#i am the CHOSEN ONE. may i not have ONE WIFE.

[littlexdeaths]

pushing up daisies - e.m.

kas eddie munson x fem reader

treat me bad like i’m no one's daughter,

body bag, baby, i’m a goner…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: ANGSTTTTT, mentions of eddie’s death and the upside down, canon divergent (reader is chosen as vecna’s last victim instead of max), established relationship, soft!dom eddie, biting/blood drinking, lil bit of jealous eddie, public sex, unprotected piv sex, cream pie

based on love is a… by pvris

word count: 2.9k

a/n: this is honestly something i am so incredibly proud of, so i hope you all enjoy it. a big thank you to my babes @undead-supernova @strangerstilinski and @lokis-army-77 for helping me with parts of this fic, i love you all so much 💕

The sky was dark, storm clouds rolling in as you trudged through the rusted gates of Hawkin’s memorial cemetery.

Only the booming sounds of thunder and your labored breathing filled the morning air. Rain droplets poured steadily onto your head, dripping down the collar of your rain jacket. The clothing seemingly useless as the heavy rain soaked you to the bone.

The wild daisies clutched in your fist were beginning to wilt as your eyes scanned over the sea of headstones. Your throat tightens once you find his, now wishing that Dustin had been lying to you.

The words BURN IN HELL FREAK were still visible, despite the male’s best effort to clean them off the previous day. It had been less than a week since the funeral, but that was plenty of time for someone to vandalize his headstone. You hated this town.

Reaching the now desecrated grave you sigh, gently running your fingers along the top of the headstone. The rough edges scraped against your fingertips as you knelt down in front of it. Letting your hand fall into your lap, glancing down at the sad excuse of a bouquet in the other.

He deserved more than this… he deserved more than anything this shitty town had to offer.

“Hey Eds,” you whisper, despite the desolation surrounding you.

You carefully set the daisies onto the ground, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill past your waterline. The white of the flowers contrasted sharply against the dirt, which was quickly turning to mud beneath your knees. But you didn’t mind.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the funeral,” guilt laces your shaky voice as you tug your lower lip between your teeth. “I just… I couldn’t see you like that.”

Despite the feeble attempts that Dustin and Robin made to coax you out of bed that day, nothing was going to change your mind. You didn’t want to remember him that way, as you were already grappling with the image of him dying in Dustin’s arms.

A memory that haunts your dreams every night.

“I hope you can forgive me,” you mumble, reaching into your pocket to pull out his lucky set of dice. A sad smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you begin to place them along his headstone, ��I brought a peace offering.”

A loud crack has your eyes flicking up, body jolting in surprise as a bolt of lightning strikes a tree in the distance. The impact splits the trunk down the middle, the wind picking up speed and taking your flowers with it.

The torn petals spread across the unkempt ground, the gesture now ruined. Just like everything else you touched.

You blame yourself for his death, knowing he would still be here if Vecna hadn't chosen you. You would live through a thousand years in a prison of your own mind, let that monster drain you of your entire existence— if it meant Eddie would have lived.

“It’s all my fault,” you don’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks, staring intently at the stone in front of you.

Edward Lee Munson, now at peace.

Those bold words stare back at you, mirroring the stone that sat just a few feet besides his. One you had become very familiar with over the years.

Elizabeth Ann Munson.

Beloved wife and mother, may she rest in peace.

While hers were more faded, they still brought you a small sense of comfort. Knowing that Eddie was with her now, he was safe. But that comfort wouldn’t heal the hole that had been punched through your chest.

“I miss you,” you hiccup, your tears steadily flowing now, the moisture beginning to blur your vision. “It w-wasn’t supposed to b-be you.”

Your soft cries soon morphed into pained sobbing, your shoulders hunched over as you dug your fists into the earth. You were grateful that Steve had let you come alone, not wanting anyone to see you like this.

In the short time that Eddie had been gone, you felt suffocated. With Vecna still alive and plotting, you were constantly being watched. Your friends not knowing if the demon, creature, whatever he was— would come back to claim you for good.

Part of you hoped for it, mentally pleaded to be taken away too. Because a life without Eddie, wasn’t a life you wanted to live.

A loud scream pierces the air, and it takes you a moment to realize the sound has come from you. Your chest heaves from the force of it, allowing your head to tilt back as your eyes slip shut. Enjoying how the rain soaks into your pores, washing away any trace of your tears.

You sit like that for a while, as the storm continues to wage on around you. Silently wishing that the rain would wash you away too. Dirt is caked under your fingernails, mud coated your shins and the hem of your skirt. You knew you couldn’t sit out here much longer, as your teeth started to chatter from the cold.

Your head falls forward, allowing yourself one last look at his headstone. The red paint has stained it horribly, tainting the last thing he had left in this world.

“I’ll come back tomorrow and clean this shit up, I promise.” You say, lifting up your pinky towards the block of stone. You hold it there for a moment before your hand falls back to your side.

“I love you, Eddie,” you sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve as you start to stand. Turning around as you begin to wipe the dirt from your knees.

As you take a step forward your shoe begins to sink into the wet soil, almost swallowing your foot whole. An annoyed huff leaves your lips as you try to pull it back out. But any attempt is stopped short as a cold hand wraps around your other ankle. A deep groan echoes in your ears as your eyes widen in fear.

This was it… Vecna’s come back for you.

While everything inside you begs you to run, your body remains frozen. Hyperventilating as the ground beneath you begins to shift, your feet sinking in deeper as another body fights its way out from the earth. A strained grunt of your name snaps you out of your petrified state, recognizing the voice immediately.

This was a cruel joke, knowing he was taking on Eddie’s form just to hurt you more. So you decided you wouldn’t stick around to witness it.

If you were going to die, it would be by his own hands.

“No!” You shout, yanking your ankle out of that icy grip as you make a break for it.

You don’t make it very far though, only reaching the edge of his grave before you lose your footing. The tip of your shoe catches on a tree root, sending your body tumbling forward onto the wet ground. The impact knocks the wind out of you as you struggle to take a breath in. Your nails dig into the grass for purchase as you try to crawl away.

The feeling of two hands wrapping around each ankle has you screaming, thrashing about as you're dragged back towards the grave. The male flips you around, unable to hear his broken pleas over the sound of your own shrieks. You keep your eyes focused on the storm clouds above your heads, desperate for some kind of distraction. You wouldn’t look at him, you couldn’t.

This wasn’t your Eddie.

A dirty hand grips onto your chin, tilting your head down as he wedges his body between your thighs. Forcing you to face him, his dark eyes ablaze with fury— a sharp contrast to the way he gently cradles your jaw.

“I’m not in the mood for games… just get on with it,” you snap, letting your eyes slip shut as you wait for that familiar pain to shoot up your spine and through your skull.

But nothing happens.

You crack an eye open only to find the brunette staring back down at you, confusion coating his features.

“… get on with what, sweetheart?” His voice cracks, the look on his face mirroring his tone.

“Killing me,” you state, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

There’s a moment of silence between you before he starts laughing, the booming sound instantly melts your insides. It was something you thought you would never hear again.

“I guess my entrance was very Night of the Living Dead, huh?” He teases with a wide grin as his head dips lower— his drenched curls sticking to your cheek.

When you feel Eddie’s lips connect with the base of your throat, your breath hitches. Heat pools in your middle as he inhales, groaning deeply. The sound vibrates against your skin, sending shockwaves through your system.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he hums, his hands running down the length of your sides. The male grips onto the soaked fabric of your dress, slowly inching it up until his palms are splayed across the tops of your thighs.

“You’re so warm,” he continues, his nose grazing along your collarbone as you grip onto the shoulders of his oversized suit jacket.

“H-How are you here?” You question with a small whine as he lightly nips at your throat, chuckling deeply.

“You brought me here, sweetheart.” His words are spoken reassuringly, but they don’t offer you any comfort.

“So, this is a dream,” there’s no question in your voice, only a trace of melancholy.

But Eddie notices it immediately, his head lifting from the crook of your neck. His dark eyes met yours for a moment, a look of determination flashing through his irises.

“Does this feel like a dream to you, baby?”

Before you can reply, his lips brush against yours. Any worries that this wasn’t real melt away with each press of his mouth on yours. Silencing the fear that this will all disappear the moment you pull apart. The storm rages on as he kisses you with an electricity that rivals the lightning above you.

“Definitely not a dream,” you mumble, earning a soft chuckle from him.

You swallow the sound as you kiss him deeper, his ringed fingers gliding further up your thighs and under your dress. Your own slip underneath the collar of his jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders. Letting the rain soak into his white dress shirt, the fabric clinging to the muscles in his back.

Your hands quickly rake through his hair, tugging on the drenched curls as his mouth trails along your jaw. Continuing lower as he sucks harshly on your skin, enjoying the way your body responds to each press of his lips. A breathy whine spills past your own as his fingers reach the elastic band of your panties.

The tension between you continues to mount as you eagerly drag his mouth back to yours. Eddie’s fingers curl under the waistband, snapping the lace against your skin. You barely register the tearing of that same fabric, too preoccupied with his lips on yours. The clinking of his belt soon follows, aiding him in pushing his slacks down his thighs.

“Please,” you plead, lifting your hips against his. Not wanting to waste another second to have him buried inside you.

The brunette gently shushes you, pulling back for a moment as he rubs the tip of cock through your drenched folds. His pupils dilate as he takes in the way your lips part under his thumb. A shaky breath escapes them as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he coos, caressing your cheek as he guides his hips forward. Slowly slipping into your awaiting heat with a strangled groan, “I’ll take care of you.”

His actions are gentle, as your bodies become reacquainted with each other. Eddie guides your hands above your head, fingers lacing together in the dirt. Your thighs are snug around his hips, desperate to keep him as close as humanly possible.

He rocks his hips into yours at a deep but leisurely pace, letting him savor every moment he spends inside you. As neither of you know what will happen after this is all over, it’s not something you want to think about.

Being here, in this moment, with him is the only thing that mattered to you.

The ferocity of the storm drowns out the cries that leave your lips, much different from the agonized ones you had let out earlier. Everything feels heightened, pleasure coursing through your veins with each stroke of his cock.

There’s a sudden shift in his demeanor as his eyes glaze over with an almost dangerous glint. Similar to that of a predator who had locked eyes on his prey. Your heart rate increases as a deep growl permeates the air. His fingers slip out of yours, instead digging into the soil beside you as his body goes rigid.

The brown of his irises disappear from view as he squeezes them shut, worry beginning to fill your chest. Your hands reach up to cradle his face, feeling how tightly his jaw was clenched underneath your fingertips.

“Eds,” you call softly, but the male remains frozen above you— a statue of Adonis.

He was losing control, ready to slip through your fingers. But you had already lost him once, and you weren't about to let it happen again.

“Stay with me,” you implore, softly pressing your lips against the furrow between his eyes. Brushing the dirt from his cheeks as you continue to trail tender kisses across his face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally speaks as your lips hover over his, your breath mingling together.

“You won’t,” you promise as your nose nudges against his.

Eddie seems reluctant as he opens his eyes, crimson beginning to bleed into his irises. “But there’s something different…” he trails off, searching for any trace of fear reflecting in your eyes. “I’m different.”

“I don’t care,” you don’t miss a beat, capturing his lips with yours once more.

He moans into your mouth, hands encircling your waist as you lift your hips, encouraging him to thrust deeper inside you. Your tongue slips past his lips, gliding along his front teeth. Coming to a sudden realization as you feel the pointed edge of his canines.

Logically you should feel frightened, but it seems to have the opposite effect on you. Your kisses become frantic as your walls flutter around his shaft, the sensation causing him to moan out your name. The pace of his hips quickens as your nails dig into the drenched dress shirt covering his back.

Your lips separate as you gasp, his cock hitting that spot that has you seeing stars. The both of you falling closer to that precipice with each thrust of his hips. But it’s not quite enough, needing to connect with him on a new level.

Eddie peers down at you in awe as your head falls back, baring your throat to him. “Do it,” you insist, guiding his mouth towards your neck.

You can sense his hesitation, his lips ghosting over your skin instead.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, his groan vibrating against your throat. “I want you to.”

The sincerity in your tone squashes any doubts still lingering in his head. Allowing his teeth to graze against your tender flesh, testing his resolve.

“I trust you,” is what he needs to hear before he sinks his teeth into your neck.

Your body arches into his chest, trembling as that familiar wave of euphoria crashes over you— pulling you under completely. Eddie drinks from you greedily, continuing to work you through your high as his own steadily approaches.

“Taste so fucking good, sweetheart,” he moans as his teeth detach themselves from your throat.

His tongue darts out, lapping up the blood that begins to trickle down the curve of your neck. The sight of his mark on you is almost enough to send him over the edge. But your pretty whines are the final nail in his coffin, hips stuttering as he fills you with his warmth.

“I love you.”

Those three little words are whispered against your collarbone as the male collapses onto you. A content smile spreads across your face as your fingers card themselves through his curls. The both of you soaking up this moment of bliss for as long as you can.

The rain above your heads has finally slowed to a drizzle, the pitter patter of the droplets matching your heartbeat. You don’t know how long you laid there like this, bodies intertwined on his grave.

But it didn’t matter, as long as it was him you were entangled with.

“I love you too,” you reply a while later, the male humming as he lifts his face from the crook of your neck, crimson smeared across his lips.

A fond look falls over his features as he leans down to kiss you again, the metallic taste of you lingering on his mouth. A thought suddenly occurs to you, causing you to giggle against his lips.

“What’s so funny, sweetness?” He muses, pulling away from you with a raised brow. You tuck a loose curl behind his ear, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Just trying to think of how to explain this to Steve.” You watch in amusement as a scowl appears on his face.

“Poor thing is gonna think I was mauled by a wild animal,” you tease, gesturing to the bite mark on your neck.

You see a flash of jealousy in his eyes, a low growl rumbles through his chest as his lips reattach themselves to your throat— causing you to squeal.

“Harrington’s just gonna have to deal with it,” he answered smugly, hugging your body closer to his.

The both of you completely unaware of the looming figure watching you from the tree line.

tagging some lovelies: @xxbimbobunnyxx @munsonhoneybaby @rowanswriting @voyeurmunson @nailbatanddungeon @vecslut @likedovesinthewnd @lofaewrites

#the freak writes 🫧 #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #kas!eddie munson x reader #kas!eddie munson

[levmada]

every—lesser known—canon fact about Levi Ackerman.

infamously over the years, there have been countless false rumors about Levi in particular out of the cast. many of them have become popular, even ubiquitous, and it's annoying!

and also disheartening when you find out it's not true....

and hurtful when you realize it was - sometimes - made up by trolls.

so i'm making this post<3

credit to @levisfavoriteacup for the idea!!

*disclaimer: i'm not perfect, so this may not be Everything™️ but I am confident that it's the majority of information available, and that it's trustworthy. :)

First the most populars. There is no evidence across interviews nor other content over the years that:

Levi is ugly, and is considered ugly in AOT.

Nope. See here: (tumblr link), or:

Isayama finished his first sketch of Levi mostly on a whim, but the moment he drew his face, he had a sense it would work well / he knew he had something good. Something told him: "the yaoi fangirls are going to like this one".

As time passed and his popularity grew, Isayama caught onto this and wanted to portray him more attractively (in multiple ways) to the viewer/reader.

But from the beginning, this was something of the goal. He is short because Isayama had in mind what young women/fangirls in Japan consider attractive: a man with a higher-pitch voice; has a small face; and who is "short but strong".

In the world of AOT, he (in a nutshell) is mostly considered plain or awkward, but combined with his reputation and style, he's very charming. "He cleans up nice." Overall, it is positive :) But more importantly, realistic I think.

He's also something of a celebrity. People who advertise their product as being used by him are more successful; when he's seen in a shop, this by itself is considered "advertising" and more people come in. Quote: ""the tea that the hero bought”".

He's definitely not a 2/10 at any rate😇.

—the 24th episode of Naoki Yoshida's Anime Plan, 2013 / Interview with Frau Magazine, 2013 | Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) | AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 1 | Taking shelter from the rain reprise: Levi and Peaure

Levi’s type would be someone who’s "tough, feminine and sensual".

Levi's type "might" be tall people. But context matters, because in multiple translations "don't you think?" and "might be" are thrown around a lot. Isayama isn't known for his clarity. When asked, he practically said the question right back. —fan Q&A from a festival in Betsumaga, Aug.2014

What this quote might have come from is a statement by the author of an article Isayama was likely involved in. I can't say this is 100% canon, but in my opinion it's a little less canon than the Smartpass AUs; if those are sub-canon, then this is sub-sub-canon:

Levi's romantic type is someone who walks three steps behind him, and likes cleaning.

In the past, in Japanese culture, for a wife to walk three steps behind her husband implied highly traditional gender roles. What this is much more likely to mean is that Levi's romantic type is someone who will let him protect them, or will run away and survive even if it costs his life. (And they have to like cleaning.)

—the article is from 2013, and no longer exists. but the link was used as recently as 2021 as a source in this post by a reliable translator. I've found this quote also in varying qualities of translation across Japanese and English forums, so to the best of my knowledge, it's reliable.

Levi's cravat is a piece of his mother's dress + he was wearing her dress when Kenny found him.

This is a popular rumor that Isayama has never confirmed (i think it is true, tho.)

December 25th was chosen by his comrades because he doesn't know his actual birthday.

The guidebook only states that it is his birthday. I can't find any more context on this. —AOT Guidebook; p.256

His character profile:

—AOT Guidebook; p.78–79

His name is Hebrew, and means "attached" or to be "joined".

Isayama came up with Levi's name after watching American documentary "Jesus Camp". (It's about a summer camp-type program where evangelical Christian children are taught extreme beliefs. One of the children was named Levi.) Isayama heard it and thought it sounded cool. —Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) | 2010 blogpost by Isayama

Levi is in his early 30s (in s3/RtS/volume 19). –Interview, Universal Studios Japan’s SNK THE REAL exhibition, 2016 | confirmation

If Kuchel was still alive, Levi would want to make sure she had an easy life. This means specifically filial piety, a concept exclusive to the East: he would fulfill his duties as a son for her. (tldr he's a mama's boy :3) —Bessatsu Magazine, 2019

Levi would have thin facial hair, but he prefers not to, so he shaves frequently. —January 2020 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 124)

He doesn't like coffee milk or coffee jelly. They're out of the question even.🤐 —July 2018 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 106)

He just gets depressed when he drinks coffee. Maybe he loves tea that much? He stopped calling Hange names like 'shitty glasses' since they became commander because he "seems" to respect their position that much. However, a Smartpass story delves deeper into this (and states as I suspected): [After Hange makes a joke] "Since becoming the commander succeeding Erwin, they’d toned down on their past speech and behaviour that had a touch of tomfoolery; Levi understanding that they were nevertheless trying to maintain the self “that was the case then”, also loses the will to curse at them." + "In the past, Hange had a Hange-type dream, and should have been progressing to that purpose. That lately, was it the weight of the office of commander, or was it due to the reality that is “all the world was our enemy”, their manner had changed considerably." —May 2017 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 92) | Goodnight. Sweet dreams, dear. Act II: Levi

If he and Kenny had fought one-on-one, Levi would've won. —December 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 87)

intermission: all about tea

His favorite "food" is black tea. No actual food.

He doesn't add sugar or milk to his tea because he considers it too expensive—which it is canonically. Despite this, he will share his tea with his comrades (his original squad as far as is seen).

Even though he's Captain, he'd rather drink it straight (the implications of which are he's a hardworking man, like that of a farmer. aka, this makes him seem humble).

If a time of peace ever came, Levi wants to open a black tea shop (he said in a dreamlike way, not so much based in reality).

He also knows a good amount of facts and history about it. He's a tea enthusiast!!

Levi receives pilfered tea in shipments monthly, thanks to Erwin.

—AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 2 | Part 1 | Taking shelter from the rain reprise: Levi and Peaure | Bessatsu Magazine, Jan.2014 | September 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 84) | AU Smartpass My First Time Around: Levi Ackerman | The Case of the Corps Tea Party - File No. 09 Levi's Side (3/3) | sugar and milk in tea from the Japanese perspective

Levi, out of his original squad, found Petra cute/sweet in the general sense of the word "kawaii". Like Levi's romantic type however, this was sort of a non-answer to the question (of whether Levi thought she was cute). —2014 interview

After RtS, Levi seems to consider Hange and the 104th his family. —AU Smartpass My First Time Around: Levi Ackerman

He wears a cravat because Isayama based part of his design off Rorschach from the movie 'Watchmen'. He looks "delicate" because of his size and weight, but he's so powerful because [in issues before the reveal of the Ackerman bloodline] of "invisible power" at work. —January 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 76)

The best way to describe the way he thinks is to compare him to the main character from the movie The Hurt Locker (2008). His character was born from Hiei from the manga 'Yuyu Hakusho', and Rorschach from the movie 'Watchmen'. The former was the basis for his appearance (especially his eyes), and the latter was the basis for his personality. Firstly though, Isayama had an image of a small man being the strongest.

—Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) / Brutus Magazine (2014)

He is something of a protagonist (especially in s3p1). — Animedia, June 2018

His favorite tool (in general...?) is microfiber cloths (for dust I guess. Levi has no need for weapons :3) —July 2015 issue of Bessatsu Magazine

He will usually laugh/smile when he sees convenient cleaning goods (i.e., vacuum cleaners? feather dusters? ((cuz he's a shorty?❤️)) —Bessatsu Magazine, Dec. 2013

He does want to be taller sometimes. He gets eager to clean up after meals rather than cook at all. He can cook, though. —Bessatsu Magazine, Aug.2014 | fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018

Levi mostly couldn't adapt to the changes that came about after the truth was discovered. Only he wears mostly the same uniform, cape, and blades.

After RtS, Levi personally retrieved Erwin's remains himself, for whom there was a special memorial service. After Eren (inadvertently) called him a "tiny old man" in season 3, Levi didn't care, but when he thought of it by himself later, he was hurt (unclear exactly why). Levi's father, most likely one of Kuchel's customers, is an insignificant man who's short. That's where Levi's height comes from. His face comes from his mother. At the start of season 4, Levi didn't change much compared to the 104th because he's turning into an "old man" who'd rather stick with his flip phone so to speak. He "doesn't break out into cold sweats". AKA he's always calm under pressure. He considers prostitution to be an ordinary job because of his childhood. Levi's vision is very sharp, way above average. He thought Eren's new look beginning season 4 was unclean/dirty (in more ways than one perhaps). —fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018

He has slight bouts of insomnia. He never snaps/explodes when he's angry. But he does get angry or grumpy a lot, in general. He doesn't sing. It's more likely he would dance. If he was a fan of Momoiro Clover Z (jpop girl group), his favorite would be Momoka. When/if he drinks, he has a high tolerance, but he can get a little drunk :) One thing he highly hates and fears is mold. He is the one who ordered Armin to dress as Historia during the uprising. His blood type is A. Blood types are much like horoscopes in Japanese culture, and Levi's is as such: kichōmen, or well-organized; he likes keeping things neat, but can be stubborn and stressed out easily.

Whether he eats enough or has a good diet? He is "a bit lax". Maybe he forgets to eat sometimes, or has a low appetite. When Levi bathes, he goes for a quick shower then soak in hot water, which takes about ten minutes. Like a bird :')) He on any given night gets about 2-3 hours of sleep. He thought Eren was the best at cleaning (in season 3 / uprising arc). Because of his childhood in the Underground, Levi has a preoccupation/obsession with cleaning (specifically to ward off disease). He also doesn't have any pajamas, mostly keeping day clothes on when he goes to sleep - which is in "his" chair. Levi cuts his own hair using clippers. (Something like:)

He's aware Oluo imitated him, and found it annoying. Levi's horoscope (in general) as a Capricorn: Humanity’s Strongest Soldier - Levi. He possesses warmth in the midst of a dispassionate nature, and he is capable of leadership without verbal expression – both of which are special qualities of a Capricorn. Capricorns tend to hold certain levels of authority, even if they must carry out somewhat unreasonable tactics while in such positions. But when such authority is backed up with actual abilities, a Capricorn can gain Levi’s type of confidence and also be put on a pedestal by those around them. However, Capricorns won’t be dependent on others, much less trust them easily. They don’t hold high expectations and thus never feel a sense of failure. Levi’s faults include the inability to express himself clearly.  Even though he wants to encourage his companions, he always speaks in a roundabout way, and without Hanji’s translation it’s nearly impossible to understand Levi’s intended meaning. Even though he is dependable in most situations, when it comes to love/romance, he expresses himself clumsily/awkwardly. —FRaU Magazine, Aug.2014. | fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018 | Levi: Close-up Report (Part One) | Translator *the horoscope wasn't written by Isayama, but was published alongside canon information, and it's also not factually wrong, so I'm including it.

