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lethalchiralium · 2 years ago

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A Little More | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: hiiiii! uh so this is connected to tonight, tonight, tonight and dear winter, and this was sort of inspired by never grow up by taylor swift. 🤍 also, the constant support really makes me want to just write domestic simon. like, a lot. it’s great.

warnings: mentions of nationality (americans do suck but you’re great!), babies, children… arguing

summary: It’s Simon’s first late night and morning with his new daughter, Mellie. And you and him have an important conversation.

REMINDER: This is a side-blog, not my main! If you have any questions, feel free to message this blog or reblog! Reblogs are always appreciated - as well as any comments, they keep me motivated to write stuff like this!

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When the baby monitor began to sound with cries of his new daughter, Simon had woken up. He rubbed his eye with one of his hands while the other reached for the monitor on his nightstand. He had moved it from yours last night after you had fallen asleep.

He turned it down so you could barely even hear it and settled the monitor back on his nightstand - he silently sat up. He blinked away what little sleep he got and pulled off the warm comforter, standing up. He turned back and looked at you, a pang of guilt ran through his chest before he pulled the comforter back into place. You had fallen asleep on his chest, and now you were curled into a ball in the middle of the mattress, facing his side. He wanted to lean down and kiss your cheek, but his baby was crying.

He made his way out of the bedroom and down the hall, passing his office and Winnie’s room to the room closest to the staircase. He could clearly hear Mellie crying now, so he quietly opened the door. He walked over to the white crib and gazed at her. Her little eyes were screwed shut and her cries broke his cold heart before he gently picked up his new daughter, placing her against his bare chest. One hand held her head and the other held her back, he was still amazed at how big he was compared to this little creature.

“Hello, my little love.” He whispered as he leaned down and kissed her little head, smelling the soap you had washed her with earlier. He checked the little one’s nappy, seeing that she didn’t need changed. He moved across the room to the comfy rocking chair you had gotten and settled on it, Mellie’s cries had gotten softer as he began to gently rock. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for ya to know me before you were born. Sorry I wasn’t here when you were born, someone’s gotta pay the bills.” He chuckled lightly, still gazing down at the baby with short hair that looks just like yours. If he gazed at her face a little more, he would’ve noticed that his daughter had his eyes, his ears. He would learn days later that she had his smile.

His thumb drew circles on the crown of the baby’s head and her cries mellowed out to little mewls, her cheek rested on his collarbone.

“You’re going to grow up strong like me ‘n amazing like your mum,” He promised her, kissing her head again. “You’re going to love your sister, even though sometimes you’ll fight with her. Hell, I know you’ll fight with me one day.”

The baby cooed in response, as if she was listening.

“Always love your mum,” He whispered, head then leaning back to stare at the door. “You don’t have to love me, Melody. But it’ll be a cold day in Hell if I ever stop loving you. And you have to love your sister, I know that she probably loves you more than she does me now.” He chuckled a little, gently patting Mellie’s back before continuing. “You’re going to be as smart ‘n as beautiful as your mum, as careful as me. And you’ll love all your uncles, Price the most since Winnie does.“ He closed his eyes then, using his right leg to gently rock the chair. “You’ll be loved, no matter what. And I can’t wait to watch you grow, my little love.”

Mellie’s cries had finally stopped, all of her little sounds had as well - he could feel her tiny breath against his skin while he kept rocking the chair, feeling slumber tug at his head.

“You’ll be my little girl forever, no matter if we drift apart. I will always protect you, never let anyone hurt you. All I want is for you to never grow up.” His hands stopped moving, still keeping his child against him while he murmured, “I want you to stay little forever, I can’t stand watching my Winnie grow. You’ll always be my baby, Mellie. And I love you.” Simon leaned down and kissed her head again, he reclined back on the chair. He gazed at the ceiling, seeing her little mobile with stars and ducks on it.

He patted Mellie’s back with a soft accuracy, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of his daughter on his chest.

•••

He woke up in the late morning, feeling a much heavier weight on his chest. He opened his eyes, looking down and seeing Winnie curled into his chest, Mellie snuggled into his neck with his arm underneath her bottom. He looked up, seeing his wife folding clothes on the floor. He pushed on his right foot, gently rocking and catching your attention. You looked up at your husband as you finished folding his shirt, a smile on your face. His other arm went around Winnie’s back, she snuggled into his chest even more. You stood up from where you were, opening your phone and showing him a picture you had taken two hours before - Winnie looking up at him with a smile, then one of her curled into his chest like she was now. His hand absentmindedly pet his oldest daughter’s hair that matched his, a grin on his face. He looked back to you, whispering, “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You whispered back, sliding your phone in your sweatpants pocket. You leaned forward and kissed him, then kissed his cheek. “Go back to sleep.”

“She’ll probably need to be fed.” He nodded down to the baby.

“Just did. She just fell back asleep.” You mumbled, your hand gently rubbed Winnie’s arm. “Winnie’s had breakfast too. You need to rest.”

“So do you.” He answered, eyes meeting yours but you shrugged.

“This is the longest either have slept in a while, so I’m going to get some things done.” You turned back to the laundry, stepping over the four folded stacks and sitting back down next to the basket. “Then, I will go take a nap, okay?”

He nodded, eyes fluttered closed again as he leaned back, still gently rocking the chair with his foot. He sat there for another twenty minutes, listening to you fold clothes and hum a familiar song.

“Thank you.” He spoke into the room, hearing the baby’s soft breathing near his ear and as Winnie moved a little.

You stopped folding clothes, that he knew for sure because there was no more humming. “For what?”

“For this.” He answered, opening his eyes and jutting his chin to Mellie then Winnie. “Couldn’t’ve asked for someone better.”

You smiled at him, setting your hands on a stack of his shirts before swiping at your eye. You patted his stack of clothes, you still had a bit left to go but you didn’t care - you got to your feet and walked over to him. Your hands were gentle when you picked up Winnie, letting her curl her arms around your neck as he stared at you. You jutted your head towards the door of the nursery. “Come on, nap time.”

He instantly slowly rose from the rocking chair, hearing it rock back and forth behind him as he kept the two month old against his collarbone. She didn’t make a sound. He followed you as you effortlessly carried Winnie, who was out like a light, down to your shared bedroom. It made the heaviness of his long and strenuous deployment begin to thaw from his stomach and shoulders - he followed you as you pulled back the duvet with one hand, settling the four year old in the middle of the bed before climbing in. He moved to the other side, lowering himself back into his bed.

He checked the baby again, still seeing that she was asleep. You moved to your side, looking at him as Winnie snuggled into your chest. He settled Mellie onto her back right next to his own chest as he tugged the duvet to just below Winnie’s head, your waist, and Mellie’s onesied feet. His head settled on his pillow as yours did, his hand came up and brushed some hair around your ear. The two of you sort of made a cocoon, legs tangled together and facing each other as your hand rubbed the belly of the small baby - your bodies shielding your children from the outside world.

“I’m sorry.” Simon spoke softly, his hand was removed from your head and settled on the duvet. Your eyes met his, only a few faded streaks of eye paint on his lash lines remained.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You murmured, your hand then moved from Mellie to Winnie, gently petting her head.

“I left you here alone.” You had to endure this alone. Had to give birth alone, without support of your husband - had to raise both of his children alone, with no outside help for thousands of miles. His eyes stared at yours, even if you gazed down at your daughters. “I chose to take that deployment.”

“And you said it would only be three months.” You whispered.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, wanting nothing more to pull you to his chest and press his words into your skin like tattoos - words of praise, of trust, love.

There was a moment of silence before Simon spoke again.

“I want to slow down.” His voice sort of trembled, his hand coming to rest on Winnie’s head too - settling on top of yours. “I can’t let you think that I don’t support you.”

“Simon…”

He continued. “I want to only do one deployment a year, so that way you will never have to do this-“ He nodded to the children between their chests. “Without my support and without me.”

“You can’t just give up your life for us.” Your thumb drew small circles in Winnie’s hair. “I can’t let our family be what takes you away from what you want to do with your life.”

“I never wanted to be in the military after Winnie was born. Almost quit then.” He spoke then, not whispering anymore. “Almost did it again when we got married.” His eyes moved to look at your diamond ring, how it still glimmered in the dim sunlight that hazed through the room. “I could die the day I get deployed next. I will do whatever it takes to make sure I come home.”

“Simon, is this what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? Be a soldier?”

Simon only stared.

You sighed. “One less deployment would be nice, and with the long ones like this, you’ll need to give me warning so I don’t stay up every night waiting for you.” You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes. “Your friends are counting on you, I think we both know that your job is not done yet.”

Sometimes he was amazed at how intuitive you were - you knew exactly how he felt within a moment. He sort of grunted before running a hand down his maskless face. “You’re my wife, you come first.”

“Your family comes first, and that includes 141. I won’t have it any other way.” You concluded, voice sharp and definitive. Your hand went to rest on his cheek and he let you, let your thumb trace lines under his eye. “You can’t give up on what you believe in for me.”

“But you have given up a lot for me.” He whispered, his hand settled on yours. “You should’ve gone back home, had the support you needed - but you stayed in a place where you have no friends or family. You raised my children alone, you gave up your life back home to raise my child. This- My solitude is no place for…us.”

“I didn’t give anything up that easily, Simon.” Your tone was defensive, he immediately knew he crossed a line. “I never go into anything blindly. I always assess the situation and the best outcomes.” You gave him a sharp glare as you narrowed your eyes. “There’s a reason why there is another child in our bed.” Your thumb stopped moving and settled under his eye. “I wouldn’t have gone through with having her if I didn’t think I could’ve done it alone. There was no shortage of support from my family across the pond.”

“Quit sayin’ slang, you’re American.”

You smiled at that comment. “Simon, I knew you were coming home. I know that you’ll always come home to me. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Quit it. No more apologies, you didn’t know.” Your voice became small then, eyes unfocusing as you let the walls fall down. Tears pricked at your eyes. “Do I wish I could change that? Absolutely. But someone needed your help, you save thousands of people every day and I can’t let myself keep you from your duty.”

“You wouldn’t be. It’s my choice.”

“I know.”

“I can’t keep leaving this house, not knowing if I’m coming back.”

Mellie cooed then, both of you looked down and your hands separated. His hand went to gently rub her stomach, trying to coax her back to sleep.

“You’re a wonderful father.”

His hand slowed to a stop, trying to accept what you said because he sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

“You’ll always be here for them, I know that for a fact.” You continued. “Whatever you choose, that will never change. You will always love them. And I will stand by whatever decision you make.”

He just gazed at you then. His heart felt warm, he wanted to move forward and kiss you but his children were in the way - so he settled for placing his hand on the back of your jaw, splaying his fingers through your hair and above and below your ear. He cradled your face a little. “I’ll call Price tomorrow.”

You nodded, leaning into his hand and moving to kiss his palm. “Good.”

“And I want you to find a house that’s near your parents.”

You froze then, eyes wide as you whispered, “What?”

He shrugged. “In case a Mellie happens again, which I will make sure it won’t, I want you to be close to your family. I have no family to keep me here that’s not you.”

“You don’t have to uproot out life from here, Si. I’m fine here.” You muttered. “I promise.”

“Let me give something up for you, since you won’t let me give up my job.”

Your hand rested on Winnie’s head again, she was still out like a light. “Simon, I mean it. You don’t have to give anything up-“

“Stop telling me what I can or can’t give up.” His tone was a little harsh. “Just let me have the peace of knowing that you’ll be with your family if I get killed.”

You fell silent, knowing that this really came from a deep place in his heart because his eyes were screwed shut for just a moment. You gave the idea a little thought, maybe it wouldn’t be bad to stop wasting money on plane tickets and stay back home. Your little brothers love Winnie, they’ll meet and love Mellie - your parents adore them too. You had to admit, it was one of the ways he showed his love - by keeping you hidden away, yet in a safe reach.

“Let me think on it.” You answered, eyes fluttering closed as his hand slipped away.

“Sleep on it, love.” He whispered.

“I love you, Simon.”

He smiled.

“I love you too.”

———

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x afab!reader #simon riley x wife!reader #cod mw 2022 #lethal chiralium #lethalchiralium

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selnyam · 2 months ago

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FFXIV Write 2024: Lend an Ear

Hayle Oakgrin sat at her desk, tapping her quill to the paper. She was working on a reading room design for a newer client, one who wanted an ‘autumn woodland theme.’ She’d done plenty of woodland ones, but the client was insistent on an autumn theme and her initial designs had been close but not quite what the client was in the mood for. She turned and picked up a few art books, hoping something in them would spark her creativity. The sudden sound of the front door slamming and a frustrated groan caused the Vieroe to turn her head.

“UGH!” Her twin sister dropped onto the couch, her tail bristling. Hayle waved as she stepped into the front room, then knelt and gave Oboe a pat on the head. The Obsidian Carbuncle chattered and squeaked, then realizing she wasn’t getting treats, hopped up next to her Mistress. Mona sighed dramatically, her pointy ears twitching as she kicked off her boots. Much to Hayle’s continued annoyance, the Miqroe’te just left them where they fell. The taller of the twins rolled her eyes and sat down in the nearby chair. She tilted her head slightly, expressions soft.

“Hey sis. How’s the design coming along? That old guy accept your leaf theme?” Mona stretched out, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. Hayle shook her head, raising a hand and tilting it side to side. Mona knew her quiet sister well. She was a woman of few words, using sign language or gesture more than speak. The sisters may not be identical, but they had the a bond from being twins that transcended language sometimes. So when Hayle tilted her head again, Mona knew she was asking if she was okay.

“Yeah, just. UGH. It keeps happenin’ you know? I get a jobe, Oboe and I head out. The mission goes great! No problems! Courier escorted through the Oakwood no problem!” She waved her hands dramatically, long tail swishing. ‘BUT THEN. Somehow it comes up who our parents are and then I never hear the end of it” She put on a mocking deep voice “Oh your mother is Flidais Oakclamber? You’re the daughter of the famous doctor Metrina Seagrin? And TWELVE FORBID I’m anywhere near Sharlayan! Then it’s all about how much I must of learned from Papa’ha!” she threw back her head, groaning again. Hayle nodded, having had similar problems.

