease him. “That’s the whole point of this game, H.”

“Okay, show your answers,” Collette said before they could get into another little tiff over nothing.

Harry flipped his first, his messy scrawl reading, 6 beautiful children. Y/n grinned and showed her answer, revealing that she had in fact written the exact same thing. “What did I tell you?”

“Must you be right all the time?”

Y/n pretended to think about it before saying. “Mm…Yes.”

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“Who is the better dancer?”

Harry rolled his eyes at Y/n’s smug smile, but scribbled down his answer anyway. After Collette counted down from three, they showed their answers, both whiteboards saying Y/n.

“To be fair, you have improved a lot since we first met,” Y/n amended, having seen the bashful look on Harry’s face.

There was a time when Harry used to be embarrassed by his lack of coordination. He was okay at dancing onstage to his own songs, but outside of that, he had trouble finding the beat. Y/n was no professional by any means, but she was definitely better than him.

That all changed though when they managed to sneak off to some club together. Once a month, one or two or all of the boys agreed to watch Simone while Harry and Y/n went out on a date. They usually didn’t stay out long, but it was nice to feel their age once in a while, to let go of responsibilities for just a couple hours.

All night, Y/n kept trying to pull Harry out onto the dance floor, perhaps a little tipsy and feeling the bass a little too much, frowning every time he said no. Harry felt bad, but the fear of looking like an idiot was stronger, despite the club being so dark. So he told her to go and dance while he went to the restroom. Y/n sighed, clearly not happy with him. This was their one night of the month to let loose and spend some alone time together, and he was being so grumpy. Not wanting to let him ruin the night for her, she turned and went anyway.

When Harry came back, it took him a minute to find Y/n, but when he did, a wave of jealousy washed over him. She found a partner to dance with, which could only be Harry’s fault, but he didn’t like how close his then girlfriend at the time was to the other guy. He knew Y/n would never cheat and that she really was on the dance floor to just dance, but he just couldn’t handle seeing her with someone else like that.

Harry pulled Y/n off the dance floor, saying he wasn’t feeling well and that he wanted to go back to the hotel. Y/n saw right through his bullshit, but she left with him anyway.

“Okay, what is going on with you?” she asked once they were in the confines of their car. “You didn’t want to dance, so I found someone to dance with.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate the apology, Harry, but I want to know what’s wrong. Talk to me.”

They were so young, and yet Y/n was so mature about the whole thing. Having a baby before twenty would do that, he supposed.

Harry sighed. He knew it wasn’t really a big deal, and the fact that he was making it one made him even more embarrassed. “I can’t dance.”

Knowing this was obviously a touchy subject for him, she tried to keep a straight face. “Okay…What parts do you have trouble with?”

“I don’t know, all of it? I just feel so awkward.”

Taking his hand in hers, she asked, “Why have you never told me this? We could’ve gone somewhere else.”

“I know, but you seemed excited about tonight. And it’s just embarrassing when you’re…you know…”

“What?”

“Love, respectfully? You’re fucking sexy.”

Y/n blushed. There weren’t very many moments where she felt even remotely desirable sometimes, let alone sexy. “Oh stop.”

“It’s true. I’d look like an idiot dancing with you.”

Harry pulled into the back of the hotel and put the car in park, but neither of them got out. Leaning across the middle, Y/n gently took his face in her hands and kissed him, running her thumb across his cheek the way he liked when he needed to be comforted.

“I think you’re exaggerating a little. You’re not as bad as you’re making yourself out to be.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said, frowning.

Y/n kissed away the wrinkle between his brows. “I’ll teach you, baby. Don’t worry.”

“Right now?”

“Mm, sure, why not.”

Both of them got out of the car, Y/n leading Harry to her hotel room. Simone was in Zayn’s room, so they had the place to themselves for just a little bit longer. From her phone, she queued up a song, something slow and easier to dance to.

“Okay, so you’re dancing to the beat of the song, not the what’s being sung,” she said, resting her hands on Harry’s hips. “Just feel the music. Let it move you.”

Harry started off a little awkwardly, but the longer Y/n coached him, the better he got. He followed her lead, stepping when and where she said. “See?” she said, smiling up at him. “You’re so good.”

He couldn’t hide his smile. Now that he was getting the hang of it, Harry couldn’t believe he didn’t dance with Y/n more often. His hands were on her hips, she was moving against him sensually, and in the heels she was wearing, she was just tall enough to kiss him whenever she wanted.

It was safe to say that Harry was Y/n’s forever dance partner after that. Y/n was obviously still better, but he’d come a long way. He took each and every one of his daughters to their respective Daddy/Daughter dances and never left his wife alone on any dance floor.

Collette, of course, didn’t know much about her dad’s dancing, just that he danced like dads often did. “Yeah, Dad, you’re not bad, Mom is just better.”

Harry shrugged and sighed playfully. “Can’t argue with that, can I?”

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“Okay, Mom, what is your favorite Harry Styles song?”

“Oh that’s hard, there’s just so many to pick from,” Y/n said, holding the board close to her chest. In truth, she had one in mind, but she was also thinking about what her husband would write as his answer, which made her hesitate.

She looked up, only to find that Harry was already waiting to meet her eyes. From behind the camera, Collette watched as her parents had a silent conversation. They stared at each other for a couple seconds, then finally seemed to end their conversation and went back to their whiteboards.

“Dad, you first,” Collette said, gesturing behind the camera for him to show his answer.

Harry flipped his board around revealing the words, “Track 15.”

Y/n flipped hers around to reveal the same thing.

“Do you want to explain?” Collette asked. She knew the song of course, but seeing as it was an unreleased song, she felt her parents should elaborate for the video.

“It’s a song H recorded for our what? Third wedding anniversary?” Y/n said. “It’s a love song, and little JuJu is on it, and it’s so sweet. I cry every time I listen to it, I think.”

Harry smiled at her. “You do.” Then to the camera, he said, “I play it when she’s cross with me too. Reminds her why she loves me.”

Y/n’s mouth opened in shock, clearly unaware of her husband’s make-up tactics. But then she closed it and gave Harry a look. “We’ll talk about it later.”

A look of fear crossed Harry’s face, and Collette just shook her head behind the camera before moving onto the next question.

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“How did the two of you meet?”

Harry and Y/n were quick to answer on their boards, and when they flipped, they had the same answer.

“Her friend was an extra on the What Make You Beautiful video, and Y/n came too. Caught my eye immediately.”

“That is not what happened,” Y/n replied. “Zayn buried him in sand while he was taking a nap on the beach and I was the only one who wanted to wake him up.”

“I remember it differently,” was all Harry said.

“But,” Y/n added. “He and the boys joined my friend and me for a game of beach volleyball, which they’d never played before, and I will say you were quite flirtatious.”

“Knew what I wanted,” he said with a confident grin.

In truth, Y/n was surprised when Harry approached her. Her friend was the one who thought he was cute, and she was the one who was in the music video, so Y/n didn’t think any of the boys would notice her, much less take an interest in her. And he didn’t really talk to her until much later in the day. Niall and Louis were kind of the only ones who talked to her between shoots, and she thought Niall was quite funny.

To be fair, all of the One Direction boys were cute and funny and charming, but Niall was the one she had drifted toward at first, if only because he made her feel the most welcome. Later on, Harry had attached himself at Y/n’s hip while they played volleyball together. And long after too. He pulled her toward the shore and walked with her, asking her all sorts of questions from where she was from to what she was doing the next day. It was unexpected after he hadn’t spoken to her most of the day, but Y/n became more and more smitten the longer they talked.

As someone who wasn’t flirted with often, Y/n, for lack of better word, ate it all up. She thought he was so kind and she liked his smile and his pretty green eyes. She remembered feeling so light when her friend dropped her off at home, Harry’s number scribbled on a piece of paper in her back pocket. In the back of her mind, she knew she probably wouldn’t see him again, but he texted her that same night and asked if she was free tomorrow, and it just kind of spiraled from there.

Y/n never expected one little afternoon would turn into a lifetime with Harry, but she sometimes felt like it had been fate that she’d been there that day, even if her friend didn’t speak to her for a week for stealing Harry’s attention.

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“Which of you tends to get the most jealous?”

“I’d say neither of us get very jealous,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Not anymore. You’ve always had a bit of a jealous streak,” Y/n amended. “Remember at the video shoot and Niall was chatting with me?”

Harry scratched his head and looked away from his wife. “No.”

Y/n laughed as she recalled the memory. “He was kind of the only one that day who would stop and talk to me before Harry did, and I remember looking over and thinking about your dad,” she said to Collette, “who pissed in his cereal this morning? Because he had this frown on his face whenever I caught his eye, and I’d hardly even spoken to him!”

“Uncle Niall was hitting on you?” Collette asked, unable to hide her disbelief and slight disgust.

“The correct response, thank you,” Harry said.

Y/n shook her head as if they’d had this conversation a million times. “He was talking you up, babe.”

“What?”

“Yeah. He said you were too shy to make the first move, but you ‘fancied’ me. It was so cute.”

Harry had been nervous to talk to Y/n. She’d woken him up at the beach earlier in the afternoon, but she hadn’t spoken to him since, and Harry didn’t know how to strike up a conversation with her. She was this beautiful American girl who just seemed so cool, so out of his league. Harry was slowly gaining confidence from being in the band, but he still got tongue tied around girls he fancied, and Y/n was no different. It wasn't until Zayn pushed him over to the volleyball courts that he felt confident enough to be more charming. Y/n made him comfortable enough to be himself, and he knew he needed to do as much as he could to let him give her his number so he could see her again. Harry wasn’t going to be in LA very long, so he knew he had to make those couple days count.