The dark circles under Levi’s eyes are to convey the “self-destruction” he takes on to reach the “standard” of Humanity’s Strongest. —Interview on the topic of Levi, May 2015

His 'liege'—as Eren is to Mikasa, and Uri is to Kenny—is Erwin. He is afraid of making deep relationships because of the cruel world he lives in; he can't know when someone he cares for will die or how soon. That 'gap' left in Levi's heart by Kenny's death was filled by his squad (the 104th). If Levi hadn't joined the Survey Corps, he would've been a "very irresponsible person". Risky with his life perhaps? As a kid, Levi used to make himself stronger in order to receive praise from Kenny. When he abandoned him, he wondered what his strength was even for. He was able to find peace with Kenny after his death. In CH72, the reason Levi kicked the shit out of Eren and Jean is because of his argument with Erwin earlier.

He knows he's a slave to his own strength, aka the idea of being a hero. He realizes it when Kenny asked what he's a slave to in s3/ch69. —Answers Guidebook, Aug.2016

If he ever changed his appearance, the one thing Levi couldn't be able to give up is his undercut :') He would grow out the top and tie it up :3 —Oyama homecoming event Q&A in 2014 | 2 | 3

Levi knows how to use a gun, but he "places more trust" in knives. —Bessatsu Magazine, 2019

Levi tolerates saunas. But instead of enjoying himself he seems to see it as a test of endurance. (LOL) —Bessatsu Magazine, 2020

Levi has newspaper-level handwriting that he practices often. He's very conscious of it and being connected back to the Underground. —AU Smartpass TEXT: Levi’s Signature

Isayama had considered killing Levi around the time of the thunderspear explosion. (As always) Isayama deliberated with his editors whether or not it'd be meaningful if he died, and they decided it wouldn't be. —Kawakubo interview, 2021

Specially, Levi holds his swords in a reverse grip "his own way" since he wasn't officially trained. —Illustrate Note Magazine, 2017

Levi forcefully bathes Hange by knocking them unconscious. —AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 1

Levi is 4 at the time that Kuchel dies. —What the director informed Kamiya Hiroshi of on set

His character song is called "Dark Side of the Moon", found on YouTube here. Translated lyrics here.

how to draw Levi:

—AOT Guidebook; p.229 | +Illustrate Note Magazine, 2017

#please share... this took days of time and effort #levi aot #snk levi #snk levi ackerman #levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #captain levi #rivaille heichou #levi heichou #captain levi ackerman #levi rivaille #rivaille ackerman #aot manga #snk #levi art #levi shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi.thoughts

[turtletaubwrites]

Sweet Abduction ~ Part 2

I loved the request for Part 1, and thank you to everyone who voted on fluff or smut for the honeymoon. Smut won out, but oops! I fully intended on this being all smut, but I went too hard on the fluff. So we'll be getting a very smutty final part 3, I promise!

Pairings: Katakuri x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2175

Ao3 Link

Summary: Your new husband takes you to his private home after the wedding, and lets you choose if you'd like to have a real relationship with him or not. But there's another promise you need to make first.

Rating/Warnings: SFW, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Light Angst, Grief, (reader's dad has passed and she thinks about him a lot), Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Eventual Smut, Mildly Suggestive, Human/Monster Romance, He's freaking 16 ft tall, Reader is too sweet for this world

A/N: I swear the smut is on the way! I just love these two cuties so much, and had to give them some more fluffy buildup 😭🍩💜

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

“Where are we going?”

You hardly felt the ocean breeze from the crook of your new husband’s arm. You stretched your legs out over his forearm, fluffing the fabric of your wedding dress. Then you snuggled in against his chest, that giant fur scarf like the softest pillow you’d ever felt.

“We are go–”

“What kind of animal did this fur come from? They must be huge! Do they live on your island too?”

Katakuri tilted his head down, his warm, scarlet eyes shutting up your nervous chatter.

You gave an embarrassed smile, and felt more than heard a pleased hum from him. 

“We are going home, and we’re almost there.”

He stepped off the boat, setting you back on his shoulder, so you could get a better view. 

His home, his mansion, his castle? You couldn’t be sure since it was so massive.

“It’s beautiful! But you don’t live at the Whole Cake Chateau? I mean, I know this is your island. I guess I won’t be living at the doughnut shop anymore...”

He’d turned his head, looking at you from the side, and you saw his brows furrow when a sudden panic hit you.

“Am I still allowed to work at the shop,” you asked, your voice a bit high. You realized that you’d been digging your nails into his shoulder on either side of your hips. 

He offered his hand, and you reached out, letting him hold you in his palm. 

“You may do anything that makes you happy, Y/N,” Katakuri promised with that lovely voice of his, holding you at eye level. 

Releasing a deep breath along with your panic, you smiled at him. 

“Take me home, please.”

~

There were a few servants outside, but you didn’t notice any as he carried you through the echoing halls. 

“I have had a room prepared for you. Please let me know if there’s anything else you require.”

He set you gently down, leaving you to crane your neck.

“But… you’re not leaving, are you?”

Katakuri cleared his throat, going to one knee to close the distance a bit.

His gorgeous eyes poured over you, and you held your breath as he began to unravel his scarf. 

That wide, scarred mouth, and almost tusk like fangs had definitely been surprising. 

But he was still so pretty.

“Please don’t leave me here alone.”

His eyes seemed to soften, and you relaxed into his touch as he traced over your hair, then smoothed his hand over your back. 

“You want to stay with me?”

“I do, Katakuri,” you promised, touching his wrist to help him believe you.

He seems so sad.

His tells were subtle, that calm exterior so powerful.

But when he revealed himself to you, it was like he couldn’t quite hold up that wall. 

His eyes shifted away, and he nodded slowly. 

“It’s time for my merienda.”

“Your–”

“Y/N, I did not want you to be forced into this.”

You started to soothe his guilt. You’d already chosen him, but your words got caught in your throat as you watched him pull those white gloves off of his fingers. 

His hands were so big, but they were also strong, and you could see blood pulsing through his veins. 

“You are my wife now,” he sighed, breaking you out of your reverie. “If you truly want a real relationship with me, then I will have to trust you with…”

His lips were parted as he stared down at you. 

“If? Well… I’d like a real relationship if… if you’d like to be with me?”

Your breath hitched, anxiety racing as he closed his eyes, hanging his head.

“Oh,” you said, voice awkwardly high again. “It’s okay if you–”

“I’ll just show you.”

You yelped, jumping as the massive room around you was filled with a rolling, slightly sweet smelling substance. It rippled as it stretched to encompass the whole room, leaving you encased inside with your husband, and a very large table. 

“What’s happening?”

Katakuri pulled a large tray off the table, and sat cross legged in front of you. 

He set it down, and you frowned. 

“It’s my doughnuts?”

You decided to sit down as well, the squishy surface beneath you not helping with your dazed mind. 

“Please, Y/N,” he started, leaning down toward you, his voice soft. “What I’m about to share with you is something I trust no one with. I promise to be kind, and I promise to protect you. Whatever you need to be happy.”

Noticing that you had your hand on your chest, you took in a breath, the suspense making you almost jittery. 

“This secret is the most important thing in my life. It protects my family.”

You wanted to touch him, to comfort him with whatever this struggle was. But you waited.

“I know you already promised yourself to me, Y/N,” he said as quietly as his voice seemed able to go. “But if we are to truly be together, I need you to make another promise.”

He watched you nod, his scarlet eyes staring for so long, as if he could read your reaction before opening himself up. 

“When I was a child, my sister was hurt because of me.”

You leaned forward without realizing it, and tried to keep yourself still to fully hear him.

“I was attacked for the way that I look, but I was stronger. While I was relishing my victory, while I was relaxing, they hurt Brulee instead.”

You remembered his sister’s scar, ripping across her face, and your heart hurt for them both. 

“Since that day, I vowed to never drop my guard. I covered the face that had gotten my sister hurt. I became that best brother I could be, so that I could protect my family.”

You pushed yourself up from that squishy surface, making your way to him. His fingers were digging into his knee, so you reached out.

You were about a head taller than his knee while he was standing, and you gave a small smile at how close he was now as he sat like this. 

“That sounds very lonely,” you said softly, laying your hands on his strained fingers.

“It’s my duty,” he countered after a pause.

“Is that why,” you asked, leaving a soft kiss on his knuckles, “you never lie on your back?”

His fingers had relaxed as you touched his warm skin. The strange glow of the light filtering through this soft cocoon he’d trapped you in made his face seem softer, and you kissed his hand again.

“This is my secret, Y/N. I am trusting you to never betray it. To let me keep up this image of the perfect brother, so that I can protect my family.”

The hand you weren’t touching lifted, stroking your hair gently as a small smile touched that wide mouth of his.

“You’re my family now too.”

Shivers ran down your body. You hadn’t had family in so long. 

“I promise, Katakuri. I will protect your secret.”

He released a breath, clenching his eyes shut for a moment, and you wondered what this heavy secret could be. 

“Will you take a few steps back?”

You obeyed his request, your shoes pressing into that strange material.

He turned so his side was facing you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Then he let his back touch this soft ground, lying down as you grinned, and ran toward him. 

“Is this it,” you almost laughed, touching his shoulder so he would tilt his head to see your smile. 

“You’re not… disappointed?”

“Why would I be disappointed? Now I know that my husband can relax, and that we can lay down together. That’s wonderful,” you rushed out, your excitement and nerves returning as you squeezed his shoulder.

“There’s something el–”

“Katakuri, why don’t you just tell me all of it now. I promise I won’t be disappointed, or think less of you, or anything like that.”

“Alright,” he agreed, rolling onto his side to prop his head up on an elbow, his gaze so close.

“I made this room with my devil fruit power, the Mochi-Mochi Fruit.”

You almost bombarded him with questions about that, but chewed the inside of your lip.

“I use it to create a private space. This is where I come to relax. Not to meditate and prepare for battle,” he huffed, tapping his free hand against his thigh. “This is the only time and place that I get to be free to enjoy myself, without the weight of… everything.”

“What do you do to relax?”

“I lie on my back.”

You shocked yourself by giving him a playful slap against the expanse of his muscled chest, needing to pause for a moment before speaking.

“That can’t be the only joy in your life. I refuse to believe it.”

Did he blush?

Katakuri pulled the huge tray with tea and boxes of your doughnuts between you, opening the lid to grab five of them at once.

I should make bigger ones for him.

“I’ve loved doughnuts since I was small. I love your doughnuts very much,” he praised, his deep voice making your toes curl in your shoes. 

“When I take my merienda’s, I… I’ll just show you.”

Your gorgeous, frightening husband rolled onto his back, ate your doughnuts, licked his fingers, and sang.

You may have been stunned by the way his jaw stretched so wide while he ate, but then his sweet, silly voice filled the air, and you couldn’t believe you’d ever seen him as frightening. 

🎶Oh, doughnuts!

So delicious, doughnuts!

Delicious to the hole, doughnuts!

By myself, I eat doughnuts!

Lying on my back, I eat doughnuts!🎶

He trailed off as he glanced toward you, moving to sit cross legged as he wiped his fingers on his white, wedding clothes.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Are you scared? Are you alright?”

Hot tears were burning your cheeks, falling too fast for you to catch as they dripped off your chin onto the mochi below. You tried to nod, but quiet sobs had filled your chest, and you couldn’t seem to move.

“I–I am sorry. Please, what can I–”

“My…” you choked out, your lips quivering as you clutched your chest.

“My dad… My dad used to sing like that.”

You looked up, hoping he’d understand what you were feeling since you couldn’t form any more words.

His eyes lost their near panic and pain, and you sobbed more as you watched them fill with so much sweetness. It fueled the overwhelming, bittersweet joy that had taken you over.

Memories flooded your mind, so real you could feel them. Your dad kneading dough, showing you how to glaze, smiling as his customers sighed with contentment after eating his doughnuts. 

And his silly little songs that he would sing and hum all day. His gentle soul shined through everything he did.

Without him, it was as if the sun had gone from the sky. He was the warmth that kept you safe, that taught you how to live, how to love. You tried to live the way he’d taught you, to be kind, to be grateful for everything you had. But the lack of his sweet, silly songs made joy harder to find.

“Y/N,” he breathed, reaching his hand slowly toward you, as if not sure what to do with it. 

“Thank you,” you choked out, your knees going weak.

He caught you under your arms before you fell, and you clung to his hand as your sobs started to calm.

“Is there something I can do,” he asked, speaking quietly while your breathing evened out.

“I’m sorry, Katakuri, it’s just– You've just…”

A smile broke out across your tear stained face.

“You’ve just made me very happy.”

Stumbling toward him, you fell over his knee to hug his thigh.

He let out a soft grunt, then lifted you easily to his chest. 

His thumb rubbed gently over your back as he pressed you to him, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

He smells so good.

“So you really…” he started, his words vibrating though you. “You really like my singing?”

“I love it,” you laughed, pressing a warm kiss to his neck. 

Katakuri’s body seemed to vibrate, and you could feel the chills run over him. The intensity of his reaction sent chills running through you, and you became intensely aware of how much of his skin you were touching.

“Is it alright if I look at you?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded against him, brushing the remains of tears from your face.

I must look a mess.

You sat in his hand again, a rush of feelings warming you. Your feet dangled, kicking softly back and forth as he looked at you, an almost puzzled look on his face.

“So was that the big secret,” you teased, hoping there wasn’t more. “Because I’m ready to see our bedroom now.”

Your sweet husband let out a pleased laugh, sending all that mochi away as he held you against his chest. 

“Anything to make you happy, Y/N.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I just want to squish their cute little cheeks 😭

Tag List: @shewrites02

Part 3 (End)

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

#katakuri x reader #katakuri smut #charlotte katakuri x reader #one piece x reader #reader Insert #fem!reader #fic requests #x reader #turtletaub fics #charlotte katakuri #one piece fic #one piece fanfiction #eventual smut

[jkbabiey]

Rock Bottom | PJM

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, angst, fluff, smut, establishedrelationship!AU, marriage! AU

⇢ Synopsis: When, in a four-year marriage, you get to the point where you question its worth, you know that’s your rock bottom. How many I’m sorry’s will you handle? How many times are too many times?

⇢ Song Rec: Rock Bottom by Hailee Steinfeld, Teach Me by Kyle Dion, Sorry by Heize, Home by Ailee and Yoon Mirae, Tide by Woodz, Pride and Prejudice by ZICO and Suran, Want You Back by 5SOS

⇢ Word Count: ~4.7K

⇢ Warnings: brat OC, anger issues in here, this is honestly a sad angsty au, workaholic Jimin, frustrated OC and frustrated Jimin, unprotected sex, Jimin doesn't care about sleep, OC may be lacking some self-respect but Jimin will fix that for her

⇢ Authors note: After a long time without writing, I'm back. I loved writing this. It was supposed to be a Jungkook one-shot like always, but then I realized that it fits Jimin's vibe so much better. So I decided to change it up :)) Really like how it turned out tho. Enjoy <3

You loved Jimin with all your heart.

You loved him more than you had ever loved anyone else. Five years into your marriage and he still erupted the most euphoric butterflies in your stomach. A thousand of them. Everything from his voice, to the way he snored softly when he slept, to the way he looked at you... You loved him.

Your life with Jimin felt like a fairytale. Always had. You married in a botanic garden after 4 years of secret dating, with all his and your family and friends by your side. You bought a house together right after, figuring the one you had been living in until then wasn't big enough for a future family, and have been living in it together for four years now.

Tonight was the fourth anniversary of your marriage. Four years since Jimin officially became yours and you became his.

So you had asked your boss to leave work earlier today and rushed home, at 5 PM, to prepare Jimin's favorite dish. You also bought vanilla-scented candles and an extra pretty table towel on the way home. You texted Jimin a quick 'can u be home by 9?' and got a 'yup, I'll be there' back. You were sure Jimin didn't remember what today meant - but you didn't blame him and didn't even have the strength to get mad at him. He was a busy man and you knew his work required his full attention. Most of the time, you stood in second place in his priorities. And, surprisingly, after four years of dating him and another four of being married to him, you had gotten used to that.

You took a shower after the food was ready and the table set, at 7:55 PM, and put on the prettiest, sexiest lacy black lingerie you owned - the one you knew Jimin loved. You squeezed into the tightest black dress you saw after searching your walk-in closet, and the prettiest high heels. You let your hair natural and loose like you knew Jimin liked and did your make-up - red lips and a pointed eyeliner. You looked amazing.

All for Jimin.

At 9 PM you headed downstairs and sat down patiently at the dinner table, after lighting the candles. At 9:30 PM you texted Jimin a 'u coming?' and at 10 PM you still had no answer. At 11 PM, you looked out the window, searching for his black shiny car and at midnight you were blowing out the candles that were almost completely melted at this point. You headed upstairs, finally losing all hope that Jimin would still show up to have an anniversary dinner with you, his wife, because, after all, it wasn't your birthday anymore. You hadn't seen your husband at all throughout the whole day, since he had chosen to sleep in the dorms the prior night - always the busy man.

At 2 AM Jimin wasn't home yet and you weren't asleep, because you had started to worry. What if something had happened? Jimin would call if he noticed he wouldn't be able to make it home at 9, right? So at 2:20 AM, when Jimin got to his car to head home and turned on his phone, after turning it off to focus on his work, he noticed the 14 missed calls and 9 worried text messages. All from you.

At 2:35 AM you heard the bedroom door open and you sighted in relief watching Jimin coming through it, from your seating position in your bed, under the covers. You didn't say a word, noticing Jimin's late realization of the compromise he had missed - if you hadn't left the table set in the dining room, you're pretty sure he probably wouldn't be aware of it yet. You laid down, ripping your disappointed gaze from his, with your back against him.

"Baby..." you heard him mutter and closed your eyes "I'm sorry I forgot, I didn't know you had prepared dinner for us-"

"Don't talk Jimin," you interrupted, knowing there was no way that Jimin would be able to make you feel better or make himself feel better right that moment. Hot-headed Y/N wasn't cool to talk to. "Let me sleep."

Jimin didn't say a thing. You heard the ruffling of his clothes being thrown to the armchair inside your walk-in closet. His steps towards the bathroom sounded heavy and slow - tired.

You knew Jimin was tired. He had been having full days of practice, producing and recording, for the new album. You did understand how he could forget the dinner, but the fact that he did forget just reminded you how you'd never be at the top of his mind, like he was at the top of yours, all the time. And, no matter how you tried to push it to the side, it still hurt.

Jimin, on the other side of the door that separated you guys' bathroom and bedroom, couldn't feel worse for leaving you waiting after seeing the pretty dress you had worn for him thrown across the bathroom bench and your heels neatly placed on the tiled floor, next to the door. When he got back inside the bedroom, he heard the quiet sobs you were trying to hide from him, your shaking back facing his side of the bed, and your shiny hair laid out on the bed, on top of his pillow.

Jimin felt bad, but he couldn't understand why you'd be so upset over a missed dinner. He knew you had gotten dressed up and had cooked for him - but you could have dinner tomorrow or eat the food you had prepared and that he knew was delicious by lunch.

Your anniversary was the furthest thing from his mind.

"Y/N, can we talk?". When you didn't answer, he placed a gentle hand on your exposed shoulder, turning your body towards him. "I know you're not asleep, baby."

"Leave me alone," you cried, turning around abruptly to get rid of Jimin's hand, which was now rubbing your arm. Jimin's heart clenched when your eyes finally rested on his and he saw the pain behind your teary gaze.

"I'm sorry," Jimin whispered, not bothering your aggressiveness and still resting his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. "We can have lunch tomorrow, or you can put on your dress and heels and I'll take you to an expensive restaurant," he laughed lightly watching you roll your eyes at him.

"I wanted to have dinner tonight, Jimin," you whined, trying to wipe your tears away. Jimin laid down next to you, evolving your waist in his strong arms and pulling your body closer to his, now face-to-face. He kissed the tip of your nose and your tear-stained cheeks, smiling at how adorable you looked to him with pouted lips and wet lashes.

"Why's that? Tomorrow the weather is gonna be better than tonight, tonight is cold. I can take you out tomorrow and you won't be cold in that dress," he joked while your lips parted in realization. He still hadn't remembered what today had been.

You knew Jimin had forgotten what day today was. But you thought that seeing the dinner laid out on the dinner table had reminded him that tonight was your fourth anniversary. He couldn't really think you'd prepare such a fancy dinner just for fun, right? "Are you kidding me?" you asked, your gaze regaining the anger it had lost shortly. The panic was back in your husband's eyes and he didn't know what was wrong now. "Do you even know what today is?"

"Wha-"

"Jimin, today was the 6th of April. Do you know what that means?" you asked and when Jimin's eyes wandered around the space behind you, looking for an answer, you grabbed his arm and lifted it off your waist, getting up from your bed.

Not only had Jimin forgotten your birthday, but he was also completely unaware of what the 6th of April was supposed to mean like it wasn't the day he had gotten married to you - what did that say about him? what did it say about what you meant to him? and above all that, what did it say about your relationship?

"Y/N, calm down. I'm sorry. I don-don't... I can't remember," he said, his tone getting smaller and smaller. He rubbed his temples, trying his best so that something would come to his mind. Nothing.

"Oh my god, Jimin," you laughed ironically, covering your face with both your hands, as tears started forming in your eyes once again. "You really don't know what happened on the 6th of April?"

Jimin didn't answer, looking at you with confused eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" you chortled, almost sounding mean to Jimin. "This is what always happens! You're always too busy. Too busy with work. Too busy to take care of yourself! Too busy to take care of me! Too busy to even think of me-"

"That's not true, I'm always thinking of you-"

"Oh! Is that why you missed our fucking fourth birthday dinner tonight?" you screamed, interrupting him and watching his eyes get wide and his lips part. "You are way too busy, Jimin. You don't have time for anything other than work," you whispered as he stood up from bed to stand closer to you.

"I'm s-so sorry," he whispered. "I totally forgot..."

"I know, that's the problem, Jimin! You are the love of my life and you are my priority, always."

"Y/N, please-"

"Let me talk." you raised your hand to stop him and he did just that, pressing his lips together in a straight line and resting both his hands on his hips. "What I'm saying is, I'm never gonna be your priority-"

"Y/N, you are my priority!" he couldn't help but burst that out, running a frustrated hand through his messy dark blonde hair. He sighed, looking at you as your disappointed eyes bored into his tired ones. "I work a lot. I'm rarely home. There are days we don't even see each other. But I work so that I can support a future with you. A future with kids. A future where I can keep buying your fancy dresses and taking you to expensive restaurants-"

"You could buy me the fanciest dress in the world and it wouldn't matter a thing if you still showed up at home at three in the fucking morning." you interrupted, your voice sounding even angrier than it was before. "Jimin, I couldn't care less about that shit. I didn't marry you for your money. I don't care about fancy dresses or expensive restaurants. I lived without those things before meeting you, and I can live without them now!" you exclaimed and Jimin lowered his head, looking at the floor. "I married you because I love you. You! Not your money!"

"I know that-"

"It doesn't seem like you do. When was the last time we had a meal together? When was the last time you took me out on a date? And I'm not asking you to take me to a fucking expensive restaurant, I'm asking for a stroll in the park! Or maybe a picnic! I'm just asking for you to take me to go eat fucking ice cream or some shit!" you paused, taking a deep breath as Jimin sat back in your shared bed, looking down and fidgeting with his fingers. "When was the last time you touched me? We don't even have sex anymore, for God's sake!" Jimin poked the inside of his cheek at that and let out an entertained chuckle. "Really? Is that funny to you?" You asked, angry as ever, and Jimin looked up at you.