Once Mona lifted her head, the Viera began to sign [I get that too. Clients wanting to hear stories about our parents instead of about their orders.] She smiled fondly and shrugged [It’s expected. Papa’ha and our Mothers are famous in many ways] she turned her head, long floppy Viera ears swinging to look at the portrait hanging on the wall. Flidais Oakclamber, buff Viera adventurer stood with her am around her Roegadyn wife Metrina Seagrin. Metrina had her arms around her bofyriend, a red haired Miqo’te Archon G’raha Tia. The twins sat in front of them, a huge grin on Mona’s face as she hugged Oboe, Hayle next to her with a softer grin. Mona followed her gaze, frustration slipping.

“I love our family, but sometimes. I just…” she sighed “I earned my skills! I became an arcanist, became a SUMMONER on my own merits! Our parents didn’t help. Sometimes it’s just frustrating that people are so quick to want to talk about other things.” Oboe chittered and squeaked, bumping her dark furred head against Mona’s arm. Mona scratched her carbuncle under the chin and took a deep breath.

“I guess, that’s part of the life of being the children of famous adventurers and Scions, huh?” Hayle nodded and stood, glad her lending a floppy ear to her sister seemed to have helped. She raised her hands to ask a question.

[Curry sound good for dinner? Mom brought by a new bottle of her special ‘Void Sauce’] Mona leapt up from the couch, tail swishing in excitement.

“Oh yes please! I’ll come help. You get the meat started and I’ll chop the veggies!” The pair of twins moved to their small kitchen, stress and frustration of life eased by familial love.

#the oakgrin girls #ffxivwrite2024 #ffxiv #flidais oakclamber

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kilojulietsierra · 1 year ago

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In Good Hands (Ragnar Ragnarson x OFC)

Couldn’t help myself, had to do one more for my favorite Ragnar the Younger!