Boy did he ever.

“We used to get a little jealous, but,” Y/n shrugged, “I don’t know I think we just grew out of it, don’t you think?”

“I’d say that’s pretty fair,” Harry agreed, though he knew how much of a hard time his wife had the first year or two they were together. It was hard for her to watch him flirt and be cheeky with other women on national television or go on fake dates when she was home with Simone. Harry was never tempted, not once, but he knew that he would’ve felt similarly if the roles were reversed.

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“What is Mom’s favorite tattoo of Dad’s?”

“I don’t even think I know,” Y/n said as she tapped her marker against her whiteboard.

“Definitely not the butterfly,” Harry muttered, scribbling something down.

“That’s not true! It was just jarring to see at first. You didn’t even tell me you were gonna get it!”

Harry shrugged and winked at the camera. “I like to be spontaneous.”

Collette waited for her parents to finish writing their answers, though she was surprised that this was the one that took the longest for Y/n to answer. When it looked like they were done, she said, “Okay, three, two, one, flip!”

Harry’s board read, Brazil. When he saw Y/n’s answer, he scoffed. “Really?”

“I don’t know, I think it’s cute!” she said when he judged her answer if, palm tree. “You’re like a little California girl at heart.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I figured Brazil one because, you know, you actually did that one.”

The truth they refused to admit was that deep down Y/n’s favorite were the fern tattoos. She always took extra time kissing them whenever they were intimate, but neither of them were willing to admit that in front of their daughter or on camera.

“Close second,” Y/n said with a knowing glance at Harry.

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“Who said I love you first?”

Harry and Y/n answered with a resounding, “Harry” and “H.”

Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I was quick to follow, to be fair.”

Harry shrugged, a smug little grin on his face. “I was still first.”

Y/n just rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were flushed, as if she was remembering the day right then.

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“Okay, and last couple questions. What is Dad’s drink of choice?”

When asked to reveal her board, Y/n turned it around, the words “neat tequila” written on it. She felt pretty confident about it, but when Harry turned his board around, she frowned. “Since when?”

“Your dad turned me onto Scotch years ago,” he said, looking at her incredulously.

“Lies.”

“Babe, every Christmas your dad and I share a drink together. It’s like our thing.”

“You have a tequila reposado every time we go out.”

“That‘s…also true,” Harry admitted, grinning sheepishly.

Collette decided that was a good time to move on. “And what’s Mom’s?”

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“Okay, everyone! That was my parents playing the newlywed game!” Collette said, now sitting between Harry and Y/n.

She did her usual sign-off with her parents, though both insisted that they revealed who won the game. It was close, but Harry beat Y/n by two points, which Collette knew would be the topic of conversation the next couple days. Her parents were weirdly competitive with each other.

It was safe to say that that video was Collette’s most viewed. People went crazy over seeing Harry and Y/n together like that when the didn’t normally make public appearances unless it had to do with Harry’s music. They were often dubbed “Hollywood’s Most Elusive Couple” for a reason, so to see them in a video together, and one where they talked about their relationship, at that, was a pleasant surprise for everyone.

Request after request came in to see more of Harry and Y/n, but Collette knew it would be a while before her parents agreed. Not that she minded, she was just glad they agreed in the first place.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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nebbyy · 15 days

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King Baldwin IV x reader - I’ll be waiting for you

A/N: Well, how could I not make another fic for King Baldwin when the other one I made is my most liked post yet, so I decided to write this little pieceee. Sooo I guess I should warn y'all that this one will be a little less historically accurate (not that the first one was that great of a historical piece but you get the idea). Oh and as usual, this fic came into my mind the moment I saw the painting just below (which is "the Reconciliation of the Montagues and Capulets Over the Dead Bodies of Romeo andJuliet" by sir Frederic Leighton)Now enough chatting, more King Baldwin brainrot.

Summary: in a desperate attempt to protect his kingdom after having punished Reynald de Chatillon, the king is exhausted and the long ride has increasingly worsened his already wary condition. Once he’s escorted back to the palace, his loving wife wastes no time to reunite with her beloved husband.

Warnings: kinda angsty (no happy ending tbh), vague descriptions of Baldwin’s illness related wounds. Also, reader specifically described as female.

Word count: 3209

You sat on your throne, high and proud like the royalty you were. But under the facade of your noble confidence, you felt small. Smaller than ever, actually, as the yelling of all the men in front of you filled the air and rose up to the open sky. With a simple, reckless act, Reynald de Chatillon and Guy de Lusignan had just screwed years of efforts that King Baldwin had spent trying to maintain that delicate peace that required so many lives and time to build. All washed away from the raging river that were Reynald and Guy.

While the two men tried to defend their senseless attack, backed by a substantial group of men, another opposing group shouted at them, berating them for the offense they had given not only to Saladin but also to Jerusalem itself.

You sigh, fighting the urge to cover your ears, and curl into your own body; you opt to just turn your head and look at your beloved husband. He looked to be in a similar state as you were: although his face was now fully covered -a means of hiding the decaying state of his leprosy-ridden body- his head was bent with weary alertness, like a hawk watching its prey from a distance. You watched his body, languidly seated on his much larger throne, the only sitting position that brought him no discomfort, though it looked almost more like he was about to lie down.

It broke your heart to see how that disease had ravaged Baldwin's body, in recent years more and more. To see him there, on the same throne on which he once sat tall and proud, while now he barely had the strength to stay upright. And you knew he was thinking the very same thing.

You were about to open your mouth, whisper something to him, anything, in order to shake him out of his thoughts and that chaotic situation, but you were interrupted in your actions by an official, who rushed to the king's side, handing him a scroll. His bandaged hands clumsily opened the scroll, and you found salvation from the noise of the room by concentrating on watching Baldwin read carefully. You watched his eyes, blue as the sky and like the waves of the sea that brought you to the Holy Land, now covered with a pale glassy glaze.

You frowned when you heard Baldwin freeze in place, even his sitting became more erect, as if a cube of ice had slid down his back. With his gaze still fixed on the words written in that letter, he merely raised his hand slightly, a clear sign of his will.

"SILENCE!" his guard's shout resounded through the hall, overpowering the furious shouts of the men who had been barking at each other for hours now. They all turned to look at the king; their faces, a few moments ago darkened and wrinkled with anger, were now smooth and relaxed, their eyebrows raised in astonishment at their king's order. Funny, you thought, how these men because of your husband's condition sometimes simply forget how much power he possessed over them. Before it was as if he wasn't even in the room, and they were all playing at being great leaders, now there they were, staring at him, motionless as statues, submissive as ants. You curled your nose discreetly, your face a mixture of disgust and contempt. Pathetic, you thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, Baldwin finally looked up at the crowd in front of him, finally revealing what it was that had shocked him so much. "Saladin has crossed the Jordan with 200000 men," silence fell, and you felt your body going numb. Your ears seemed muffled, you could barely perceive what was happening around you. At that moment you felt so much fear for your kingdom, and concern for Baldwin and what this impending attack would cost him.

And anger, against those two fools who out of sheer vanity had endangered the lives of all the inhabitants of Jerusalem. They had put Jerusalem itself at risk; they had put Baldwin at risk.

I was brought to attention by Baldwin, who was struggling to pull himself up from his throne, walking toward his most trusted man. "We must meet him before he reaches Kerak. I will lead the army," your husband's voice was hushed and soft, so that only the man in front of him could hear. But it did not escape your ears, the implication those words had: Baldwin wants to stop Saladin, and he wants to do it himself. But this could cost him his life.

You couldn't stop yourself; you jumped up from your seat, eyes wide in an expression somewhere between fear and surprise. Baldwin turned to look at you, the woman who always took his breath away at the mere sight of how beautiful she was. You did not fail to have that effect on him again this time, but not because of your beauty: in your eyes he saw your terror, that this was the last time you would see him alive. They hypnotized him, and begged him in a silent prayer not to leave, to give up this plan, have an ambassador sent, anyone else. Hell, let him send Guy himself to intercept the Saracen, let him be beheaded and his murder settle the account that he himself opened. But the storm of emotion in your eyes contrasted with the gentle stream of emotion flowing from your eyes

But the storm of emotions in your eyes contrasted with the gentle stream of emotions flowing from Baldwin's eyes, barely visible because of the cover concealing his tortured face. He too, through them, was silently pleading with you: but he was asking you to trust, to let go and follow his plan, to try to forget for at least a moment all the warnings the Physicians had given him over the years.

Eventually, you relented, turning your gaze away and opting to stare at a random spot in the corner of the room. Baldwin gave a silent sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, a sign of gratitude, although you could not see it. He turned to the men of his court, and with the little strength his body afforded him, he spoke in a loud, determined voice: "Assemble the army and protect the city."

All this reminded you of the last time Baldwin fought Saladin: he had barely completed his seventeenth year, and young and still full of life, he was ready to ride against the invincible Saracen king. But on that day God had been more merciful. He had granted you, if nothing else, one last night to spend with your husband, had given you the gift of a minimum of time to ensure that you bid Baldwin a proper farewell before he met what could well have been his end. Instead this time, you barely had time to briefly remove the thick veil from his face to give him a fleeting kiss and exchange a handful of words. You fought back the tears as you looked at him, opting instead to bring your hand to his cheek, the flesh of his lip having receded and decayed to such an extent that it had receded down to his cheek, eventually turning into a long scar that protruded down to his cheekbone.