"Can you stop yelling?" he asked with the calmest voice you'd ever heard coming from him as he stood up once again to stand right in front of you, with his face inches away from yours. "Y/N, if what you wanted was sex, you could've just said that." he spat out, anger and annoyance filling his voice tone.

Instinct spoke louder than you as you raised a hand as if about to slap him, but Jimin was faster than you, grabbing your forearm to prevent you from doing something you surely would regret later. "Don't go there," he said sternly, with a grave deep voice.

You looked at him angrier than he had ever seen you, with a clenched jaw and fisted hands. You shook your arm, letting Jimin's hand fall, and ran your fingers through your wild hair. "Fuck you," you whispered before walking out of the bedroom. You walked towards the kitchen. Not even five minutes after you left the room, heavy footsteps could be heard throughout the walls. Until you felt his presence by the kitchen door even though you had your back to him.

“Do you think I stay at work this late because I want to? Don’t you think I’d much rather be home having dinner with you by 9?” he asked, his tone angry but still calm and collected. “It’s my work! I have no choice whether I want to do it or not-“

“Jimin, leaving work earlier one day wouldn’t be the end of your career, I’m telling you,” you mocked sarcastically and could feel Jimin rolling his eyes, even without facing him.

“I’m sorry I missed dinner, but it’s not like I was out partying with the boys. I was working. I’ve been working since 7 AM. I was supposed to go sleep in the dorms so I wouldn't have to wake up even earlier tomorrow, but I still came home, because you asked me to. The last thing I need is for you to spend the night mad at me” he sighed when you finally turned around, to show him that his speech hadn't had that much of an effect. You were still mad. Very mad.

“You came home because ‘I asked you',” you mimicked, “not because you wanted to see me after not seeing me for two whole days?”

“Oh my fucking god” Jimin growled and looked up at the ceiling before running both his hands through his hair.

“And so what? You’re tired! But am I supposed to just shut up and don't be mad when you forget our marriage's fourth anniversary? I'm sorry for expressing my feelings-"

"Can't we just have dinner tomorrow?" he interrupted. The annoyance back to his voice.

"Jimin, go to sleep." You finished, leaning against the balcony behind you and looking down at the floor.

"No! What the fuck do you want me to do now? I already said I'm sorry! What do you fucking want now?!" it was his turn to yell now. The anger of expecting to come home to a warm bed and coming home to an angry wife was finally getting to him. "I come home absolutely exhausted and you still manage to keep me up and yelling, like I had the easiest day of my life! Stop being so selfish, for fuck's sake!"

You looked up at that and felt your eyes tearing up once again. You stood up straight and walked past him, towards the bedroom. You grabbed your pillow and a warm blanket. "What are you doing, Y/N? Jimin asked, and you wouldn't deny the tiredness was already showing in his voice. "Go to sleep, I'll stay on the couch."

"Stop, Y/N, please," he muttered and you turned to face him.

"Jimin, I don't want you to do anything. I get it, you were working and you're sorry. I know you're sorry. But my point is, how many times are you gonna keep saying sorry? Because I don't know for how much longer I'll be okay with being left behind for your career."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't know whether I can stay in this marriage if I keep being forgotten like this," you shrugged with teary eyes and watched Jimin tilting his head to the side while the anger in his eyes subsided. His eyes quickly got teary and he held up his hand to grab at your right arm, trying to prevent you from leaving the bedroom you two shared.

You shook your arm from his grip and turned your back on him, walking out of the bedroom and closing the door behind you.

And no, it wasn't okay with you to go to sleep angry at him. You weren't that type of couple. You worked things out before going to bed. But you knew how tired he was. He was supposed to wake up at 5:30 AM the morning after and you were supposed to wake up just an hour after him. You knew that if you kept fighting, neither of you would get any sleep. You and Jimin were two people with strong personalities and whenever you two fought over something it did not end up quickly. Besides that, you two had never fought like this. Had never had an argument that caused either of you to question the worth of your marriage. This was your rock bottom.

But you hated that you weren't sleeping in your bed, in your husband's arms. And it was impossible to fall asleep, no matter how careful you and Jimin had been to choose the most comfortable couch in the store when you bought your house. No matter the position or how many times you turned - you couldn't fall asleep.

It was 4 AM when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

You felt Jimin coming closer to your frame on the couch and kneeling down next to it. "You're sleeping?" he whispered and you mumbled a tiny 'no'.

"Can I sleep in here?" he asked and you made space on the couch for him to slip under the blanket with you, which he did quickly. He enveloped your waist in his strong arms and buried his face in the crook of your neck as if nothing had just happened. "Please, don't leave me," he whispered against the skin of your neck. You stayed quiet, just taking your hands to envelope his neck and pull him closer. "I don't think I can make it without you. I've been awake the past hour trying to find a way to stay less time at work and more time with you, but I can't find one. I don't think there's any way to solve this."

It was completely dark in the living room, and that just made this feel much more intimate than it was supposed to. "But I love you," he whispered again. "I love you too," you answered and felt a light kiss on your neck.

"I'm sorry for not being able to give you the life you deserve. I promise you that one day all this activity in my career will calm down and I'll be able to give you everything you deserve, but for now I can't fix anything we're going through. But we can fight for this, okay? We can keep up with my schedule and with yours. We can keep coming home to a warm bed. We can keep building a future for us both and for our future family. We can keep fighting every time there's something wrong, without really getting to solve anything. If you're up for it, I'll gladly stay up until 4 AM, if it means we can be alright in the end. But please, don't leave me. I love you. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. And you're not behind my career. You're always at the top of my mind, but work is work. And when I'm working with the boys I can't just bail on them and let them work alone. I really hope you understand that."

And by now, you were already washed in tears. Jimin could feel your wet tears on his neck. "I'm sorry, baby," you cried and Jimin lifted his face from your neck, to look you in the eyes. Even with the almost absolute darkness of the room, he could still figure out your beautiful features.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I understand why you'd be mad at me-"

"No, I'm sorry, I should have been more understanding, or at least wait until you were well-rested. I'm sorry for making you fight with me for like half an hour. And I'm sorry for trying to slap you, I don't know what that was..."

"I love you. I don't care how bad we fight, I still love you. I always will," he whispered as his face got closer to yours. You could feel his light breath on your lips. "And I was being a jerk when that happened so you're fine."

"I love you too," you answered as you let out a soft giggle, to which Jimin smiled. You raised your head from the pillow, to softly press your lips against Jimin's to seal your reconciliation. His pillowy lips moved softly against yours, as he put one hand on the back of your head, to deepen the kiss. You heard him moaning against your lips as his other hands moved from your waist to your ass. "You should get some rest babe," you said, pulling away from him.

"No, let me make you feel good," he whimpered as his lips were redirected at your neck, sucking your skin and leaving love bites on his way, as his hands moved towards the hem of his your t-shirt, taking it off in a heartbeat and throwing it to the floor, next to the sofa.

You moaned as he pressed his thigh to the middle of your legs, urging him to go faster. His t-shirt and sweatpants quickly joined your oversized t-shirt on the floor, and soon he was panting against you as you raised your hips to create some friction between your crotches.

Jimin reached down, palming your still-covered pussy, with his whole palm. "How are you so wet?" he asked as you moaned and slightly trusted your hips up against his hand. "How are you so hard?" you asked back, teasing him as his hard length pressed against your thigh. You heard Jimin chuckle and felt him pushing your panties to the side, and running two of his fingers through your slit.

"You have such a smart mouth don't you?" he asked ironically, shoving his, now, soaked fingers inside your mouth. Your lips, quickly wrapped around his long fingers, sucking on them. He reached down with his other hand, to plunge two fingers inside your pussy. You moaned against his hand, which he quickly retracted from your mouth, just to press his lips against yours once again. He started fingering you, making scissor motions inside of you to try and prepare you for him. "How are you always so tight?" he groaned after you pulled away from the kiss to let out a series of moans from how good his fingers felt inside of you.

"After you not fucking me for so long, I'd be surprised if I wasn't," you teased once again, chuckling and Jimin rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"You're so annoying, baby," he answered, starting to finger you faster as you threw your head back on the couch, giving him enough space to suck the skin of your neck as if he hadn't marked you enough earlier. "Do you think you're ready for me?"

"Yes, baby, please. I want you inside me, please," you mewled and Jimin moaned hearing your cries of pleasure so close to his ear, after so long.

And in a second he roughly shoved his entire length inside of you, as you both let out loud groans of pleasure. Having Jimin inside you never failed to blow your mind. Everything from his length to his girth felt overwhelming. And you loved it. Sex with Jimin felt better than with any other man you had been with before - firstly because Jimin knew what he was doing, and second because you had never been in love with someone as much as you are with Jimin.

Patience had never been your forte, and it showed when Jimin decided to stay still to let you get used to him, but you rose your hips urging him to keep going. It did burn but you liked the slight pain of having Jimin inside you. So he kept going, first slowly, but he quickly grew as impatient as you and started to pick up his pace. Until his hips were crashing against yours, with one of his hands grabbing your waist to stabilize you two. One of his forearms was supporting Jimin's body, next to your head. You reached forward to press your lips to Jimin's in a heated kiss. You two moaned and growled against each other lips, as your hips started to thrust upwards against Jimin's and soon enough you were both in a frenzy on the couch.

Jimin moved one of his hands from your waist to your cheek, softly caressing it. “Baby, are you close?” he moaned loudly. “Hum? I can’t last much longer- Ah… Baby, you feel so good around me.”

“I’m so close baby, just keep going. Please, just a little more… Please,” you moaned and Jimin stopped his movements for a couple seconds after hearing you pleading for him. He knew that he was way too close and you weren’t helping. You begging for him had always been one of his biggest weaknesses.

“Anything for you,” and just like that, his hops were back at it, full speed and thrusting with a strength you hadn’t felt before.

Jimin's and your loud moans were a clear indication of how close you both were. And when you enveloped both your arms around Jimin's thick neck and he thrust himself inside you one last time, before falling on top of you, you came together. Your insides milked him as he kept thrusting his hips softly against yours.

"I love you," you heard him sigh, breathless, against your neck.

"I love yo-"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

5:30 AM. It was Jimin's time to get up and you looked at him as he reached for his phone, on top of the coffee table. "That's my cue," he chuckled, still breathless. And you looked at him in pity.

"You didn't even get to sleep, baby."

"You gave me enough oxytocin to last the whole day. Also, it's not the first time I stay up the whole night. You try to get some sleep, you still have some time," he whispered, still trying to leave your warm embrace.

"Can't you ask the boys to meet up like an hour later or so?" you asked, tightening your arms around his neck, so he wouldn't be able to leave.

"No... Hoseok would kill me," Jimin answered, smiling at your attempt to keep him close.

"If you faint, I will kill you."

"If I faint, I will blame it on you, you sex-starved woman! Always tiring me out!" he laughed against your neck and you slapped his strong shoulder. He raised his head, pressing a soft and long kiss against your lips. "I'll go get ready. Bye baby, see you tonight."

You didn't answer, just resting your head on the soft pillow, already starting to drift off to sleep, just before hearing Jimin scream from the main door.

"Be ready at 8:30! And think where you want to go get dinner."

Jimin wasn't home at 8:30 that night.

He arrived at 10:25 PM, but as you looked into his tired and apologetic eyes, when he stepped inside your house, with flowers in one hand and a bag of KFC takeaway in the other, you knew that no matter how many times Jimin said 'i'm sorry', he'd always mean it. And that was what truly mattered because for as long as he meant it, you knew he loved you. And you loved him.

#oneshot #jimin #park jimin #drabble #fanfic #jimin fanfic #idol!jimin #idol!au #established relationship #establishedrelationship!au #marriage!au #married!jimin #married!oc #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin smut #park jimin x reader #park jimin x y/n

[darkdevasofdestruction]

The White Rose of Jerusalem ~ King Baldwin IV x Reader

Summary: As a young girl, Y/N had the honour of marrying the King of Jerusalem, just before the healers found out of his fatal diagnosis. Though she had the choice of backing down from a fruitless marriage, she remained faithful to the young boy-King who captured her heart.

Note: I know the chance of people knowing this movie are very slim, but I was long fascinated by King Baldwin IV and re-watching this movie for the N-th time only reinforced that notion; And I’m too hyperfixated to study for exams, so I gotta do this.

Note 2: I have two endings in mind, one with a happy ending, which will be the default one, and another, with an angsty, sad one, which I will be writing under a line and a warning. :) Hope you’ll like it!

Note 3: The lyrics from the Angsty Ending come from the song ‘Luthien’s Lament’ by Eurielle, with some words alternated, to fit the story. Hope you like it, and that you will be compelled to check out her fantastic work! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4F3X5CrPn8I

She was just a little girl, not even a decade old, when she was chosen as the most fitting candidate at being the future wife of young lord Baldwin IV, the future King of Jerusalem. A beautiful lad with long locks of gold like a field of wheat shining in the summer sun, and eyes as blue as the celestial azure sky, fair skin, flawless and angelic like that of the most beloved seraphim, and a voice so soft and tender that would put anyone to ease.

Princess Y/N was so nervous - How could she possibly compare to... How could she possibly become good enough to stay around the future King of Jerusalem? Her worries were plaguing her mind so much, that she simply stared at him, with the eyes of a scared fawn, completely forgetting that she was supposed to do a pretty courtesy and speak.

But the boy could see your pretty face as pink as a lovely flower in bloom, from something as silly as nervousness around him; He chivalrously offered his hand for her to take, and he guided her away from the wave of adults they were surrounded by, and outside, to the lush gardens of Jerusalem where there was nobody to bother them. He hummed idly and scanned the place, before abruptly stopping in from of a bush, and cut a single white rose, which he de-thorned and put in her hair. “There, a beautiful flower, for a beautiful lady.” she couldn’t help but cast her eyes down, unable to meet his. “You see, out of all the flowers in the world, I think a white rose fits you best.” he smiled down at her. “Do you know their meaning, My Lady?” Y/N began biting on her bottom lip, whilst her fingers were anxiously fidgeting and picking at one another. “Forgive me for my rudeness, Your Majesty. I did not mean to disrespect you with my silence and awful behaviour.” The young lad tilted his head to the side in confusion, before reaching out to her hands, holding them dearly. “You have not offended me, My Lady. Still, I would like to request you not to harm such beautiful hands. I have never felt anything as delicate as them, not even flower petals.” her timidness was adorable, he noted. “You need naught feel uncomfortable around me, nor abide to such formalities. I would like for you to speak freely - You are soon to be my lovely wife, and I wish for you to become my confidante.” Baldwin could feel her hands tightening their grip slightly on his own. “I am asking again, whether or not you know the symbolism of white roses -- May I call you by your name? I wish for you to do the same in return.” “Y-Yes, of course, Your Majesty, you may call me as you wish.” the boy’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Baldwin. My name is Baldwin. Do call me that.” the alarmed look in those gorgeous eyes of hers, that resembled the most precious gems, only made him realise the overly strict upbringing that she had, so afraid to step the wrong way, or do any kind of misdeed, in fear of being punished, or quite possibly, bringing about Armageddon. “I-I could never show such disrespect to the future King of Jerusalem!” the boy let out an amused exhale, before gently raising her chin up to have her look at him. “Y/N. We are going to be married. For you, I will not be the King. I will be your Husband. If the two of us do not trust each other whole-heartedly, then who else can we trust?” Baldwin finally felt a little satisfaction once she finally dared meet his sight, only for her to bow to him deeply, which once again, confused him. “I wish I will one day end up being a person that you can rely on... Baldwin.” the childish smile of glee that the boy held made her heart leap. “I do not know much, but I wish to learn everything. I was limited in everything I was taught, in detriment of becoming the perfect wife and mother, fit for the King of Jerusalem, so much so that I forgot that I am allowed to live for myself.” “Then I will teach you how to live.”

Though she continued to be as shy as ever, barely capable of speaking up, especially to adults, Baldwin was graced with the most dazzling smiles from the young beauty, whom he’d teasingly call ‘My Wife’ with every chance he got. They were so adorable together, and so very in love with each other, that his elder sister, Sibylla, although jealous of their happiness, would often declare them as ultimate soulmates. They were glued to each other.

It was Baldwin who encouraged her to approach the horses and tend for them, and it was his instructors who taught her how to ride, so that they could ride together whenever they wanted to have some fun, by themselves; The young Price could see the remarkable bond she had made with all of the horses she took care of - Only the most gentle person could create such a connection with a sensitive animal like that.

They would write and recite love poems for each other, though the boy was much bolder than her, and would have to read her love confessions himself. In spite of that, she was content with singing for him, which would, in turn, urge him to ask her for a dance, outside, in the gentle moonlight.

Though he wasn’t one for painting, he loved all of the flowers that Y/N would paint for him - She only ever liked drawing flowers of all kinds, and pretty landscapes; And he would hang around all of her most precious masterpieces in his own bedroom.

They were doing everything together, to the point that Sibylla felt a little lonely, but Baldwin became even more enamoured with Y/N during one evening, when he was pondering over a chess puzzle made by one of his instructors; And there she came in, like Virgin Mary herself, brightening up his dimly lit room. She towered for a few seconds over the chess board, and moved a single piece before flicking over the enemy King piece. Baldwin looked up at her, then back at the board, and up again in complete disbelief - Such an easy solution, yet he kept overcomplicating a thousand useless and difficult ideas, only to end up with no outcome except for his own ultimate failure.

The boy shot up to his feet and engulfed his lady in his arms with so much love, kissing both of her cheeks. “You are a fantastic strategist, my rose! You are going to be my most treasured advisor!” “Oh, I could never - I just moved a piece, nothing that great!” but the boy shook his head vigorously.  “Nonsense! I’ve been losing nights over this, and I couldn’t figure it out! If it weren’t for your insight, I would have continued to agonise over it.” he explained tenderly. “Even the wisest of kings need new opinions and views.” “Then, I hope I will continue inspiring you in the future also, and that you will see me as worthy of staying by your side.” the boy could see small tears gleaming in her eyes, though she held the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. “I wish for nothing more than to see you succeed and be known in history as the best King that Jerusalem ever had.” with a burst of boldness, she embraced her fiance tightly, nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck. “I love you.” “Generations forward will be hearing of the wisest and most supportive Queen of Jerusalem, the one who equally reigned alongside her King; the one so kind and caring that all our people will look up to her.” he smiled tenderly, his hand caressing her soft locks. “Just like the purest white rose, so innocent and beautiful, wise, enlightening, intelligent, inspiring of hope, compassion, peace, humility, understanding, tranquility.” cupping her face, he tilted her head so that he could touch his forehead to her own. “And representing of an eternal love, genuine and unbreakable.” his voice was so soft, so loving. “I love you.”

But this love was soon going to be put to test on one day, when the young prince was outside, playing around with other noble boys, while Y/N was making flower crowns and embroidering with the girls. The boys would pinch each other, and rough each other up, scratch and slap their arms; They made so much noise, crying out, whining, whimpering and yelling from paint, but it was Baldwin alone who uttered no sound, and remained as quiet as the lake.

“My love, you are bleeding!” Y/N rushed to his side, stopping his friends from continuing to play around.  “Oh, is that so? I have not noticed.” he looked down at his arm, examining all the marks left on his skin, and although they looked painful, he could barely feel anything more than a simple pressure. He could barely even feel her touch. “Have not noticed?! Your whole arm is in awful shape!” the girl shook her head in worry before turning around to look for any of his mentors. “Lord Godfrey! Lord Godfrey, please do come over!” once the man stepped in front of them, Y/N explained what happened - From the concerned look that the adult tried to conceal from them, the girl realised he suspected something with a grim epilogue.

The young prince was treated by the royal physicians the whole day, while Y/N remained alone in his room, pacing around aimlessly and agonising over the truth being concealed from her, yet after many hours, when the Moon took over the skies, and the stars were twinkling the brightest, Baldwin was returned to his bedroom. As Y/N tried to run over and engulf him in her arms, she was stopped by Lord Godfrey. “Princess, I know that you cherish the Prince dearly, but I bare terrible news. His Majesty is being suspected of a disease called leprosy. It would be unwise for you to keep in direct close contact, as you would be at high risk of also getting this curse.” Y/N looked up at the adult with tears rapidly streaming down her face. “It’s alright, my dear rose. I value your health and life above all else. If being apart will ensure your safety, then I am content.” “Don’t you dare say such blasphemy!” it was the first time Y/N ever raised her voice above that sweet, comforting mutter of hers. “Am I not your wife? Your soulmate? Your confidante?” she asked in disbelief. “I have promised I will be staying by your side, until the end of times - The amount of years matters little - But there is no life worth living if you are not in it. I would much rather live a short life, and be able to support you for as long as God may keep you on this Earth, than live a long life, cursed with not being able to see you again.” Even a hardened Lord like Godfrey could feel his heart trembling with emotion at the loving confession from the young lady, who fell to the ground and hugged the boy’s legs. “Please, my love, do not drive me away from you, unless you grow to hate me, and should I ever be so awful that I may make you despise me so, then may God strike me down where I stand, for I could not bare to be torn apart from you.” “Y/N, my love, please, never kneel before me. Out of all the people that I may be reigning over, you alone, shall never kneel.” Baldwin had to gulp down his emotions, though he felt light-headed from such a bold and heart-wrenching confession, and he helped her get up. “I do not want to give you this wretched curse, but I would be a liar if I were to say I were not selfish, for I want to hold you in my arms forever, just as before.”

The realisation that half of his right arm and the hand were completely numb completely shattered his father’s heart, and he had the best physicians, maesters, priests and what not to treat him with oils, ointments, poultices and even charms, yet nothing worked. Though Baldwin had quickly gotten used to the idea, Y/N continued being in denial, and took over most of the physicians’ work, entirely, from then on. She was his wife, and she wanted to take care of him for as long as they had together; She simply loved him so much, and this disease was killing her, more than it did him. Such an intimate thing, touching his skin, cleaning it with herbs and oils every morning, lunch and night before sleep, and she would wash his feet and hands, just like Jesus did to all of his apostles in the Bible. Baldwin felt himself wanting to cry - The love of his life shouldn’t feel compelled to take care of him like that; That’s what servants and healers were for; Yet all the same, he felt so grateful for having someone who loves him so much...

But with so much love, comes the uncertainty of the future, and when he stops being the beautiful Prince that he is now, and becomes blind, disfigured, and loses feeling in all his limbs, will she remain by his side? His heart will never stop loving her, and although the selfless part of him hopes that she would run away and find someone better, some handsome knight or lord to take care of her, someone healthy and with many decades ahead of him... He was still human, and he was selfish. He wanted those few years he has ahead of him to have her by his side, until he does not open his eyes to see the daylight again.

Years passed and tragedy struck Baldwin and Sibylla, once their father died and the young boy of thirteen had to be crowned. A mere boy of thirteen, forced to become the ultimate leader of God’s Kingdom of Heaven, with Raymond, count of Tripoli’s help through his regency, and the unshakable support of his wife.

Baldwin and Y/N stood straight and tall, with the grace and elegance befitting the King and Queen of Jerusalem, though the pressure was weighting heavy on their shoulders, and the lives of so many people, and their Holy Land, were in their hands. The archbishop stepped behind Baldwin and did a cross-motion over his forehead and said a prayer, before putting the crown over his head. “Behold, your rightful King and heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Long live the King, in prosperity!” people chanted ‘Long live the King!’, though it felt more like mocking, given his condition - Granted, the people were unaware of his leprosy, save for the physicians and the closer advisors - They had to be kept in the dark, at least until his coronation... What will happen further, was a mystery. The crowned Baldwin took the other crown from the pillow and stepped next to his beautiful wife, dressed so formally, with such grace and etherealness, that she looked akin to an angel. “I, Baldwin IV, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, choose Y/N L/N, the woman to be my wife, and with the help of God, she will rule her people with the same love and kindness as always, and continue supporting me wisely. Long live the Queen, in prosperity!” as the King placed the crown over her head, the people chanted ‘Long live the Queen!’ again and again, awaiting for their King to sit on the throne and be given the scepter and  globus cruciger, whilst the Queen was standing up next to him.