Warnings - 18+ content, mentions of death and violence, childhood sweethearts to lovers, first kiss, flirting, jealousy, naked cuddling, smut

~~~

Earl Ragnar watched his son further up the beach talking to Saga, the brown haired, green eyed daughter of one of his men. The younger Ragnar was smiling, which was often the case when he and Saga were together, but the girls smile was softer, sadder than normal. "We should take her with us." His wife appeared beside him. "This again?" Ragnar acknowledged his wife briefly before returning to readying the ship. "They are children." "Who is it that says every day how Ragnar is a man now, ready to be blooded in battle." She emphasizes the last part with a gruffer tone to mimic his own. When she receives nothing more than a disgruntled scoff she continues on, "Saga will be of marrying age soon." "She will." "And Ragnar certainly..." "Ragnar is sailing to fight, not to hump." Ragnar finally turns to face her fully. "Once we are settled, have our lands, her family will come soon enough. Then we will see. " ~~~ "Will you miss me?" She asked, smiling, but trying to hide the tinge of sadness inside. Young Ragnar smiled down at her, "Of course." He pauses and then adds, with mischief in his eyes, "Though not for long." The remark earns him a hard shove to his chest though it doesn't budge him an inch. "You're a pigs ass." Ragnar laughs and catches her hands before she can assault him further, "I only mean... that your family will be soon behind us. Father has said so." She does not respond, face still indignant, but she also does not pull her wrists from his grip. "Ragnar!" His fathers voice booms down the beach, over the sound of the tide. "It is time!" Young Ragnar looked his fathers way and nods before turning back to Saga, his own smile softer now, less teasing. "Would you kiss me before I go?" Saga blinks up at him, considering, before turning her face to the side and presenting her cheek. Again Ragnar laughs, smile wider at her teasing, but all the same he drops a light kiss against the corner of her eye. He rested his lips there for a moment, "I will miss you." When he pulls back he can see that her eyes are misty, but she takes a deep breath and sets her face. Her hands come up to his jaw, his grip still gentle around her wrists, and she tugs him back down to her. "The next time I see you Ragnar Ragnarson, you will be a man." She kisses him, shy and sweet, on the lips and pulls back only enough to look him in the eye, "Now go, earn your reputation." Ragnar beams, moves his right hand to cup her cheek as gently as he could and rests his forehead against hers. Both of them closing their eyes and soaking in the moment, the damp air and the sound of the sea, the touch of eachother and the racing of young hearts. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Do you not have your own family to harass Ragnar Ragnarson?" Saga teased as young Ragnar trotted into camp on his big black horse and pulled up to a stop in front of her. "I can do that whenever I want." He tossed back at her with a grin as he swung down from the saddle. Saga shook her head as she patted the horse on his huge, blazed face. The war horse leaning into her gentle and familiar touch. "And my suffering is a special occasion?" Ragnar approached her, one hand resting on the steeds neck. "Very special." They stared at eachother for a moment smiling. Finally she broke the silence, "And what is your excuse this time?" "No excuse," Ragnar shook his head, "More ships are coming, I'm riding down the river to meet them." When Saga said nothing he continued, explaining his reasoning further, "Come with me." "Ragnar..." She looked around the farm, "Father will hang me from the rafters if I sneak away." "I'll ask him myself." His face was earnest, his voice sure. A reminder he was no longer the boy she had grown up with. "Really?" Saga seemed unconvinced, but an exciting little glint of hope lit within her. Ragnar merely winked and handed her the reins to his horse as he stepped past her, poking her in the side as he passed. Still standing by the horse Saga occupied herself by undoing a fairy knot in the beasts mane, while she watched. Ragnar and her father speak for a moment. She noticed, for the first time, that her father now had to look up to speak to the younger man face to face. The little glint inside her grew, warming her from the inside out. When her father looked her way she held her breath and stood up straight, goosebumps rising on her arms upon her fathers nod. Young Ragnar was beaming as he approached, "C'mon then." "You'll have to help me saddle a horse." Saga reminded him but the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face caught her off guard. Not near so much as when he took hold of her waist and hoisted her up into the saddle. "Ragnar Ragnarson, what are you doing!?" She hissed at him. Mortified at what her father would do. Ragnar did not share her concern. He only grabbed the reins and a hand full of mane before swinging onto the horses back behind her. "I told you," Her breath caught in her chest as he settled in close against her back and wrapped his arms around her to take the reins, "Taking you to the river to watch the ships come in." She had thought for certain her father would drag him down from his horse as they walked past, but much to her surprise he only hid a small smile and patted the horse on the rump as they walked by. ~~~ Her cheeks hurt from smiling as they ran across an open clearing on the other side of the woods. The horse had a smooth and comfortable gait, Ragnar was a solid presence behind her. His right arm held her tight around the middle and she could feel as much as hear him laughing behind her. At the top of a rise he pulled the horse to a stop. Even though they had stopped his arm still kept her held tight. Ragnars voice was clear, cheerful, if a little breathless from the laughter. "There they are. See them?" He lifted his right hand to point to the string of ships rowing their way up the river but he immediately curled his arm back around her again. "There's more than a dozen." Saga said, not expecting so many. "And more will come. Always more." He spoke so close to her ear it made her shiver and Ragnar chuckled, holding her tighter and pressing his nose into her hair. "Are you cold girl?" His lips brushed against her ear and she shivered again, "Or ticklish?" He dug his fingers into her side and squeezed, causing her to flinch and shy away from him with a gasp. She flinched so much the horse had to shift his weight, but Ragnar did not cease until she was bent over the horses neck, swatting at his hand, yelling for him to stop between fits of uncontrollable laughter. Taking mercy on her he stopped his attack, his own laughter full and loud as he pulled her back up to sit, leaning her against his chest. Laughter still in his voice he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Saga shivered again, but this time rather than teasing Ragnar simply held her tighter and looked back to the ships. His voice low, "I remember when you and your family arrived, with the rest of fathers ships." He paused, smiling to himself when he felt her lean further into him, her hand moving to cover his, lacing their fingers together. He smiled wide and pressed another kiss behind her ear, "I came to this spot every day until I caught sight of the ships." "Don't pretend you were waiting only for me." Finally with her wits returned she snarked back at him. The smile in his voice evident he defended himself, "Believe what you want, but I was happy to see you." Her hand squeezed his as she stared at the ships creeping closer and closer, "You'll have ships of your own soon." " I will." Ragnar agreed. "Would you come to the water and see me off? Kiss me goodbye again?" "Would you come back to me again, if I did?" Her voice was solemn now, and quiet. Ragnar did not hesitate. "If that's what the fates have decided," He paused, took a moment to enjoy the feel of her in his arms, "And I believe it is." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Saga!" Saga turned and saw the boy approaching her. She smiled," Jonas, what are you doing here?" She stood up from the work she was doing and smiled. "My sister said she saw you collecting walnuts the other morning, I know you enjoy them so I brought you these." He held up a small sack, "They've already been dried and soaked." With a smile Saga climbed up the creek bank to approach him, "That's very thoughtful Jonas. Will you sit and have some with me?" He beamed, "I would like that." The two of them sat on a rock overlooking the creek snacking on what nuts they could open. Jonas sat on one side of the boulder with a smaller stone in his hand so that he could smash the hard hulls open. "Will your family be there tonight? The feast to celebrate young Ragnar before he and his men leave for Irland?" Saga asked as she picked the meat of a nut out of the crumbled shell. Jonas paused, a particularly hard shell sitting on the boulder between them, "Yes, we will be there. I will get to see you twice in one day." He gave her a shy smile. Saga laughed, "How unfortunate for you, I hope that does not ruin the fun for you." Wiping her skirt off she stood up and closed the sack of walnuts. "I should be getting home, but thank you again for these. I will see you tonight." Jonas watched after her as she headed down the long trail towards her family s farm. Thinking about seeing her at the feast again that night brought a smile to his face. With two more hard hits of the stone in his hand he was finally able to crack open the last shell. Still smiling, thinking of Saga, he popped the nut in his mouth and headed back towards his families own farm. ~~~ The hall was full to bursting and so loud Saga could barely hear herself think. She was glad she had found a spot close to the fire but behind Earl Ragnar and some of the other men where they were retelling stories of their own younger days. Young Ragnar, whom the celebration was for, was sitting across the fire from her and next to his Grandfather. He was watching her where she sat, trying her best to crack more walnuts open with the blunt handle of a knife with little to no luck. She was about to give up on her treat all together when she happened to glance up and see young Ragnar watching her. He smiled, then leaned in close to hear something Ravn had said to him. Ragnar listened and then looked back to her, smiling to see she was still watching and then he turned to speak into his Grandfathers ear. A moment later the older man was smiling and patting his grandson on the arm and then Ragnar stood up and moved through the crowd to join her on the opposite side. "Still eating? Is the feast not enough for you?" He teased as he came close. Patting the young man next to her roughly on the shoulder, a wordless order to move. As a response Saga kicked out with her foot and caught Ragnar in the shin. Hard enough to make him grimace but also laugh as he plopped down next to her. "It would be a shame for me to have to kill you at your own party." Ragnar laughed more as he got comfortable, "Now why would you do that?" He watched with mirth in his eyes as she attempted to bludgeon open one of the nuts. "For calling me fat!" "I did no such thing." He moved to drape his arm around her shoulders, "What is this you're trying to do?" Not waiting for the answer he took the blade from her hands and stuck it in the wall behind them. "Trying to open these stubborn things." She scowled at him as he took her blade. "Here, let me see." Ragnar reached across her lap to grab a handful from the small sack beside her. With a smile, like he was about to tell her secret, he leaned in close and dropped all but two in her lap. Holding the two in his one hand he closed his fist around them and watched her eyes snap open, as the shells crunched. When he opened his fist the two shells were nothing but crumbles and the walnuts within were revealed. Ragnar watched as she plucked the walnuts from his hand, grinning at how careful she was to avoid touching his hand. Tossing the shells into the fire he reached for two more and again, cracked them open in his one bare hand. This time however he popped the walnuts into his own mouth. "Hey!" She swatted at him, "They're mine!" "I'm the one doing all the work." He ignored the smack to his chest and grabbed two more to crack. Unable to stop smiling, watching Saga reach for her cup of ale, Ragnar held his hand out flat, offered it to her and waited for her to reach for them only to snap his fingers closed and refuse her. "Ragnar Ragnarson, I swear! You could teach a donkey a thing or two about being an ass!" She shoved her shoulder into him hard but he took it in stride, only tightening the arm around her shoulders to tug her closer. "Now that's not nice." He chuckled, pressing his forehead into the side of hers, "Here", he lifted his hand, but pulled it away when she reached for it. Shaking his head his whispered in her ear, "Let me." Her eyes shot open wide and a flush crept to her cheeks, only made worse by his next words. "Open your mouth." Suddenly out of her depths and her heart racing Saga wasn't sure how to respond and so, she did the only thing she could think to do. Do as she was told. So, she opened her mouth the tiniest bit and her heart caught in her throat as Ragnar carefully placed the treat in her mouth. As she began to chew she heard him chuckle but this time it wasn't teasing. Based on the look on his face and the low rumble behind the quiet laughter, Ragnar was pleased. With his left hand toying with her hair he pointed to the sack of goodies with the other, "Grab a couple. You try." "Very funny." Saga brushed some shells to the floor, ignoring him. "I'm serious, there's a trick to it, I'll show you." "Oh there's a trick to it..." Saga rolled her eyes, "I thought you were just that strong." A sharp, quick tug to her hair had her giggling, remembering all the times he had done that as a boy. "Stop teasing, do as I say." He grunted out a huff of air as her elbow connected with his ribs but still he laughed, watching as she placed two walnuts in the palm of her hand. "Now, use one to crack the other." Helping her he placed them a certain way and then told her to squeeze her hand tight. She squeezed and squeezed to no avail. Beside her Ragnar was chuckling, egging her on. "Harder! Harder! Don't weaken!" Finally taking pity on her he wrapped his hand around hers, nearly covering it completely, and helped her. Squeezing carefully but with enough force for the shells to shatter. Saga laughed as they both opened their hands, "Victory!" Ragnar laughed into his cup of ale as he watched her pick out the pieces to eat, "They put up a good fight." He watched, arching his brow as her face changed before him. Then very slowly, as if doubting herself, she raised one up to his mouth, "Open." Ragnar felt a bolt of lighting shoot down his spine and his left hand grabbed a firm hold of her shoulder. Only hesitating a moment he opened his mouth and watched as her fingers came closer, only to stop a breath away and quickly retreat to place the walnut on her own tongue, where it lingered long enough to taunt him before disappearing behind her lips. He laughed out loud, "You little shit." his right hand reaching to grab hers and stop her from stealing the last of them. They struggled for a moment, both tugging and pulling, both becoming breathless with laughter. As he finally won the wrestling match. Saga relinquished and placed the last walnut in his waiting mouth, shivering when his lips brushed over the tips of her fingers. Together they settled down, their breath calming but their eyes on fire and staring at each other. Ragnar pulled her closer, but it was Saga that broke the tension. Her voice soft and uncertain, "It's going to be so long before I see you again..." She let her hand move to hold his forearm for comfort, "What if you don't remember me? What if you forget about me and moments like this?" In an instant his face becomes serious, his eyes soften, "Never." He cups her face gently and holds her gaze, "I'll think of you every night when I close my eyes. I know I will." Slowly, his eyes watched hers closely as he leaned forward, brushing his lips over hers once. Then a second time, both of them more sure, and Ragnars eyes fell closed as Saga relaxed deeper into his arms. His hand still held her cheek, he stroked his thumb over her brow. Saga leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as she breathed in deep, "What if I am married while you are gone?" Ragnar’s jaw clenched, his eyes slid closed for a moment as he copied her deep breath. When he opened his eyes and held her gaze his voice was honest and his hold on her firm, "Then I hope he takes care of you, treats you well until I return and can have you for myself." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Earl Ragnar, as he was now known after the death of his father, sat at the head of the hall with the others. A celebration for the arrival of more men for the Dane army. Ragnar sat and drank and joked with the others but could not quite feel lighthearted enough to really join in. A new group entered the hall and one of them caught his attention. "Excuse me boys." He hefted himself out of his seat and worked his way through the hall to the man he recognized. "Ragnar!" The older man welcomed him with open arms and a strong hug. They embraced each other. "Look at you, a man and a warrior to make your father proud." He patted him on both shoulders, "It is a pleasure to see you Lord. You have my sword, and all my men. We are glad to see you returned. Glad to serve the Earl Ragnar." "And you friend. I am happy to see you as I'm happy to have you with me. As you were with my Father." Ragnar truly was happy to see his fathers man, but almost immediately his mind wandered to Saga. Her father must have noticed something cross Ragnar’s face because he smiled, "Saga will be pleased to see you returned as well. " Ragnar blinked, his back straightened, "Saga, she is here?" Her father smiled, and motioned across the hall. "She is there." She was there. On the far side of the hall among a group of men and women laughing and drinking. He could see well enough to know it was her, but one thing stood out to him clearly. "She wears her hair down." "Her husband was lost, last spring." When Ragnar turned to face the elder man, there must of been something in his eyes that belied his questions, "Go to her Ragnar, she will be glad to see you." Ragnar paused a moment looking from Saga to her father. He embraced him tightly once more and began to wade his way through the crowd. Saga did not see him approach until he was nearly in front of her. Immediately her face fell in shock. "Ragnar?" She looked him up and down, "Gods it is you!" She nearly threw herself at him and he caught her easily and with a smile. Wrapping his arms around her tightly and lifting her two feet off the ground. He held her there, her arms around his neck and their temples pressed together. "I have missed that smile." Ragnar told her. Then squeezing her tighter he whispered to her, "I've missed you." She sighed happily as he set her down, keeping her close. "I've missed you, and your hugs." Ragnar squeezed her tightly once more, grinning as she reached up to hold his face in her hands. "Look at you." She gazed up at him smiling, her thumb smoothing over the new ink adorning his brow. "You approve?" He released her, only to hold her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his smirk tilting up in one corner. Saga laughed, "I do." She continue to smile up at him. Ragnar looked her over, taking in the sight of her for the first time in years. "Come, sit with me." He took her hand in his and pulled her towards the front of the hall towards his seat. Not even waiting for her protest though one did not come. At least until they come close to the lords table, taken over by the leaders of the Danes. She tugged at his hand, pulling him to a stop, "Ragnar, wait." He turned to face her, confused, "What's wrong?" "Are you sure this is..." "Have you mourned your man?" He interrupted her, stepping in close to her. When she nodded he continued, "Have you taken another?" She shook her head. "Do you still think of me as you did when we were younger?" Her slight blush gave him his answer but he waited for her nod. "Then let them see. You are my woman, and I am your man." He looked her over intently, "If that is what you still want." He waited patiently and was pleasantly surprised when she tightened her grip on his hand and this time pulling him along. Ragnar smiled and caught up to her pulling her close, his hands on her waist and spoke in her ear, "There she is." His comment earned him an elbow in the ribs and he laughed. At the table Saga turned to look for a chair but before she could find one she found herself instead pulled down into Ragnars lap. His hold on her strong, his body against hers solid, but she was comfortable and happy. When he would kiss her it was somehow both, like they had not seen each other in years and like they had never parted. Each time he would look up at her, pleased she was there, in his arms where she belonged once again. ~~~ Saga released a deep sigh and felt herself sink further into the bed, the furs and into Ragnar’s warmth. Ragnar was resting back against the headboard of the bed and a stack of pillows, Saga laid against him, her back to his chest and her head on his shoulder. His sword hand lay around her shoulders and against her bare chest. Her fingers fiddling with his. "What are you thinking?" Ragnar asked softly. "For a man with so many muscles you are very soft and comfortable." Saga teased In retaliation Ragnar reached to tweak a nipple between the rough pads of his fingers. When Saga squealed and shied away form his touch he laughed and pulled her tighter against him. "Tell me what you're really thinking." When she turned over to face him her smile was soft and so he softened his grip on her. Stroking his hand up and down her naked back. She enjoyed the feel of it for a moment, her eyes closed. When she opened them again Ragnar was looking upon her with a smile and the fire reflecting in his eyes. Saga smiled and crawled up so they were face to face, "I am glad the Gods brought you back to me." Ragnar pulled her in for a kiss, loving the feel of her naked body against his, "I knew they would." With another content sigh she laid her head on his chest and rested her hand over the ink there. "You know what else I was thinking about?" "Hmm?" His hand settled low on her waist and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "It's silly." "Tell me." "Do you remember? The last night we were together? Before you left for Irland." "I do. You let me sit with you by the fire, hold you, kiss you." His hand began to stroke her side and then out of nowhere he chuckled, "I was cracking open walnuts for you. I was worried you were going to cut a finger off trying to break them open with a knife." He laughed again, and it rumbled in his chest. Saga laughed with him, "You want to know something funny?" "Hmm?" "Do you remember Jonas? The boy that lived down the creek from my family?" "Vaguely. The odd, skinny one?" "Yes," She laughed, almost a giggle. "Those walnuts were a gift from him." She felt Ragnar twist his head to look at her. Then he burst out laughing, loudly. "What?" "That little shit." He laughed again, pulling her closer, "He spent that whole night glaring at me and now I finally know why." While Ragnar was still laughing Saga added, "We sat by the creek for awhile and ate some together. He had to crack them open with a rock." Ragnar laughed even harder, "No wonder it looked like he would've like to kill me." He moved, rolling so she was beneath him, while he continued to chuckle. "I thought of that night often," Ragnar paused to reach for Saga's face, tracing a finger over her full bottom lip, "The look on your face when I told you to open your mouth so I could feed you." His eyes darkened and he groaned as if in appreciation. "You looked so sweet and shy." Saga rolled her eyes, reaching one arm up to wrap around his neck and with the other she stroked her own thumb over his bottom lip. He watched her intently, still a soft smile on his face, even as his eyes darkened, "Now look at you." Ragnar slid his rough, worn hand over her throat and breast, down her flat stomach and between her legs. For a long, silent moment they stared at each other, the only sounds the crack of the fire and the occasional breathy hum from one or the other of them as Ragnar played with the wetness of her cunt. The mess they'd already made together remained and made her entrance even slicker than before. Ragnar could not help the throaty growl of satisfaction as he entered again. Hearing her moan as his thick cock slid home and feeling her tugging him down to her by his beard. "You are so much more than I even could dream," He murmured against her lips, growling again as his praise sent her arching up against him, "When the winds were cold and the ground was hard," He began a steady pace, each stroke making sure to reach as deep within her as he could. "I would take my cock in my hand and think of you." Ragnar thrust harder and Saga moaned, hands scrabbling at his back. "I would think of you, soft and warm beneath me," He paused to catch her eye and grinned, "Smirking up at me just like that." When Ragnar nipped at her bottom lip, and they smiled against eachothers kiss. "Now you have me." She whispered between breathy gasps. "I'm yours Ragnar, you have me." At her words Ragnar could not help but groan and crash his lips down on hers, dropping the whole of his weight onto her as he fucked into the mattress, "And I will not let you go," His voice was becoming strained with the effort, both of them panting as she wrapped her legs around him and he clawed at her thigh, "Never again Saga, I'll never let you go again." ~~~

#The Last Kingdom #ragnar the younger #ragnar ragnarson #Ragnar x ofc #ragnar fanfiction #ragnar the younger x ofc #ragnar the last kingdom

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idykeyoualot · 2 years ago

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Would you like to have a couple dom you? Like the wife loves you as a lesbian but she also will get you turned on and then let her husband come in and breed you!

oh my god that would be perfect!!

warning; nxncxn

she's perfect, sweet and thoughtful and caring. she's everything i've ever needed, my soulmate. we'd have a beautiful house, one that we truly made our own. the walls a painted sky. we'd have giggled and laughed as we threw paint at each other, trading soft kisses and softer looks. i tell her i want to get married. she laughs and presses a kiss to my cheek, twirling me around before leaving the room. i smile.

days pass as we fill our home with our belongings. my childhood stuffed animals sit on the dresser, facing the bed we both go to sleep in every night, wrapped in each other's arms. she comforts me when i wake from my nightmares of a man hovering above me, big, strong hands caressing my thighs. she reassures me that it's normal. i brush off the encounters as nothing more than my nerves.

it's one of these nights that i wake up. there's those hands again. my eyes fly open as i gasp, struggling to turn.

"shush," my girlfriend whispers to me, and i immediately relax. she hugs me tighter to her, my nipple catches on hers and i sigh. she presses a kiss to my cheek. i close my eyes once more, moaning softly and rolling my hips up. those hands clamp down on me again though, leaving me to only whimper. another hand runs gently over my stomach.

it takes me a moment, but then a hand slaps over my mouth as i attempt to scream. "hush, baby."

i attempt to twist and turn, but the hands on my thighs are like steel. she- no someone- someone else parts my folds before licking a strip up. i bite my lip, feel tears welling at the corner of my eyes as i shake my head.

there's her beautiful, wonderful quite giggling followed by a deeper chuckle. my heart clenches in my chest. i feel myself start to hyperventilate as i something warm presses against my opening. i try to shake my head again, squint my eyes open to try and plead with my girlfriend, to understand.

"it's ok sweetie," she coos, "this is just my husband, okay?"

i choke on my next sob. then fully scream as he shoves himself in hard. in some different world i can feel her stroking my hair, her warm soft hand pressed against my lips. as it is, i can't feel past the intense pressure in my stomach, the sharp slaps as his hips meet mine.

"you're gonna give us we want, right hun?" she says, patting my stomach.

i groan and writhe, the slick noises of him entering me again and again ringing in my ears. i get lost in it, so lost i don't even put up a fight. i can feel myself fade in and out of reality, she's behind me now, hands fondling my tits, making rhythmic motions. she says something to her husband about starting my early, but i can't catch the rest of it, too much blood rushing in my ears.

"oh god, oh fuck," it takes me a moment before i realize its coming from my mouth. they're laughing at me again, i can feel it, but it doesn't bother me as much anymore. not when he's hooked my shoulder's over his legs and shes thumbing harshly at my nipples. i swear i can feel a liquid start to bead on them.

then her hand pulls away. she hushes my groan of loss, one that causes more laughter. i feel her hand on my back, pushing it into an arch before there's a heavy groan above me and i feel warmth pulse against my insides, filling me to the brim. he stops, as if holding it in.

oh god. oh no. oh fuck no. "please," i whimper. i'm not on the pill, she knows i'm not on the pill. she smiles at me, the warmth gone and replaced with something sharp and cruel. "okay baby, how about you make mommy cum and then we'll get you some plan b?" she doesn't even wait for my desperate nod before situating herself over my face.

but that's a lie. the next morning all the doors will be locked. they'll watch me constantly, her husband slapping my ass and fucking me whenever he wants. she slaps me and uses me as a glorified sex toy. i'm just their toy, my only use is to pleasure them and make babies for them. i don't cum once, but i do get filled with it again nine months later, and then again after that, and after that, and forever.

#caim writing #so sleepy #im so rusty damn i need to write more #anyways thanks for the ask !!#srry for any mistakes im just a dumb dyke what can i say

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midnightbears · 4 months ago

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reader tending to gyomei's injuries??

✿ let me hold your heart like a flower.

#STARRING: himejima gyomei. ft. fem!reader

#TAGS: sfw!! mention of wounds. established relationship.

#NOTES: this was so bittersweet wow. i genuinely don't know if this was what u had in mind sorry. eng is not my first language!

you are silent as you work, and it internally kills your lumbering pillar of a husband.

he wants you to say something to him, anything, yell at him for all he cares! but another minute of your silence and the tears already sliding down his cheeks might turn into something much deeper, much worse.

gyomei’s immense frame trembles slightly as he sits there, feeling the careful touch of your hands on his wounds. he can sense the sadness radiating from you, more intense than the pain of his injuries. each of your delicate touches is laced with the hurt you are trying so hard to mask. your eyes are focused, your movements precise, but your silence is deafening.

"beloved…" gyomei's voice, usually so calm, grounding, and composed, cracks slightly. he seeks your gaze, gently grabbing your chin, realizing that it is faintly trembling in his hold. "please... i know i’ve caused you pain. forgive me."

you pause for a moment, hands hovering over a particularly deep cut, pondering, pondering. you bite your lip, refusing to let the tears brimming in your eyes fall. your silence isn’t out of anger (he knows this, he knows), but fear—fear of losing him every time he comes back injured, fear of the day he might not return at all.

the implications of your silence suspended in the air like a viscous fog. he reaches out, his large, calloused hand gently covering yours. the contrast between his rough skin and your delicate fingers is stark, yet it is this very difference that embodies the solidity and tenderness of your relationship, it seems. the warmth of his touch seeps into you, a silent plea for forgiveness, a reminder of the love you share, an imploration for that tenderness you give so willingly.

"please," he whispers again, his voice softer this time, if even possible, "my beautiful wife, do not shut me out."

apparently, that's all it takes for your resolve to finally break. tears spill over, and you drop your head, letting them fall freely. without a word, you move closer, resting your forehead against his broad chest while very diligently skipping over his wounds. he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as if trying to shield you from the very world he fights against.

"i’m so afraid," you finally admit, voice trembling. "every time you leave, i’m terrified you won’t come back. what would i do?"

gyomei's gentle heart stings at your confession, the dull ache of his wounds now forgotten as you sob into his chest. gods above, what kind of husband is he? he tilts his head down, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head, keeping his lips on the crown of your hair. "it is such a privilege to matter to you, my dearest one. you, and only you, make my life peaceful."

"I just want you to be safe," you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled but clear in its desperation.

gyomei nods, a soft smile stretching his perfect lips. his hand pats your head affectionately, his other arm winding around your body. "i will do everything in my power to return to you. every time. you are my reason to fight, don't you know?"

you lift your head to meet his gaze, his blank eyes empty but filled with the same vulnerability and love that you feel. "promise me you'll be careful? for us."

tears slide down his cheeks once again, although this time, you know they are fueled by the burgeoning love in his heart. "for us."

#midnightbears #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny #gyomei himejima #himejima gyomei #himejima gyomei x reader #gyomei x reader #gyomei himejima x reader #kny gyomei

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touyasdoll · 3 years ago

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MHA Father’s Day Thirsts

In honor of Father’s Day, here are some spicy drabbles of various “daddy” related scenarios✨

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, daddy kink, breeding, general BDSM, impact play, choking, degradation

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Shouta Aizawa, Dabi/Touya Todoroki x reader

A/n: A little late on this, meant to post it yesterday, but is it ever too late to thirst??

——————————

Katsuki Bakugo

Trying for a baby

“You’re taking my cock like such a good little slut, ya know that?” Katsuki’s long fingers wrapped your throat, squeezing the sides just hard enough to make your pussy throb around him. “Shit, baby, you feel so fucking good.”

His eyes fluttered closed and he slowed his pace to a near halt, leaning down to kiss you as he rolled his hips against yours in a rare moment of tenderness.

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” His eyes searched your momentarily, the pads of his calloused fingers brushing along your jaw.

“I know,” you reassured him, still breathless from his previous assault on your body, basking in the pleasure still coursing through you and the sudden change in the atmosphere. “I love you too, Katsu.”

“I can't wait to knock you up,” he murmured against your skin as he trailed kisses between the valley of your breasts, all the way down to your belly as he cocked his hips back, leaving just the tip inside of you. “You’re gonna look so beautiful, baby.”

"Ahh--fuck, Katsu," you couldn't help but to blush as you arched your back, shifting your hips forward to sink him back into your velvety walls, clenching around him as you whined in need.

"Eager as ever, aren't you?" The smile that pressed against your stomach morphed into a smirk as he kissed you there once more, before snapping his hips down into yours, pounding against your cervix at an angle that had you seeing stars.

Eijiro Kirishima

Telling him to cum inside for the first time

He was seated on the edge of the couch with you bouncing effortlessly on his cock, gripping onto his shoulders for support as you neared your release. His hands guided your hips, pistoning you up and down as you straddled his lap.

"Eiji, I'm so fucking close..!" you threw your head back as you felt the tight coil deep within your belly threaten to snap.

"I got you, baby, let go. Cum all over my fucking cock." His grip tightened on your hips, littering your breasts with kisses as his thumb rubbed tight circles over your clit.

You were thrust over the edge, crying out as your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders. He groaned, still guiding your hips as he thrusted forward to meet them eagerly, muttering praises in your ear as he chased his own high.

“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty right now. Always such a good girl, coming all over my fat fucking cock,” his hand wound into your hair, gently tugging it backwards to kiss you, carefully biting your bottom lip with his sharp teeth as you continued to sputter out moan after moan. “Where do you want me to cum, baby?”

“Inside me,” you locked eyes with him, interlocking your fingers behind his neck as you ground your hips against his more quickly. “I want you to fucking cum inside me, Eiji. Please..”

“Wh-what? Ahh, fuck,” his eyes grew wider before his head lolled back allowing you to kiss and suck at the sensitive spot beside his Adam’s apple. “A-are you sure, baby?”

Your fingers knitted into his hair, pulling just enough to affix his gaze with yours as you neared your second orgasm, desperately bucking your hips atop of his.

“Yes, oh God, yes. I want you to fill my tight little cunt up with your cum. Can you do that for me, Eiji?” The words escaped your lips as a mewl, your voice becoming softer and needier as you neared your release all over again. “Want you to stuff my pussy full, pretty please, Eiji..”