"Let me go with you, I will wait for you at the castle of Reynald de Chatillon-" "No. It is too dangerous. If things go wrong with the negotiations, I don't want you or my sisters anywhere near that man." It was not often that Baldwin interrupted you while you were speaking. He respected you too much to not allow you to finish your sentences, so the fact that he did just now spoke of how important this was to him.

"Then promise me you’ll come back to me. Safe and sound." He snorted softly, giving a hint of smile before copping his face with his hardened hands, "You know I can’t promise it." You know that, but that blatant honesty of his, which you always loved so much, was not what you wanted at the time. No, you wanted reassurance, no matter how truthful, no matter how worthless his promises may be at the end of the day, You need that fleeting distraction that mitigates the fear that’s been eating you from the inside since Baldwin put on his armor. May you risked never seeing him again.

"Please just say it." Your voice came out much softer than you meant, almost less than a whisper, perhaps because of the knot in your throat, which threatened to break free carrying a river of tears. For a moment he remained silent, turning suddenly his face towards the voice of a nobleman who called him from the entrance of his room, but did not even dignify him with an answer. After all, his attention was completely turned to his world. To you. Before I answered you, I drew your head to his with my hands, so that I could place his forehead against yours. Finally, he spoke softly, in that loving tone that he reserved only for you: "Then I promise you that I will return to you in no more than three days, and when I return I will be victorious, and I will be riding."

After that, that moment between the two of you, which so much looked like a heartbreaking farewell, lasted just before Baldwin had to go to his horse to guide his men to the enemy.

And it wasn’t long before the harsh reality became clear to you: he had lied to you. Not maliciously, of course, you were the one who begged him to say those words after all. But the fact is that three days became four, that news of the army of Jerusalem had not come any more, that the last thing you heard of your husband was that only the ride had already tried his weakened body.

Another day passed, then another, and at the dawn of the fourth day since his absence you felt your heart sink. Had something happened to him? Had the negotiations failed? What if his illness had suddenly got the better of him? Or worse, Saladin and his men had shot him, stabbed him, or yet again captured and publicly executed,…

Your mind began to spiral into an ocean of possible reasons behind this delay, and you swore that your breathing had finally stopped once and for all when a messenger on horseback arrived at the palace, frantically dismounting from his steed to rush into the throne room and bring you the message: "The negotiations were successful, but the king is in critical condition! He is returning to Jerusalem on a canopy," you dismissed the man with a slight wave of your hand, so weak that you almost looked numbed; Baldwin's advisors began to chatter, but the background murmur of their murmurs did not seem to reach your ears. No, your attention was elsewhere; it was entirely on your husband.

You took your leave of the court, hurrying to your rooms. There, like a hawk waiting impatiently for prey to feed on, you perched on the balcony overlooking the city below you, on the walls from which not many days ago Baldwin had emerged leading the army.

It was there that you began to think again, this time with a clearer mind as you knew that at least Baldwin was alive and on his way home. On his way to you. Still, this whole situation reminded you of when you were only sixteen years old, and you stood on that balcony as you do now, waiting to see Baldwin return on his horse. And on that day, when he was visible to the naked eye, and your eyes met, you saw all the life and strength of one who had just defeated the greatest enemy of his time. At that moment, he seemed almost immortal to you: he looked like a god riding proudly, leading the thousands of men behind him towards their home.

How unfair fate is, to cut short his life so early. His physicians gave him no more than thirty years, but that time seemed to you to be shortened even more when you finally caught sight of his canopy. There he lay, sprawled and motionless like a dead body, surrounded by the soft cushions and riders on either side of his transport.

Just two years ago such a journey would not have fatigued him in the least; now he was risking his life just by riding a horse. Your eyes threatened to fill with tears thinking about how much he had loved riding a horse, and now he found himself bedridden, unable in his passions. You wasted no time running through the palace corridors, eager to reach your beloved as soon as possible.

One turn to the right, then another, then down the steps, and finally straight to the palace doors, where the finely decorated canopy led the love of your life.

You rushed to his side, gently taking his mutilated hand in yours while the other stroked his masked face. He breathed faintly, his eyes closed as he tried to regain his strength after his disease had dealt him this last bludgeon. Feeling your gentle touch, Baldwin's eyes fluttered open, his glassy eyes the color of heaven meeting yours.

"You've been reckless, my love. Putting your life at risk just to do the job of a messenger!" you scolded him, but Baldwin only smiled fondly at your words. "I promised you I would've come back. And that I did, alive too." Although his voice was so weak that it sounded more like a huff of air rather than a sentence, its tone was still laced with playfulness.

It made you unable to resist the smile that was threatening to form on your lips; you did not grace him with an answer yet, opting instead to move your hand to remove the silver mask from his face. You could see his surprised and relieved expression, as he was now finally able to breathe more freely and to look at you properly. He breathed in the sight of you, almost as if trying to take in as much of you as he could. "I can't tell if it's the travel or the sight of you that takes my breath away."

You just smiled bitterly and shook your head at his silly declarations, "It must be the ride, it has tired you so much that it's making you speak nonsense." he giggled weakly, much more tiredly this time, almost as if he was about to doze off. But he fought the tiredness nonetheless, opting to just shake his head and admire you with a lovestruck look. "Maybe I am hallucinating, I think I'm seeing heaven above me."

It was supposed to be a compliment that would've made you giggle and blush, like the ones that he showered you with daily. But instead, it made your heart clench at the bare idea of it. The idea that this would be his last moments before the energies spent for this expedition would be too much for him to handle, and God will reclaim his most virtuous man. It made your throat tighten, and your lower lip tremble.

You tried to hide your troubled state, moving your hand quickly to the curve of his neck. There, you placed a soft, butterfly-like kiss on the little places of skin that haven't been mutilated and bloodied by the leprosy. You kissed him one more time, then another, and another again..

In the end, you lost count of how many kisses you had given him, in a desperate attempt to mend your premature grief, to ground yourself in the feeling that Baldwin is there. He is alive. Yet the feeling of his skin against yours, of his chest rising up and down and his arms weakly holding your soft body, it wasn't enough to stop the tears to start flowing down your cheeks.

And that didn't go unnoticed to Baldwin, who mustered all his strength left to hold you just a little tighter. "Have my words upset you?" you sniffled, trying to recollect yourself before lifting your head to look into his eyes. "No, my dear, you could never. I just-" you stopped for a second, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat, "promise me this is the last time. Please, tell me that you will stop this nonsense. Let your trusted men handle these matters, command your man like a king not a general!" your hands had moved to his arms, a gesture to both ground yourself and to accentuate just how desperate you were in that moment, only wanting him to just listen.

"I beg of you, my love, stay here. Where you can rest. We both know that you don't have much more time left to live, so stop doing everything in your power to shorten it anymore." A sob slipped from your mouth at the last part. It truly astonished you how careless he seemed about his own condition, almost as if he forgot that any move could be the death of him.

He frowned and sighed at your words, squeezing your forearms softly before he spoke softly. This time though his tone was clearer, less weakened by the outcomes of the past days. "I already spoke to the physician about this: I have no choice, my angel. I'll be bound to my bed until a miracle will better my condition, or until death will take me."

You shut your eyes in relief, resting your forehead against his and sighing shakily, trying to recompose yourself. "I can't live in a world without you.."

"God will give us more time. I promise I won't leave you as long as I breathe on this earth. And. when my time will be over and there will be no future for us in this life, I'll be waiting for you in heaven, if I'll be granted the blessing of a place next to you there."

Not too long after, the physicians that Saladin had promised him arrived at the palace, and you were assisted as they tended to Baldwin's many wounds caused by his sickness. More than the sight of the gruesome pieces of open flesh, what appalled you was just how numb his body had become, so much so that he did not even feel their hands and tools working into his skin. It made you wonder wether or not he even felt your kisses from before.

And you make yourself that same question months later, when you place one last kiss into his forehead as he slept soundly before going to bed yourself, only to wake up to a cold body beside you. You wonder if he ever got to feel that last gesture of love before God had finally claimed him.

You only found solace in the thought that Baldwin would be resting in the realms of heaven above your head, contrary to what the Saracens believe.

A/N: Wowww this gets more fun by the day!! King Baldwin will probably always be my favorite character to write for. He’s my muse. As always ill be waiting for your feedbacks!!!

Oh and also, be prepared in the future for more fics waiting to be posted, I’ve got about ten that are just waiting for the right time to come to light, and many more will come in the future since I’m really finding it therapeutic to write.

#writers on tumblr #angst #fluff #my fic #king baldwin x reader #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin iv #reynald de chatillon #guy de lusignan #reader insert #f!reader #historical fiction #fanfic #x yn #x reader

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damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog · 5 months

Text

Good Morning

AO3 Link

MC is pleasantly awoken by Ominis

Ominis x fem!MC

NSFW—sexual content

18-year-old Ominis and MC are eager to start their lives together after school, and on this particular morning, they are especially eager.