That evening, Baldwin and Y/N were finally allowed to formally spend the night in the same room, without earning scrutiny from the religious people around, who were bound to gossip senselessly. Wearing their sleeping clothes, the King was laying on his side on the bed, watching his Queen embroider a handkerchief, with his name written with golden thread. “Are you happy, Y/N?” the boy asked, suddenly. “I am happy that you have not forced me to abandon you. But I am not happy, knowing that your disease is disallowing you to live a normal life.” she answered with such ease, that it sent a shiver down his spine. “You are supposed to answer personally, not with tying your answer to someone else.” Y/N shifted her gaze upwards, a cheeky side-smile gracing her beautiful features. “And what if my happiness is tied to this certain ‘someone else’, as you like to call yourself?” she challenged him playfully. “Then, I would call you a fool in love.” he chuckled, smiling fondly at the girl. “And I would be guilty of the same charade.” “There is no room for guilt in love, my darling. Though duty is the death of love, I am allowed to make my own choices - This liberty, it was you who had given it to me, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.” she explained, placing the handkerchief on the table, before stepping by the bed and kneeling, leaning on the edge, their faces so close to one another. “You could have gone home with your parents, yet you chose to disobey them, and remained the wife of a leper, willingly. That was a silly choice. I am going to make you the youngest widow in history.” he spoke bitterly, and though his hand reached out to cradle her cheek, it ultimately fell down on the sheets, afraid to directly touch her skin, in fear of passing the illness. “And I will regret only not having met you sooner, and the cruelty of God, for taking his most beloved human so soon into his Eden.” Y/N took his hand and kissed his fingers, before placing his palm on her cheek. “But loving you, is something that I would do over and over again, if given the chance.” “I do not deserve you, my sweet rose.” he felt himself breathless, every time he heard her speak such tender words addressed to him. “Remember what you told me, so many years ago, to encourage me to live for myself?” he only wished he could feel her soft touch playing with his fingers so dearly. “Howsoever you are played, or by whom, your soul is in your keeping alone.” she cited him so perfectly, word by word, that is genuinely surprised him, after over 5 years, that she remembered his advice. “Even though those who presume to play you be Kings or men of power, when you stand before God, you cannot say - But I was told by others to do thus - Or that virtue - Was not convenient at the time -. This will not suffice.” “To think that so many years would come to pass, and you still continue to surprise me.” though he wanted to chuckle, this body froze entirely once Y/N climbed in bed next to him. “Y/N -- If you contract this curse because of me, I would never forgive myself.” “The Saracens say this disease is God’s vengeance against the vanity of our Kingdom. As wretched as lepers are, the Arabs believe that the chastisement that awaits you all is going to be far more severe and lasting, once you are thrown in hell. If that is true, I call it unfair, and that God is nothing but a farce, and life, a cruel joke.” she snorted unceremoniously, before laying down and cradling his body flush against her own, his head resting comfortably on her chest, and she was soothingly playing with his hair, lulling him to sleep. “To hell with anyone who can consider you anything less than an angel, for you are the kindest man I have ever met, and Jerusalem is lucky to be under your rule. The way I see it, God must have thought you so worthy of joining the highest angelic ranks, that he was unaware of a faster way of taking you to his side. It is, after all, the prettiest of flowers that we are quick to pick first and show-off to others, before they wilt in our hands, and we throw them away.” “I am truly honoured to have someone like you hold such sincere feelings for me, and speak only superlative words regarding me. I feel better, knowing that you do not think me lesser, or unworthy, in spite of this misfortune.” though his limbs were gradually getting numb, he could feel ever part of her body touching his own. “Y/N.” he called out her name, cuddling into her, like a cute kitten seeking comfort and warmth. “I am happy.” he was deathly afraid that he could somehow transfer the disease to her, but in that second, his senses were drowning in her love. “You make me happy.”

But the boy at three and ten winters, barely crowned and orphaned, had not expected to grow into the respectable young King that he became by the time he reached sixteen years of age, though by now, the entirety of Jerusalem was calling him the Leper King - They found out the inevitable truth of his condition, and despite the wretched ostracizing that all of those commonfolk cursed with this skin disease, he was able to show that a noble, wise, kind and strategic King and deserved all the respect of the world.

The young King had all of his advisors around him, telling him of all the risks, the cons and pros of going to war against the powerful leader Salah al-Din; They were greatly outnumbered, but if they weren’t going to war, the odd were high that Jerusalem would fall to the Muslims. Sitting on the throne, Baldwin felt himself unconsciously raising his hand to his forehead, feeling a migraine creeping, from the overwhelming amount of shouting and unnecessary bickering and arguing between each notable knight, commander and representative of each army under the command of the King of Jerusalem. He wasn’t one to raise his voice, nor did he bother - At the end of the day, men were going to continue being men, and they will continue trying to dominate and overpower each other.  At some point during that abysmal meeting, he noticed the frown on his Queen’s face, clearly irritated that the adults were creating more problems than offering good advice for him, and she could barely keep herself under control not to jolt up to her feet at yell at them to stop behaving like petulant children. Alas, neither of their Royal Majesties were known to raise their voice or even get angry at their subjects; After all, it would be beneath them to stoop so low, when virtue was everything they were supposed to embody.

By the time they returned to their shared chamber, Y/N sighed dramatically, complaining about the unbecomingness of those nasty advisors, whilst Baldwin couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction. His sweet rose truly was adorable in everything she did. Instead of laying on the bed, the young lad sat in front of his chess board and stared intently at the pieces laid in wait to begin a game. Suddenly, a brilliant idea knocked him into a new sense of giddiness. “My sweetling, would you be willing to brighten my day by engaging in a game of chess with me? I cannot think of anything better that could relax me after such unnecessary stress.” His wife smiled at him with that loving tenderness, as she sat opposite of him and urged him to begin the game by moving his piece first. Baldwin carefully moved each of his pieces so that he would create the ultimate strategy, not only for his own side, but manipulate the girl’s pieces into well thought-out spots. In the end, it was Y/N who won the game, but it was him who started cheerfully laughing in triumph. “Never once have I seen a man so happy to lose a game.” Y/N smiled lightly. “What have you concocted, you little weasel?” “The game we just played, my love, contained my strategy for the upcoming war with Salah al-Din, with my side being the Muslims, and yours, Jerusalem.” he exclaimed with glee, getting up from the table. “Jerusalem will prevail once again!” “How cunning of you! Never once during this game have I thought you would be manipulating me into playing my pieces the way you wanted me to. You are wise and intelligent beyond your years, my love.” she praised him, stepping in front of him, and gently placing her hands over his face. She could see the way his disease was rapidly and heavily affecting him, and that once angelic face of his was now scarred and ulcerated beyond anything that the physicians resoluted or predicted. He had to learn how to guide his horse with his knees, instead of the tugging of the reins, as he lost feeling in his right arm completely, and the disease was quickly afflicting the skin of his other limbs also. “And neither will the Muslims, my sweet rose. They will be unable to retaliate, and will have to retreat back to Cairo.” despite all of the scars, and the way his golden hair was beginning to fall out and lessen, that adorable, boyish smile of his remained as charming as ever, and his crystal eyes were just as bewitching. “Will you please allow me to follow you in this crusade?” Baldwin was tempted, as her enchanting fawn eyes were his biggest weakness; His ration and wish to protect her was above even that, however. “I dearly wish to never be apart from you, but my love, you are the Queen of Jerusalem, and with me gone, there will be no one that I trust to rule the Kingdom. I need you here to rule over our people and keep them safe.” Y/N simply sighed and rested her head on his chest, her arms gently around his body. “As always, you are right, of course - If only that you weren’t! How many sleepless nights of worry will I endure, and nightmares shall plague me, until I receive good news from a dove, and am allowed to rejoice your victorious arrival?” the King chuckled softly, resting his chin on the top of her head, reciprocating her embrace. “How dramatic, yet poetic - I am honoured that you worry so much about me, but you needn’t, that is my oath to you. With your aid, my strategy will prevail, and with God’s providence, I have the courage to mount my horse and lead our people to victory.”

And true to his affirmation, the young King rode valiantly into battle, at Montgisard, and just as the strategy dictated, they gave the Muslims a run for their money, returning to Cairo very much defeated, and barely with a tenth of the initial army. Christianity had prevailed once again, and God had not turned his back on them yet.

“You should have seen me, my love, with the Holy Cross shining brightly with the light of Heaven, leading our army to victory! It was such a fantastic win, that I felt powerful as never before! I felt truly blessed and empowered - Like I will be walking the sacred lands for a whole century, and fighting for our faith!” the young King was laying his head in her lap, as she played with his golden locks; Whenever hair would freely fall off in her grasp, she would quickly throw it away, so that her husband wouldn’t have to see the way his beauty was being forcefully taken away from him by the cruel claws of Death. “If all the most beloved Kings were to live for centuries, our world would be a better place. You, especially, deserve to live for many, many hundreds of years, a prodigy above all else, and loved like no other before you.” his grin couldn’t be wiped from that pretty face of his. “Ah, if only that were true, my darling!” he exclaimed. “Now, I only wish to settle my sister with a new husband, deserving of her. With the death of William de Montferrat, and the birth of my little nephew... Sibylla is all alone, and named the heir to the throne once I am no longer.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have to take her with me on public affairs, so that the people would get used to her being the next ruler - But she is so against everything I try to do for her.” “Sibylla is still young and very beautiful, my darling, there is no need to worry over her future husband. I know time might not be on our side, but it is on hers. She will be fine, I assure you.” she leaned down to place a small kiss on his forehead. “I only pray that you are right, my dear. I love my sister dearly, and I only wish her the best.”

That wish, however, was never going to become reality, as come 1180, an adventurer under the name of Guy de Lusignan found his way in the Holy Land, and seduced Sibylla into marrying him. Baldwin was angry as never before, and even threatened to hang him for daring to debauch the Princess of Jerusalem, yet the tears of his sister and mother were enough to break his resolve and agree to this marriage out of love. That was the first mistake he did, and one that could never be rectified. Guy was a man that earned the scrutiny of the whole realm faster than any man before, and became the most despised being in the country, by all, except for his wife.

By this time, the King was turning twenty years of age, yet he knew he wouldn’t reach to see his age change its prefix again. His condition had gotten so severe that he completely lost feeling in his limbs, and he wasn’t allowed to travel. Not only that, but the skin ulcerations were so drastic, and his face was so disfigured, that he had the blacksmith forge a silver mask for him to wear at all times, and his body was bandaged in its entirety, and robed in white, covering himself whole. It was only his wife, Queen Y/N, that was allowed to gaze upon him, as she continued the ritual of bathing his sores and treating them.

Every day of his life, King Baldwin was happy that he hadn’t given his most darling white rose this accursed disease; Likewise, every day of her life, Y/N continued to pray to God that he may spare her beloved husband and cure that curse that afflicted his body and health - He was a worthy King, and most capable; one the likes that Jerusalem had never witnessed before - Surely, he deserved a blessing!

God, however, did not discriminate when it came to life-taking and misfortune. Be it King or peasant, Lord or fisherman, all had the chance to get sick and die before their time, no matter their worth, faith or the amount of good deeds done whilst roaming the earth.

The stress and all the incompetent people that advised him were none the wiser, and they only dug him an early grave, with all their arguing. Not only that, but Sibylla continued to deny her brother’s wish of divorcing that good for nothing scoundrel - The whole Jerusalem was against him and his lack of sense - Were he to become King, he would destroy the Kingdom of Heaven in a day. She was a fool in a love, but not like himself and Y/N. The Queen was right - Duty is the death of love, but the reverse was also available. Were Sibylla a simple woman, a merchant, or simply a living being without any responsibilities on her shoulder, her devotion would have been most applaudable - But she was the heir to the throne, and she had duties to the realm, she couldn’t afford to be so foolish and cling onto a man that would lead not only to her destruction, but to the whole realm falling into ruin!

By the time King Baldwin turned a most exhausting age of merely three and twenty springs, he was beginning to turn blind, as his eyes were incapable of shutting, and his corneas were burning and stinging him so excruciatingly painful, yet there was nothing he could do in that regard. Despite barely being able to walk around anymore, he had to deal with the consequences of that single mistake of allowing Sibylla to marry that incompetent Guy, who not only broke the pact that Jerusalem had with the Muslim by attacking one of their caravan and killing all of the people there, but he also dared massacre Salah al-Din’s own sister. How can his sister not see that this man was only going to bring ruination to their home? How can she continue devoting her life and affections to such a monster of a man, good for nothing and hated by all, whose head is set only on carnage and bloodshed, under the pretext of spreading the Faith and Word of God over the heathens that tried to obliterate them and convert them?

Thus, King Baldwin stood slumped in his throne glued next to the Queen’s; She gently held his hand, their fingers intertwined; He loved the visual of their hands being so intimately together, before all to bare witness at their pure and sincere love that transcended even leprosy and scrutiny, yet at the same time, he hated how he could not feel her hand, and that his own was bandaged over like a mummy.

“Guy de Lusignan and Reynald de Chatillon, with the Templars, have attacked a Saracen caravan.” just as always, the crowd of knights began fighting each other like a bunch of babbling baboons, until some person of authority yelled at them to keep silent.  “It was no caravan. It was an army headed for Bethlehem to desecrate our Lord’s birthplace.” Guy justified his immoral actions under the guise of protecting the Faith. “Reynald, with the Templars, have broken the King’s pledge of peace. Salah al-Din will come into this kingdom -- “ the Count of Tripoli was promptly cut off by the daring fool. Oh, how Baldwin wanted to let go of his reign and live the remaining days of his life in peace, alone with his wife - Yet knowing the Kingdom would fall into this monster’s hands, he could not, in good faith, abandon his people, nor could he see his Holy Land destroyed before his very eyes. “Tiberias knows more than a Christian about Salah al-Din’s intentions.” Guy got up to his feet, walking to the count, towering over him in an attempt to intimidate the old and seasoned Lord. “That I would rather live with men, than kill them... Is certainly why you are alive.” the knight sneered discreetly at him. “That sort of Christianity has its uses, I suppose.” the King and Queen shared a look of annoyance. “We must NOT go to war with Salah al-Din!” Tiberias exclaimed. “We do NOT want it, and we may not win it.” he was the single voice of reason left in that sea of idiots who cried out ‘Blasphemy!’ like a flock of sheep.  “An army of Jesus Christ which bears his Holy Cross cannot be beaten!” some Templar spoke with unbacked confidence. “Does Tiberias suggest it could be?” the scarred man remained silent, looking with disgust at the rest of the knights. “There MUST be war! God wills it!” those idiots were using God’s name as a means to bloodshed. The Queen could stand this complete disarray no longer, and though she missed the moment a servant brought the King a message to read, she shot up to her feet, and shouted at them the people for the first time in her life - Great was everyone’s surprise, especially Baldwin’s, to bare witness of something different than her otherwise honeyed and soft voice that soothed one’s worries. “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.” she recited a line from the Exodus 20:7. “Are you suggesting we are using the name of God with unclean intentions?” Guy looked up with defiance at the woman, whose elegant and royal aura turned cold and stern, like a strict ruler. “I am your Queen, and you will address me as such.” she harshly snapped at him. “You, who are worth less than a worm, and held in no one’s graces, dare create such disorder in the presence of the King of Jerusalem. The disrespect you have shown is punishable by death.” she stepped towards him, head held high, dignified. “To think that all of you will be listening to the poisoned tongue of this viper; That you would summon God’s name, to commit bloodshed - Have you forgotten the Ten Commandments? Thou shalt not kill, it was written on the stone tablet given to Moses - Yet all of you are thirsty for war - Not out of Faith, but out of boredom. You listen to this warmonger who knows naught of diplomacy, of tactics and strategy - Lest of all, of the good of the people of the Holy Lands.” the crowd of knights could feel their blood freezing in their veins from such a scolding. “All of this, in front of the King! Such rudeness should be the cause of you yelling out Blasphemy! Not evident caution and refusal to go to war against an army that is outnumbering our own greatly!” “You talk much, but say very little... My Queen.” Guy taunted the Queen with blatant disrespect. “What would a woman know of war, when all she knows is to was to sored feet of a man that may not seen the world outside of these Holy walls in so long? You call me lesser, yet when the King is no more, neither will your title remain. We are the same - Lucky to have been chosen, yet worthy all the same.” “How wrong you are - For at the end of the day, marriage or not, I will continue being a Princess, yet you will be nothing more than the fourth son, good for nothing, landless and with no title - And most of all, a sinner.” the Queen drew the sword from Tiberias’s scabbard, pointing it at Guy. “Kneel before your Queen.” his eyes widened in shock at such an order. “Are you going to ignore a direct order from your Queen?” Guy’s head snapped towards the King, who waved his hand at the man, as to follow the order. “The Queen’s command is absolute.” Baldwin nodded his head briefly at the buffoon who dared disrespect his wife, not only in front of him, but in front of the whole court. He was glad that someone was putting that idiot to respect, however, he hated that his wife had to step over her kindness and get angry, for his sake. Begrudgingly, Guy knelt down, though he glared at the Queen with those scorned, dark eyes. In a swift move, the woman swung the heavy sword with such ease, ready to behead the man - Only to stop, right as she touched his neck, careful not to injure him. Sibylla was quick to shout at her to have mercy and spare him - That she loves him, and what not. She was ignored. “Do not mistake my past kindness and mercy, for weakness. I may be benevolent, but I do not tolerate disrespect addressed to me, to God, and especially to the King.” she returned the sword to Tiberias, who nodded at her in acknowledgement and approval. “That your head is not rolling to the ground for children to play is my final act of mercy and acceptance towards you. You disrespect the King, your disrespect Jerusalem. Trust me when I say it, Guy - I always mean what I say.” she returned to her seat next to the King, who handed her the message to read. The look on her face said it all - She was both concerned and terrified, not for her life, but for his own. “Salah al-Din has crossed the Jordan with 200,000 men.” the King spoke out once ultimate silence reigned over them all. “He’ll make for Kerak and Reynald de Chatillon. My Lord...” TIberias was the first to speak, walking over to Baldwin in an attempt to help him stand up. The King gestured him to stop, and subtly shook his head, as a way to show he was still capable of at least getting up from the throne. “We must meet him before he reaches Kerak.” the King whispered in his advisor’s ear. “I will lead the army.” “My Lord... If you travel, you’ll die.” the Count of Tripoli voiced the Queen’s concerns. “Send word to Balian to protect the Queen and the villagers.” the King addressed the crowd then. “Assemble the army.” came his resolute order that earned a chant of happy cheers from the knights.

The King did not wait to consult with the Queen - Instead, he went into his room to rest, for on the morrow, he would be marching towards Kerak to create some kind of temporary peace treaty with the Muslim leader. Y/N shared a look with Tiberias. Fear was welling deep into her eyes - She was terrified. The nightmares that kept plaguing her every night were coming to fruition much faster than anticipated. Her husband was going to die. “Tiberias... I know you care for the King as much as I do. Though we both know his mind will not be swayed... Please, do try to keep him away from this journey.” her voice became a weakened whisper. “I cannot bare the thought of losing him so soon.”

Tiberias could feel his heart impaled, yet he was unable to utter a single word. He placed his hand on her shoulder, as if to show they share a similar kind of pain, and he hung his head. Y/N went to their shared room, and seeing her husband sitting on the chair, by the chess board, she fell to the ground, hugging his feet and placing her head on his lap as she wept. “Please change your mind, my love! Do not go to your death, not so soon! You are so young, still so strong -- I cannot... I cannot imagine living without you.” Baldwin sighed, his eyes stinging, yet feeling a little relief from the forming tears that were wetting his dry eyes, and his bandaged hand was placed numbly over her cascading hair, petting it. “Forgive me, my sweet rose.” he spoke with a shaky voice. “I did say I was going to turn you into the youngest widow, yet I did not imagine my condition would hinder me from even reaching thirty years of age.” even his body was softly trembling, in tune with her pitiful sobs. “Forgive me for breaking your loving heart. I was not the husband that you deserved. I was unable to bring you happiness, nor pleasure, nor was I capable of creating a family with you. God had forbidden me from even touching your body, in fear of transferring this curse upon you... He had denied me the feeling of your delicate skin, and a normal life span spent by your side.” “Do not say that!” she exclaimed, raising her head. “You have been more than I ever deserved. You have been more than I could ever dream of, even. I never desired for anything in life, except to see you alive, every time I woke up, and to feel you heart lul me to sleep, as you held me so dearly in your arms. For as long as I could hear your tender voice... Just knowing you were alive... It was all that I ever needed.” she reached her hands up to his face, taking off his mask and revealing the horrific, disfigured visage of the one seraphic boy. “If I could, I would trade all of my tomorrows, just to spend another night with you. I would trade all of my days, so that you could keep on living on, for as long as I would have. I would take the disease upon me, just to rid you of this curse. I would accept even being purged by the divine fires of retribution, if it gave you your health back.” her sight was blurred with the amount of tears hindering her and rivering down her face. “But to hell with God, and with the Faith, and with everything there is! Why must a good man endure misfortune after misfortune, and die young, whilst incompetent, evil bastards like Guy keep on living and thriving so frivolously?! I prayed day in and day out, and I have devoted all of my being to God, but instead of returning your health, he is taking you away from me even faster!” she wailed so pitifully, that Baldwin felt his entire being shattering before her anguish. “What kind of sin have I committed, that I cursed the love of my life as such a tender age, just a little after I have met him?” “You couldn’t possibly think to blame yourself for my disease.” he scolded her in complete disbelief. “Y/N, my love, never think that way.” he placed his hands on her elbows, urging her to raise, only to guide her to sit on his lap. Her slight panic was quickly shushed with a reassurance. “I am ill, not made of glass. If anything, this proximity could only serve to energize me.” Y/N gently held his hands and took off the bandages, revealing the severe ulcerations, the leathery skin and the open sores, red and painful, were it not for the numbness. She kissed his fingers lovingly, before placing his palms over her face. “Were I a mighty Phoenix, I would be able to heal all of your wounds, with the amount of tears I have shed. I would be able to fly into battle by your side and spit fire over our enemies, but also thrill a song of bravery and victory to embolden our army.” she took a ragged breath, stammering over her words. “But I am just a woman, powerless, and foolishly in love with one man, who is dying before her very eyes, and can do nothing but live in fear that he may take his last breath when she is not around him.” “You always did leave me speechless with your love confessions - And that is no easy feat, my sweet white rose. To say that I love you, is an overstatement... Yet God may strike me when I say... I do not love even He, the way that I love you. My only regret is that I was not able to even kiss you, when I was still young and handsome, fitting of a young King. I wish only to make you the happiest... If only life was not so cruel with us.” Y/N leaned down slowly, placing her lips over his own, completely uncaring of her malformed mouth, or the possibility of catching the disease herself. She wasn’t planning on living longer, if he wasn’t going to be alive and hold her hand any longer. “A silly woman, foolishly in love with a silly man, just as foolishly in love with her.” he muttered, gazing at how beautiful she was, even with eyes puffy and sparkling with tears, and skin twinkling wet. 

The King guided his Queen to the bed and cradled her into his arms to cry as much as hear dear heart needed, all whilst playing with her hair, as much as his useless fingers allowed him to, and whispered a string of endless sweet nothings, though he was aware, no word of love was going to sooth or mend her shattered heart, and the fact that his lack of days were the cause of it was a bittersweet knowledge.

On the morrow, the King nodded at Tiberias, placing his hand gently over his horse’s snout to urge it to kneel so that he could mount it and ride towards Kerak, where he would face Salah al-Din and propose a truce. The journey was long and arduous, lasting a whole week on horseback, yet he rose tirelessly, and slept like a baby in the tent, every night. There were no physicians by his side, nor his Queen, to wash and treat his skin damage - But it was fine, he wasn’t going to live long anyway, so it mattered little.

After seven long days, they reached Kerak, the stronghold of Reynald the Idiot, and with the King of Jerusalem in front and the shining-white Holy Cross that brightened up the battleground, the King, dressed the part, rode and faced the leader of the Muslims. 