“Oh fuck yes I can,” his hands gripped your ass cheeks, squeezing firmly as he continued to match your relentless pace. “Ahh—oh, shit, baby I’m gonna cum so fucking har—FUCK.”

You could feel his chest tighten, hardening slightly as his quirk activated involuntarily. His eyes were blown as his head snapped upwards, a feral growl erupting from his chest as his rhythm became sloppy. You could feel his warm essence filling you up, spreading so easily all over his impossibly hard cock as you fucked him through his release until you found your own again.

Shouta Aizawa

Trying for a baby

“C’mere, love.” Shouta smiled softly upon seeing you in the doorway of his office, patting his lap as he leaned back in his desk chair. “I’m just about done here, I promise.”

“What all do you have left to do?” You returned his expression and strolled towards him, draping your arms around his neck as you perched yourself on his knee.

“Well, it’s actually something I need your help with,” one arm snaked around your waist, his hand resting on your hip. The other brought a hand up to your face, his index finger tucking just beneath your chin as his thumb rested atop it. “So I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh?” You glanced down shyly, flicking your eyes back to his lips, watching them curl into a smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to yours.

A sigh left your nose as you rested a hand on his chest, leaning into him. He dropped his hand from your face, hooking his fingers behind the crook of your knee as he guided your legs to part, helping you shift your weight to straddle his lap. His lips attached to your neck, drawing a generous moan from you immediately as your eyes settled on the door to the right of you.

“Sho, the door isn’t locked. Someone could see..” your eyes fluttered closed again as his hands roamed over your ass, pressing you down firmly against his growing erection. A low grunt left his lips, before he spoke again, his voice gruff and thick with lust.

“See me fucking my wife?” He stood, his hands effortlessly lifting you onto the desk, where he gently laid you down as he leaned over you, whispering into your ear. “Let ‘em see then. We have important business to tend to tonight.”

Another moan was pulled from your chest as his hands skimmed beneath your short dress, pushing it up above your breasts as he kissed his way down your torso, over your hips, tugging your panties off as he neared your most sensitive area, only stopping when his tongue grazed your entrance.

“You ready, baby?” He placed a gentle kiss to the sensitive, innermost part of your thigh as he locked eyes with you.

Your fingers tangled into his hair as you nodded, your hips shifting in anticipation until he sank his tongue between your folds, causing you to cry out at once from the intense pleasure that he was already providing. His skilled tongue lapped up your juices, occasionally connecting with your clit, dragging it in slow circles as he reveled in the way you looked right now, squirming helplessly beneath him.

“I’m gonna cum right here tonight, baby,” he darted his long tongue straight into your center a few times, licking a stripe up to your clit before he took the bundle of nerves into his mouth. “Are you ready for that? Ready for me to make you a mommy?”

Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Breeding/Daddy kink

“Say it again. You’re not too fucked out to talk yet, are ya, babydoll?” Dabi’s voice had an edge of cruelty to it, that familiar mocking tone that made your walls clench around him without fail. His eyes nearly closed, falling half-lidded as he stared down at your already shaking form, your elbows wobbling as you tried to hold your submissive position in front of him while his cock slid in and out of you, his balls slapping against your already battered clit. “Shit—you really do love being treated like the filthy fucking whore that you aren’t, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” was all that you were able to breathe out. It was more than enough for him.

“Oh good, your mouth still works. I’m glad, because I’m not done with that yet either,” his hands left his brutal hold on your hips, one capturing you around the neck and the other palming your breast as he pulled your back flush against his chest. “But first, I need to empty my balls into this sopping wet cunt of yours. Show you the only fucking thing you’re good for.”

Your eyes rolled back as his fingers expertly rolled your nipple while the pattern of his hips became unpredictable, a sure sign of his impending orgasm.

“S’oh yesss, breed me, daddy, give me all of your fucking cum,” your hand reached back behind his head as you angled your face toward his, speaking as your lips pressed against his.

His eyes locked with yours and you couldn tell he was just as far gone as your were, positively high on how good you both felt. It was truly intoxicating, seeing how desperate he was to have you like this. You always liked letting him do as he pleased, degrading you to filth while he ravaged you, but seeing that unmistakeable look of need on his face as he held your gaze now, you understood for the first time how good it felt to holds the reins.

“Have I been a good girl, daddy? I wanna feel your cum inside my tight little pussy so bad,” you almost whined between the sweet kisses you placed on his lips. “Please, let me milk that big, fat fucking cock of yours. Want you to fuck it deeper while I cum all over.”

He wanted nothing more than to keep his eyes on you, but he couldn’t hold on any longer and the sheer force of his orgasm made him snap his eyes shut as ribbons of white flooded into you. A cry left your lungs as your walls became even more slick with the mixture, allowing his thrusts to hit you more easily, more deeply. He silenced you with a forceful kiss, holding your jaw in place with his large hand, the cool sensation of the staples juxtaposing the heat between you. A few more thrusts was all it took for you to come undone yet again that evening, your body spasming, clinging to him like he was your only anchor to reality.

“That’s it, baby, you’ve been such a good girl for daddy tonight,” his hand still held your face, his eyes boring into yours as he swallowed the moans you offered him. His head was clear while yours still swam, dizzying you in your euphoria. “Wanna see you feel as good as you make me feel, princess.”

The kisses between you turned softer and he continued grinding his hips into yours, letting you ride out your final high, making sure to lean in and press his lips to your ear while you were still out of your right mind.

“Daddy loves you, baby. Don’t you forget it.”

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years ago

Text

Curious Gazes

prompt: [CEO!Harry] four times harry has been spotted by employees being very unlike his demeanor at work.

word count: 4.3 k

warnings: harry is an asshole to everyone but is wife and baby.

**** <-- click for visuals throughout the story. ( because i love showing off how dumb rich harry is - i mean he’s a billionaire ffs)

notes: thanks so much for the love on the first part. I will be writing quite a bit for this trope. the next addition will be all smut. love you, enjoy.

PART ONE

----

RESERVATION RUN-IN

Harry has over a hundred-thousand full-time employees. He has nearly ten-thousand at his London office at all times. The skyscraper was beautiful with clear glass, a reflective grey tone, and the structure screamed modern. It has eighty-three floors.

So with that being said, Harry does not know even one third of the people who work in the building nor does he want to. He couldn’t pick them out of a line-up if he tried.

However, having so many employees in the city means his staff members are bound to catch sight of their boss pretty often outside of the office.

Sarah, Lucielle, Jack, and Anya - all from the customer service department of Styles Media and Marketing Inc. - are all out to dinner. They decided to go all out and dish out a hefty amount to eat at Il Nascondiglio Segreto. It was a reservation they had made nearly a month ago.

As they’re enjoying their appetizer, Lucielle nearly chokes on her oyster, “Holy shit. It’s Harry,” She whispers, nodding her head in the direction she was staring with bulging eyes.

They all can’t help but turn subtly, a perfect vantage point from where they’re sat right across the way from the group of employees. Their boss was dressed in a bit more casual - not by much - attire than he’d worn to the office earlier that Friday afternoon.

He had an open blazer with a white, nearly see-through button up. Their eyes nearly jumping out of their skulls when they spot his butterfly tattoo sitting on right below his sternum. Jack’s hawk eyes catch that he has a name in cursive on his left pec.

Plus his normal tailored suit trousers were replaced with tight skinny jeans that hugged his crotched - making it unmistakable that he was well….endowed. Hair was no longer as styled and curled. Laying more carelessly on his shoulders. ****

But what was the most absurd thing they saw him wearing was a smile. His lips were curled up in a large, white grin that was big enough to cause little wrinkles around his eyes.

His hand intertwined with his wife’s until they arrived at their table, pulling out her chair for her, landing a soft kiss on her cheek before sitting down in his across from her.

He automatically puts an open palm halfway across the table and his date places her’s right on top of it. Her large engagement ring and wedding band sparkling in the low lighting in the restaurant. They were holding hands over the table.

The group had never actually seen the women they deemed Cruella Deville. They had envisioned his wife with bleach blonde hair, fake tits, and fish lips complimented with botox that made it so her forehead didn’t move.

But they were met with a beautiful, natural one instead. She had gorgeous curled locks trailing down her back, light neutral makeup with normal sized lips, small creases where they should be.

Her body was natural as well, breasts pushed up in a bra but obviously not manufactured by the way they sat, a bit of a pouch around her midsection - a telltale sign from her recent pregnancy, and a radiant smile to match her husband’s.

They looked so happy and in love.

She was dressed short, polka-dotted black dress with a pair of simple black shoes. She complimented with with a bright red lip which stood out against the dark fabric. ***

It’s not that they didn’t look like a match - she was absolutely stunning. It just wasn’t who they imagined for the boss they despised ninety percent of the time.

The group can’t keep their eyes off the couple - subtly, of course - for their whole time at the restaurant.

Harry was laughing loudly - different sound than when he laughed without a humor at bumbling, nervous employees.

It was light and higher pitched - but still gravely low; smooth like honey as his wife matches his laughs.

At one point, after their meal arrives - Harry offers her a spoonful of his food, playfully complaining that she took too big of a bite - but then immediately offering her more right after.

When she excused herself to the bathroom, Lucille catches Harry’s sneaky hand reaching out to give her backside a quick grope which earns him a warning glance that has him snickering.

Anya who was in the restroom nearly runs into her, Y/N apologizes instantly, “I’m sorry! Wasn’t watching where I was going! Are you alright?”

Anya nods, a bit at a loss of words, talking to Harry Styles' wife, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“I swear I have two left feet,” Y/N jokes, complimenting her dress before disappearing into a stalls. A completely lovely girl.

It’s pathetic but the group lingers around to watch their boss’s full dinner date. It was creepy but they were just so stunned at the man that was sitting by them.

The couples behavior had turned more flirty by this point, Y/N’s eyelashes fluttering at little bit more at her husband, her giggles flowing more often with licks to her lips.

By the clenched fist on the table, Harry seems to be falling prey to the teasing.

But when his wife whispers something - that must have been filthy - and leans forward so her cleavage is displayed more, Harry’s pulling out his wallet, pulling an absurd amount of bills out and throwing them carelessly on the table.

Y/N’s eyes are twinkling in victory as her husband stands and helps her out of her chair - ever the gentlemen.

It doesn’t seem very gentlemen like though when his hand comes to the very lowest point on the small of her back - pushing her into him. He leans down to murmur something into her ear before landing a damp, way too intimate for public kiss to her jaw and then throat.

In turn, she looks up at him with a mischievous tilt of her lip and a challenging raised brow. You could cut their sexual tension with a knife.

Y/N lifts up on her toes to kiss him before grabbing his hand and guiding him out of the establishment quickly - his eyes glued to her bum the whole time.

Jack breaks the bated silence, with a bewildered chortle, “What the fuck was that?”

Sarah sips her wine, “Maybe he has a twin? Like a good twin? And he’s the evil one.”

They all laugh and finish up their desserts.

---

MOTHER’S DAY SHOPPING

Kasey and Tom - from Human Resources - are out for the day. It was a week before Mother’s Day and they were both scrambling for a gift at the shops.

Harrod’s was nearly empty as they had came in a few minutes after the store opened. Kasey had gotten distracted from her mission and was trying on shoes.

There was a 40% off sale and she wasn’t passing that up.

Tom had wondered off to the electronics department very soon after the first five shoeboxes arrived next to her chair.

“Pink!” Kasey hears a high-pitched baby voice squeal with utter delight. She looks up to see a curly haired toddler pointing at a pair of pink baby shoes.

The little girl had the cutest denim dress on with white stripes ***, white tights on, and white Mary Janes. When Kasey looked closer she realized the Gucci emblem was on the dress - holy shit, she didn’t even know Gucci made baby clothes.

“Daddy, please?” The toddler asks in a sweet, small voice looking to the approaching man who scoops her up in the crook of his elbow.

“Ivy, y’can’t run away from daddy. Do you understand me?”

Kasey’s eyes widen as she recognizes that deep, raspy voice. It was her boss, Harry Styles, and with his little mini who looked like a cherub angel.

“No run, daddy,” Ivy grins up at him, looking for approval.

The slightly stern look dissipates from his face into a softer, relaxed smile at his daughter’s words. He kept her close against his chest.

“Daddy, please?” She piques up again, pointing at the small shoes on the wall.

“Y’want those shoes?” Harry asks, nodding towards the pink sneakers.

Ivy nods before pointing at the other shoes next to it, “All, please?”

Despite her father not having any manners in the slightest, his daughter seemed to have excellent etiquette.

Harry chuckles, smoothing a stray curl down from her forehead, “Y’want a pair of all these shoes?”

Ivy nods with wide doe eyes and one of her dimples popping in her left cheek.

“Y’mother’s going to kill me,” Kasey hears Harry mutter before waving a sales associate over.

“Good to see you, Mr. Styles - I’m Tracey. What can I help you with?”

Of course they knew him by name. He was by the looks of it one of their most appreciated customers, figuring he rarely wears the same thing twice.

“Can I please get a pair of all these shoes in a toddler’s size three? And can you please ring them up for me? Thank you,” Harry asks, his voice taking on the executive and firm tone with the associate who nods and turns on her heel.

“Daddy? Kissy?” The girl asks her father, her little palm patting his cheek and she’s puckering her pink lips.

“Yes baby,” Harry obliges, giving her a peck before blowing a raspberry on her cheek. He tugs down her dress that’s ridden up in true parent fashion.

As they’re waiting, Harry continues to talk to his daughter, “Y’know pet, we came here to shop for mumma for mother’s day. Y’always manage to get something out of it, hmm?”

“Mummy?” Ivy squawks, repeating her father’s word.

“Yes, mummy. I think she’s really going to like the necklace we picked out,” Harry taps at her nose, his eyes just read love and amazement for his little girl.

Kasey was dumbfounded.

This man had literally stormed into their offices yesterday, frustration seeping into his loud tone as he asked the room of employees if it was a lady's brunch club or a place of employment when he hadn’t gotten a report on his desk at a certain time.

They’d all stuttered and apologized but Harry had already slammed the door of his way out - the doorframe shaking. A nasty email being sent to their inboxes mere minutes later.

“Mr. Styles? We are out of two of the pairs,” The saleswoman appears and tells him, tablet now in hand.

Harry’s voice is calm but he looks her dead in the eye, “Do you not know how to ship them to a house? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

She begins to apologize, pulling up a page of her tablet, “Your total comes to £6,309.45 for the shoes.”

Kasey’s eyes nearly pop from her head at the total but Harry merely blinks and states, “Charge it to my Amex on file.”

“Would you like me to add on the items you picked up downstairs? That would bring your total to £ 213,088.79. The necklace *** will be shipped within the next two weeks and will need to be signed for at your doorstep by an authorized person of your choosing, they’ll need to provide identification to certify their identity.”

“I need the necklace by next Sunday- it’s my daughter’s Mother’s Day gift to her mum - hence the pink diamonds,” Harry states to the woman like she’s stupid.

Did that woman just say that amount? And did Harry not even bat an eyelash at it.

Kasey’s brain couldn’t really comprehend it.

“Expedited shipping on this item would be…” Tracey looks down at her tablet and taps a few buttons, “It will be an extra £3,219 for expedited shipping as it’s coming from Swittzerland.”

Harry is distracted for a moment as Ivy is wriggling until Harry puts her down. Kasey didn’t see that he had a plush doll tucked in between his jeans and belt on his back.

“Baby doll,” Ivy pokes at her father’s thigh, too short to reach her toy.

Harry tugs it out and hands it to her, “Stay right here, Vee.”

Ivy unceremoniously plops on the ground next to her father’s leather boot while he confirms the purchases and signs off on them.

It was cute - the plush baby doll she was playing with was ratty, worn, and very visibly loved. It seems as if it’s been her favorite toy for a while.

After finishing up with Tracey, Kasey sees him slip her a few bills for her trouble and lugs Ivy back up onto his hip.

“Shake, daddy?” Ivy lisps hopefully, green eyes sparkling up at her father’s.

Harry lets out a chuckle, “No, baby. It’s only ten in the morning, y’can’t have a milkshake. Let go home, maybe mumma will make us some blueberry pancakes if we give her lots of kisses?”

“Mummy,” Ivy agrees happily, her plush held tightly against her chest.

“She’s going to love your gift, darlin’, even though y’the best gift we’ve ever got,” Harry murmurs lovingly, pressed a warm kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