Word count: 2,963

Arrrgh I apologize this took so long, this time of year is crazy for me and it's difficult to write. :( I was inspired to write this by @tamayula-hl's art of Ominis and MC here. Please go look at her beautiful art, even if you've already seen it before 😌💚

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A soft breeze sighed through the deep green leaves of summer trees. It carried sounds of crickets that floated in through the open window and settled in the warm room. MC’s skin tingled as she lay on her side, head propped up by an arm and legs demurely placed one atop the other. She was surrounded by overstuffed pillows, warm blankets and silky sheets. She was dimly aware of a gossamer shift that barely covered her from her chest and shoulders down to her hips. Each time she moved, the way the little gown caressed her warm hips and her firm nipples felt exquisite. She was far too distracted to be bothered by how revealing the dress was, however, because reclining next to her was her beloved Ominis Gaunt. He wore a rakish, loose white shirt with dark trousers and was busy running his fingers over the beguiling material of her tiny gown. His face was lifted up into a small smirk as he marveled at how one piece of clothing could be so small and cover so little. His starry eyes sparkled bright blue as his fingertips glided. Oh, how MC wished she could swim in those eyes.

"My beautiful wife," Ominis murmured, his voice melodic and sweet. "How fortunate that I have you all to myself. I can’t stop thinking about all the things I want to do to you, and this pretty little dress is not helping matters."

MC blushed and felt every word in the English language evaporate from her imagination. She could only manage a gentle, affectionate laugh in response.

MC reached up to stroke Ominis' immaculate blond hair. His eyes slid shut as he leaned into her hand and his lips parted. Silky gold strands slipped through MC's fingers as she drank in her husband’s beauty. Every feature of his angelic face was sheer perfection, from the beauty marks that decorated the side of his face to his striking eyelashes and his dramatic cheekbones. MC resisted the sudden urge to smother him with soft kisses. As much as she wanted to give in to the urge, she knew the subtle expression on Ominis’ face; he wanted more. He opened his eyes, now full of desire as his smile ever so slowly faded. His fingertips stroked up MC’s side, dragging the edge of the little dress upward a few more inches. His hand wandered up to her jawline and swept her face with his thumb until he found her lips. He leaned forward and pushed a tender kiss to them... and then another... and another. Each kiss betrayed his true desires, stoking a flame deep inside both of them. The kisses grew more forceful and audible until Ominis could resist no longer, and he gently rolled MC onto her back and hovered over her.

MC’s dress was now hiked up to her waist, completely exposing her lower half. She suddenly felt a tug at her hair. Ominis had grabbed a fistful to tilt her head back and gain access to her neck. She moaned Ominis' name as he traced his lips along an artery that flared to the beat of her fluttering heart. He parted his lips and let his tongue trail along while his knee unceremoniously pushed her legs apart and nestled against her bare core.

"Ominis," MC gasped as her hips bucked. He merely chuckled and pushed his knee harder against her, rolling it at a slow, steady rhythm. The fabric of his trousers felt indescribably satisfying against her soaked and needy core.

As her hips lifted from the soft bed beneath them both, Ominis tugged upwards at MC's dress. He dragged it up her body, delighting in her little moans and giggles as the fabric brushed over her skin. Ominis hungrily pressed his mouth to her naked skin as he pushed the clothing away, letting his warm breath fan out across her stomach, then her hip, then up her side to her ribs.

"All mine," Ominis breathed as the minuscule dress bunched under MC’s arms. "Every inch of your beautiful body is mine to do with as I please."

MC whimpered and rutted against Ominis' knee again. He began his descent back down her body, planting small kisses as he went, as if to remind her in case she ever forgot what they felt and sounded like.

Suddenly, the world around MC began to melt to nothingness, and she became disappointingly aware of the fact she had been dreaming.

"Good morning," Ominis murmured. His lips scarcely left her legs as he warmly greeted MC.

MC blinked the sleep from her eyes and became aware of Ominis kissing up and down her thighs, separated from her skin by only her single layer of undergarments. She had been lying on her back, and Ominis had been overcome by his affection for her; he gently held her knees up with each hand as he kissed up and down each soft limb. She tried to move but found herself tangled in robes and blankets—and Ominis—on a large, overstuffed couch. Surrendering to the bind of clothing and her sweetheart, she let a smile curl her lips upwards as she enjoyed the affection Ominis heaped upon her. She began to recall details of falling asleep on his warm chest in the Room of Requirement the night previous.

MC had been trying to remember if they had been studying or had simply found a quiet place to mutter sweet nothings and hold each other tight when she felt the brush of her undergarments against her thighs. She looked down at Ominis who was dragging warm, heavy kisses down her thighs. She reached out to lovingly stroke at one of his hands beneath her knees and take in the sight of him.

Ever the prim young gentleman, Ominis had likely been up for some time and had already combed his hair back in place. He was wearing a smart vest and slender trousers—the kind of trousers that easily betrayed his desires when he was in the company of his young lady.

"Did you sleep well, my love? I heard you muttering. I do hope you were having pleasant dreams," Ominis said between kisses.

"I—yes," MC answered softly. A blush rose in her cheeks until she was sure even Ominis could detect the heat in her face.

"What did you dream in that pretty head of yours?" he mumbled into her leg.

"We... were married," MC shyly replied. Ominis paused, and MC glimpsed a sweet smile on his face as he imagined an entire lifetime together with MC. "We had the most beautiful, luxurious bed, and..."

"Yes?" Ominis urged as he resumed his affection. "Don't stop now—I enjoy where this is headed."

MC giggled and nudged at his shoulder playfully. "It was a warm summer night. I could hear crickets. You were wearing such a handsome shirt and pair of trousers. And you had just begun to take a tiny dress off of me."

Ominis groaned. His kisses had stopped entirely, and he was enraptured by her words. "Exactly how tiny?"

MC took one of Ominis' hands from her knee and guided it up to the side of her hip where her uniform skirt hugged her figure, wrinkled from a night of being curled up on a couch in Ominis’ arms. Ominis' hand skated to her front, and he imagined how truly little the dress had covered.

Ominis sighed sharply. "Dear Merlin—if such a dress exists, I need you in it.”

MC smiled and cupped his jaw in her hand. “Perhaps someday I’ll just have to wear such a thing for you.”

Ominis resumed kissing MC with renewed enthusiasm. “Then I greatly anticipate the day... just one more reason why I cannot wait to be done with school next month so I may make you my wife.”

MC sighed blissfully and leaned back into the cushions supporting her head. “We’ve been waiting for two years, yet it feels like a lifetime. I can’t wait to have our own house where I may come home every evening to fall into your arms and make the sweetest of love.”

MC quietly gasped as Ominis nipped at the inside of her thigh. He smiled with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Then we had better start practicing, hadn’t we?”

Ominis reached up to the waist of MC's skirt to grip it lightly. His question was silent, but clear.

MC beamed, squeezing his hand affirmatively. “You’ll take any excuse to get me out of my clothes, won't you?”

Ominis chuckled and slid her skirt and undergarments over her hips. “Only because you’re irresistibly beautiful.”

The fabric tickled her skin delightfully as Ominis teasingly slid her clothing down her thighs and finally dragged them along her shins until he gracefully pulled them off completely and tossed them to the floor.

MC could feel she had been aroused for far longer than she had been awake. Arousal was dripping from her core. Ominis noticed it too as he ran the backs of his fingers up between her legs and leaned down to her ear.

“You’re so pretty, my little hummingbird,” Ominis whispered. “And so eager, too. You’re practically dripping, and we’ve only just begun.”

Ominis skated his free hand down the inside of her thigh until it came to rest over her warm core. MC gasped quietly.

Ominis leaned back and touched his lips to MC’s knee as softly as he could manage before dragging them down MC’s thigh. She groaned as his practiced lips trailed fiery need in their wake. By stark contrast, each soft exhale was like delicate snowfall over her skin. She moaned Ominis’ name as his mouth wandered closer to the base of her thigh.

In his typical mischievous fashion, Ominis diverted himself and began kissing up her abdomen. Her hips bucked once as she moaned. Merlin, this boy knew what he was doing and exactly how to make her wait for what she wanted.

Ominis chuckled and ran the tip of his tongue up to her stomach. MC’s chest flared violently, and she gripped his hair in a fist.

“So soft and sweet,” Ominis murmured into her skin. “And so sensitive.”

On cue, goosebumps rolled over MC’s body, and she began quietly panting. Ominis only chuckled and gave her a teasing smile.

“Where is it that you want my lips, my beautiful little hummingbird?” he asked liltingly against her skin. “Wherever you desire is where I shall put them—all I ask for in return is your most sordid little noises.”

“I want you between my legs,” MC gasped. “I promise I’ll be good, Ominis, please.”

Ominis appeared satisfied and trailed more slow and tender kisses back down her abdomen. He smiled against her smooth skin as he finally delved between her legs. His lips softly touched her entrance: one of his favorite secret little places to which only he and MC were allowed. He flicked his tongue once and heard MC whisper his name and grip his hair tighter. He rose back up with her arousal on his lips and made a show of hungrily licking them. MC would have kissed him if she were close enough.

“Louder,” Ominis smirked as his head dipped again. He kissed her core over and over and gently nibbled at her. MC moaned again and felt her face light up a bright red.

Ominis smiled and gently spread her further with his thumbs. His kisses grew louder as he worshipped her soaked core. His tongue coyly snaked out and probed for any spot that made her gasp as he lapped at her arousal.