The two king met, face to face, horse to horse - One, the Splendor of Christianity, dressed in full white, yet with a silver mask and the light-blue tabard of Jerusalem, and his horse was the same, white and pure, as was his virtue and soul. The other was dressed in black, and his horse was black also, to represent his own faith and leadership to his people, but also, his humbleness. The two stared each other in the eyes, siesing each other but, yet it was Salah al-Din who spoke first. “I pray you pull back your cavalry and leave this matter to me.” “I pray you retire unharmed to Damascus.” the King replied, his eyes seemingly unblinking behind his silver mask, adorned with crosses and swirls, to represent his Faith and Love of God. “Reynald de Chatillon will be punished. I swear it.” the man vowed, speaking in a soft, yet firm tone. “Withdraw, or we will all die here.” the two’s silence, as they stared each other up, was this time interrupted by the Christian King. “Do we have terms?” The Muslim leader only had one fear, and that was of the Leper King, who so easily bested him at merely 16 years of age, and heavily outnumbered; Now, older, yet with a frailer constitution, even the ghost of him could send a shiver down his spine; A rival worthy of his respect. “We have terms.” he nodded at him. “I will send you my physicians.” he humbly offered, wishing his rival to remain alive and healthy, for as long as he may. “As-salamu alaykum.” he King of Jerusalem tilted his head down and bowed his hand as a sign of respect, wishing him and his people peace. “Wa alaykumu s-salam.” Salah al-Din rose his hand and replied with the same respect, wishing him the same.

The two leaders of their faith turned their horses around, and Sibylla watched from the safe fortress, as her brother was victorious in avoiding an all-right war, and rode towards the stronghold of Reynald, who quickly ran, disheveled, to greet the King, who gracefully rode before him, and commanded his horse to kneel, so that he may dismount. Reynald offered a courtesy, as the King stumbled in front of him, whipping out a wand from his waist. “On your knees.” he ordered, with such disgust as no one has ever heard him before. Reynald did as instructed without hesitance. “Lower.” he had to be deeply punished for all of his thoughtless actions that served to ruin everything he worked so hard to build for his people. In an exhausted breath, yet still as kingly, he spoke “I am Jerusalem.” with another swift move, he took off the glove of his left arm, and the bandages, revealing a thoroughly maimed hand, along with a golden ring with a large ruby. “And you - Will give me the kiss of peace.” he extended his seeping, untreated, dirty hand towards Reynald, who started slobbering and kissing his fingers without hesitation.

From disgust and anger, the King used the scepter to strike his face - One, twice, and a few more times, until the idiot was on the ground, cradling his injured face.  Though the physical exhaustion took over His Highness, and as he turned around, he stumbled to the ground, and into the sand. It was Tiberias who rushed to support him to stand, along with two guards, that helped him lay on a comfortable couch, as the Count of Tripoli commanded the arrest of the idiot. With a nod at the man, the King was risen with the bed, and carried out, so that he may return to Jerusalem, with the much needed aid, before he may return by himself, on horseback.

Once returned, however, the guards that greeted them started yelling ‘Imposter!’ and claiming the King that led them to Kerak, the King that settled peace with Salah al-Din, their most feared enemy, the King that punished Reynald - He was an imposter, and the real King Baldwin IV was in his study;  The Imposter was quickly immobilised, struck down and roughly brought over before the real King, whilst the Imposter was thrown to the ground to kneel, despite Tiberias and the other knights’ protests and attempts to stop such blasphemy.

Before their eyes, however, the knights witnessed two Kings - One a little taller than the other, and dressed in his normal robes, sitting on the throne and reading; The other, on the ground, just smaller, and with the War outfit on. The King of Jerusalem rose on his feet, startled at the sudden disturbance, and the peculiar sight before his eyes; It would have been almost hilarious, were he not enraged at the guards having been so rough with the Imposter, when he did not ordered them so. “You may release that one.” though the guards looked in shock at the orders, they complied. “Of course, there is no one who knows me better, than yourself. I was foolish to believe you would just remain quiet, at home, where I asked you to be. You fool.” his scolding was light-hearted and tender. “Tiberias, tell me, how did the affairs go?” “Your Majesty... Ergh... Salah al-Din agreed to a truce, and Reynald de Chatillon was severely punished... By... You.” the Count of Tripoli found it difficult to voice out the ambiguous message. He was upset that he did not realise the truth sooner; He had let himself be tricked, and so well. “All of you - You may leave.” the King ordered with a dismissive yet respectful wave of his hand. “But -- My King -- The Imposter --” one of the knights stammered over his words. “There is no Imposter, but a loving Queen who was ready to accept anything may come, to save her husband from a life-ending journey.” the King stepped in front of the Imposter, and taking the silver mask off, revealed the beautiful face of the Queen; The revealed earned an ocean of protests and gasps - How was a woman capable of not only fooling everyone, but of mimicking the King so flawlessly. “Perhaps it is not that you know me best, but that you know me better than even I know myself. Truly, I am honoured, and my heart soothed with honeyed mead, to know that you have gone through such trials, for my sake. Foolish indeed, yet with such positive outcome that I am incapable of feeling anything but happiness.” with some difficulty, he knelt besides her, so that he may pick her hands and get her up. “As I told you so many times, my love, you do not bow to me, for it not I alone, but the both of us, that are Jerusalem.” “My sweet King, I bare good news, for once!” Y/N spoke for the first time since she’s arrived; Though her voice was weak from dehydration, not only was she happy that her quest was a success, and that her darling Baldwin was not upset with her tricking him, but she was also smiling so brightly, so much so that it surprised the young man, as he hasn’t seen her so genuinely blissful since they were children. “Salah al-Din sent over his physicians, and they offered a gift - It is called Chaulmoogra oil, and they said people in India and China use it to treat leprosy - The statistics show great improvement, unlike any other treatment before. That man truly respects and cherishes you as a rival, and a leader, my love.” Baldwin froze on the spot, seeing the woman reveal a rather large carafe that she kept hidden underneath the robes, hanging from the sash. Were it not too hasty to have hope again? A miracle treatment, so suddenly, for him? And even if he does get treated, his face will never recover, and he doubts his limbs are going to feel again. Still, he was unable to refuse her, seeing as it was the only thing that put such a genuine smile on her face, after so long. “Alright, my sweet flower - For you, I shall try any treatment, no matter how revolutionary or eccentric.”

He could barely keep himself standing up, as Y/N, in a fit of euphoria, threw her arms around his neck and swayed him. The treatment made him nauseated more often than not, and he vomited at some points, yet after good weeks of continuous intake of this oil, added with the herbal cleaning and ointments for his skin, and regular walking, his body was beginning to feel a little stronger than previously - It almost felt that he was getting younger. It was a scary feeling, for it was so good and hopeful, that he feared losing it, and in turn, Y/N’s happiness.

As Baldwin began regaining his strength, and to some degree, even the feeling in his arms and legs, and he was properly capable of holding a sword again, he was emboldened to think of a future of his own. First, he asked Sibylla whether he agrees to divorce Guy, especially now that she knows how awful of a man he was - But once again, he was denied - Thus, he was forced to exile this idiot, and with him, his sister also followed. With the timely death of his nephew, Baldwin V, at the mere age of 10, the King realised he had no direct Heir to ascend the throne once he dies, whenever that may be, and as he was incapable of creating an heir himself, and with Sibylla refusing to step up as a Queen, if Guy does not ascend with her; Once again, it fell on poor Tiberias to help out with this matter. He trusted Balian to become a good King, but of course, he wanted to live a peaceful life, as a blacksmith, not restrained by the burdens of a King.

Next, he had to get rid of both Guy and Reynald, permanently, so that there would be no risk of enticing the Muslim Leader to wage war on Jerusalem; Especially as he has him to thank for his unexpected recovery, and for as long as he may live, he will remain eternally grateful for his kindness.

Baldwin fortified the walls of Jerusalem and strengthened the bonds with the armies under him, and kept the Kingdom of Heaven safe. It was a true wonder, being able to stand on the balcony, with his wife’s arms around his body, and watch the starry night illuminating the city to beautifully, and the song of the crickets and toads resounding soothingly through the place. 

Though he was still uncomfortable with letting go of the mask, knowing well enough that people will keep being horrified of his disfigured face, he felt at ease, dancing with his lovely white rose around their room, hearing her sweet giggles, and seeing that beautiful, dazzling smile of hers that captured his heart, from the very first time that he laid his eyes on her.

Baldwin was a fool, so deeply in love with Y/N, that he prayed to God every day not to make him up from this reverie, for he is eternally grateful for keeping his Faith in times of need, and that He replied to him with the greatest gift there was - Not just the treatment, but his Queen’s happiness restored. The glee of a fool in love.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------                                           ANGST ENDING -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though the quest that Y/N embarked on was a success, once she returned to Jerusalem, she was met with the reality of her husband’s health, which was degrading at such a swift pace, even without the journey made. It was ridiculous, thinking that she went through all of that, yet it aided Baldwin with nothing, save for two weeks of worry over her well-being. What a disaster, she thought to herself, as she returned to her room, her head hung, and discarding the Kingly outfit with annoyance and disgust, as though she was a little brat throwing a temper tantrum.

“I do not have the power to say how worried I was over you, for I cannot help but be so proud of my Queen, and infinitely happy beyond the horizon, to feel your heart soulbound to mine own. I missed you more than the deserts miss the rain.” though he tried to reassure Y/N, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing the change of the seasons.

And his prediction was correct; Soon, he was unable to move whatsoever, and his white outfit was changed with a royal black and golden one; Even his silver mask was replaced with a golden one, and he could only lay on the bed, his eyes mostly closed, and awaiting the sweet release of death.

Unexpectedly, Y/N was came over, smiling, but also crying, holding a goblet filled with honeyed red wine; She sat comfortably over his waist, looking down at him - She looked like a child, with her eyes glazed, and expression slightly dazed - And she took another gulp of the wine. “Oh. Hello, my sweet white rose.” it was difficult for him to speak, and though he wanted to address her unexpected drunkness, he couldn’t. He knew his time was ending, and perhaps selfish, he wished to see her smile as the last thing he’d witness in this world. “What were you dreaming of, my love?” she slurred cutely, dropping the now empty goblet to the ground, her hands placed on his chest, and slowly roaming up to his chest. “How great it would have been, if we were not separated by a curse.” she hummed, allowing herself to fall over on the bed next to him, smiling widely. “We are in the earthly Kingdom of Heaven. Once we reach the Celestial Heavens, there will be no afflictions or diseases hindering our love any longer, and for the rest of eternity, in the afterlife, our love shall continue onwards, transcending this unseen barrier between us.” she nuzzled into his side; Baldwin wasn’t sure whether she was giggling, or sobbing - Yet he was pretty sure she was doing both. “We will be ruling over nothing except our love, and we will have no responsibility, except to ourselves. We will finally be free to live, and to love... And to be happy.” “My love... What was in that wine?” with a lethargic move, Y/N pulled him into her body, his head resting onto her chest.  “What were you dreaming of, my love?” she asked again - The excruciating revelation dawned on him - Y/N had poisoned herself. She could not bare seeing him die before her eyes, she couldn’t bare him dying before her, and her having to endure all the agony of a lonely life, with a shattered heart, never to be mended again. She cared little whether people would find out she killed herself, and she would get beheaded. Her only wish, written, was to be buried with him - Wish that she also voiced to him. “I was back in that summer, when I defeated Salah al-Din.” if he could cry, he would, not only for himself, but for Y/N feeling so heartbroken that she felt compelled to end it all. “Do you remember it? We were only 16.” “Of course I remember. I was so worried for you, out there, without anyone to care for you. I was praying to God every hour I was awake, to keep you safe, and have you return to me. I remember I jumped on you from happiness, as soon as you dismounted your horse. I toppled you to the ground. The Archbishop yelled at me for not behaving like a Queen, but Tiberias pushed him away, so he wouldn’t bother us.” he could only offer a weak, breathy chuckle as a reply. “You are as beautiful as the white rose that I put in your hair, that day, when we met. I am truly honoured that I had the fortune of being your husband. No man ever felt love, as much as I did, thanks to you.” he stole one last good look at her, before settling comfortably in her embrace. “My sweet white rose.” he called out. “Will you sing for me?” “Yes, my love. Allow me to sing you to sleep.”

I seek a man named Baldwin Whom I bid await me here I pledged that I would see him Before he leaves this sphere

This man of whom I speak He gave his heart to me But thence my soul grew weak And at last it too broke free

So borne upon an urgent breeze I travelled to his place Where only one thing could appease The torment I now face

Oh tell me I am not too late To see my love once more For that would be too cruel a fate I beg him be restored

That we may take a little time To bid our last farewell And remember all we shared erstwhile Such joy no one could quell

For never was a greater love Than that within our hearts Once born, forever binding us Through not e’en death we part

Who was the first to ascend to heavens, not even God knew, for they both appeared before him, holding each other so tenderly, looking like the most beautiful youth, foolishly in love with each other.

As in Eden, so on Earth, the two were found cradling each other, though the heart beat that once lulled the other to sleep, was no longer present; Yet a smile adorned both of their faces.  Just as left on the note, Y/N was buried together with King Baldwin IV - The King and Queen who loved each other more than any before, and certainly, any in the future also - The two lovers who could never be torn apart, in life, death, or anything in between.

Up there, however, they were no a pair of King and Queen, but just a man and a woman, fated to eternally love each other. They were just themselves - Y/N and Baldwin - Two fools, so foolishly in love with each other.

#kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven x reader #kingdom of heaven imagine #king baldwin #king baldwin x reader #king baldwin imagine #king baldwin iv #king baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv imagine

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (Interlude): The One Thing I've Been Wanting

a/n: wow oh wow i think you guys are going to love this one. another mini novel featuring all the emotions and filth you could ever ask for. john and cass have their formal wedding in south carolina that he always promised her they would. a few little easter eggs in there i hope you guys want to scream at me about. hope you all enjoy, happy reading and love you endlessly!

warning: smut

In May 1946, almost one year to the day that John Egan hung an American flag in the middle of Germany, he was sat in a plush hotel room in Charleston, South Carolina looking at a photo of himself in a smattering of local newspapers and even The New York Times. Locally it was the front page, nationally a column right in the economics section. The headlines ranged from proclamations of a fairytale come true to rumors on how the match would affect the valuation of the Cooper empire. 

He liked the picture they had all chosen though. It was from a photocall Mrs. Cooper had insisted they do just last week. Cass had worn a beautiful forest green skirt and white silk blouse, her smile perfectly measured across her face. There had been a bit of commotion over what John should wear. He wasn’t set to pin on Lieutenant Colonel until June and the communications team had proposed stalling the wedding until his new rank could be proudly displayed in the photographs. Might I politely remind you he is already my husband. If you make me wait one second longer to appease people with this party you will not enjoy the sight was how Cass chose to handle it. In this setting, one completely new and foreign to the boy from Manitowoc, he was entirely reliant on her to guide him.

In the final image, she was looking at the camera but he was looking at her. It was fitting. He was merely a planet orbiting around her sun. He looked stricken by her beauty and nothing could have been closer to the truth.

“Come in,” he called at the knock on the door. He folded the paper and tossed it onto the coffee table. 

“You about ready to get out there? Don’t want Spook thinking you ran away.” Gale clicked the door closed and stood watching his friend. “You’re nervous.” It was a statement rather than a question. 

“I don’t know why. I’ve been married to her for almost three years. Today is just a societal formality.” Marrying in secret in London was not how women like Cass were supposed to carry themselves, according to her mother. If no one was there to see it then they wouldn’t believe it. “Just…what if something changes?”

“What if something changes? Bucky, you two are still going to be the same people tonight as you were this morning. You’re still going to love the wits out of that girl just like she loves the wits out of you.” John stood and started to pace around the room.

“I know that. I know how I feel and how she feels won’t change but it’s now so formal. And there’s an audience and my wedding is in The Times, Buck, the goddamn Times!” 

“The photo did look wonderful,” Gale pointed out as he nodded towards the papers on the table. “Your wife doesn’t need all this if you don’t want it, John. I am pretty certain that girl would run away with you to a farm out West if you asked her to.”

“No,” he shook his head, “all of this is good to be sure she is always provided for. When we have kids, they won’t want for anything.” Wealth like this was almost unmoveable during the Depression. John had been in college for the worst of it. Had seen the toll it took on his family and the people around them. Cass and he could make sure their kids never had to worry about that. 

“When and not if, huh?”

“Buck, you of all people should know we aren’t exactly celibate.” Gale didn’t need the reminder. All too often he had found himself pleading for a moment of respite with the two of them. It didn’t matter when or where, he would run out of fingers and toes trying to count the sanctified places those two had breached. “She’s going to be the best mother.” 

“And you’re going to be the best father.” John and Cass had spent the past year filling in all the blanks their time apart had forced upon them. They had gone to Wyoming for Gale and Marge’s wedding and not a single incident had occurred. It was as if John had never gotten on a plane to avenge Gale that day. They were so in love they talked about having a baby in nine months, talked about the perfect house to raise them in. Talked about names and nursery colors. 

But then they had gone to visit his family in Wisconsin. And something had snapped. All the anger they had hidden from each other in the name of surviving the cold German winter had bubbled to the surface viciously. All the anger he had harbored towards her for putting herself in danger would not lay dormant any longer. Anger that every night when he closed his eyes he had prayed to keep his wife safe, that John could take any pain as long as she was spared, and she had negated it all without a thought. Anger that she had wasted almost two years of her life running herself ragged to maintain their relationship and he had been able to do nothing in return. Anger that no matter the horrors he had inflicted upon people, the horrors of Stalag Luft that kept him up at night, the horrors of not knowing who you were looking at in the mirror, that she didn’t find someone better.

“Buck, I’m sorry you weren’t there the first time Cass and I did this. But I am happy you’re here for this one. I couldn’t ask for a better best man.” John pulled him into a hug, clapping his back a few times. 

“I only agreed to see you cry when you get a glimpse of her.” 

“Yeah? You’ve seen her?” She had put him under strict orders that he was not to see her the morning of their wedding. Had even made John sleep by himself. He was missing her desperately at this point. 

“She said the dress was a family heirloom. You didn’t manage to sneak out a parachute?” John blushed and looked at his feet. 

“You’ll make fun of me if I tell you.” He had. They had just agreed to save it for a more special occasion. 

“Not on your wedding day.”

“Cass had the idea that it might make a nice christening gown one day.” Wait until Marge hears how John Egan has gone all domestic on us Gale thought with a smile. “Did she get the gift I left for her?” It was a silver locket, the date and a note that simply said I love you and his name on the back, a photo of the two of them in Wyoming neatly placed inside. 

“It’s her something new,” Gale answered. Her dress was something old, her mother’s diamond headband something borrowed and she had taken the time to stitch her favorite line from Blue Skies inside her skirt in blue thread. Gale cleared his throat. “She told me to pass along that you would get your gift from her…tonight.” All the girls had giggled furiously when Cass had asked him to pass along the message. There couldn’t have been a better man for the job.

“I think her asking you to tell me that is a gift all in itself, Buck.”

----

Cass was sat in front of the vanity mirror, admiring how her new necklace looked with a smile. She had already married John, had been through more life with him than any other couple she knew, but the prospect of the day still had butterflies in her stomach. It was the kind of day that flitted across her dreams as she had grown up. Wondering what kind of dress she would wear. What the ring on her hand would look like. Who would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Never before would she have pictured a man like John Egan but now not a day went by where she didn’t think of him and was waiting for both of them at the end of that aisle. 

“Ma’am, all the guest have been seated and Major Egan is making his way to the altar in-”

“I’d like to see him.” Maybe that was what she needed to calm her nerves. Some needed whiskey or cigarettes but she just needed John. “He doesn’t need to see me, I just need to see him.”

And that was how, on his way to walk down the aisle, he was dragged into a room and told to sit patiently while the woman in charge of ensuring this entire wedding went off without a hitch, tied black fabric over his eyes. 

“Is this really necessary?” he asked once his vision was completely obscured. 

“Yes. Mrs. Egan requested it.” Gale sighed as the woman used Cass’ new last name. It always opened the door to something unscrupulous. 

“Mrs. Egan,” John repeated with a wicked grin. “Mrs. Cassandra Ann Egan. My wife.” He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had asked Cass to write her new name for him just so he could relish in how it looked. How naturally her wrist and fingers moved to draft the letters. It was spectacularly wonderful and he was addicted. 

“Gale? Is he successfully blinded yet?” Cass was getting impatient on the other side of the bedroom door. She could hear her husband and she could feel him. It was like torture not being able to see him or touch him. 

“Spook?” John got up and turned in the direction of her voice, his shins colliding with a coffee table almost instantly. “Motherfucker!” 

“I’m giving you two…” Gale ran through the numbers in his head. He had seen the feral acts the two of them were capable of committing in less than five minutes. Anything more than thirty seconds seemed like they would be consummating a marriage that hadn’t happened yet. “Forget it. You two wouldn’t listen to me anyways. Just remember your parents are right outside!” Gale escorted the planner out and shut the door behind him, a stillness settling over the suite.

“Cass, baby, they’re gone. Can I take this-”

“Absolutely not!” Her voice was no longer muffled as she opened the door and took in the sight of him. Her beautiful, handsome man. Hers and hers alone. The man she had fought for and lived for and loved every day no matter how treacherous. “We have done absolutely nothing the traditional way. Let me have this, please?” John never was too good at denying her anything.

“Fine, then let me have a kiss at least.” Cass gathered her skirt with a small giggle as he stood there awaiting her with his arms open. She pecked him quickly and he leaned forward in a chase for more. “I’m dying, Cass. You didn’t let me see you after dinner last night and now you’re right here in front of me and I can just tell you look heaven sent and now you want to tease me?”

“I’m just so happy right now, Johnny.” Now that name only fell from her lips when the emotions in her chest were too much to even say his name. Whether she was sad or angry or blinded by happiness. He had gotten so used to hearing John that anything different locked him in on a dime. 

“I’m happy, too. Get to marry you all over again.” He felt a little better when her hands rested on his chest, his wrapping around her waist and pulling her as close as he could. His palms could feel lace until her hips and then silk. Maybe a bow at the top of her skirt. “I love you, Cass. Making things grandly official today won’t change anything about us. We’ll still sing as loud as we can in the car and share ice cream on the beach and count stars when we can’t fall asleep.” Her soul warmed when he said the exact words she had needed to hear, not knowing how John had ached with the need to say them. 

“Those sound like the vows you should be saving for later.” 

“I can think of a thousand ways to vow to love you forever, don’t you worry.” She indulged him in a proper kiss then, careful not to mess his perfectly coiffed curls and John restraining himself from tearing at the buttons going up her spine. Everything felt heightened, John unable to anticipate her next move with the fabric covering his eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” she asked softly as she knocked her nose against his. “You are so beautiful, inside and out, and intellectual and selfless and meet all my weaknesses with strength...”

“Sounds like a soulmate,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to do forever with you.” 

“We deserve it, my love.”

----

John held his breath as he waited at the altar, all eyes on him as everyone waited for the orchestra to begin playing as a signal of Cass’ arrival. He fiddled with the front of his jacket, ensuring it was straight and smooth, smiling when he caught Olivia and Jill giggling at him from their spots across from him. 

“Your sister is trying to kill me with anticipation,” he whisper-yelled. 

“She’ll make it worth your time, Major,” Olivia teased. Buck clapped John on the shoulders just as the first notes of the Bridal Chorus began to sing through the grove of Spanish Moss trees. 

“Here we go,” Gale said lovingly. Everyone stood and John breathed deeply as Cass’ niece, Jessie, slowly walked down the aisle with a shy grin, tossing rose petals as she did. Her brother Sammy was next to her, two silver rings on a plush pillow in his grip. John squatted down to be at their level as they approached.

“Thank you, princess. You look so pretty.” Jessie threw her arms around him as best she could.

“Thank you, Uncle John.” She ran off to take her seat by her father just as she’d been instructed to at the rehearsal. 

“Sir.” Sammy summoned all seven years of stature he had in him to stand at attention. 

“At ease, Sammy,” John chuckled. The young boy had fancied himself a future soldier. Had been amazed when he found out John was a real pilot just like in his comic books. “My best man, Major Cleven, is going to take those rings and keep them very safe.” Gale took them gently and locked them into his breast pocket. 

“Good work, Sammy.” Buck saluted him with a smile and the little boy was off in the same direction as his sister. John stood to his full height and squared his shoulders, his eyes sharpening their focus on the ornate wooden doors that hid his love from his sight. 