Tom has wandered back to the shoe department, eyes unfortunately meeting his boss’ right away - widen with surprise.

Harry’s eyes narrow when he finds Tom staring, “Can I help y’mate?”

“Uh-no! Sorry, just, erm, I work for you?” Tom stutters stupidly at his annoyed employer who currently has his toddler trying to pulls his sunglasses off the top of his head.

“Then I’d recommend, if you’d like it to stay that way, you mind your own damn business,” Harry bites out with a warning tone, unnecessarily rude.

Ivy doesn’t seem bothered, delighted when she tugs the shades off his head and attempts to put them on. She begins huffing as she struggles and Harry gently takes them and slides them on for her.

Tom nods, still baffled, and scurries over to Kasey.

They both glance back when their boss isn’t looking. He hears him murmur softly, “Let’s go see mummy.”

“Pancakes?” Ivy chirps, looking at her dad for confirmation.

“Anythin’ for you, my little love,” Harry agrees, starting to walks to the elevator to the entrance of the store.

Tom and Kasey look at each other with unexplainable expressions as they watch their asshole of a boss clearly wrapped around a toddler’s finger.

—-

THE PARK

“Hi! Is anyone sitting here?” Savannah hears from beside her on the park bench.

She looks up to see a beautiful, young woman looking to be around her age looking at her expectantly. She has a backpack on her shoulders and a curly-haired toddler on her hip.

“Nope! You’re good!” Savannah replies kindly, moving over to make room on the bench for her to sit.

“Awesome, thank you. I’m Y/N and this is Ivy. Say ‘hi’,” Y/N prompts her daughter with a nudge.

Ivy puts on a beaming smile, white little blocky teeth on display, “Hi.”

“I’m Savannah and the little brunette boy in the green shirt is mine - his name’s Flynn.”

“Tell her how old you are, baby,” Y/N smiles, always trying to get her daughter to socialize as much as possible.

“Two!” Ivy giggles before impatiently squirming, “Mummy, play.”

Y/N laughs, “Just as impatient as your father. Go on, stay where mumma can see you, please.”

Ivy nods before speeding off towards the little jungle-gym to automatically start playing with the little group of kids.

“I wish I had their energy,” Y/N sighs, tugging a water bottle out of her backpack.

Savannah was obsessed with everything gucci - even though she couldn’t afford anything - so when she spots the flashy bag, she can’t help but ask, “Is that a custom Gucci monogram multipack?”***

Y/N takes a sip before answering, “Yeah, my husband gave it to me as a gift on ‘national stay at home mum day’ - which I don’t even think is a real thing. He just knows I’ll chew him out if he buys me things like this without reason.”

They both laugh, Savannah can’t help but glance over the woman a little bit closer. She had a ratty, vintage tee on, plain black leggings, and a pair of black Nikes on - nothing that screamed over the top.

But then she spots the engagement ring *** on her finger. Savannah thought it looked so extravagant it almost looked fake. But the way the faucets reflect so magnificently in the sunshine makes her sure it’s real.

“What was that?” Savannah snaps back, realizing she hadn’t heard what Y/N was saying - too busy deciding how much money she had which wasn’t right when the girl was being so friendly.

“Oh, just - do you know any mum groups around here? I was in a group but all they liked to do was gossip and bitch. And I think Ivy heard the word ‘cunt’ one too many times from them.”

Savannah barks out a laugh, Y/N turns out to be extremely funny and friendly. She has a bit of a foul mouth and a quick wit but is a good listener.

“And so I said to the dude -“ Y/N cuts off when her phone rings, digging it out and answering, “Hi H, yeah. The one with the big purple slide, okay.”

When she hangs up, she tells her new friend, “My husband is stopping by really quick. He has a business dinner later and won’t see Ivy before her bedtime. Or me before my bedtime,” Y/N laughs.

“That’s so nice of him!” Savannah says, knowing her husband enjoyed when everyone was asleep by the time he came home. Would never go out of his way like Y/N’s husband would.

Y/N says with a smile in her eyes, “Yeah, he’s really good to us.”

They continue to chat until they hear a loud engine revving into the car park, Y/N rolls her eyes and mutters, “Of course, he brings the loudest car today.”

A vintage car swings into a spot and Savannah nearly gasps at who exits the car and begins to stride towards them. No one other than her boss.

The man who had her doing her job by the book and when one hair fell out of place he knew right away.

The man who she avoided at all cost possibly - taking the stairs so she doesn’t have to be in the elevator with his intimidating presence.

It took her a minute to connect the dots. Y/N was married to Harry? Harry was Ivy’s dad? It through her through a loop - Y/N was just - so nice.

But it does explain all the gucci and the massive diamond ring. She did happen to work for a fucking billionare. Y/N didn’t come off as a billionaire or a billionaire’s wife.

‘Holy shit, this is wild,’ Savannah thought.

Harry makes his way over to the bench, Y/N standing up to hug him. Harry kisses her softly with a large palm coming to slip under the back of her shirt to rub at her bare back.

Uh - this man was being loving and affectionate? Proving all Savannah's preconceived notions about him wrong. Mostly that he was a robot.

“Hi darlin’, have a good day?” Harry asks his wife, still holding onto her and tugging her into his side - looking to Ivy who was obliviously - playing on the swing.

“Mmm, don’t want you to go tonight,” Yn/Ngroans dramatically, squeaking when Harry playfully pinches her side.

“Tell me and I won’t go,” He murmurs with surprising sincerity against his wife’s cheek, smiling when Ivy lets out a loud, carefree giggle with her new friends.

“Oh! I’m being rude. This is Savannah, Savannah this is my husband Harry,” Y/N introduces the two, unknowing of their connection.

Savannah swallows harshly and gives him a timid wave, “Hello.”

Harry shows no recognition that he knows her but gives her a curt nod and rasps out a “hello.”

Y/N rolls his eyes at her husband, patting his toned stomach, “He’s always a little crabby after work,” She jokes as he smirks at her - he’s rarely ever crabby with his wife and they both know it.

After work? How about from the time he stepped foot through the lobby doors everyday? He only had one mode at work - crabby.

“It’s ok-“

“Daddy!” A squeal interrupts them, a blur of brunette curls crashing into her father’s legs - full force with excitement.

Harry is bending down and tucking her into his arms for a hug, “Hi baby, y’bein’ so good for mumma?”

His tone had shifted into a low, relaxed drawl that Savannah had never heard. His words are kind and caring towards his daughter.

“Good for mumma,” Ivy parrots her father, dimples popping as she pushes at Harry’s face when he attacks her with kisses.

“You taste so good I could eat yah!” Harry growls playfully, Ivy giggling delightedly at her fathers antics until her cheeks are flushed pink with laughter.

“Swings, daddy,” Ivy motions with green doe eyes. Grass and mud stains the outfit her mother had dressed her in - cute striped overalls with a white tee underneath *** and little sneakers ****.

“Oh dove, I wish I could. I have to go back to work,” Harry frowns, his thumb coming to caress her sweaty cheekbone.

Her brows furrowed and her full pink lips turned down - Savannah has to contain a laugh by how much she looks like her father with the displeased grimace on her face.

“No, no, Daddy,” Ivy argues adamantly, her eyes brimming with sad tears.

“Vee, c’mon, my love. I’ll be home later,” Harry soothes, starting to rock her from side to side to calm her.

But Ivy is in her terrible twos and doesn’t like the word ‘no.’

Y/N comes up to her husband’s side, tucking a hand into his back pocket to rest.

“Ivy Elizabeth, we need to let your father go. Come to mummy now, please,” Her mother asks in a soft but firm tone.

“No!” Ivy absolutely shrieks with a awfully high pitch, “No mummy, daddy swings!”

The couple shares a look before Y/N is gathering her backpack on her shoulder, looking back to Savannah, “Hey! Text me, it’s about nap time for this one.”

Savannah agrees and gives them both a wave off as Harry totes his tantruming toddler to a sleek, teal SUV. It takes her a moment to scoff internally - off course it’s a Bentley ***.

And because Savannah can’t help but be nosey she googles the price of the car and quickly locks her screen when she sees the base price is £ 210,000.

Harry is planting little pecks on his daughter’s face and murmuring to her until her tears have dried up and she’s laughing at her dad once again.

After Harry straps her into the car seat and shuts the door, he gently pushes his wife back against it. His body is crowding hers, arm over her shoulder against the car.

The talk for a moment before Harry’s ducking down to pull a few kisses from her lips before she’s giggling and pushing him off.

Savannah couldn’t wait to tell the old women at in her customer relations department tomorrow.

—

THE GAME

Cassie didn’t mind Harry actually. She made his coffee nearly every morning and she secretly knew he was the one who left those hefty tips.

She’d fumbled over his orders a few times when she’d started and apologized profusely but Harry had just looked up from his phone and said, “S’fine.”

Yeah, that’s not much but compared to some of the horror stories she hears, but she was grateful for another reason.

—-

One day he had found her crying in a empty corridor that he used to walk to his car at the end of his day.

“Y’alright?” Her boss asks gruffly, pausing to look down at her - no clear emotion on his face.

Cassie nods sheepishly, “M’sorry, I’m just really stressed out.”

Harry’s eyes flash a tad darker, “Is Carole giving you trouble?”

Carole was her manager.

“N-no. I got declined for my school financial aid. If I don’t come up with the money I’ll have to drop out. I-I have a son and I do-don’t have the money to go without help.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, rustling into the inner pocket of his suit and fishing out something - a checkbook.

He clicks the pen and moves his hand quickly across the pad before ripping it out and handing it to her, “Good luck and use the extra on your family. Don’t go spreading it around that I did this.”

Cassie goes to thank him or refuse it but when she looks back up from the check he’s already striding away down the hallway away from her.

She lets out a loud sob as she sees a check written for £150,000 right in front of her.

—

Cassie still works at the Starbucks part-time while attending college with the help of her secretly kind boss.

The extra money she’s stowed away in an education fund for her son after he graduates.

Anyways, she was at Man U football game that she got invited to with her boyfriend - Jacob. His dad won tickets for box seats from his work in a raffle.

Cassie soon realized that their box was right by the Styles Media and Marketing one. The way they were placed, she could see right into their area.

It was just Harry and a woman in there.

They were obviously a couple and this was the Cruella Deville. Cassie didn’t refer to her as that as she had a bit of a different perspective of the man.

His wife was sipping on a water bottle and cheering loudly with the rest of the fans. Harry watched her with amusement at her excited behavior, at one point pulling his photo out and snapping a picture of her.

When the exciting bit is over, she seats herself on his lap and wriggles until her back is against his chest - comfortable and cozy.

His large palm comes to cup at her stomach, Cassie now seeing that she is clearly pregnant as he cradles the noticeable bump protectively.

For most of the game, his hand never leaves her belly - rubbing circles with his thumb. His head came to rest on her shoulder to watch the game.

They seem so happy together - giggling and talking animatedly throughout. His wife constantly tilting her head back with her lips puckered requesting kisses that Harry happily supplies each time.

At one point, Cassie witnesses Y/N eat two huge corndogs in a row while her husband watches her with humor in his eye. Then goes on to order her a massive spool of candy floss that he feeds her throughout the game.

It was a late game and it was now in overtime. The clock reads nearly eleven at night. Harry’s wife has dozed off against his shoulder and when he notices he gently rouses her.

As she blinks her eyes open, Harry shucks his jacket of his shoulder and helped her slip it on. They must decide to call it a night because he’s helping her up, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and guiding her out of the box.

Cassie never tells anyone that she saw him that night or what he did to help her family.

The End.

Hope you bubbbies enjoyed. Send me requests for this verse. Smut is up next for this trope.

2K notes · View notes

middleearthpixie · 2 years ago

Text

After the Fire ~ Chapter Three

Title: After the Fire -

Fandom: The Hobbit - Post BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield.

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done.

Thorin comes to in the infirmary…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Óin, Narnerra, Thorin,

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,050

Khuzdul Translation:

Mahal - The Creator of all things

Kakhf - Shit

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

“Thorin?”

The voice sounded so very far away, as if the speaker had found their way into the bottom of a well. Or perhaps it was just the roar of his blood in his ears that made hearing more difficult. Then again, it might also be the slow, steady creeping pain that began at his feet and crawled its way up his body, growing hotter and fiercer by the second. He didn’t know. All Thorin knew was he couldn't force any words past his stubborn lips.

“Thorin?”

He knew the voice. Knew it and knew it well.

“Óin? What happened?”

“Shhh… don’t try to speak just yet, laddie. Give the sedatives time to wear off.”

“Sedatives? What happened? Where is Fíli? Kíli?”

“Yer not making any sense, laddie. Rest now. Yer out of danger at the moment. Out of danger and in good hands. Now, ye need to let us work. Be still.”

“Danger?”

“What?”

Thorin let out an irritated growl. At least, he hoped it sounded irritated. “Danger?”

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. “I know that made sense to ye. Or, at least, I assume it did. But to those of us outside yer head, it’s not much more than gibberish. And gettin’ yerself all worked up helps no one, either. Stay calm, laddie. Let us work.”

Thorin sighed. He tried to open his eyes but simply didn't have the strength, so he gave up and just relaxed. It seemed no time at all had passed before Óin patted his shoulder again and said, “Are you thirsty?”

Wait… that wasn’t Óin’s voice at all. Glóin’s wife, Narnerra, perhaps? She often worked alongside Óin. But no, he didn't remember her voice being so soft, and gentle. Her voice was almost as deep as her husband’s, if memory served.

So, who was this strange girl?

“Who…” His head ached now as badly as the rest of his body. His lips were dry and chapped, his throat was dry. He swallowed hard and couldn’t hold back his soft moan as the pain swelled. “Who are you?”

“Easy.” A hand moved lightly over his hair. “I can give you some wine if you’re thirsty. But, don’t try to speak. Nod.”

It took every bit of strength he had to move his head a fraction of an inch, but it must have been enough, for the hand on his hair skimmed lightly along the top of his head, and then vanished. Moments later, the bed shifted slightly to raise his head. Unfortunately, as it did, a hot, agonizing sting slid down from his chest toward his hips and he couldn’t hold back his cry of pain.

Mercifully, it subsided. Slowly, but it did so.

“I—I am so sorry about that,” the soft voice comforted him, the hand on his hair once more, “b-but if you lay fl-flat, you would have drowned. Here.”

The cool rim of a goblet pressed to his lower lip and the voice whispered, “Small sips.”

Small sips. As if he could do any large sips. Pain still radiated through him, but little by little it dulled until he no longer thought it would drive him mad.

“There.” The goblet fell away. “You should sleep now, Your Highness. You’ve h-had a very l-l-long day.”

All he could do was nod. Then, he slept.

Jasna sat back, the goblet resting on her thigh now. Óin looked up from where he’d bent over Fíli on the far side of the infirmary that had been quickly scoured and restored for those wounded in the battle of the Five Armies. The Durins were in the farthest corner, near the newly repaired windows that overlooked an overgrown and somewhat dilapidated courtyard. To her surprise, they were not kept away from the others, not brought to private rooms or treated any differently than the other wounded, aside from of course being far more urgent than most of the others.

“How does he fare, Miss Jasna?”

“He—he had some wi-wi-wine.” She curled her free hand into a ball, her fingernails digging into her palm. Every time she thought she had her stammer under control, her tongue and voice would betray her time and again. Thankfully, Óin seemed to have infinite patience, which helped since her bloody stutter only grew even worse when she was nervous. And caring for Erebor’s Royal family made her beyond nervous. It was rumored the king’s sister, the Lady Dís, was set to arrive any day and Jasna was terrified of meeting her. If she was lucky, she’d be able to utter her own name without trouble, but probably not much else.

“Has he tried to speak again?”

She nodded. “Aye, but I c-cannot understand h-h-h-him j-j-just yet.”

“His speech should clear in time.” Óin moved away, toward the opposite side of the room. “But sit with him for now.”

She nodded and turned her attention back to Thorin. The battle had taken place only that morning, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed since the King Under the Mountain and his nephews were brought into the infirmary. All three had been tended to, had their wounds assessed and treated. She come back inside in time to join Óin as he repaired Kili’s wounds, then while he set to work on Fíli, she’d been told to assist Narnerra in repairing Thorin’s wounds. It was far more hands-on than anything in Esgaroth had been, and it was odd now to sit and gaze down at the king, knowing her hands had been inside his body. It was a feeling she could never explain, not in a thousand years, but one that gave her the sense that she’d chosen wisely in following her dream of becoming a physician, which was something she’d wanted since she was a child. But now, after all was said and done and Thorin rested once more, she realized she wasn’t at all certain what she should do next.

“Óin,” she called, as he was several cots away, sewing what had to be the hundredth laceration on the hundredth dwarf of the day.

He looked up, dark smudges shadowing beneath his eyes, apparent even in the low light of the flickering torches high up on the stone walls. “Aye, lassie?”

“Wh-what should I do now?”

“With Thorin? Wash him. Make certain he is comfortable. Then move to the others and do the same.”