“So beautiful,” Ominis mumbled. “I wonder how I’ll make you cum this time…”

MC whimpered. The sound reverberated in sync with her hips rolling up into Ominis’ mouth. She gently placed a hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

“Such a good, obedient girl,” Ominis crooned. “Just like that. Let me hear how aroused you really are by my tongue.”

Ominis explored and prodded at everything he could reach, all while MC gasped and whimpered, gripping his hair to keep him firmly in place. The soft, warm tip of his tongue stroked up to the left of her eager clit, over the top and down the right side before closing his lips over the needle little organ and gently sucking. MC nearly screamed his name as she begged him for release. He couldn’t help but flick at her with his tongue as he did, and MC cried out loudly enough for her voice to ring in their ears for a moment afterwards. MC whimpered in embarrassment, but Ominis felt around for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly as he released a moan of his own. Her arousal dripped down onto the blankets underneath her.

Ominis pulled his lips away and licked them. “Like a beautiful little rose bud,” he murmured. “You taste incredible.”

“Ominis, I—oh, please don’t stop,” MC panted.

The young couple had been treating each other to this kind of affection for months now, yet each time Ominis had his head between her legs, it felt like the first time all over again.

The flat of Ominis' tongue massaged her in large, smooth circles that made MC buck her hips. She whimpered and tangled her fingers in his hair.

Ominis’ tongue stopped, and he began to speak with his lips still pressed to her.

“So what will it be, darling? Shall I tease your cute little clit, massaging you until you’re begging me for permission to cum, or shall I give you my fingers and let you desperately fuck my hand like the good little slut you are?”

“Anything,” MC panted, heavily distracted. “Just make me cum—please.”

Ominis gave a thoughtful smile. “Perhaps you’ve earned both. You’ve been so good for me, telling me all about your dirty little dream, making me want you in that tiny dress and making all sorts of beautiful noises.”

Before MC could respond, Ominis leaned down and took tiny licks of her clit as if he were tasting the sweetest candy. Each little stroke pulled another tiny whimper from MC. Her entire body twitched slightly as she felt her slowly approaching climax. Ominis’ fingers pushed their way inside her and began pumping. MC arched her back and nearly shouted.

The wet sound of his fingers excited him, and a deeply intense expression clouded his face.

“I want you to look at me,” Ominis growled. “Look at how eagerly you spread your legs for me and me alone, my tongue on your pretty little cunt as you take my fingers inside you. I want you to remember this so you’ll always know what your pretty moans and the intoxicating taste of your arousal do to me... you would do well to remember who your perfect clit and delicious arousal belong to.”

MC was panting as Ominis took another languid stroke up her core and pumped his fingers deeper into her. She felt her abdomen begin to coil tightly, and her grip on his hair tightened as moans once again escaped her lips and echoed off the walls of the Room of Requirement.

“Ominis, please—" she gasped.

“Cum for me, darling,” Ominis purred seductively. “Be a good girl, now, and clench around my fingers.”

MC was no match for Ominis’ honeyed words and the curling of his fingers inside her, and her back arched again as she crescendoed into wave after wave of pure pleasure.

“Oh, yes—Ominis, oh—don’t stop…” she gasped. Ominis growled deeply, stubbornly holding pressure on her clit and against her walls until she slowly came back down.

Finally, after what felt like a blissful eternity, MC's breaths slowed as her euphoria came to a satisfying end. Ominis withdrew his fingers and licked them clean, taking care to make a show of how much he loved the taste. MC felt a pleasant tingling deep inside her as she watched him, her body reluctant to fully come down from orgasm.

In her hazy afterglow, MC gently pulled at Ominis' clothes, and he slid up to rest his entire weight upon her. Small waves of residual pleasure coursed through her veins as she stroked Ominis' hair while he laid his head on her chest.

"Is my little hummingbird's appetite finally quelled?" Ominis teased.

"For now," MC sighed, allowing her eyes to slide shut. "I think we need to sleep here more often if this is how we start our morning."

Ominis chuckled and slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. MC pouted for a moment at losing her source of warmth and love until she caught the sound of rustling clothing. She looked down at Ominis again to find he was undoing the front of his trousers. MC could already see part of his hardened manhood trying to break free of its confines.

MC raised her eyebrows in interest. "Well, hello there," she murmured as she sat up and reached forward to affectionately stroke Ominis’ beautiful cock with the backs of her fingers. “It seems you need some attention, too.”

Ominis sighed blissfully at her touch. He allowed himself to be guided down onto his back by MC and practically melted as her fingers delicately wrapped around his length.

“Wait…” Ominis suddenly said as his hand reached out to gently touch MC’s. “Do you need anything before we continue? Breakfast? Some water? You only woke up a short time ago.”

MC smiled and pressed a small kiss to Ominis’ tip. He groaned and nearly forgot what he had just said.

“I can wait,” she replied playfully.

“It might be a while,” Ominis muttered with his own smirk.

“I don’t mind—something tells me I’ll get to have an appetizer before we head down for breakfast together,” MC said with a mischievous smile.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis gaunt smut #Isabel Greymoore

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 9 months

Note

can i ask for leona with birds of paradise + tulip?? am a sucker for the lion man

(I only do one flower per request!)

Leona Kingscholar:

Birds Of Paradise - giving a gift to the other person that they’ve always wanted.

You don’t think you’ve ever lived like this before.

When you rolled out of bed you were greeted with the sunrise, the silky sheets sliding off your body as you planted your feet on the warm floor. You could hear some hustle and bustle despite the early morning hours in the palace, a little smile coming to your face at how lively it seemed at all hours of the day. Leona might have disliked his home for his own personal reasons but it hadn’t taken you long to grow fond of it, his brother and sister-in-law being quite welcoming to the person that brought Leona back home.

You had fights about this before, about how welcoming his home was despite the rumors that might be whispered throughout. You tried not to ignore Leona’s feelings but when you remembered your own home, the overbearing dread you felt every time you stepped foot in your house when you were sent home from NRC during holidays, you just couldn’t wrap your head around it. But you hadn't seen the dark side of the palace, of being royalty, and you couldn't pretend to know even as his future spouse.

You’re lost in your thoughts, trying to hide from the ghosts of your pasts, the sound of your parents’ voices drilled into your head. Despite such a good start to the morning when Leona had gotten into another tiff with his brother, it had reminded you of all too unpleasant memories. Leona himself needed a moment to cool off and you had let him go do so, finishing out the lunch though it was an extremely strained one after the shouting match. Before either Fareena or his wife could address you, you scurried from the room, feeling like being alone yourself.

You don’t remember details as much now, it’s like your childhood is a black hole with only a few spots here and there that you could look back on. You settled yourself somewhere you could feel the warmth of the sun on your skin and yet these memories still sent a chill through your body, rubbing your arms in an attempt to get yourself together. It had been so long since you’d felt this dagger of anxiety lodge itself in your chest, afraid to remove it in case it caused you to bleed out. Your fingers dwelled over your heart, urging it to slow down for just a moment, wanting to simply catch your breath.

“What are you up to?” You feel a flick to the back of your head and are surprised to see Leona looking down at you, an eyebrow raised. It was nearing dinner and you always went on a walk with Cheka to get some of his energy out before you all ate together, but you had been notably missing from his routine.

Cheka had pouted to Leona about it, and his sister-in-law had confided that you had left lunch rather upset. She had her own worries and, since the relationship was new, she wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was or else she would have followed you. Leona knew what was on your mind even if you had never specified your own memories; the way you argued with him about his own family situation had let him in on precious details that you couldn’t seem to speak aloud.

“You’ve got that little brat worried about you, and I don’t want to deal with it. Let’s go back.”

“Just need another few minutes.”

“Mm.” Leona flopped himself down beside you and then in another practiced move rested his head on your thigh, eyes sliding shut. “I’ll wait here.”

This was one routine you’d never grow tired of, hand resting on his chest, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his skin. You could truly lull him to sleep if he wasn’t on high alert from your sad mood, trying to formulate a plan to lift your spirits.

“They like you more than me,” He stated coolly, an abstract fact that you don’t think is quite true but it might be how he sees it. You let out a little laugh, patting his cheek playfully.

“Don’t say that. They love you, you’re family.”

“And you will be too.”

He wasn’t wrong, after all, your wedding date was set in stone and your calendar was filled with endless appointments for a variety of wedding activities. The king and queen had been more than happy to inform you more of their culture, wanting you to know of more of their traditional dances that were performed at weddings as well as getting a traditional outfit made that suited you perfectly. They had done everything they could to make you feel welcome, like part of the family, never acting as if you were a burden despite how busy they both must be.

“Leona…”

“I’m your family now.” Leona’s eyes suddenly opened, his hand reaching up to hold your face. “I won’t be letting you go easily. Remember that.”

A lifetime ahead of you with a new family, people to fill in those blank spots in your memories. A family who wanted to know you, who loved you unconditionally, who would create new memories with you that you’d want to recall. Leona himself had been the one to suggest moving back home first before finding your own place in the world, and you were thankful for it. He might not entirely understand you either, or your desperation for a family to call your own, but he still brought you here to be around them.

Leona had given you the gift of security, a family to call your own, and you couldn't be more grateful for him.

#Twisted Wonderland #Disney Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Disney TWST #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Leona Kingscholar #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Scenario #Flower Prompts

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cherrycola27 · 1 year

Text

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

Specific Chapter Warnings: Violence against women, torture

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Chapter 15: The Great War

You groaned as consciousness slowly made its way back into your body. Everything hurt. Your head was pounding, your mouth was dry, and your body felt stiff. "Ugh," you sighed as you tried to sit up from the wooden floor.