And when they opened. 

And when she lifted her veiled face to look at him, finally. 

And when their eyes met and their smiles matched and the tears welled in his eyes…

Everything felt right in the world. 

Cass kept her eyes on him as she held her fathers arm down the aisle. She had to slip her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from giggling with glee at the sight of John waiting for her. As she got closer, she could see the glassiness in his eyes. He was always so strong. Her stability in this world. The man who had her back through anything with no questions asked. The one person in the universe that loved her unconditionally and with no strings attached and in the exact way that she needed to be loved.

“Do you give this woman to be married to this man?” John was itching to lift her veil and kiss her senseless now that she was this close to him. 

“I do,” her father spoke with pride.

“I love you, Daddy,” she whispered as he pulled her into a hug. 

And then finally it was just the two of them.

And then finally he was able to hold her hand and help her up the final step to stand across from him.

And then finally his shaking fingers found the lace trim of her veil and he finally exhaled as he lifted it over her head. Her eyes were full of adoration as she looked up at him. 

“Hi,” he whispered. His hands landed on her cheeks and her hands rested against his chest.

“I’ve been missing those eyes.” Her own twinkled in kind. John leaned in, he couldn’t help himself, the officiant clearing his throat to stop them.

“We are gathered here today to witness the sacred union of John Clarence Egan and Cassandra Ann Cooper,” they smirked at each other. She hadn’t gone by her maiden name in almost three years. Not since London. “We stand here to honor and celebrate the love shared between these two people, as they come together to start their new life with a solemn vow, surrounded by their closest family and friends.”

A journey of love. Their love had already survived so much. From the moment their eyes had locked on an airfield in England, it had strengthened to withstand the tests of time. Their journey had taken them to the darkest corners of humanity the world had to offer. Had forced them to make difficult decisions in the name of survival. But all those decisions had led them here. All the darkness had led to this overwhelming light. Neither of them would change a thing.

A journey of understanding. They had come together and been torn apart and brought back together. And every stage had led them to becoming a new version of the person they had fallen in love with. They worked hard each and every single day to understand who was sitting across from them. Who was looking at them through the mirror. They had been off kilter for a little while but would always find their balance. 

A journey of perseverance. This was the easiest for them to feel when they looked at each other. They were both stubborn. Bull-headed in their pursuit of survival and a life after war. Aggressively unable to give up on each other. Relentlessly devoted to the forever that they had promised each other. 

“...and dedication to one another that lasts through time. As we stand here today to mark this occasion, we remember that what matters most is not the ceremony itself, but the love and companionship you will continue to share throughout your married life together.” John squeezed her hands. “There are no vows more meaningful and powerful than those which will be shared here today. Your wedding vows are a sacred declaration of your love for each other, the foundation of your relationship as a married couple, and the life you want to build together.” Cass thanked her sister as she handed her the piece of paper her vows were on, turning back to face John and letting his gaze give her the strength to lay bare her emotions.

“John, my blue sky, my love. From the moment I saw you, I couldn’t shake you. You were the first person in a long time to see me. To see all my faults and jagged edges and not to look away but to meet them like a perfect puzzle piece. Where I am weak, you are strong and you have spent everyday making me feel loved and safe and happy in ways words cannot capture.” John used his thumb to wipe a tear from her face and stroked his knuckles up and down her cheek for good measure. “I wouldn’t trade a single moment with you for anything in the world. Even the tough ones, even the painful ones, even the ones where I thought I was going to lose you. Because we’ve already proven our love can face anything and come out stronger on the other side. That forever will only be the beginning for us. And doing life with you, John Egan, will be the honor of my life.” Cass dabbed at the tears under her eyes, John knocking his forehead against hers.

“That was so beautiful, baby. I love you so much and-”

“Major Egan, you could just say your vows.” Gale smiled. Finally someone was getting a taste of what he had dealt with. He handed John the piece of paper and sent a wink in Marge’s direction. John looked down at the paper and swallowed before handing it back to Gale.

“Bucky-”

“I’d rather just tell you, Cass, how I feel in this exact moment because I have never been more in love with you.” She giggled as he held both her hands and locked his baby blues onto her eyes. “I fall more and more in love with you every second that I am with you. You are the reason I survived everything we went through, my love. The reason I made it through to the other side was because I knew that was where a future with you was waiting for me. You had this flyboy dreaming of growing roots from the moment I saw you. From the moment I saw you at a pub with your nose buried in a book, I knew I was done for. I knew you were going to challenge me and make me work to earn your love and it was so worth it, Cass, is still so worth it. We are going to build the most amazing life together, our own little solar system, and I will fight for you and our future every day, Cass. I promise.”

“And you’ve never broken a promise,” she whispered as the tears flowed freely down her face. 

“I don’t plan on starting now, Spook…Can I kiss her yet, Father?” A gentle laugh rippled throughout the crowd around the tears they were wiping away.

“Soon, Major. Repeat after me.”

“I, John Clarence Egan, take you Cassandra Ann Egan to be my wedded wife.”

“I, Cassandra Ann Egan, take you John Clarence Egan, to be my wedded husband.”

“I promise to stand by your side through good times and bad times…”

“...for richer or poorer…”

“...in sickness and in health.”

“I vow to stay true to you and love you…”

“...unconditionally for the rest of my days.” They both finished with a smile, drifting closer and closer to each other as the words wrapped around them. There was no daylight between their torsos as she threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he locked his fingers at the small of her back.

“Do you, John Clarence Egan, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

“I do,” he said just to her, his blue eyes molten pool of crystalline love.

“Do, Cassandra Ann Cooper, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

“I do,” her heart skipping a beat as John licked his lips. 

“It is now time for you to exchange rings. Your rings symbolize the eternal commitment that you make to each other, and the never ending circle of your love. May these rings always remind you of the commitment you are making here today.” Gale handed each of them a ring, John taking Cass’ left hand tenderly. 

“I, John Clarence Egan, give you, Cassandra Ann Egan, this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment to you.” The silver band fit perfectly on her finger, John swiping his thumb over it a few times to ensure it was real. That after everything they had been through, the two of them were right where they had always wanted to be.

“I, Cassandra Ann Egan, give you, John Clarence Egan, this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment to you.” The band looked at home on his hand. Like he was always meant to be claimed as hers. 

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may-” He wasn’t able to get the word out as their noses bumped together in the urgency to connect their lips. Cheers erupted from the guests and he held her tighter and tighter and tighter against his body and she slipped her tongue into his mouth, John groaning with ecstasy. “It is with great honor that I present you Mr. and Mrs. John Egan!” Cass giggled as John dipped her triumphantly, his lips pressed to the side of her head as they faced the adoring mass in front of them. Her one hand was gripped tightly by his, the other holding her skirt, as they made their way back to the doors that led inside. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Egan, congratulations! We have the reception area-”

“I think I need to change out of my dress, first,” Cass said to the woman but looking at John. Her fingers were already loosening his tie. “Would you like to help me, Mr. Egan?” He nodded wordlessly, catching her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Don’t wait for us to start the party, ma’am. I’m going to take my time with my wife.” 

----

The door to her suite slammed shut behind them and he was on her in an instant. They couldn’t help but laugh into each other’s lips as their noses collided, and her hair was falling out of its style and his hat landed on the ground. 

“You make me so happy,” she whispered as her fingers carded through his curls, tossed his tie to the side and slowly began to undo the buttons of his jacket. “I love you so much, John Egan. Just the way you are.” John brought his hands, delicately, to the diamond headband in her hair, lifting gently and placing it on the table by the door. 

“There was a time I would have done anything to hear you say those words.” She whined as he kissed her once then pulled away. Cass pushed his jacket off his shoulders. “I thought, after I heard them for the first time, that feeling would go away. I’d still do anything just to hear you say you love me.”

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I love you.” Her arm hooked around his neck and dragged him down to her lips, his hand fumbling to free her hair from the confines of her veil and pins. 

“If I can’t get your hair out of this riddle…” Her kisses were doing nothing to help his concentration. And her hands on his belt buckle were doing even less.

“You haven’t even seen the complex feminine garments that are under this dress yet,” she teased. 

“Cass, I’ll just fucking rip it off of you if you aren’t careful.” She reached her hand towards her hair, pulling one pin for it to cascade around her shoulders in bountiful waves. “How in God’s name…”

“You were going to get started on the buttons of my dress, Major?” 

Thankfully, he was able to compose himself long enough to undo them without tearing the lace of her dress. The release of her corset and stockings allowed her to take a full breath and John lifted her into his arms, her legs around his waist and her chest between his lips. 

“So, so beautiful,” he muttered in a daze as he laid her on the bed. “And all mine.” 

“Let me see what’s all mine,” she breathed as she sat up and kissed down his chest, his fingers undoing the buttons of his dress shirt as quickly as he could possibly manage. She paid extra to kiss exactly where his heart would be. “This right here is the part I’m most honored to have.” She pressed her hand flat and he placed his on top. 

“It’s all yours. Every last beat.” 

Their kisses were sloppy and impatient as they were both fully bare, John crawling to hover over her and kissing a long line down, down, down. He kissed her clit softly, her fingers threading into his curls instantly. He moved oh so slowly and oh so softly and with direct intention behind every flick of his tongue and curl of his finger inside of her. “All mine,” he repeated. 

“All yours, John,” she panted. Her hips lifted ever so slightly off the bed, his forearm pressing them back down into the mattress with force. 

“You’re so pretty when you cum for me.” Two of his fingers curled against the spot that made her muscles quiver. “That’s my girl.” Cass propped herself onto her elbows to look him in the eye, exactly the way she knew he liked, as his thumb pressed against her clit in the same rhythm as his fingers.

“Oh, fuck, John. Faster.” He obliged. Watched in wonder as her moan caught in her throat and her chest blossomed with the flush of her orgasm. Her hips squirmed as she came back to reality but his fingers weren’t stopping. 

“Want you to make a mess for me, baby.” Ever since he had first learned he could coax arousal from her in such a way, he had been focused on working it out of her again. “Think you could do that for me?”

“Yes, Johnny.” His fingers went deeper and faster and curled against the front of her with a sense of purpose only she would be able to inspire in him. Her hands gripped at her breasts as she moaned. 

“Good girl. Just let yourself go, baby.” She gasped as her hips bucked again, John could hear the change in his fingers pumping in and out of her. Cass was so close he could taste it. When her nails scratched at his scalp and her back arched and her toes curled, he spread her thighs even wider latched his mouth onto her. It was like drinking nectar straight from the source. She writhed against his tongue as he lapped at every drop, John’s own hips seeking friction by rutting against the matress. 

He looked absolutely sinful. Chin coated in her cum. A curl hanging down his forehead. Kissing at the inside of her thigh to make sure he didn’t miss a drop. 

“John…” She was practically out of breath as he stroked her clit one more time just to watch the way her stimulated body reacted to his touch. 

“You soaked the sheets baby. I’m so proud of you.” 

“Need you inside me,” she whimpered as John stood, pulling her to the edge of the bed. “Need my husband to fuck me.” 

“My wife needs my cock?” he asked rhetorically. She nodded, trying to move her hips forward to close the gap. He tapped her with the head of his length before teasing up and down her slit to gather her wetness. He saw stars as he pushed into her. She welcomed as much of him as physically possible, her brow furrowed and mouth agape as she watched him rock in and out of her gently. “Cass.” His hand reached to wrap around her throat as he picked up his pace. A moan escaping her lips in time with his thrusts. 

“Cum inside me, John.” He almost lost his focus at her words. They had been so careful since getting back. Not wanting a child to complicate the things they had been working through. But maybe now that all of that was behind them…

“You mean that?” He needed to be sure, his hips quickening with a mind of their own. 

“I’m cert- oh, right there.” She grabbed his wrist as he hit a particularly sweet spot deep inside of her, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Oh, Johnny, I’m so close.” Her own hand reached between them and began to work tight circles around her clit. John loved watching her touch herself. Had a habit of sitting behind her in a mirror and talking her through exactly how he wanted her to do it. 

His hip snapped quicker, the sounds of skin on skin and her sweet moans echoing through the room. “Get there with me, Cass, come on baby.” She knew how many thrusts away he was based on the way his forehead creased and his moans sounded strangled and he would always seek out a kiss from her. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chanted as he stilled and she felt a warmth filling inside her that she hadn’t experienced before. He gripped her hips and pulled her forward, burying himself inside of her to the hilt. Her breath caught in her throat with a squeak as her whole body went stiff before it was shocked back to life by her orgasm. Her moan was the sweetest song as it caressed his ears, his chest heaving as he looked where their bodies were connected. 

“Going to need to do that a couple more times before dinner,” he said, “Just to make sure I’ve gotten the hang of it.” A knock at the door broke their trance.

“We’re busy,” Cass called out lazily as John moved to drop his forearms on either side of her head. He kissed the side of her neck and she craned it to offer him more skin to love on.

“Mr. and Mrs. Egan, we’ve delayed your arrival as much as we can.” There was a very specific balance of timing for such an affair. The first dance and the dance with her father and his mother had to be cadenced perfectly with the toasts and the dinner. Not to mention the five tiered wedding cake and not to mention they had a ship that would be waiting in the morning to take them to their honeymoon. If they were any later, everything could be derailed. She knocked again.

“I am a little hungry,” Cass noted, her thumb smoothing over the crease in the middle of his forehead. “And you did promise you’d sing Blue Skies for me tonight.”

“I did, didn’t I?” She nodded. “Guess we better get you all cleaned up then.”

----

There was an empty chair at the head table the whole night because Cass refused to leave her husband’s lap. No one was surprised that they were late. That Cass’ hair was no longer in the elaborate style she had had previously. Both of their sisters certainly noticed the way her knees buckled and John tightened his arm around her waist. Gale and Marge recognizing the shade of lipstick peeking out from just underneath John’s collar. 

“And now the best man, Gale Cleven, has a few words for the lovely couple.” John whistled as Buck made his way to the microphone, Cass kissing his cheek until he got the hint and turned to kiss her.

“If any of you are new to the John and Cass solar system, I can say with authority they are like this all the time.” The crowd laughed and John raised his glass before taking a sip, Cass burying her face in his neck. “I’ve spent a lot of time with John Egan. Known him from the moment he put on that uniform, making the choice to serve his country. He is a natural pilot. A natural leader. It’s natural for him to love others but hard for him to accept their love in return.” 

“I think he’s trying to make you cry,” Cass whispered. 

“He might.” 

“When I was writing this speech, I was having trouble finding the words to describe the love these two have for each other. The love that never waivered, even on the darkest of nights. And that is because of two things. Firstly, Cass is his compass, his North Star. She guides him home. To safety, to her. To comfort and to love. In return, John chases away the shadows of the night and brings her a Blue Sky. His favorite song, that fact she stuck around after hearing his rendition should tell you all you need to know, and his favorite sentiment. That the presence of someone you love is enough to chase away all your blue days.” Buck turned and faced two of the most important people in his life. Those responsible for his survival in Germany. Who he would never be able to thank enough for getting him home to Marge. “You two gave me the strength to keep fighting. The strength to make it home to my wife. Because you two gave me the courage to believe in destiny and fate and the notion that our souls can find their other half.” 

Cass used her napkin to dab gently at the corner of her eyes, John’s hand squeezing where it rested on her knee. His eyes were focused on his friend with a look of pure love. The look of a man who had survived unspeakable horrors but had his anchor keeping him sane. One on that stage and the other in his arms.

“I love you, John. I don’t say it nearly enough,” she said with her lips pressed to his cheek. 

“Cass and John, I know you have the most incredible, love-filled days ahead of you and I cannot wait to watch the life you two build together because I know for a fact the world is a better place with your love in it. To my two favorite heathens.” Gale raised his glass, Cass blowing him a kiss and John tightly smiling and nodding in an effort to keep his emotions at bay. The flutes of champagne that were passed out went down in a single gulp, the band starting back up as Gale made his way back to the head table. 

“Gale, that was so beautiful. Thank you.” Cass untwined herself from John’s grasp to wrap Buck in a hug. “Here I was thinking you were sick of us and our antics.”

“I am sick of catching you two working on my future niece or nephew but will never tire of watching you two love each other.” Buck went to shake John’s hand but John pulled him in for a hug instead. 

“You got me through, Buck. Got me here with all these blessings,”John looked his friend in the eye, “I’ll never be able to repay that.”

“You repay me by loving your wife with all you got, every day.” Marge walked over to join them. “Hey, maybe you two even name your son after me!”

“Don’t count on it.”

----

The party showed no signs of dying down even a few hours later. Everyone was sufficiently drunk and full of cake. John had brought the house down when he sang just as Cass requested. She was giddy with her love for him.

“Get some fresh air with me?” she requested as he lifted her up and spun her around. 

“Lead the way, my love.” Cass dragged him out the door and a few yards away, dramatically dropping into the grass with a giggle and John followed suit. “Haven’t gotten to just look at the stars with you in awhile.” 

“We’ve been busy. I wouldn’t mind slowing down a little,” she murmured as her cheek rested over his heart.

“Me neither. A little time away is going to be nice.” A couple weeks on safari in Tanzania followed by a couple weeks on the beaches of Zanzibar. It sounded heavenly. 

“It’s going to be perfect.”

One year ago, they had finally escaped hell. It had taken all 365 days since to learn the new intricacies of the person lying with them. To learn their new scars. To love them as equally as the old ones. To convince each other they were safe and could let their guards down again and love each other with the same reckless abandon they had back in England. They had found their way back to each other. Found their way back into the perfect synchronous dance they had mastered. Found their way permanently nestled in each other’s hearts. No longer two separate people but a union. Two halves of a whole locked into a willing embrace for the rest of time. 

They had each other. And not a worry on the horizon.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #mota fanfic #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #cass and bucky

[junipers-archive]

Wedding Day Worries

Word Count: 1.1k

Includes: Fluff, Wedding worthy fluff, (i'm so funny), your special day, the day you marry Spencer and have to console him on his nerves in a closet haha

Oh my god. It was your wedding day. It was the day you were getting married. This was the day you promised- no devoted yourself to the love of your life! This was the day you married Doctor Spencer Reid.

But what it also was, was eight in the morning.

Your alarm went off too-loud, you were burnt out, now realizing having Penelope plan your bachelorette party may not have been the wisest choice you've ever made. Or...one that you could remember at all for that matter.

You got up and bewildered and nervous from your bed. Today was the day. No more waiting, no more calling him your boyfriend, after today he'd be your husband.

You collected the trash that had been thrown around the room, picking up abandoned headpieces and the sash you assumed you'd worn that read 'Wife to be' on it.

Finally, once you'd taken a shower and gotten into easily changeable clothing you headed for the salon where Emily and Penelope had promised to meet you.

Once you got there you were wonderfully greeted with pancakes from your favorite restaurant in a little go-bag and coffee.

"Y/n!" Penelope said as soon as she set her eyes on you, followed of of course by Emily.

"How are you? Ready to be Mrs.Reid?"

You hugged them both following into your chosen salon, "I'm great!" and really you were, "And yes, to answer your question I am more than ready to be called Spencer's wife."

You got your hair a makeup done, after you ate your pancakes of course, and then headed for the church with the both of them.

When you finally got there it was half past nine and you had approximately thirty minutes to get ready before the guests started arriving.

Which quickly shortens as your fiancé pulls you into the closet nearby.

Emily and Penelope having already gone ahead don't notice you're gone for quite some time, enough time so that you can hear what he has to say.

But only after he's pulled you into a kiss so deep you think you die doing so.

"Spence what're you doing?" You pull back, happy but suspicious.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" The questions rhetorical of course as his hands squeeze around your waist and your noses nuzzel against one another's.

You smile softly at how lucky you are, "Reid. I need to go get ready." You try to slide out from his grasp but it only tightens.

"Five minutes." You now realize he hasn't opened his eyes.

"For what exactly?"

Now he turns around, relieving you from his warm and comfortorable hands, which you miss instantly.

"I-uh I'm nervous..." he speaks.

You lay your hands on his shoulders to comfort him and turn him to look at you, your initial thought was he was embarrassed.

But he informs you otherwise, "Don't. I can't look at you!"

"What?"

"It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding baby."

And so help you god, he sounds so sweet and confident when he says it you don't force him further, only sliding in a small remark.

"Yea you got any statistics to back up that theory Doctor?"

And though you can't see his face fully, you recognize the tilt of his head as he smiles. "Only my own superstition."

"So what's got you so nervous?"

"You know that day you came to the office and asked me if we were dating?"

You chuckle, "Yea- Yea I remember it distinctly."

"Well the only reason you knew how I felt about you was because Penelope told you..."

This confused you, "The same thing could be said about me.."

He nodded at that, "A-and then when I asked you to marry me it was only after I basically told you I was going to before hand.."

You giggled, "That was not your fault, I mean the ring fell out of your pocket Spence-"

"You're not listening, I just- do you really wanna marry me? I-I never seem to do things right and then when it comes for this big moments, hell its our wedding day and I'm freaking out so if you're having second thoughts or-"

You interrupt him now, turning him to face you, him eyes immediately close shut, and you opt for hugging him so he doesn't have to look at you.

"Spencer. Reid. You are the single most loving, adorable and smart person I could've ever hoped to marry. I am not having second thoughts. I knew the moment that ring fell out of your pocket that I was going to say yes."

He tries to interrupt but you hug him tighter to stop him.

"And yes you've made some mistakes, but those mistakes are what make you, you. Those little 'mistakes' are what makes loving you all the more interesting and easy."

"But I-"

"Spencer. I was in love with you two days after meeting you. Can you imagine that? It took two days for me to fall in love with you and never once have I regretted it. You were my roommate! I was looking for a roommate and I found the love of my life! How lucky am I?"

"I love you too Y/n." You can hear in voice that he's accepted that this it and there is no way to convince you otherwise that he's not your soulmate.

You kiss him once more before you leave the closet, but he asks you question that has you shaking your head at him.

"Those weren't your vows right? I didn't ruin that moment?"

"No. You didn't ruin anything. But please don't become the runaway groom Spence."

He laughs, "I wouldn't dream of it."

They weren't your vows of course, you have a far more light-hearted and sweet message that ultimately still stings the eyes of many when you get up on that altar.

His heart stops when he see's you as your heart melts at his reaction.

And everything is perfect, the melody of the music is just right, the air somehow sweeter, the weather perfect and when he tips down to meet your lips, as you are finally pronounced husband and wife you realize that all of it was perfect because he was perfect.

And as you grin at one another, happy to begin a new life together you also realize you would've married Spencer Reid anywhere, in the pouring rain, in dirty cold basement, in the desert.

You would have him as your husband anywhere.

Because he's yours just as much your his, till death do you part.

Requested by: @wordsarelife

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid Criminal Minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fancfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #fluff #Smut #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #cm fandom #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #dr reid #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid one shot #CRIMINAL MINDS FANDOM #criminal minds family #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic

[brother-emperors]

What do you mean when you say that Pompey is a lover in a story of inescapable violence? I am extremely intrigued

the Late Republic is a stage of violence intent on gorging itself on this violence, the structure of the system leaves no other outcome.

Pompey is both someone born into this cycle and someone who is an acting hand of violence. He fashions himself after a military ideal, Alexander the Great, he positions himself as Sulla’s successor in the arena of political spectacle (rising/setting sun), he is Rome’s conquering hand.

He’s also, in Plutarch’s biography, intensely aware of matters of love and romance and does not treat them as an idle and casual affair. It is, in some way, an inherent part of his character. He is the ideal of a husband, even if it conflicts with whatever other ideals he’s supposed to embody, and apparently trades in his role as a general to remain in Rome with his wife.

We are told that Flora the courtesan, when she was now quite old, always took delight in telling about her former intimacy with Pompey, saying that she never left his embraces without bearing the marks of his teeth. Furthermore, Flora would tell how Geminius, one of Pompey's companions, fell in love with her and annoyed her greatly by his attentions; and when she declared that she could not consent to his wishes because of Pompey, Geminius laid the matter before Pompey. Pompey, accordingly, turned her over to Geminius, but never afterwards had any thing at all to do with her himself, although he was thought to be enamoured of her; and she herself did not take this treatment as a mere courtesan would, but was sick for a long time with grief and longing. (…) Moreover, Pompey also treated the wife of Demetrius his freedman (who had the greatest influence with him and left an estate of four thousand talents) with a lack of courtesy and generosity unusual in him, fearing lest men should think him conquered by her beauty, which was irresistible and far-famed. But though he was so extremely cautious in such matters and on his guard, still he could not escape the censures of his enemies on this head, but was accused of illicit relations with married women, to gratify whom, it was said, he neglected and betrayed many public interests.