Her belly kinked sharply. “W-w-w-wash him?”

“Aye. His face, his neck, his torso. Make him as comfortable as you can, given the circumstances. They should all simply sleep through it, but take care just the same not to jostle anyone too badly.”

She glanced down at the dwarf now lying still. His breathing was still uneven, and although he’d been given something for pain, she couldn’t imagine it helped much, given the severity of his injuries.

Still, it was something to do, and so she moved to the front of the infirmary, where sinks and basins were kept, along with a stack of clean, folded cloths. She filled a basin with fresh water, took three cloths, and came back over to Thorin.

She set the bowl on the table alongside his bed, then dunked the cloth into the water and wrung it out. Taking care not to jostle him or soak the bandage on his forehead, the one covering the roughly sixteen sutures that had been needed to close the jagged slash, she gently swiped at the dried blood caked on the right side of his forehead, down over that cheekbone, into the dark beard shot through with silver. He didn't move, made no sound, and more than once, she looked to make certain his chest still rose and fell, which it did.

The water in the bowl slowly went from clear to a rusty pink as she moved down along his jaw, and then skirted his bed to wash the other side of his face as well. The left side wasn’t quite as caked, but it still took a second trip to the sink to rinse and refill the basin. Head wounds bled harder than just about any other wound on the body, and by the time she’d finished washing his face, she needed to rinse and refill again.

She wiped down along his neck, where his beard was more prickly scruff than anything else. Grime. Sweat. Blood. Debris. It turned the water brackish and filthy, requiring another trip to the sinks. But as she cleaned away the souvenirs of his battle, she realized this dwarf was really quite handsome. Very battered at the moment, but handsome nonetheless.

Shame on you. He is a patient and you ogle him as if he were… not one. Some healer you are.

She bit back a sigh. She should not be looking at him the way she just did. Óin would be furious, and rightly so. And besides, she knew better.

With that, she shoved those thoughts from her mind and moved down along the slope of his neck into his shoulders. Down his arm to his hand, back up.

Out across his chest.

He stiffened then, a low, guttural moan rising to his lips to catch her by surprise. She started, jerking upright as if he’d caught her doing something unspeakable, but then she realized his eyes remained closed, even as his moans grew louder, more plaintive.

“Fíli…” Thorin’s jaw clenched, his body stiffening even as he shook his head. “Mahal, no… this can… it cannot be! Please no…”

He lapsed into words she didn't understand, each one more anguished than the last until she lay a hand on his shoulder, murmuring, “Your Majesty?”

“Azog… I must find—I will find that filth… And Kíli… oh Mahal, no…”

She gave him a gentle shake. “Your Majesty, please, wake up!”

His eyes snapped open and he sucked in a sharp breath, then grimaced and let out a low moan. “Where is he? Where is Fíli? I must find him.”

He made to sit up, only to let out a cry and fall back against his pillow. Jasna tossed the cloth in the basin and pressed gently against his shoulder to keep him from trying to rise again. “Shhh… Your Majesty, it’s all r-r-right now. You are s-s-safe. K-k-k-kíli is safe. Fíli is safe. I pr-pr-promise y-you, they are.”

As she murmured this, she smoothed her hand over his hair, which was damp at his temples, and streaked silver throughout. With her free hand, she carefully peeled back the bandages to make certain he didn't tear his sutures. Thankfully, he hadn’t as far as she could tell, so she just as gently laid the bandages flat against him.

Óin must’ve heard him, for he looked up and softly called, “Do ye need my help, lassie?”

“N-n-n-no,” she whispered back, shaking her head. “He will b-be fine. I think.”

Thorin quieted then, still staring up at the ceiling as if trying to figure out where he was. She lifted her hand from his hair and whispered, “Your Majesty?”

“What?”

“J-just checking if y-you were awake.”

“I’ve no desire to sleep any longer,” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want to see Fíli. To see Kíli. I have to know they are all right.”

“They are here,” she told him, moving back to the basin to wring out the cloth. “And you will see th-them soon enough. I pr-promise.”

“Do you speak the truth?”

“I do, yes.” She gently ran the cloth along his left shoulder now, over his chest. Very carefully, she washed around the bandages on his chest and stomach, then wrung out the cloth again. “I pr-promise y-you. I will n-n-not lie to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He fell quiet for a moment, just staring up at the vaulted stone ceiling. Then, after a few minutes, he whispered, “What happened?”

“I b-b-beg your p-p-p-pardon?”

“I remember staring down Azog. The filth had run Fíli through,” Thorin continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “He ran him through and… and just threw him… from the tower. I hunted down the filth… and I—I dispatched him permanently, but not before he killed—how am I here? I should be… I—”

She let the cloth go still on him, watching the pain creep across his face, but she didn't think it had anything to do with physical pain this time. Hints of anguish, followed by confusion, wove into his voice, which broke here and cracked there, and yet she said nothing, but just waited for him to go on.

He slowly licked his lips, then turned toward her. “You are not lying—about Fíli, I mean.”

“I was not, nor would I.” With the damp cloth, she gestured to Fíli’s sleeping form. “He is over th-there. V-v-very m-much alive.”

“Thank Mahal. And thank you.”

“Me? I d-d-did nothing… I—” was outside throwing up when Óin was working on him.

Of course, she couldn’t very well say that, so instead, she said, “I helped N-Narnerra w-w-with Kíli. Óin took c-c-c-care of Fíli.”

“Still, you were here and I thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Thorin went still once more, then whispered, “I should be dead. Why am I not?”

“Someone th-th-though to p-p-p-pack your w-w-wounds.”

“Bilbo.”

“I b-b-b-beg your p-p-pardon?”

“Nothing. Just thinking out loud.” He managed a weak smile, then let his eyes close and settled back down. She waited a few minutes to see if he wished talk any more, but he remained quiet, so she resumed bathing him.

“How serious is it?”

“Y-y-your wounds?”

“Yes.”

“Y-you will recover in time. You must b-b-b-be patient, but it w-w-w-will h-h-happen.”

“And Fíli and Kíli?”

She hesitated. “Kíli should,” she said slowly, trying hard to prevent her stammer. “Fíli’s injuries are far more ex-ex-ex—”

“Extensive,” he finished softly, meeting her gaze.

“It’s difficult to say where he is concerned.”

Thorin’s eyes closed slowly and she didn't miss the wince that swept across his face. The urge to reassure him swept through her, but at the same time, she couldn’t answer because she honestly did not know. Not even Óin knew yet.

For a moment, it seemed he was about to press her further, but then he just exhaled softly and whispered, “Kakhf.”

She didn't understand the word, but had the feeling it was an oath of some sorts. “Óin w-will know more in the c-c-coming d-d-days.”

“I know.”

“All y-you can d-d-do is hope for the b-b-best.”

He remained quiet. A few more minutes passed, and as she moved down below the wound on his stomach, he stiffened, his fingers twisting in the sheets. Setting the cloth in the basin, Jasna laid a hand over his. “Do y-y-y-you n-need something f-f-for pain?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see wh-what I can do.”

She moved away, crossing over to Óin. “His Majesty is in pain again. Might I give him something?”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Very well.” She turned to go back to Thorin’s bedside. “Óin will b-b-be over in a mi-mi-minute.”

A low hiss leaked through his teeth, his forehead beading with sweat. Still, he nodded as he whispered, “I thank you.”

“Th-th-there is no n-n-n-need to thank m-m-m-me.” She picked up the basin and moved to his right side. “I only w-w-wish I c-c-could do m-m-more.”

“Don’t let the lass fool ye,” Óin chimed in as he joined her at Thorin’s bedside. “She helped Narnerra and it most likely saved Kíli’s life.”

“That so?” Thorin growled, his voice low and thin.

“Aye. Small hands and strong stomach.”

“Oh, I d-d-don’t know about th-th-that.”

“I do know.” Óin shook his head as he mixed up the elixir for Thorin’s pain, then turned back to him. “So, ye can rest east, Thorin. Ye and those boys are in good hands.”

Thorin nodded, but said nothing. Óin spooned the pain liquid into his mouth and a few minutes later, the King Under the Mountain was asleep once more.

“T-t-t-thank you.”

“Why are ye thanking me? They are in good hands, lassie. Ye’ll see soon enough. Ye were a bit queasy, but ye came back and soldiered on. Ye should proud of yerself.”

A smile came to her lips and a pleasant heat crept into her face. “Again, I thank y-y-you.”

“Ye need a bit more confidence in yerself, lassie, and ye’ll see.”

“I certainly h-h-hope so.” Jasna glanced down at Thorin, then looked over at Óin once more. “Should I l-l-leave him b-b-be?”

“No. Finish bathing him. Then move to Fíli and Kíli. When ye’ve finished, go and get some rest. It’s been the longest of days and ye look wiped out.”

“I am.” She dipped the cloth into the basin, wrung it out, and went to work finishing Thorin’s bath. He slept more peacefully now, and she could only hope his nightmares left him alone for the rest of the night.

When she finished with Thorin, she moved to Kíli, who also slept through his bath, as did Fíli, much to her relief. She didn't want to wake any of them if she could avoid it. They needed the rest. The infirmary was finally quiet and as she went about checking on the others, she couldn’t help but hope it would remain that way. By the time she returned to her own chamber, her eyes burned and her body practically ached from fatigue. Still, as she flopped facedown across her bed and let her singing eyes close, she smiled. She’d made it through her first day.

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

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brewedlove · 3 years ago

Note

I don’t know but I thought this request would be really adorable:3

It’s a thorfinn x fem black reader in a modernish? Au where they are very much like mortica and Gomez Adams from the Adams family with askeladd,Bjorn, and thorkell being the uncles ragnar and Canute being the uncles/grandpa and of course thorfinns and y/n’s family is included in the bunch as grandparents as aunts/uncles and grandparents. And they are ready to have their 6th child being twins two little boys and thorfinn is trying to hold back tears but can’t help be so grateful for his family and friends he has and y/n of course being the loving wife she is takes pictures and makes sure to put it in the family photo book and tells them she wants to have more kids while they all sweatdrop at how she wants more kids after just having twins:3

Vinland Saga (The Addams Family edition)

Series/Fandom: Vinland Saga

Character (x Reader): Thorfinn

Relationship to Reader: Romantic/Married, Familial with the others

Reader Specifications: None

Word Count: 895

Warnings: None

Requested: Yes

A/N: I actually had no clue on what the Addams family was about until I did some research for this request and watched one episode of the original run. It's so cute and I love it. I really have to thank you for sending this request, otherwise I wouldn't have known how adorable the franchise/series is. This was so much fun to write so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. I based it off of Thorfinn once he's grown up in the manga and the The Addams Family show in 1964. Their speech is more traditional to try and fit that sort of Victorian feel but I hope that's alright. The Reader's gender, ethnicity, race, etc.. honestly was not specified the entire time I was writing this so I think everyone should be free to read.

Carefully holding a weighted camera in one hand, Thorfinn fogged up the lens with his hot breath and cleaned it with a rag.

Eyeing the dark lens, he searched for any signs of scratches and smiled to himself upon discovering none.

Behind him sat Uncle Thorkell and Grandpa Ragnar on the couch, one twin boy in each of their laps.

A string of surprised yelps were pulled from Ragnar as the infant in his lap tugged at his beard, laughing at his reactions.

“Now not too harshly, lad. I would like to keep the hair on my face, thank you,” he tried to explain but was only cut off with another sharp howl of pain at a particularly strong yank.

Across the room laughed Uncle Bjorn and Askeladd while they secured a clean fabric over an empty wall as the backdrop for the photoshoot.

The latter briefly glanced over towards the couch, wearing a playful smile, “It seems like we’ve discovered which one has Thorfinn’s strength.”

“Thorfinn,” Bjorn called, catching the attention of the younger man as he turned to face them, “How does this look?”

Smiling, Thorfinn nodded, “Yes! That looks wonderful! Y/N will surely be pleased.”

Turning his head towards the stairs, he called out to you, “Darling? Are you almost ready?”

“Be right down in a minute,” you replied while you straightened out your son’s button down shirt and spoke in a softer tone, “There. You look amazing. Go down and show your father, hm?”

He beamed up at you, nodding enthusiastically before he disappeared down the steps.

A small hand gently tugged on your hand causing you to turn to face your young daughter, an excited smile adorning her face.

“How do I look?” spinning around, she showed off her outfit to you as you clapped, a grin breaking out on your face.

“You look absolutely perfect, sweetheart,” you complimented, patting her head once she stopped to hug your waist.

Running towards you from down the hall were your last two children with Uncle Canute trailing behind him.

“I hope these clothes are alright. They insisted on wearing them since they’re your favorite, Y/N,” he explained, his eyes focusing down on them as they formed a small group hug around you.

Your hand made their way to their faces, eyeing their appearance and nodding in approval, “Of course. They all look perfect, thank you.”

“Darling?” your husband called out to you once more from downstairs while you ushered your kids to go.

Looking over at Canute, you smiled, “Ready?” In response, he mimicked your expression and nodded before you descended the steps together to meet with the sight of Thorfinn taking a photo of Askeladd and Bjorn.

A flash of light flickered from the camera then Thorfinn stood straight back up, ignoring the groans of the pair in front of him.

“Has the flash always been so bright?” Askeladd grumbled, asking no one in particular while rubbing his eyes as your children gathered around your husband, wanting to look at the pretty camera.

Thorfinn laughed and held it up higher so they couldn’t reach, “Careful now, children. Don’t want to break the camera before we’ve taken the good pictures.”

Together, Bjorn and Askeladd made sounds of protest, offended by the younger man’s comment who only laughed it off.

From his spot on the couch, Thorkell hollered with laughter as you made your way over to take your twin from his lap.

Looking down, you cooed at him causing him to smile and take his mittened hand into his mouth.

Noticing his absence, his brother looked around, tears slowly forming in his eyes.

A panicked call of your name turned your attention towards Ragnar who has his eyes widening at your other son.

Swiftly, you picked him up so both of them were in your arms before walking to Thorfinn and smiling, “Ready, darling?”

Beaming at you, he nodded, “Ready as I’ll ever be. Bjorn, could you help Y/N with the kids?”

The brunette extended his arms out to help take the boys from you and brought them over to the backdrop against the wall.

Your husband carefully handed the camera over to you, chuckling and patting the heads of the rest of the children around him then helped Bjorn with the twins.

Uncle Ragnar and Thorkell stood from the couch, gesturing their nieces and nephews to step away from you as you got into position to take the photos of your newborns once they were in position.

Askeladd came to stand next to you, making funny faces at your infant sons, causing them to giggle, smiling perfectly for the camera.

Moments later, you were satisfied with your work and looked at your boys, dreamily sighing, “I want another one.”

In a split second, all eyes were on you before Thorkell broke out in boisterous laughter.

Askeladd stepped aside, allowing room for the rest of your children to huddle around you, excited responses adding onto the noise made by their loud uncle.

They bickered amongst each other on what they wanted their next sibling to be while Thorfinn ran a hand down his face, looking between your little group and the duo against the backdrop.

“You know what?” he began, making everyone stop to turn their attention towards him while a smile broke out on his face, “Why not?”

#thorfinn #thorfinn x reader #vinland saga #vinland saga x reader #requests

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tranquil-turbulence · 2 years ago

Text

SasuSaku Month ‘22 Day 8

Day 7 | Day 9

Day 8 Prompt: Treat

Modern AU

"Okay then, here you go. Small sips, okay?"

"Thank you, Doctor Haruno ma’am!"

Sasuke's ears perked up as he heard his daughter's happy voice, and as he walked back into the room his eyes widened slightly as he saw an unfamiliar pink-haired woman in a knee-length white coat hold out to her what he swore was the largest plastic cup he'd ever seen and a straw poking out the top of the lid.

"What is that?" He questioned, pointing at the drink.

Sarada's sweet little face beamed up at him, and she proudly grinned as she stated, "Strawberry milkshake!"

"You can't have that, you remember, right?" His voice turned stern as he took several steps towards the bed. Almost immediately her shoulders drooped and she looked sadly at the cup. "You're--"

"Lactose intolerant, I'm aware," the doctor's cool voice interrupted him, and as he looked up at her, her own face was set in a disapproving frown. "I read her charts several times, sir. I made sure it was made without dairy."

"Doctor Haruno says that I can have some because I've been a good girl," Sarada chimed in, looking up at the woman as if she was a superhero in the flesh. "Right?"

"Of course, sweetheart." Her face immediately softened and she reached out to pet his daughter's straight black hair. "You've been a very good girl, letting my staff run more tests on you."

Sasuke watched the interaction, his heart painfully squeezing in his chest as he noted how tenderly the woman treated the little girl. Sarada's fragile frame was puffed up in pride as she patted her head, adjusting her glasses and helping her hold the cold cup.

Had it only been two years since his wife had died, leaving him with his then three-year-old daughter? It still didn't seem real; every day he went back home, expecting to see her standing at the door with a bright smile and a hug.