You slowly blinked to take in your surroundings. You shot up as the memories came back to you. You tried to stand but were quickly pulled back down thanks to a set of handcuffs that were attached to the floor beside you.

"Well, look who's finally awake, and just in time." Someone said. You snapped your head in the direction of the voice. "You." You sneered as Preston Baxter strolled into the room. "I should have known you were behind this!" You growled at him.

"Of course I'm the one behind it. I'm the only person who's life you ruined, aren't I? Or are there others?" Preston asks as he tilts his head to the side.

You flare your nostrils and tug on the cuffs.

"Now, now, don't hurt yourself." Preston chuckled.

"How are you out of prison?" You demand. "A good lawyer and a temporary insanity plea." He states before grabbing a chair and walking over to sit in front of you. You slide away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

"Well, aren't you going to ask me how I did it?" He says.

"How you did what?" You spit at him.

"How I kidnapped you silly." He exclaims.

"Okay, I'll bite. How'd you do it?" You ask him. You've seen enough action movies to know that if you get the bag guy talking, they might slip up and tell their plan.

"Well, first off, I had my baby brother Alex hack the White House so he could get himself a job on the security team. He forged all the documents and changed his last name to not raise red flags. After a few months, he was put on your detail. I waited for the right time until we had an opportunity. Once we had it, we took it." Preston tells you gleefully.

"You've been in prison. How were you able to plan all this?" You ask him

"You see, that's the thing about prison. It gives you plenty of time to plot your revenge. I spent two and a half years perfecting this plan, and you're not going to ruin it for me this time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ransom call to make." He claps his hands.

"Ransom call?" You question him. "Yes, while kidnapping you is a great revenge arc for me, extorting your husband for money—it just sweetens the pot," Preston says before getting up.

"The president doesn't negotiate with terrorists, foreign or domestic." You spit at him.

Preston, let's out a breath. "In normal cases, he wouldn't. But he's already proven that when it comes to you, he doesn't think rationally." He tells you before Alex brings him a phone that looks like a brick. He taps his foot before the call connects.

"Hello, am I speaking to the president? Wonderful. Well, Mr. President, I'm not going to mince words. We both know that I have your wife, and if you ever want to see her alive again, I'm going to need one hundred million dollars wired to an offshore account. I just sent the information to Mr. Rodriguez's email." Preston says into the phone. There is a pause before he sighs and brings the phone closer to you. He clicks a button before holding it in front of your face.

"They want proof of life. Gone on. Let them know you're alive. But don't try anything stuipd." He urges you before placing the phone on speaker.

"Bradley. Bradley, Dearest. I'm alive. I'm okay." You assure him.

"Sweetheart, I'm going to get you. I promise everything is going to be okay." Bradley tells you.

You shoot your eyes up at Preston. It crosses your mind that Bradley might not know who took you, so you do the exact thing that you knew Preston wouldn't want you to do.

"Preston Baxter and Alex are the ones who took me!" You shout into the phone. Rage flashes across Preston's face. You continue to yell as he takes the phone away. "Don't give them a dime, Bradley! Don't give them—" a harsh slap across your face sends you tumbling to the floor.

"Didn't I tell you not to do anything stupid you bitch?" He sneers as he crouches down next to you on the floor.

He grabs you by your hair and pulls your eyes up to meet his. "I hope you know just how much I'm going to enjoy making your life hell." He tells you.

"Fuck you." You growl before spitting in his face. He roughly drops you, and your forehead makes contact with the wood floor. You curl up, protecting your midsection before he gives a swift kick to your ribs and exits the room.

After a few minutes, you find enough strength to sit up. You drag yourself until you're leaning against the wall. A few tears prick your eyes, but you will them away. You won't let them see you break. You place a hand on your stomach and stroke it. You weren't sure how you were going to make it out of here alive, but for the sake of the child growing inside you, you knew you'd have too.

.................

It had been six days since you had been taken. News of your kidnapping had hit the mainstream media, and tips from all over the globe were coming in. Bradley made sure each one of them had been followed up, but nothing had come from any of them.

He sat at his desk with a now cold cup of black coffee, a copy of the Times, a stale muffin, and more cigarette butts than he cared to count. Dark rings framed his eyes, and his five o'clock shadow had morphed into a three a.m. blackout.

"Jesus, Rooster, you look like shit." Jake said as he came into the Oval Office to check on him.

"Well, Hangman, please forgive me for not looking front page ready while my pregnant wife has been missing for almost a week." Bradley snapped back.

Bradley saw the hurt face across Jake's face. "I'm—I'm sorry. I can't eat, I can't sleep, and we are no closer to finding her than we were a week ago. I'm going crazy Jake. Every tip we get gives me some hope, and then when it doesn't pan out, I'm back to rock bottom again. The only helpful information came from that couple who saw the abandoned car at that rest area. They said the SUV that was leaving was headed south. Do you know how many places are sound of D.C.? And what if they aren't even in the country anymore? It was hours after she went missing before the first call came through. And the ransom call wasn't until the next day. She could be anywhere in the world right now!" Bradley sighs before sinking back down in his chair.

"How the fuck did we not know that Preston Baxter was released? How did we end up hiring his brother for her security team?" He sighs.

"I did some digging, and apparently, his little brother is a genius. Graduated from MIT, ran a software company, but ended up getting mixed in with the wrong crowd and did two years from hacking a bank in the Midwest. IT found a hole in the White House firewall. They think he hacked a server and forged his information to get him a job here." Jake tells Bradley.

"I feel like this is my fault. No, I know this is my fault. If I had never run for president, none of this would have happened." Bradley sighs as he rakes his hands through his hair.

"You can't blame yourself for this Rooster. If you hadn't had done this, you never would have met Wise-woman. You never would have married her or made a kid with her. He'll, I wouldn't have met the love of my life either. It's not your fault. Y/N is smart. She left those notes for us. She told us who took her. She's going to be okay. She's strong. She's a survivor. She's a Bradshaw for crying out loud. Now, you might want to shower and fix your face. Yout in-laws and Mav and Penny just got here." Jake said as he patted Bradley on the shoulder before leaving.

Bradley did what Jake said. He took a shower, cleaned up his face a bit, and put on fresh clothes.

He wanted to shoot himself in the foot when he came face to face with your mother. He could tell that her tearful words and sullen expression were more of an act than anything. He'd tried to get in contact with them the day he found out you were gone, but they were in Greece and had finally decided to join in the search now that it was getting national attention. Your father seemed genuinely concerned, even offering to to man the tip room phone lines if that would be helpful.

Maverick and Penny tried their best to comfort Bradley. That evening after they had come to the White House, Bradley pulled Maverick and Penny into the Oval Office to tell them you were pregnant. He swore them to secrecy. It was on a need to know basis, and your parents were not in that loop.

Later that evening, Maverick made a few phone calls and called in a few favors. There wasn't much the Navy could do, but if Bradley needed them, Pete Mitchell would make damn sure the entire Dagger Squad would be ready for him.

...............

It's nine days after your kidnapping that Preston reveals the true reason why he has taken you. You're woken from a fitful sleep by the sound of a table and chair being slammed on the floor in front of you.

"Rise and shine sleepy head." Preston calls as he pulls you to your feet and plants you in the chair. Alex brings a laptop and places it in front of you before opening it.

"What do you want me to do with this?" You gripe.

"I want you to use that fancy security clearance you have to log in and get us into the encrypted server. Once we are in, my dear brother is going to steal something more valuable to us than you." He tells you.

"Nuke codes. It's always nuke codes." You breathe out. "Why would you need those?" You ask him.

"Let's just say that before I was in prison, I made some deals with some shady people. I borrowed a hefty sum of money, amongst other things, and promised to pay them back in nuclear codes once I was chief of staff. However, you came along and wreck those plans. Now that they know I'm out of prison, they are demanding I pay up. So, get me those codes." He demands.

"Can't your brother get them?" You ask him. "Unfortunately, the security is too good. Alex can't hack it, he's tried." Preston informs you.

"Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but when you become First Lady, you don't get top secret clearance. My information doesn't work anymore." You cross your arms.

Preston slaps you hard enough to knock you out of the chair. He grabs your and jerks you up. His fingers dig into your arm.

"You wanna do this the hard way, fine, will try again tomorrow." He says before twisting your arm and leaving.

After two days of him not giving you any food, you realize that Preston is going to try and starve the information out of you. He tried beating it out of you, but the bruises on your face and arms are proof he didn't get anything. When the third day comes, you're almost ready to break. Not for you, but for your child.

When the door to your room unlocks, you expect him to come in again for another round, but instead, it's Alex, and he's carrying a bag.

You scamper to the far side of the room, trying to put as much space as you can between the two of you.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Alex says as he holds his hands out like he his trying not to spook a wild animal.

"I brought you something to eat." He tells you as he brings the bag over and sets it next to you before walking away and sitting down on the floor across from you.

It's not a five-star meal, but you gladly tear open the pack of beef jerky and chips he brought you before gluping down some of the water that's also in the bag.

"Preston is out checking in with his parole officer and running some errands in the city. I went to the little gas station a few miles away to get this for you." Alex tells you.

"I know it isn't good for pregnant women to get dehydrated or starve." He says. You pause mid chew and look up at him with wide eyes.