Plut. Pomp. 2

All this won him admiration and affection; but on the other hand he incurred a corresponding displeasure, because he handed over his provinces and his armies to legates who were his friends, while he himself spent his time with his wife among the pleasure-places of Italy, going from one to another, either because he loved her, or because she loved him so that he could not bear to leave her; for this reason too is given. Indeed, the fondness of the young woman for her husband was notorious, although the mature age of Pompey did not invite such devotion. The reason for it, however, seems to have lain in the chaste restraint of her husband, who knew only his wedded wife, and in the dignity of his manners, which were not severe, but full of grace, and especially attractive to women, as even Flora the courtesan may be allowed to testify.

Plut. Pomp. 53

Nevertheless, the marriage was displeasing to some on account of the disparity in years; for Cornelia's youth made her a fitter match for a son of Pompey. 3 Those, too, who were more critical, considered that Pompey was neglect­ful of the unhappy condition of the city, which had chosen him as her physician and put herself in his sole charge; whereas he was decking himself with garlands and celebrating nuptials, though he ought to have regarded his very consul­ship as a calamity, since it would not have been given him in such an illegal manner had his country been prosperous.

Plut. Pomp. 55

The messenger, finding her in this mood, could not bring himself to salute her, but indicated to her the most and greatest of his misfortunes by his tears rather than by his speech, and merely bade her hasten if she had any wish to see Pompey with one ship only, and that not his own. When she heard this, she cast herself upon the ground and lay there a long time bereft of sense and speech. At last, however, and with difficulty, she regained her senses, and perceiving that the occasion was not one for tears and lamentations, she ran out through the city to the sea. Pompey met her and caught her in his arms as she tottered and was falling. "I see thee," she cried, "husband, not by thy fortune, but by mine, reduced to one small vessel, thou who before thy marriage with Cornelia didst sail this sea with five hundred ships. Why hast thou come to see me, and why didst thou not leave to her cruel destiny one who has infected thee also with an evil fortune so great? What a happy woman I had been if I had died before hearing that Publius, whose virgin bride I was, was slain among the Parthians! And how wise if, even after his death, as I essayed to do, I had put an end to my own life! But I was spared, it seems, to bring ruin also upon Pompey the Great."

So spake Cornelia, as we are told, and Pompey answered, saying: "It is true, Cornelia, thou hast known but one fortune to be mine, the better one, and this has perhaps deceived thee too, as well as me, in that it remained with me longer than is customary. But this reverse also we must bear, since we are mortals, and we must still put fortune to the test. For I can have some hope of rising again from this low estate to my former high estate, since I fell from that to this.”

Plut. Pomp. 74-75

I have some vague thought in here about how Pompey was entrusted with Rome’s safety, and that conflicts with his Lover status because you can’t love something more than Rome without Rome deciding to cast you out, and it also prevents him from reclaiming his Soldier role in the ensuing war with Caesar. Doomed by Rome, doomed by Love, doomed by Fortune, etc. but also simply the inevitable cycle of war and violence, the ever turning wheel of Rome.

#ask tag #he’s a weird guy. also a ghost. anyway lovers and soldiers die the same. in a ditch. #if I had to pick between Pompey and Antony I would pick Pompey with zero hesitation

[nicoline1998enilocin]

And the Oscar goes to...

PAIRING | Husband!Dad!Robert Downey Jr. x Wife!Mom!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 3.6K

SUMMARY | Your husband, Robert, is on the receiving end of an Oscar, and you decide to celebrate it differently than you usually celebrate his wins. He trusts you fully as he allows you to take the lead in the bedroom, making it a celebration that neither of you will ever forget.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | RPF, established relationship, age gap (~ 20 years), use of nicknames (Gorgeous, Bubba), referenced pregnancy.

SMUT | D/S dynamics, Soft Dom!Reader, Sub!RDJ, use of traffic light system, sensory play/deprivation (blindfold), teasing, dirty talk, praise, Daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, hair pulling, oral (F&M receiving), face sitting, face fucking, gagging, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), multiple orgasms, cockwarming, aftercare.

A/N | This story is dedicated to my best friend and the biggest RDJ supporter I have ever met, @ccbsrmsf1! I am so incredibly proud of him for finally winning an Oscar, so naturally, I had to write a story about how I would celebrate with him! This is proofread by the lovely @ccbsrmsf1, for which I'm deeply grateful ❤️

EVENTS Masterlist | @anyfandomfluffbingo | Trophy spouse

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | Photo: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Robert Downey Jr. Masterlist

"Robert Downey Junior!" The words still echo in your head as you go home after the award ceremony. Your husband, the Dad of your little daughter, and the love of your life has officially won an Oscar. All his hard work has paid off after all these years, and you're grateful to be by his side through it all.

The award is clutched tightly in his right hand, his left hand interlaced with yours as you enjoy the moment. Comfortable silence hangs in the air as you look at him with a wide smile. Knowing how much it means to him, you're incredibly proud of him for winning the award.

"I love you, Gorgeous," he whispers before capturing your lips with his in a sweet, sensual kiss. Your husband may be around 20 years your senior, but that doesn't take away from your shared love. You've never known true love before meeting Robert, but when he promised to show you what that would look like, you knew you were on board for the long haul. And here you are, almost 15 years later, by his side during the biggest night of his life.

"I love you too, Robert," you whisper to him. You allow your head to rest on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as you take in this moment. When he puts his head on yours, he lets out a content sigh. Nights like these take a lot out of you both, but that doesn't stop you from celebrating when you're back home. You plan on making it a celebration never to forget.

The moment you both step in your front door, the award is put away for safekeeping, and you make your way to the bedroom. You two have perfected this routine over the years, but tonight, it calls for special treatment.

"Robert?" you ask as he walks into the attached closet, ready to remove his jewelry and glasses.

"Yes, Gorgeous?" he says as he turns around, facing you before taking a last glance as you're still wearing your dress. He had chosen the one you're wearing to match your skin tone, and you felt like a princess on the red carpet tonight.

"What do you think of reversing the roles for a night? Me taking care of you for once? You deserve it after everything you've done," you tell him as you walk over. Now that you're not wearing your heels anymore, you must look up at him, as the two of you have quite a bit of a height difference.

"That's a perfect idea, Gorgeous. There's no one I trust more to take care of me than you," he tells you, and the feeling of pride blooms in your chest at his words.

"That being said, I was also hoping we could spice it up a bit if you're open to it," you tell him, and he looks at you with a quirked brow.

"I want to blindfold you tonight so you will be completely at my mercy. You will be allowed to touch me - not yourself - the entire time. That being said, I will also use the traffic light system during the entire session," you tell him, and he listens attentively to everything you're saying.

"Green means that you're good, and we can continue. Yellow means that you need to stop for a moment before crossing a boundary you're uncomfortable with or need to reposition. Red means that we will stop and move on to aftercare immediately," you tell him. He tells you loud and clear that he agrees with everything you said.

"Perfect," you tell him before standing on your tiptoes to give him a soft kiss on his lips. Consent has always been meaningful in your relationship, whether in the bedroom or outside, to make it safe for everyone to explore what they are or are not comfortable with at their own pace.

"I want you to get completely bare for me and get seated on the foot of the bed. And I won't say no to you showing off a little when you do it," you tell him, and the smile on his lips lets you know he's more than okay with doing precisely that.

One by one, he sheds his layers of clothing, each exposing more skin as they fall to the floor. When his entire torso is bare, you can't help but let your gaze wander over his muscled abdomen, your lip pulled between your teeth as you take a peek at his bulge as well. He tends to forgo wearing underwear, instead preferring the feeling of freedom over the confinements of tight boxer shorts.

When Robert is soft, he already has quite a noticeable bulge in his pants, but now that he is slowly getting hard, it's starting to strain against the fabric of his pants. His long, skilled fingers unbutton and unzip his pants quickly before the fabric slides down his thick thighs and onto the floor.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as his cock bobs up and down between his legs, the tip already flushed a beautiful shade of pink with his balls hanging beneath them perfectly, ready for you to play with later. After showing off for a few more moments by flexing his biceps and abs, he sits on the foot of the bed, just like you told him to.

"Good boy," you tell him, and you can see his cock twitch as his eyes flutter shut from anticipation. Meanwhile, you have also undressed yourself, being left in the beautiful lingerie he bought you for tonight. The cups of the bra lift your breasts to the point where they're almost spilling out, and the panties are barely there, just the way you both like it.

Every inch of your body is on display as you step in between his legs, your finger hooking beneath his chin to meet your gaze. The usual dark brown of his eyes has almost completely disappeared as his pupils are blown with lust.

"Ready?" you ask softly.

"Ready." As soon as the word has left his mouth, you bring the silk fabric of the blindfold to his face, covering his eyes before tying a knot in the back. It's secure enough not to go anywhere but not so tight that it hurts him. You do it exactly like he's done with you countless times before.

As soon as his sight is taken away, his hands find your thighs, allowing his calloused fingertips to commit every inch of them to memory.

"What's your color?" you ask when the blindfold is adjusted correctly.

"Green," he tells you confidently, and you smile at how he says it. His trust in you is visible in his voice, making the butterflies inside flutter wildly.

You sink on your knees between his legs, and the soft carpet under your knees makes it quite comfortable. Your hands are on his thighs before slowly inching higher, your fingernails softly gliding over the insides of his thighs to tease him a little bit.

A content sound leaves his lips at the feeling, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. After teasing him for a few more moments, you wrap your hand around his now fully hard cock, but it's so big you can barely fit your hand around it as you slowly work him up and down.

"It's so big I can barely fit my hand around it," you tell him between giving small kitten licks to his slit, his mouth going slack in anticipation of what's to come.

"You taste so good, Daddy," you say, and his cock twitches in your hand, which only serves to make you even more wet. The power you have over him, the trust he has put in your hands, has made you so aroused your panties are already completely soaked, and you're dripping onto the carpet below you.

Without any warning, you take his tip into your mouth, sucking softly to earn yourself a delicious groan that sends a shiver down your spine. At the same time, your free hand goes to grab his balls, rolling and squeezing carefully while you slowly work more of him into your mouth.

"That's it, Gorgeous, suck Daddy's cock like you're made for it," he says as his hands are holding tightly onto the sheets. His knuckles have turned completely white when his tip hits the back of your throat, his head falling back at the combined pleasures you're giving him.

"Feels so good, fuck!" he exclaims as you suck him down even more. Even though you've never been able to take his entire length down your throat, you're certainly willing to try and see how far you can get every time. Before you do that, you pull off him with a loud pop.

"I want you to cum down my throat, Daddy; I want to swallow every drop of your delicious cum," you tell him, and he groans in response to your filthy comment. He revels in the dirty talk you two share during these moments, as it adds to his neverending pleasure.

"Yeah? Does my little slut want Daddy's cum? You better work for it then," he says through gritted teeth as one of his hands is placed on your head, pushing you onto his cock until you're gagging around him. As soon as he hears it, he lets up a little, giving you a moment to breathe before doing it again and repeating this quite a few times.

"What's your color, Gorgeous?" Robert asks you this time, and you tell him that it's 'so fucking green' before he goes back to what he did earlier. However, this time he mainly fucks your mouth and throat enough to be still comfortable; all the while, you never stop playing with his balls, and your hand is still wrapped around the part of him you can't reach with his mouth.

"Oh, fuck, 'm cumming, Gorgeous! Fuck, FUCK, FUCK!" he exclaims before his orgasm washes over him, his cum shooting into your throat as you suck your cheeks in. You moan around him at the taste of his cum as he pulls out, every last drop being licked from his tip as it slides out your mouth.

You get up from your placement on the floor before straddling his lap, being mindful of his sensitive cock as it's lying between his thighs. Your arms are draped loosely over his shoulders as you lean in to capture his lips with yours, his tongue instantly slipping into your mouth.

The taste of him and his cum is still fresh on your tongue, and you swallow down his groan as it is shared between you two. One of your hands tangles into his hair while the other is placed on his neck, his own hands kneading the flesh of your ass.

As soon as you pull away, you smile at the thought of what you're about to do next.

"I believe you have to remind yourself of the moment when I said I was supposed to be the one taking care of you," you say, and a content sound slips from Robert's lips.

"Well, since you did not listen to me, I'm going to have to make you listen by using you for my pleasure instead of yours this time. Does that sound fair to you?"

"Yes, Gorgeous," he says, followed by a small sigh. You carefully push him backward until he's lying flat on his back.

"I am going to sit on your face, and you will eat out my pussy until I cum for you. Your hands will stay on my thighs at all times, and if you have to stop, tap either one of my thighs three times, okay?" you ask him, his tongue darting out of his mouth as he's waiting for you to finish.

"Yes." With that, you pull down your now completely ruined panties before discarding them on the floor and taking your place on his face. His arms are hooked over your thighs, and his fingers dig into your flesh as soon as his tongue makes contact with your drenched pussy.

You let out a loud moan as he slurps up every last drop of your juices before letting his tongue dip into your entrance as well as play with your sensitive clit. One of your hands tangles into his hair, and you pull hard as you rock your hips back and forth, the other one finding its place behind you on his chest to give you more leverage.

"That's it, lick my fucking clit until I cum! I'm so close, Daddy, 'm gonna cum for you!" The words are followed by some incoherent thoughts as the pleasure inside you is bound to explode.

The pace you're setting is brutal, but he doesn't let up for even a second, and before you know it, you're entirely soaking the bottom half of his face as your orgasm washes over you, your head thrown back in pleasure with a loud exclaim of his name. It is one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had, and you let yourself fall forward as you go completely limp for a long moment.

"I will never get enough of your sweet taste, Gorgeous, especially when I can drink it directly from the source," he says with a grin. You sigh in contentment before picking yourself back up, ready to move on with the rest of your scene together.

"What's your color, Daddy?"

"So fucking green, Gorgeous, 'm feeling amazing right now," he tells you, and you lean in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"Good. I want you to sit up and carefully move backward until you feel the pillows so you can get seated comfortably against the headboard, okay?" you ask, and he nods. He does it all while blindfolded, and you help him get comfortable when he has found his place.

"To finish off our special celebration, I'm going to ride this delicious monster cock of yours until you're cumming deep inside my tight, warm pussy as a reward for you being good tonight," you tell him, and he hums in delight.

"Sounds perfect, Gorgeous," he whispers before you place a kiss on his lips and straddle his hips, his cock fully hard as it's lying against his abdomen. A small dribble of pre-cum leaks from the tip as you grab it and line it up before slowly sinking, giving yourself the time to properly adjust to the stretch of his cock inside you.

When he eventually bottoms out, you both let out long, broken moans, the pleasure threatening to become too much right at that moment.

"Color?" ''Green, Gorgeous, 'm always green with you," he whispers, and you can't help but chuckle at his words.

"You feel so good when you're wrapped around me. So warm 'n' tight," he says as he pulls you against him, his face nuzzling in your neck as he inhales your scent. Warm vanilla combined with a hint of something spicy has his mind going into overdrive.

"I want to have another baby with you, Gorgeous. I want to have another beautiful baby that looks just like you, with your beautiful eyes, nose, and lips. Please, shall we make another baby?" he asks, and you're grateful he's blindfolded; otherwise, he would have seen the bright red color on your cheeks at the confession of his words.

"Yes, Robert, I want that too. I want all of that and more; please fuck a baby into me!" you tell him before you start lifting yourself and sinking back down, finding a rhythm that has you both moaning and groaning.

Robert leans forward as he makes contact with your pulse point, sucking a deep purple bruise there as you keep riding him, your head lulling to the side as he does so.

"God, that's it, Gorgeous, ride this cock like my perfect slut. Can't wait to fuck another baby into you, that's what you want, isn't it? To have every last drop of my cum in this sweet pussy of yours until you're pregnant?" he asks, and you just nod in response, even though he can't see it. You don't trust yourself enough not to let it slip in the heat of the moment that you’re already pregnant.

"I'm gonna cum, Daddy! Please cum with me!" you tell him, and he does precisely that. The second you're both falling over the edge, Robert pulls you close to his body as his hands rub soft circles over your back.

"That's it, Gorgeous. Doin' so well for me," he says as you melt into his embrace. You two stay like this for quite a while, even after he has gone soft inside you. Once the blindfold is finally removed, you're very happy to be looking into your husband's eyes again, a broad smile appearing on your lips as you do.

"I love you so much, Robert. And congratulations again on winning the Oscar; no one deserved it more than you," you tell him, and tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

"I couldn't have done it without you or our baby June," he tells you, and the tears start to roll down his cheeks at the thought of his daughter. She is an exact copy of you, from the hair to the facial features, but she has the character of her Dad, making her the perfect combination of you both.

"Don't cry, Bubba. We will always support you no matter what," you whisper before kissing his nose softly. His eyes flutter shut as the tears keep finding their way onto his cheeks, and you keep wiping them away. You'll always be there to support him, no matter what.

"I love you so much, and I'm forever grateful to have you by my side," he tells you, and you nod.

"I love you too, Robert. But it's about time we get cleaned up and cuddle before sleep. My Mom will be here to drop June off around 9, so we should get some sleep while we still can," you tell him, and he nods.

The clean-up is swift, and before you know it, you're dressed in a pair of panties and one of Robert's shirts, and he's dressed in nothing but basketball shorts. If little June, your 3-year-old daughter, decides to run into your bedroom in the morning, you're both adequately dressed.

That night, you both sleep like logs, and all too soon for your liking, your alarm goes off, but you get out of bed anyway. You have to prepare a little surprise for your husband, so you have told him he can stay in bed, and he happily does as he turns over again.

As soon as your Mom walks through the door with June, she immediately stretches her arms out to be held by you.

"Good morning, Princess! Did you have fun at Grandma and Grandpa's house last night?" you ask after giving her a big kiss on her cheek.

"Yeah! Can I cuddle Daddy now?" she asks, and you shake your head with a smile at her comment. She's a Daddy's girl through and through, but before she can wake him up, you must change her shirt first.

"I want you to help me surprise Daddy, okay? But to do that, we need to put another T-shirt on you that says 'Big Sister' on it! Because that's what you're going to be later this year. You are going to be the best big sister to the baby growing in Mommy's belly!" you tell her, and she looks at you with wide eyes.

"Yay! I'm a big sister!" she exclaims excitedly, making you smile widely. Her enthusiasm is like her Daddy's, and you cannot get enough of it.

"You are, but Daddy doesn't know yet so that you can surprise him," you tell her again. She agrees before allowing you to change her unicorn shirt for a bright pink one with "BIG SISTER" written across it.

"Alright, go surprise Daddy!" you tell her, and she's immediately off to the bedroom, where she knows he will be. You and your Mom are as close behind her as she is.

"Daddy! Daddy! I'm a big sister!" she happily says as she runs into the bedroom. It takes Robert quite a long moment to understand what's going on, but when it finally clicks, he couldn't be happier.

"Do you want to be a big sister?" he asks, and June nods excitedly.

"Yes! I'm a BIG sister now," she says with her arms raised high, and you come to sit on the edge of the bed, where June and Robert are currently cuddling.

"I'm pregnant again, Robert, and if everything goes according to plan, we'll have a beautiful Halloween baby," you tell him, and for the second time in less than 12 hours, tears of joy roll down his cheeks. The last time he felt this happy was when you told him you were pregnant with your oldest daughter, and to have another addition to the family makes him feel extremely proud.

"Did you also know Daddy won a big prize yesterday?" Robert asks her, and she nods.

"Yes, Grandma showed me! Good job, Daddy. You won a big prize, and I am a big sister. Now we're both big!" she rambles, and you cannot stop laughing at it. Her enthusiasm is amazing, and you never want her to grow up. If it were up to you, you would freeze this moment and stay in it forever because this is what pure happiness feels like.

#oscars #rpf #robert downey jr #robert downey jr one shot #robert downey jr fanfiction #robert downey jr fanfic #robert downey jr x female reader #robert downey jr x reader #robert downey jr fluff #robert downey jr smut #rdj #rdj one shot #rdj fanfiction #rdj fanfic #rdj x female reader #rdj x reader #rdj fluff #rdj smut

[transingthoseformers]

Nononono. I love SG!ConstructProwl. Because consider in IDW Baseline he never accepted them truly and they left him.

In SG they are successful at wooing him.

Oooooh.

Concept.

In SG it is the Constructicons are medics. In BL, they forcibly converted Prowl because of orders and feel in love with his brain. In there's during the SG!ProwlOP divorce, they find him beaten and broken left to die, and having seen what he went through feel sick at the idea of leaving him, and his Spark case is compromised. So they temporarily hook him into their Gestalt system since it is made to accept others, but Prowl latches on to them and is utter enraptured by their loyalty and love. He knows it exists but feeling that kind of loyalty and naivete about being goodness in the world after everything he sees is charming and what's more he wants it. So they've been chosen by a feral sleazy cat/mean girl who is very much now "Optimus who?" and eyeing them up while they squeak and push at him with a broom especially since he refuses to break the bond and gives them sad cat eyes that they know–they can feel his think which is beautifully sharp and horrifically clear and calculating–it is fake but the thought of hurting him and echoed memory of rejections and beatings and not being enough that radiates at the spark of him makes them unable to let go.

Even more Prowl is more than rwady to go full ride or die and has decided to be their murderous "he said no pickles" girlfriend and torment them into not overworking themselves and glare at the Decepticons who ask for assistance or projects and make sure they eat and are fed and have a schedule. The Constructicons overextend themselves to support everyone and have issues saying no.

Prowl does not.

The Decepticons are horrified at the implication of taking advantage and Megatron finds himself agreeing with Prowl about them taking care of themselves while they get upset at first but reluctantly admit he's right.

"Of course I am." Is Prowl’s only response as he shoves cube of Energon flavored to each of their exact tastes and locks down their work stations (Soundwave conveniently distracts Shockwave so he can't help them hack back in) and shuffles them to berth.

Hm, I have thoughts now about Workaholic!SG!Constructicons and their small bossy new self-assigned wife.

Exactlyyyyyyy

In SG, they said "we may or may not be able to fix him but we can try"

Also yes yes on SG medic!constructicons.

Exactly, SG ProwlOp is a toxic relationship I can absolutely see happening as an on/off thing that's been going on since before the war but of course this is the final off switch.

They just have to save him, they've gotta. And they do. Prowl happens to latch on very tightly and does not want to let go lol

It is such the opposite of canon and now he's the one who is sticking close by, because he has felt Positive Emotions that do not come from someone else's Negative Emotions for the first time and he's hooked.

"Would you like me to kill that guy???"

"... No thank you, but it's the thought that counts?"

Yes I'm fiddling around with the constructicon's colors and I am so tempted to keep the purple and not the green

Awww yes and he is making sure they don't implode by being selfish for them (oddly selfless of him, but he'd deny that)

Sdfg yep yep he is their evil bastard they have adopted and he's bullying them into self carem

#maccadam #transformers #sg prowl #sg megatron #sg soundwave #sg shockwave #wavewave #oops! i guess since the tag is there I've gotta keep it #:3 #constructiprowl #constructicons #sg optimus prime #prowlop #well past prowlop #idw prowl #transformers shattered glass

[believinghurts]

Their Daughter Part 6

Tenison was high in the dining room of Grimmuald Place as the Black brothers stared one another down. Regulus knew that part of Sirius's anger was because he thought he had lost his child to his brother, much like when they were young, and their parents favored Regulus over him. But this was Sirius's own fault; Ali had tried even after she had been hurt that Sirius went to Harry first. Sirius could not get over the fact that Ali was close with the Malfoys and had taken to projecting his anger to the only person who would love him more than anything if he tried.