Sarada had seemed to bounce back from the loss well enough - though he knew he shouldn't expect a child that young to feel such a loss as keenly as he had. Even now, as she grew sicker, she seemed her usual cheerful self.

She certainly didn't get that from me, he noted as she slurped the drink with delight in her eyes.

The doctor flipped through the clipboard she held, scanning the pages before looking back up at him with a faint smile. "I apologize for my rudeness. I'm Doctor Haruno, overseeing your daughter's treatment."

"Ah." He nodded slowly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'm Sasuke. Her father."

"Uchiha Sasuke, pleasure to meet you." Her voice was warm, much more so than it had been only a minute ago. As she stuck out a hand, he was struck with how calloused and rough it looked.

He stared at it for a second before taking out his left hand and grasping it in his bigger hand. Her skin felt as rough as it looked - and he mentally winced at the feeling.

What, does she not moisturize? He thought snidely for a fleeting moment. But as he observed her more, he tucked that thought away as he noticed the bags under her eyes and the pale, almost sickly quality to her skin.

"I trust my daughter isn't too ill?" He said instead, choosing instead to try and not think about the pretty woman standing before him, just barely level to his chin.

The polite smile wavered for a moment, but she reinforced it as she shook her head, going back through the papers on the clipboard. "Not that we know of so far. We seem to be observing a bit of a disturbance around her occipital lobe; we'll need to do some more scans to figure out just what it is."

"What do you think it is?" He challenged quietly, dark eyes flickering between the little girl and the doctor.

Doctor Haruno paused, eyes widening a fraction in what seemed like surprise. It almost seemed like nobody had asked her that question before.

Her vivid green eyes looked back down at the paper for a moment, before she straightened and turned to Sarada, giving her a sweet smile.

"Sweetie, your dad and I are going to talk by the door." Her voice grew softer, more gentle as she spoke to the little girl. "We aren't going anywhere, okay?"

"Okay!" Her impossibly-bright face made the woman chuckle, fondly patting her head again.

With her shoulder she motioned to head away from the bed, and Sasuke gave her one last smile before following Doctor Haruno until the privacy curtain shielded them from the girl's view.

The pinkette's smile dropped almost immediately and her eyes shone with a seriousness that made the man's pulse stutter.

"You want to know what I think?" She asked rhetorically. "Well... based on the symptoms described upon admission - visual disturbances, irritability, headache, nausea, gradual loss of sight," she paused and grimaced, "seizures - I believe we may be dealing with a tumor.”

The news struck the father like a stone. His heart seemed to freeze in his chest as he fought the urge to peek around the curtain back at Sarada - and only the doctor's hand on his shoulder kept him rooted to the spot.

"We deal with brain tumors in children more than you'd expect, Mr. Uchiha," she explained with a sympathetic quirk of her lips. "My staff is the best trained in the country to deal with this. I believe-- no, I know your little girl with be walking out of this hospital tumor-free."

Her hand was warm, though all he felt was cold. "How could this have happened?" He asked before he could register the words tumbling from his lips. "I thought... we were... she's healthy. Sarada is healthy."

"You don't have to be diseased or already injured to figure out you've got a tumor on your brain," the woman answered quietly, tapping her temple. "You did nothing wrong. Sarada is just as healthy as she was before she began manifesting symptoms."

"Healthy with a brain tumor," he spat, and the words felt like acid on his tongue.

"Mr. Uchiha," she started, and the stern look on her face made his heart squeeze again. "What Sarada needs right now is for her father to be strong. She's just five; she has no idea about what this means nor what's happening to her as a result. For all she knows, she's very hurt, she doesn’t understand why or how, and her father is scared of something he knows that she doesn’t. That’s terrifying for someone so young."

He tried to speak. His lips felt glued shut as he stared into her face.

"I've had plenty of children with brain tumors - hell, I had one little girl with brain cancer that ended up dying as a result of it. Nothing we could do could save her; she was too far gone by the time we were able to begin treatment." Angry tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and she didn't even skip a beat as she wiped them with her sleeve and poked him in the chest. "If you can't even show her that she's gonna be okay, you're only going to make it worse in the long run. You can be upset - I've had parents who have had full breakdowns when I gave them the diagnosis. But don't let it consume you. Don't let her see you break."

She poked him again for good measure, and after a moment her eyes softened and she patted the spot.

Sasuke could only close his eyes, head tilting downwards.

"I really am sorry for what she has to go through, Mr. Uchiha," Doctor Haruno murmured. "There's a much higher chance for the mass to be benign rather than malignant. Luckily it's still small enough that she will suffer minimal consequences. Don't think of it as a death knell. Think of it as another challenge to hurdle."

His former wife's face flashed through his mind's eye at her words, and he took a shaky breath. He could feel the emotion rising in his throat and the last thing he needed was to break down in front of someone he had only met several minutes prior.

"Sarada... you told me she was a fighter, right?"

He nodded, not trusting his own voice to remain steady.

When he opened his eyes, Doctor Haruno's face was set with a determined smile.

"Then mark my words: I don't see her losing this one."

His heart flipped again, and as he parted his lips to speak but was interrupted by Sarada's call, "Doctor Haruno! I finished my milkshake and boy my head hurts!"'

The comment was so out of the blue that it cut through the tension like a knife. After a second of surprise, the woman held a fist up to her mouth as her shoulders began to shake with silent laughter.

The peals of laughter began to grow louder as she staggered her way back into the room, and at the sight of his little girl giggling back, he began to relax.

Maybe things would turn out alright.

#sasusaku month 2022 #sasusaku #modern au #pre relationship #attraction at first sight #single father sasuke #doctor sakura haruno

16 notes · View notes

cornacopicimagines · 4 years ago

Text

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well.

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride."

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable.

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything.

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

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honestgrins · 4 years ago

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Can you write a Klaroline drabble where Caroline shows up in NOLA and shocks everyone but maybe Kol or Katherine when she says she's Klaus's wife? Cannon Caroline not original.

I Heard a Rumor

The club was filled with people and the chaos of a Friday night. Klaus preferred to avoid the rush of tourists, but Marcel kept the VIP lounge to a more tolerable set even during peak hours - usually.

“Don’t you just love this place?” Janet was hanging over the balcony to watch the crowds below, none too subtly pushing her ass back toward him. As one of the humans on staff to provide a live blood source, she was perfectly amiable to Klaus. He’d even become something of a regular customer for her given his penchant for the tinge of bourbon in her taste. However, it seemed she took the friendly flirtation of their transactions to heart, and she was testing his patience for more.

Unfortunately for her, his patience was wearing thin. With a barely polite grimace, he downed the rest of his drink and made to stand. “It’s a bit rowdier than I like, love, so—”

She gave a rapturous giggle, only to fall into his lap and sprawl across him. “I like that you call me ‘love,’” she murmured, her mouth clumsy against his ear. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll show you how much I like it.”

Rolling his eyes, Klaus was ready to speed out of there without bothering to set her back on her feet. The only thing that kept him in his crowded seat was the biting and all too familiar voice coming from behind him.

“Sorry, love, he won’t be available to accept whatever appreciation you have in mind.”

Both surprised — though for very different reasons — they turned to see Caroline Forbes facing them with a pageant-ready smile and murder in her eyes. She was stunning. Klaus couldn’t help a grin despite his earlier annoyance, and his brow arched in challenge. “Hello, sweetheart. Fancy meeting you here.”

Her jaw shifted almost imperceptibly to the left, but his companion didn’t seem to sense the rising tension as a threat. “Who the hell are you?”

Just like that, Caroline’s smile turned sharp with her fangs on full display. “I’m his wife, and you’re in my seat.”

The club was home to any number of vampires who heard her perfectly over the music, and more than a few froze at the sudden silence coming from him. The Klaus Mikaelson they knew would have reacted instantly, either with murder or some other violence, and they all seemed to wait for the ensuing mayhem. Even Janet finally grasped the discomfort of the moment, and she extricated herself from his lap with all the delicacy a human could manage. “I’ll just— Yeah, bye.”

Whatever show the club was waiting for, Klaus had more pressing concerns. “Shall we continue this interesting discussion at home?” he asked, though they both knew it wasn’t a question. Gently gripping Caroline’s arm, he flashed them back to the manor. He heard Kol and Rebekah meandering somewhere, and Elijah was likely on the premises as well. With that in mind, he brought her to the privacy of his studio and its soundproofing spell. Wisely, she waited until the door was shut to yank her arm free with a disgruntled huff. He merely smiled as he went to pour them some blooded wine. “That was quite the display you gave, sweetheart,” he said lightly, handing her a glass. “I have to admit: I didn’t see it coming.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, setting aside the drink without indulging. His lips pursed; it was an excellent vintage, yet he was more perturbed at her outright refusal of his hospitality. Perhaps this wasn’t their usual spat to be easily resolved. Proving just that, she seemed truly distraught. “You promised to leave Mystic Falls, that my life was my own.”

“It is. I haven’t stepped foot in Virginia since that day.” Brow furrowed, Klaus felt an urgent need to reassure her. “I understand you need time to accept what I’m offering, and I am prepared to wait however long it takes. What on earth made you believe I’m encroaching on that promise?”

Last he heard, she wasn’t even in the States. They did chat by phone every so often, and when she’d mentioned a tour abroad, he had offered a list of his various estates that would be available to her should she wish. It was the caretaker of his dacha outside of Moscow who alerted him to her softening boundaries. He certainly had no intention of making her regret the change, let alone whatever caused this latest upset.

Watching him with suspicion, Caroline apparently wasn’t sure of his intentions at all. “Seriously? It wasn’t bad enough I ran into the stalkers you have ‘looking out for me’ in every city, but the one time I take you up on borrowing a place, you have the staff literally bowing to me. I wrote it off as a cultural thing at first, then I heard the whispers.”

“Though I refute your accusations of stalking, I will admit to warning some friends and enemies you are not to be trifled with in your travels. As for Dmitri, I merely asked him to welcome you as an honored guest, which you are.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms in defiance. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t welcoming me as an honored guest. I overheard him chatting with his wife about meeting ‘the new mistress of the house.’”

Klaus shrugged, unconcerned. Satisfied the situation wasn’t more dire, he allowed himself to relax on his sofa, daring to pat the spot next to him. Caroline remained unmoved, and he rolled his eyes. “Perhaps the nature of your significance was lost in translation. You’re the one who came to my town and introduced yourself as my wife.”

“Because half of Russia thinks I am your wife!” With an indignant stamp of her foot, she seemed ready to tear her hair out — but she frowned more sedately at the blankness on his face. “You didn’t know?”

Shaking his head, he honestly had no idea. “What happened, Caroline?”

Finally taking her drink, she dropped to the couch beside him with an embarrassed groan. “I stepped into exactly one vampire club, and people practically threw themselves out of my path. I assumed it was more of the same from you, until the guy I was flirting with was suddenly yanked away by a friend. He went white when he was told my husband would tear out his intestines and shove them down his throat.”

“A bit uncreative, that.”

“Klaus!”

“I don’t know,” he insisted, his frustration growing to match hers. Rubbing a hand across his mouth, he genuinely had no idea why anyone would think him married. Though he had many hopes and plans involving Caroline in his future, matrimony was a human tradition he’d never once considered. “Truly, this didn’t come from me.”

Sighing, she leaned back into the couch and nursed her wine, defeated. “Oh. Then, sorry for cockblocking, I guess.”

Klaus smirked at that, and he turned to face her more fully. “Are you really?” The lightest blush stained her cheeks, and he knew she was biting her tongue at the faint scent of her blood. Unable to resist, he reached his hand to rest on the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing into her hair. “New Orleans is a small town at heart, love, and you effectively announced yourself as my wife in the middle of town square.”

“To be fair, I thought you had told the whole world, and I wasn’t going to be the only one not getting laid because of it.”

“Ah.” He was torn between a wince and a laugh, so he settled for another sip of his drink instead. His other hand continued to massage her scalp, and he felt the tension slowly loosening within her. “I never meant to restrict your choices,” he promised. “Tempt you into choosing me, absolutely, but not like this.”

Finally, she relaxed into him, slouching until he could tuck her against his side. Some doubt lingered, though, he could tell. Perhaps it was a sign of growth on both their parts that he didn’t take offense and that she trusted him enough be honest. “But who else would want to spread a rumor like that about us? It’s not like anyone benefits if we really did do the Vegas wedding thing.”

His mouth twitched, and he flashed to the door, barely sparing a brief kiss to the top of her head. He tore it open, only for her to slam it shut again. Pressing her back to the wood, she kept a heavy glare on him. “Put those away, we both know you’re not going to bite me.”

With a reluctant growl, he forced his fangs to recede. “It’s not your blood I want at the moment, and it’s certainly not pleasure I seek.”

“Yeah, ‘cause revenge isn’t a pleasure for you,” she answered snidely. “Tell me what’s going on before you kill the blabbermouth.”

“This is something I have to do myself, sweetheart.”

“Hi, I might want to help! They screwed with both of us here, not just you.”

A half-smile formed without permission, the fondness he felt for her softer than he was comfortable acknowledging at the moment — especially when someone had proven all too willing to use their connection against him. “Few in New Orleans know about you, let alone your...effect on me. Only two would maliciously speak out of turn about that. And just one of those would dare to bind you to me forever, lest I be challenged to follow through.”

Her face was an open book to him, and he hoped she never lost that human nature to share every feeling she had as it happened. Confusion, calculation, consternation, they all boiled down to an annoyed scrunch of her nose. “Your family knows I exist, at least, I think so. I never actually met Elijah, but you two seem to have gotten over whatever grudge match was going on at home.” He gave a brief nod, fascinated at the determined way she thought it through. “I also doubt you told him about your fling with a baby vampire. Kol and Rebekah, on the other hand, probably didn’t need to be told.”

“Bekah still likes to complain that we defiled the entire wood within earshot,” he muttered, not that he could be particularly aggrieved at the memory of a sunny afternoon. “And you are no mere fling, Caroline.”

That lovely blush rose again, and she looked anywhere but at him as he crowded her against the door. Gently brushing the curtain of her hair back from her face, Klaus waited for her to gather herself. After a deep breath, she finally met him with a half-hearted glare. “Which Rebekah loathes, so she’s definitely not daring you to marry me by telling everyone else you already have.”

Silently agreeing, he hadn’t lowered his hand from where it settled on her cheek, and a thrill came when she leaned into it. “Kol, however, enjoys sowing chaos wherever he goes.”

“Yeah,” she groaned. “That sounds on brand, and I played right into it with this stupid payback stunt.”

“We always did share a flair for the dramatic.”

The laugh built in her throat before it burst out, filling the air between them until they were both smiling like fools. Her hands had curled into his shirt, one at his hip and the other over his heart. The slight tug of fabric was tempting, but he still kept his tentative distance. “I promised you time, and I meant it.”

Biting her lip, Caroline nodded. She didn’t let go of his shirt, either. “Does it have be all or nothing right now?” It was half a whisper, the barest hint of whine in her voice endearing. “Because you smell really good and it’s been a long time thanks to your stupid brother, and I might have missed you more than I realized, so can you just kiss me alrea—”

There would be consequences from the rumors of their marriage, and more than just those Kol would face. Caroline would be a target, either for those seeking Klaus’s favor or those out to destroy him. Her presence or absence from his daily life would be a noted occurrence, and more rumors would arise should they be seen with others instead. New pressures would exert force on the evolution of their relationship, something he had measured in decades and centuries without such attention. But they could deal with those consequences in time, together.

Later.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #to rely on the kindness of strangers #anon anon #fic: i heard a rumor

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