"How—" you can't finish the question.

"I saw you leaving the clinc that day. And you got sick the first couple of days here. Don't worry. I'm not going to tell Preston. He's already done enough to you." Alex shakes his head.

"Why are you helping him?" You ask him. "I'm the reason he owes so many people money. A few years ago, I was trying to prove to some buddies of mine how good of a hacker I was. I stole money from the wrong people. Pres, he—he kept them from killing me. I owe him." Alex shrugs. You can see in his eyes that he never intended for it to go this far.

"I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry. You didn't deserve this." Alex tells you before getting up and leaving the room.

Your eyes drop back to the plastic bag in front of you. There is a sleeve of powdered donuts and some peanut butter cups inside and another bottle of water. You grab the candy, and that's when you notice it. A small slip of white paper. You grab it and realize it is a receipt from the store. You quickly read over it and smile. There, printed in tiny black letters is the name of a town and a state. You know where you are. Now, you just have to figure out how to let Bradley know.

Two days later, Preston brings the computer set up back again. Only this time, when you refuse to do anything, he pulls a gun from his waistband.

"Recognize this?" He asks you as he cocks his head to the side. Of course you recognized it. It was the same one he'd tried to kill you with once before.

"Type in your information, or I shoot you." He states coldly.

"You and I both know you are going to do that." You tell him with a smirk. "And why wouldn't I?" He sneers.

"You're not going to kill me because you need me. You can't get the codes or the money without me. You've been sending Bradley dated proof of life videos every two days. If those stop, what makes you think he won't track you down and blow you and this shithole off the face of the earth?" You state. "Me being alive is the only barging chip you have. You may be dumb Preston, but I don't think you're stupid." You say.

"Shut your mouth before I blow your brains out." He threatens you.

"Just make sure you don't miss this time." You laugh as he cracks the handle of it across your face.

"Type. Now." He demands. And for the first time, you give in. But you purposefully type your password wrong. You know that after five incorrect log-in attempts, your account will be locked, and cyber security will be notified. You are praying that they look at the attempted passwords. Each one you type in is a bit of information about where you are. After the fifth attempt, the screen goes black.

"See. I told you. My credentials don't work anymore." You smirk as you point to the screen.

Preston shoves you out of the chair and screams. "You fucking bitch. You did this on purpose!"

"No, I didn't! I don't have access anymore!" You defend yourself before his fist makes contact with your face.

"Fine. If I can't get the codes from you, I'll just have to get them from your husband. Maybe a good old-fashioned torture video will be just this thing to motivate him." He says before storming out of the room.

..................

"Mr. President!" Dante yells as he bursts into the Oval Office. Bradley shoots up and looks at him. He can tell Dante has news.

"Sir, we think we know where she is." Dante breaths out. Bradley sucks in a breath as he waits for him to explain.

"It appears she tried to log on to the White House server, but used the wrong password five times and locked her account. IT looked at each incorrect attempt to see what was going on because they knew the activity was suspicious. Each one is a clue about where she thinks she is. Look." Dante says as he hands a paper to Bradley. He reads it. "North Carolina, RidgewoodFalls, House, GasStation, Help." He says.

"We looked into the town and found out that a few months ago, an old farm in Ridgewood Falls was bought in cash by someone named Peter Brandon. We think that might be the alias Preston is using. We are currently working to get a rescue team together. The only issue is that the farm is near the town. We have to be careful going in without alerting him." Dante says.

Bradley agrees before dismissing Dante. He leaves his office and makes his way to the bedroom. He sits on the bed and grabs the framed photo of the two of you from your summer in San Diego. He touches your face and twists his wedding ring. "I'm coming for you, Sweetheart."

Two days after finding out where you are, almost seventeen days after you were taken, the White House receives a video of what they think is proof of life. Instead, they are met with the sight of you tied to a chair and gagged while Preston breaks three of your fingers and punches your face until its bruised and bloody. It ends with demands for nuclear launch codes in addition to the ransom money.

Bradley's blood boils as he watches the events unfold. He throws the coffee he is drinking across the room, and the mug shatters into a million pieces before he screams in anger.

He demands that the Navy SEAL team that Dante and others were organizing be sent in immediatly to extract you. Dante informs him that it isn't so simple.

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE WHAT IT TAKES! If you won't have the SEAL team go in and extract her then you'll leave me no choice but to fly Air Force One to North Carolina so I can get her myself!" Bradley screams before slamming his hands on the table.

"Sir. I understand your frustration. But we haven't been able to arrange air coverage and support for them. We need jets and pilots and don't have them yet.

"You need jets and pilots? Well, why didn't you say so. Bring me, Rear Admiral Mitchell. Now." Bradley says as people scramble out of the room.

"Mav," Bradley begins as he enters the room. "Is Phoenix sit the commander of the Bush carrier?" He asks.

"She is." Maverick answers. "How fast do you think we can get the Dagger Squad to Norfolk? They are the only people I trust for this mission I'm about to send them on." Bradley says.

"I made some calls. They were stationed there last week. Just in case." Maverick tells him.

"Thank you, Mav." Bradley says before calling for Dante.

"Dante, I need a secure line set up now. I need you to get me in touch with Captain Natasha Trace on the U.S.S. Bush in Virginia. You need a team of pilots. I'll get you the best damn team in the entire world." Bradley says.

"Sir, with all do respect, how do you know that they are the best?" Dante asks him.

"Because they aren't just any old team of fighter pilots, Dante. They are my team."

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lewmagoo @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby @wkndwlff @dakotakazansky

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naturesapphic · 4 months

Note

could you do a lady dimitrescu x reader, Alcina helps reader with eating disorder recovery ❤️‍🩹

Headcannons of lady dimitrescu helping her partner recover from her eating disorder

Lady dimitrescu x fem!reader

Warnings: talks of eating disorders, hurt/comfort

- you’ve always had trouble with eating ever since you were young

- you always compared yourself to others

- you didn’t like how your body looked and you felt the urge to change it

- you would go hours without eating or drinking anything

- you had a lot of insecurities and didn’t feel like you deserve to be loved

- some time passed and you were diagnosed with anorexia

- you tried counseling and medication which seemed to work a little but you still didn’t want to eat

- you still felt a certain way about your body and how it looked

- you moved from the u.s. to Romania and that’s how you met your curtain wife, lady dimitrescu

- you met alcina when you walked in the village and got attacked by a lycan

- you saw the castle and decided to go to it, hoping that there would be anyone inside that could help you

- you knocked on the door and a maid opened the door and invited you in quietly

- the quiet didn’t last for long until a loud booming voice was heard

- “maid. Who was at the door?” Alcina stated.

- she walked down the stairs and saw your beaten and scratched up figure

- she didn’t know why or how, but she felt instantly drawn to you

- she ordered her other maids to put you in a guest room and for them to nurse you back to health.

- while the maids mainly did help you get better, alcina would always come check in on you to see how you were doing

- you eventually met her daughters and you instantly felt close to them

- the three children absolutely adored you and you felt the same

- when you were getting better, alcina couldn’t help but notice how you would never finish a cup of water or a little plate of food the maids would make for you

- she didn’t think you were being wasteful no, she thought it was much deeper than that

- when you were better and there for a few months, you got extremely close with alcina

- you eventually told her about your eating disorder and she never judged you

- she said that she will always be there for you and that she will always help you in any way she can

- you also told her about your insecurities about your body

- she was sad that you felt that way but never made you feel bad for feeling the way you do

- she makes sure everyday that you feel loved and comfortable inside and out

- whenever you get really insecure she makes love to you and shows you how much she adores your body and you

- after being there for over a year, alcina kept good on her word and you’ve been eating and drinking better everyday

- after some time, alcina proposed to you and later y’all married

- it was the happiest day of your life when you finally got the family you’ve always wanted

- alcina and the girls still help you with your disorder

- alcina helped you get a therapist that you only went to if you truly felt like it

- she made some technics and plans that helps you with food and liquid

- she kept her promise from day one

- of course you have some good days and some bad, some worse than others but you never stopped trying and neither did alcina

- she loves you for you and that will never change

A/n: As a person who’s had anorexia and is still dealing with the aftermath, just know that it does get better, I have mainly good days but I still have my bad days. Just know that y’all are beautiful in your own way and know that if y’all relate to this that I’m sorry and that I love you. I’m always here for y’all <3 I hope to the person that requested this that I turned this into a head-cannons and I’m so sorry that this took so long. Remember that Christmas/winter requests are still open! And remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all!

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welldonekhushi · 2 months

Text

The Aftermath of Scarlet

Warnings: Character death? So it's all angst, be prepared, haha

Summary: Scarlet's life after Soap's untimely death.

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Samantha "Scarlet" Wright (OC)

Many years after Soap's death, Scarlet couldn't even think of moving on, and refused to marry. No matter how many times they've said to start a new life and marry someone another.. she always kept saying one thing.

"I was always married to Johnny. By heart and by soul. And no one can take it away from me."

How can she still remain loyal to her lover even after his death? What became so special inside of her that she had the urge to protect the love they made together all this time? They were surprised by the soldier's words. They were helpless, yet they couldn't do anything about it to change Scarlet's mind. They were worried too.. would she spend the rest of her life, being alone?

But she kept saying those same lines again. "Soap and I were already married.. he knows that and so do I. Even after his death, I'll still be his wife, and protect the love we made together."

Scarlet would often visit Soap's grave every year on his birthday, and on his death anniversary, with the bouquet of flowers she brought from Jade's floral shop. She would sit in front of the grave, talking to him like he was still alive, and thriving. She laughed, and chuckled, despite knowing the pain of her not seeing Soap ever again. She even brought the blanket which they used to cuddle with each other since they were kids, and wrapped it around his grave, hugging it as if she was embracing Soap.

She kept doing this.. every year, hoping there could be a miracle. That she'll see Soap again. She'll see her husband again. And reunited like how John moved into her town, when they two saw each other in the SAS after a long time.. and now, she wanted to see him again.

Scarlet was now old. Retired. She now couldn't properly walk as she would now require a cane for support. She even had a sickness that would make her grow weaker. Even if the doctor said she cannot go to visit Soap's grave due to her condition, Scarlet protested that her old age cannot stop her from visiting her lover's grave. This absolutely worried everybody, as her stubbornness would have almost put her life in danger, but Scarlet was somehow expecting like this.

She visited Soap's grave again on his death anniversary, struggling to walk and even standing straight in his honor, but she didn't let that affect her at all. She gripped the bouquet of flowers and placed them on the grass, smiling. Soap still looked ever so young in her eyes, and she grew old and weak. She always did the same, wrapping a blanket around his grave and herself, and hugging the stone, even rubbing her hands on it as if she was rubbing his chest, feeling and sharing the warmth and love as Soap embraces her back.

She stayed there for a few hours, everything seemed fine. But unfortunately, the grip Scarlet had on the gravestone loosened, as she kept laying on it as a support. It became evening, it became night.. she still remained there, in that same position.

The next day, a few people who worked in the cemetery arrived and saw a woman who had herself laid over the gravestone. They were curious to know if she maybe fell asleep on it, but when they tried to wake her up, she instead fell over the ground, much to their surprise. She passed away.

Even after her death, she held that smile on her face. She died the same day when Soap died. They died together.

Meanwhile, Scarlet opens her eyes, finding herself in a dream-like space.. she was confused about where she really was, but she felt peaceful, calm, and belonged. When she looked more closely, she saw Soap in a tuxedo, waiting for her in the distance. He smiled, and Scarlet's eyes widened, as they sting in tears.

"Johnny?" She said in a croaked voice, as Soap was so happy to see her. She shed tears and loudly grinned, as she dropped her cane, and started to walk towards him. Step by step, her movements began to improve, and miraculously she ran as life restored back. Her body began to change, into the same, young Scarlet and her clothes transformed into a bridal dress.

Jumping over Soap, she hugged him tighter like never before, they two finally saw each other in Heaven, sharing a heartfelt reunion. Scarlet cried onto Soap's chest, not wanting to let him go, never. But, John pulled her back, and wiped off her tears.

"Now it's okay, lass. We're not going to leave each other now."

With that promise, they two held each other's hand, and walked into the light. Back on Earth, they had to put her to rest. Her friends joined the funeral, including her squadmates, which she joined missions with. Jade, who was likely more distraught from Scarlet's death, went to bid her farewell, with the bouquet of lilies.

Aly who was also shattered at the loss of her friend, including many others.. but they well know Scarlet wouldn't have to live in sorrow anymore.

As now, she was forever back with her Johnny.

• OC MENTIONS (though likely all my mutuals' OCs are here in the story, but for special mentions!)

Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin — @sleepyconfusedpotato

Alyssa "Aly" Martinez — @alypink

#cod #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod mw #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw23 #call of duty modern warfare 2023 #cod mwiii #call of duty modern warfare 3 #call of duty oc #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #samantha scarlet wright #charlotte jade le jardin #call of duty oc: aly

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wonjnz · 10 months

Text

love, like it always has been

₊˚⊹ summary: gyuvin sets out to defeat some old white man's quora answer about love.

₊˚⊹ genre: fluff, best friend!gyuvin, high school!au | wc: 1k

₊˚⊹ warning(s): some swearing | inspo: —

₊˚⊹ a/n: very random slice of life moments with bsf!gyuvin so the timeline is kinda.. 😭😭 got the idea when i got sm quora emails today

whenever gyuvin wonders what love is, he thinks the amount of "expert" answers in a random quora thread about it doesn't seem to click with him.

he didn't feel some sort of fireworks when he saw you, so some doctor specializing in 'love' is automatically eliminated. and his world certainly didn't slow down when you walk in, so now a random old, white man talking about his wife of 25 years is also eliminated (though gyuvin admits it's cute).

gyuvin sighs and puts his phone down, placing his hands on both cheeks; god, this is so stupid, he thinks. if only his friends weren't the loudest speakers in school, he'd probably be ranting to them about this, but he remains determined to find out what love means to him.

ever since that night, gyuvin made it his goal that one day, he'll have the most upvotes on his quora answer and everyone will reply this is exactly what love feels like.

old white man be damned, gyuvin is going to have a more relatable answer. just watch, he thinks.

gyuvin swears he felt love when he watched you introduce yourself on the first day of school, he found it hilarious. after school, you almost cut him off from how much he teased you about it. only did he redeem himself when he willingly became your servant for 2 months, to his friends surprise (and ultimately gyuvin’s embarrassment).

and he feels it once more while you're slowly losing your mind over a chemistry assignment. the way your hair sticks out in all directions from all the times your hands kept running through in frustration, the way your eyebrows furrow when you finally get a logical answer after five grueling minutes, that's when gyuvin confirms it.

“what?” you ask, noticing how gyuvin has been awfully quiet and smiling to himself. “is my answer wrong or something?” you worry, looking back and forth from your paper to his.

he's in love.

gyuvin immediately comes back to his senses and waves you off, “it's nothing. just thought of something.” he says. to be fair, what he said wasn't much of a lie. he was thinking of you after all.

you scoff at his half-assed answer, "whatever. i'm going back to number 6." mumbling as you look back at your paper. "yeah, i'll go back too." gyuvin says, smiling amusingly at his answers (he's only done 4 questions).

“seriously, gyuvin. you're disgusting.” you laugh, pointing at the dried-up ice cream stains at the corner of his lips. "you look like you drooled or something."

gyuvin rolls his eyes, “at least wipe it off for me. both my hands are occupied.” he says while holding up his ice cream and a small plastic spoon, obviously finding a reason for you to do it. “what a loser..” you mumble before trying to find a few pieces of tissue in your backpack, putting it up to his lips to wipe the remnants off.

and gyuvin fights the urge to say “i'm in love with you,” at that moment. opting to share a few details about his day instead since he knows how you're always invested in whatever drama he manages to dig out.

damn his demons are hard to beat today, he curses to himself.

as he looks at you, eyes purely focused on his as if you're anticipating more, gyuvin's heart feels lighter than ever. he feels the slight click one quora user said in his answer, albeit very softly, to the point he might've missed it.

“that's all i have today.” gyuvin shrugs, in his defense, you were always his highlight of the day, not some random drama he heard from gunwook every lunchtime, but he can't tell you that just yet. “boring.”

he smiles amusingly, “i might have something else cool in mind though. but i don't know if you'd wanna hear it.” mentally preparing on the spot is something gyuvin wouldn't wish even on his worst enemy.

you look at him incredulously, mouth slightly agape. “what? of course i'd wanna hear it.” setting your cup of ice cream down just to show gyuvin how interested you were.

“well, i’ve liked you for quite some time and —”

"so ricky was right!"

gyuvin feels his inner demons creep up on him right after, he swears he could hear them laughing at this very moment. “..so, you knew all this time? because of ricky?” you chuckle at how quiet his voice became.

“he told me last night since he thought you were being kinda weird lately, and he knew we always go out after school, so he warned me you might confess or something.” gyuvin puts his head in his hands, whining at his now spoiled confession, “i wanted this to be cute..”

it's an understatement to say ricky and gyuvin were on bad terms for a while, though you couldn’t stand the amount of shade they kept throwing at the other, so you forced them to make up on gyuvin’s fifth day of his villain origin story against ricky.

“you know i can't kiss you right now if your breath smells like the cheeseburger you ate, gyuvin.” you point out, snickering at gyuvin's exaggerated pursed lips and dramatic reaction to your words.

“the cheeseburger you bought for me. so technically it's not my fault.” he shrugs nonchalantly, a stark contrast to how he kept whining about wanting even a small peck a minute ago.

you watch gyuvin, who's on the verge of losing his mind at the thought of at least 10 minutes with no affection, “okay, fine. i'll drink something to get that burger taste out.” he surrenders quickly to your amusement.

laughing at his defeated walk to his fridge, “not my fault you wanted takeout after studying.” you heard him mumble under his breath.

“you agreed to it!” you retort, gyuvin comes back with the iced tea he ordered along. “of course i would, why would i say no to you?” he says before drinking.

“plus, if i didn’t confess to you on a whim last week, i’d probably kiss you right now and i wouldn’t know you hate cheese breath. imagine how horrifying that would be for me.”

once he makes sure any trace of cheese in his breath is gone, he smirks at you expectingly but in reality, it's his usual goofy smile. “can you give me a kiss now?” he says, paper cup still in his hand as if it was some cliche house party scene.

“now that i think of it, cheeseburger and iced tea breath is even more disgusting.”

“oh fuck you.”

#zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 scenarios #zb1 drabbles #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone gyuvin #kim gyuvin #kim gyuvin x reader #gyuvin imagines

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