Sirius wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was jealous of Regulus. He always had been, but coming back from the hell he had been trapped in to find that his own daughter had chosen his brother over him hurt more than any torture he had ever faced. Regulus had always been the perfect child who everyone adored. He had gotten fewer beatings as a child than Sirius, had gotten better grades in school, and now was considered a dad to Ali. It was only natural for Sirius to go back to what he did during his school years and focus his attention on the people who showed him attention. Harry was his godchild, but Harry also had no one else, meaning Sirius didn't have to worry about being replaced. Sirius also felt awful for the events that transpired the night of James and Lily's deaths and was trying to make up for it.

"If you just gave her a chance, you may find she is much more like you than you think." Regulus sat at the table again, watching his older brother run his hands through his hair. "She is so headstrong and stubborn that I know it revivals yours. And I cannot express enough how she just wants to be good enough for you to love, much like how you tried for years with Mother."

Sirius sighed in defeat, regrettting the painful things he had put his daughter through. "I do love her. I just…."

"Are shit at showing it. I saw the look in your eyes when Ali called me dad; I know that hurt you. But instead of talking about it, you just lash out at her or me or Remus, making it seem like you really don't care at all. I never tried to fill that role in her life. I was and will always be Uncle Reg, and that is fine. Do I see her as my child and love her like my own? Yes, absolutely. I will do anything for her, and if that fills that role as a father, I will. But I don't want to take that from you. You had so much stolen from you in your life, Sirius: your childhood, your parents, your best friend, 12 years of your life. The last thing I want to do is take more away, but I cannot and will not put you above her. She deserves so much in this world, and you should help her get it. We both should. But the question remains: will you put aside your 'every Slytherin is a Death Eater' mindset to do so? Because people have changed and we are close to the Malfoys, Notts, Parkinson's, and the Zabini's. They are not the same people anymore. Things have changed in the war; sides have changed. But you haven't. Ali is loyal to a fault and is a great judge of character; she won't betray the Order, nor will the others. Just give people a chance, Sirius."

"I did give people a chance, and it…..it got my best friend and his wife killed. We trusted Peter. I trusted Peter enough to have James make him the secret Keeper. It got them killed, and he was our friend. How am I supposed to trust that Lucius Malfoy has the Order's best interest at heart when my own friend of 9 years didn't?" Sirius started pacing before his brother. His head is cloudy in memories, tears blurring his eyes as his best friend's dead body flashed in front of him. "I know that I'm shit at showing Ali I love her, and part of it is because I'm scared to get close only to lose her again to someone like Lucius Malfoy. I owe it to James to look after Harry, but that doesn't mean I don't love him like my own because I do. But I love Ali just as much, and I know she has you, Remus, and even Snivillious to love her. And I want to try to improve things with her; I just don't know how. How do I fix what I've done, Regulus?"

Regulus caught the double meaning to his brother's question, "You can't. Sirius, you can't fix what happened to James and Lily. You can't fix how you've treated Ali so far."

Sirius felt his heart crack at his brother's words. He had hoped to get Ali back, but it seemed he had gone too far. He started for the stairs when Regulus continued.

"But that doesn't mean you can't fix it from now on. You can't change the past and bring James back, but you can make them proud by loving and protecting Ali and Harry. I mean, yeah, they don't get along now, but I think part of that is because he has seen and heard how you and James treated outsiders. I know they used to play together as babies, not that they would remember it, but Remus told me. Tell how close they were till everything happened, and bring them back together. Stop being afraid of losing Ali to someone when all everyone wants to do is love her and keep her safe. And maybe you don't trust Lucius or the others right now, but I trust them more than Dumbledore most of the time. And you should talk to Moody about the help Lucius has given the Order even if he refuses to say he has aligned himself with us." Regulus held his brother's shoulder, "Give them a chance. Don't let the other kids make remarks about Ali and her friends. Talk to her. I wouldn't start trying to act like her father, but maybe a friend? Or a really distant uncle. You'll figure it out, Sirius; you're smarter than you give yourself credit for."

Sirius followed his brother up the stairs, going to bed with hope, lighting a flame in his heart for the first time in years.

Days following the talk between Regulus and Sirius, Ali noticed that the golden trio had become slightly nicer to her. She does not make as many comments about her or her friends. She had no idea what was happening but wasn't going to complain. Regulus had come to her that morning telling her that he thought it a better idea if Blaise came to their house instead of her going over there. He believed it would show that the Slytherins were not as bad as all the others thought.

At first, Ali was hesitant about the idea. Still, after being reassured that Remus would be home as well as Regulus, Ali agreed. The thought of Blaise being at her house surrounded by her tormentors made her sick to her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to run away for a few days, but that ship had sailed, and it was only hours before Blaise arrived when Regulus called for 'those who live in this house meeting.' By the time Ali had gotten dressed and cleaned her room, everyone was already in the kitchen since it seemed to be the usual gathering place for the group. She straightened her sweater and did a quick glance down to make sure her outfit was still okay. It was slightly chilly in the house, so she had gone with a Bulgarian Quidditch sweater that was mainly red with black details and a pair of cropped black leggings with matching fuzzy socks. She and Blaise had already decided to stay for most of the day and then go and get dinner somewhere in Diagon Ally so she could change later. Remus and Regulus walked at the same time as Sirius and Harry.

"I'm assuming everyone is confused about why this meeting was called," Remus started. "There seems to be an assumption that Slyertians and those associated with them are all Death Eaters or traitors."

Scowls had overtaken most of the younger one's faces in the room, as well as Sirius's. Ali looked at her uncle, trying to figure out where this was going. She knew the reason was to inform everyone that Blaise would be here for a few days, but there was something else going on; she could feel it.

"After speaking with Dumbledore and getting his permission, not that I technically need the permission as it is my house, but nevertheless. A few individuals will be coming to stay here for the upcoming days, and there will be a couple of visitors as well." Regulus's eye caught Ali's, and gave her a wink just as the sound of footsteps entered the foyer. Ali was too short to see over everyone's heads to see who was there, but from the looks on a couple faces, including the elder Weasley, it was someone they were not fond of.

A flash of white hair caught Ali's eye as the group entered the kitchen. Her mouth dropped in shock as she took in her uncle Severus, leading the Malfoys, Blaise, and Theo towards Regulus and Remus. Cissa shot her a wink while Draco eyed Harry and Sirius up and down; Blaise kept his eyes locked on Ali, and Theo thoroughly enjoyed the shocked looks from the Weasleys.

"Sorry, we're late. Draco took too long in the mirror this morning," Severus said. Draco glared at his Godfather before continuing on with his glare at Potter.

"Well, allow me to introduce everyone. This is Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, which I'm sure almost all of you know. This is Blaise, Theodore, and Draco. Narcissa and Lucius will be in and out for the next bit trying to get caught up on Order business while the latter three will be staying here for a bit." Remus shook Lucius's hand before joining Dora beside Ali, who was bouncing on her toes, overly excited at the fact that it was going to be back to normal in the next couple of days.

"You can't be serious. They are staying here?" Sirius exclaimed, running his hand down his face before glaring at Lucius. "I still remember what you did, Malfoy."

"I don't often agree with Sirius, but Dumbledore said this was alright?" Arthur asked. Ali knew that the Malfoys hadn't been the kindest to the Weasleys in the past, and she felt sorry for them in that aspect, but Lucius was not the same man as he was during her first year. And Narcissa wouldn't hurt a flea.

Remus stepped forward again, "He did. Narcissa and Lucius will be helping with some scooting missions that are coming up since they know that area of town better and are considering joining the Order. The three brats are mainly for Ali, though."

"Did you miss us short stack?" Theo opened his arms for Ali, who jumped straight into them. Theo gave her a twirl before pulling on her braid. She barely had time to catch her breath before Draco had her spinning again and tickling her sides, making her squeal.

"Of course I missed you! What kind of question is that?!" Ali giggled before hugging Blaise despite her uncle Remus glaring at them. Blaise took her hand and gave it a squeeze when they parted before facing the other children in the room. Theo and Draco took the opposite sides of Ali, showing a united front against the ones who had been horrible towards her.

Ali was ecstatic that they were going to be in the house more. Maybe her summer wouldn't end so badly. Sirius was shocked that Dumbledore had cleared this and even more shocked that Lucius would help the Order. He did not trust him and would go on those missions even if he had to go as Padfoot. This was outrageous and downright stupid, allowing death eaters to snoop freely in the Order business. Looking at his daughter, he could see how happy she was to be surrounded by her friends, but he also knew that he would have to keep a closer eye on her than he already was. He had asked the trio to play nice so he had more people watching her. He did trust that she was a Death Eater, and now he was surrounded by them.

"Al, Kreatcher sat up extra beds in your room for the boys. Pansy should be joining later, but she had something come up with her grandfather. Her mother said she would owl when she was on her way." Regulus leveled each of the boys with a look. "You lot know the rules. I don't care if you have fun but clean up after yourselves, and don't be too loud when it gets late. Curfew is at 10pm and no later. If you are leaving the house, go in pairs at least and let one of the adults you know be aware of where you're going. You lot know the food is fair game, and Kretcher has already been instructed to grocery shop more often. The house is also fair game, but be respectful, please."

"Don't worry, Uncle Reg. I'll keep them in line," Draco smirked at the other three before Severus whacked him upside the head.

Ali turned and looked at the younger swarm of redheads and others in the room. She cleared her throat to get the attention on her, which made her take an unconscious step back toward Blaise and Draco. "Everyone, this is Theo, Blaise and Draco. I'm sure most of you know this, but just in case. You are welcome to join our fun, but we get if you don't want to." Ali pulled the boys out of the room after greeting her aunt and uncle. They sat on the living room floor with wizards, chess, and a few other games while a movie played in the background. Kreacher brought out snack trays for them, and the laughter was music to Regulus's ears after all the quiet he'd heard from Ali this summer.

Ali could feel the stares from those around them, most directed at Draco and her. She could see the disbelief every time Draco laughed or made a joke. This was the side of Draco that was rarely seen by others. An hour had passed before a chess match went on between Draco and Ali. Blaise sat to one side of Ali, and Theo was in the middle of her and Draco, watching the death match continue.

"What dare shall I have you do this time, Als" Draco taunted her while he moved his piece. It was an ongoing rule that when she and Draco played wizarding chess, the loser had to do a dare of the winner's choice. It was always a toss-up in who won, as both were incredibly good at the game.

"Don't think too hard; I wouldn't want to overwork that one brain cell of yours." Ali stuck her tongue out at Draco when she stole his knight.

Draco was about to reply when a shadow came over the top of the board. Looking up, there was the eldest two Weasley children and Fleur. Ali could see the hearts in Theo's eyes before she kicked him in the shin. "She's engaged, you idiot."

Bill and Charlie chuckled, "We saw you guys playing games and were curious if we could join you? I have my board and thought we could do a little tournament."

Charlie held up his chess board. The teens all nodded, and with a snap of his fingers, Charlie's board was all set up. Bill took one side of the board before looking at Theo. "You up for a challenge?"

Theo crawled to the opposite side of the small table. Bill made the first move, and the game commenced. Charlie and Fleur took seats around the rest of them and started trash-talking with them, too. Charlie was on Ali's side, whereas Fleur took Dracos. Regulus, Molly, and Narcissa looked around the corner and had smiles spread across their faces at the sight they saw. It wasn't the younger kids trying to get along with the others, but the eldest and Molly knew that her children all looked up to their brothers, so maybe there was hope in this crazy plan after all.

#harry potter #remus lupin #sirius black #harry potter fanfiction #blaise zabini x reader #remus lupin x daughter #regulus black x niece!reader #regulus black #severus snape x niece!reader #severus snape #sirius black x daughter!reader #sirius blacks daughter #narcissa malfoy #draco malfoy x platonic!reader #theodore nott #harry potter marauders

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[almost (sweet music)]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

one of my first music inspired fics, inspired by Hoziers Almost (Sweet Music)

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Fem! Wife! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.3 k

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Watching you and Bradley be the cutest couple on earth reminds him of his best friend. He wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - this is just adorable fluff || established relationship || I’m a med student guys, I know it doesn’t happen overnight y’all have been having sex for a while- || goes from Mav’s POV to yours and Bradley’s (multiple times) || timeline jumps around || pregnant reader (later) || mom & dad || don’t forget that our boy is 38 years old || Bradley’s great balls of fire <3 || mentions of death || crying || reminiscing || high school sweethearts ||

If there was one person Maverick remembers in Bradley’s young life, it was you, his god-son’s best friend and neighbor. He already had a bet going with Carole - you were going to be the woman that Bradley married, they were just betting on how long it would take.

From the age of sixteen when you both officially started dating, it took him five years to propose and seventeen years after that did you both finally have children. Since you both were aviators, it was harder for you both to actually settle down until you both got to Top Gun, where the baby fever actually started.

Maverick had followed you and Bradley throughout your careers, and you were a highly decorated pilot who had done more than six missions in the last three years before the uranium enrichment plant mission. Stalking you both on social media proved useful as well, being able to see the two of you on the annual trip you both went on anywhere in the world for your anniversary.

Maverick was happy you made his boy happy.

It did surprise him when you asked him not to send you on the mission, though. You were scared in front of him, fiddling with your fingers as you swallow slightly.

“You… you don’t want to go on the mission?” You were first in his mind to pick, not because he didn’t want to bring Bradley, but because he knew that you wouldn’t think and just do. Bradley still had a bit to learn, but you not wanting to go on the mission changed everything.

“I-It’s not that I don’t want to go,” you rub at your wrist, swallowing. “I-I just… want you to go with Brad- Rooster. You and Rooster should go together.”

Maverick looks out to the water, sighing heavily. “Zorro,” he uses your call sign, rubbing his chin. “I trust you. I trust Bradley. I’m not going to not send you-”

“I may be pregnant.”

He paused, though it was more like a freeze. Pregnant? You? Bradley? A father?

Now he had to bring him back. “What?”

You nod, rubbing the skin between your thumb and pointer finger. “I am not sure, but I have been having some symptoms, though it isn't certain.”

“Does Bradley know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re talking to me. That you could be pregnant.”

You nod, then shake your head. “He knows that I’m talking to you. He doesn’t know that I’m asking you to choose him, but I kind of knew you would. He doesn’t know I could be pregnant.”

Maverick sighed heavily, rubbing his chin. He didn’t know what to do - of course he would’ve chosen Bradley, but if something happened? If you were pregnant and he wasn’t coming back?

“Pete,” you whisper, tapping on his chest. “You keep him safe. Please.”

He swallows, nodding slightly. “I will.”

You lean up, holding his face to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Mav.”

“Y/N,” a voice says, Maverick’s head snapping over to see Bradley. “You ready?”

You smiled, nodding. “So ready.”

You waved at Maverick as you jogged over, immediately finding your place under Rooster’s arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. Bradley looks back as he pressed his face into your hair, nodding slightly at Maverick as you began ranting about something random going on at your shared home back in San Diego.

Bradley listens, his hand slipping into your back pocket as he pressed kisses against your forehead. He hums occasionally to assure you knew he was still listening, Maverick swallowing as he stared at Bradley’s side profile.

He really did remind him of his father.

“Talk to me, Goose,” he whispers as soon as you both are out of earshot, staring out at the water before someone says his name.

“Maverick,” Warlock stood there, staring. “It’s time.”

When Bradley and Maverick get out of the Tomcat, you were the first to jump into Bradley’s arms. Your own go around his shoulders, Bradley holding back a sob as he tightly wrapped his arms around your waist as you wrapped your legs around him.

“Oh my darling girl,” he whispers into your ear, sighing heavily as he stroked your hair, kissing at your temple. “Fucking hell, I couldn’t stop thinking about you up there.”

“If you ever do that again, I’ll kill you,” you mumble in response, sniffling as Phoenix and Hangman make their way over, Bradley pulling your face closer to his neck as he kisses your cheek. “You’re so stupid.”

“I didn’t think. Like you told me.”

“Yeah, that’s good. That’s good, Roo.” Your fingers push into his hair, sighing as he loosened his hold on you, but still securely holds you to his body.

You don’t make a move to get down, Rooster speaking with Phoenix and Hangman as you finally find Mav. You smile at him, mouthing a ‘thank you’ as he smiles back. He nods, watching as you pull away from Bradley’s shoulder, interrupting his words with a firm kiss to his lips.

Phoenix whoops as she claps, Hangman laughing as Bradley basically turns to mush, groaning into your mouth as you hold his collar firmly. Your hand goes through his hair, his mustache tickling your lips as you pull away. You bite your lip slightly, giggling as you lean close to his ear. “I’m glad you’re back, baby. Have something to tell you.”

Natasha heard, grinning. You had already confided in her about the fact that you could have been pregnant, and watching Rooster’s face as you told him was something that would forever be engraved in her mind.

“We’re having a baby?” He whispers as you brush your nose against his, giggling.

“We could be. I haven’t taken a test-”

“Even if that test is negative, sweetheart, we’ll be having a damn baby.”

You laugh as he spins you around, lifting you up as you hold his shoulders, yelling out, “We’re having a baby!”

You both reminded Maverick of Bradley’s parents, and he couldn’t have been more thankful to see something like this.

When you and Bradley got back home, your fingers trailed over every inch of his skin. What if you would’ve lost him?

That night was the night you both memorized every inch of each other’s bodies again, using muscle memory to get each other to a point of an amazing orgasm.

Bradley’s large hands gripped at the sides of your thighs, his mouth pressed into your hot sex as you held his head, gripping his brown curls. If there was one thing your husband knew, it was how to work his mouth. He had memorized your body after the twenty two years he had been with you, his hands squeezing at your hips as he pulls you slightly off the bed.

“Pl-Please, Lee, is’ too much, t-too much,” you were putty in his scarred hands, eyes rolling back as his mustache grazed over your clit.

He lets his spit gather against the sensitive nerve, smiling at the loud groan that fell from your lips, then proceeding to use his tongue to drag his saliva down to your cunt. Your thighs tighten around his head, moving his hands to your inner thighs to press them against the bed.

When you whimper, he looks up, staring at you through the pretty valley of your tits. He winks, pushing between your pussy lips to press his tongue into your sex, moving one hand to prod against the sensitive ring of muscles with his slick appendage. He watches your eyes roll back, thighs quivering as you inhale deeply, Bradley watching his spit slowly dribble down your slit to the wet sheets under you.

The sight almost made him go crazy.

He pushed his fingers knuckle deep into you, sucking and popping against your clit before dragging his tongue back down. He licks around your entrance, a loud moan leaving your lips before he pulls out his soaked, slick fingers. He spits into your pussy, a yelp leaving your lips as he takes his hand, spreading your lewd juices all over his cock.

He bites his lip as he crawls over your body, lining his cock up with your cunt, using his tip to gather up the cum-saliva mixture dribbling down your pretty lips. He hissed as he pushed himself in, your tight spongy walls clamping down on his cock as you came, body convulsing before he pulled your arms around his neck.

“Come on baby, I’ll make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so good, you know I will, don’t give out on me now,” he grunts into your ear, trying to hold back from ramming into you. He was unsuccessful, the slight bucks of his hips making your overstimulated body jolt and a scream fall from your lips. “You got a few more for me, right?”

He pulled away to look at your fucked out face, the saliva running down your chin and your swollen lips he hasn’t stopped kissing and your hazy eyes with tears adorning your cheeks. You whined, nodding as your hands ran across his chest, one hand going down to cup at his balls as the other wrapped around his shoulders. “Kiss me, Bradley, please kiss me.”

He does, of course he does. He always listened to you, anything you wanted, you got.

“Fuck me, Bradley, fuck me hard.”

Oh, of course he would. What kind of husband would he be if he didn’t?

He pressed his lip to yours again, holding your body close to his with strong hands on your hips. Whispering praises against your lips, he lays you gently along the bed, letting his hands rub against your perfect body.

He leans down, pressing kisses all along your plush skin as he thrusts his hips, quick and hard just like you loved it. He groans against your skin, his rough hands rubbing along your skin like a ritual, a quick pop of his lips every few centimeters of your skin.

His name fell from your lips like a mantra, his tongue trailing along your shoulder as his cock dragged against your walls, one of his hands pushing down to slide between the two of you and rub against your sensitive, puffy clit. He watched, his ego inflating as you threw your head back with a loud scream of his name and a curse.

He takes your thighs, pulling them closer to his body before lifting you up just a bit. Bradley watched your mouth fall open, eyes rolling back with loud moans filling the room as he thrust into you, leaning down to press a kiss to your open mouth. Your hands run through his hair, tugging softly which makes him groan loudly, the added pleasure from your soft fingers and your cunt clamping tightly around his shaft making his eyes roll back.

“You’re doing so good for me, darling, so so good,” he praises into your ear, groaning as you kiss his head. “You’re doing so good, you got one more for me? Please?”

You nodded, eager. “Yes, I do, of course I do Bradley. I have as much as you want, please.”

He smiles, leaning down for a kiss. “I love you, darling.”

You giggled. “I love you too, Bradley. I love you.”

He kissed against your cheek, his thrusts turning softer before getting rougher again. They were rough, hard- a signal he was losing controls. He groaned out, your nails dragging down his back, a loud moan leaving your lips.

“I-I’m close! I’m close, I’m close Bradley, f-fuck, fuck Bradley.”

He laughs, smiling down at you. With a soft grunt, he slams into you, moaning loudly as your walls clamp down on him, tipping him over the edge.

His eyes roll back, loud moans falling from his lips and your name being whispered into your ear, praiseful words soothing you as his hands rubbed against your soft tummy. “Feel good, darling?” He whispers into your ear.

You nodded, head resting against his shoulder as you panted, the feeling of his cum filling you up making you moan again as he moved slightly. “Gonna fuck me through it, Bradley?”

Oh you tempted him, and with soft rolls of his hips, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Yeah darling, I will,” he rolls his hips slowly, watching your eyes roll back before letting his hands palm at your pretty tits. “Want to take a break? Let me clean you up?”

You nodded slightly, hissing as he pulled out, his eyes staring at the cum- his cum slowly trickled out of you. You looked so, so pretty full of him.

He takes his fingers, slowly pushing the cum back into you, your thighs quivering. “B-Bradley, Bradley please-”

“It’s okay, darling, I promise. I’m going to clean you up.” He whispers, mischief dancing in his eyes as you whine.

“F-Fuck, Bradley-”

He takes his place between your thighs, sucking on your puffed up clit as he thrusts his fingers into you, pushing your mixed cum back into you. He pops kisses against your thigh, leaving soft red marks everywhere he went before grinning up at you. “Told you we’re having a baby no matter what.”

You went with Bradley to Maverick’s hanger, dressed in a pretty purple sundress with white flowers dotted all along it. His arm was wrapped tightly around your waist as he walked in, the morning sickness from the past couple of days worrying him.

“You alright, darling? Do you need a seat, some breakfast? A drink?”

You only giggle, shaking your head. This type of concern was rare for Bradley to show outside of your shared home, and as much as you appreciated it, you softly pushed him away. “I’m okay, Bradley. Go.”

He looks back at the plane, groaning. “Are you sure? We can go back. We can go back home-”

“Bradley. Go.”

He sighs, slowly pushing you into a chair. “Just… let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Go!” You pushed him, watching as Maverick slowly came down from a platform.

He waves at you, a giggle falling from your lips with a quick wave as Bradley walks over to him. They stand in front of each other for a minute, awkward, before Maverick hugs him.

It was tight, the hug, tighter than he thought it would be. Or, initially meant it to be. Maverick slowly pulls away, ruffling his hair before leading him up the platform, looking over at the wall that had one of Bradley’s old baseball pictures on it.

He watched as Bradley looked back at you, your form relaxed in the most comfortable chair Mav could find and that he put out for you. Bradley smiled, a pure, perfect smile as you crossed your legs. You wave up at them, Maverick coming behind him with a smile.

You reminded him of Bradley’s mother, who on some days would just sit there, watching him and Goose work on whatever they had to. He looks over at Bradley, that stupid smile and that mustache that was just like his dad’s making Maverick sigh.

It was like looking into a mirage, a dream of wanting to see his best friend again. And for a minute, he did. He saw Goose in Bradley, and it made his heart swell in happiness, or feel as though it was.

“Mav? What’re you staring at?”

The mirage was gone. The time Maverick wanted to go back to so bad was gone, and now he was here, with Bradley.

Even then, though, the happiness never went away.

Bradley, though, stared at him in confusion. “Mav?”

Maverick shakes his head. “Let’s get to work, kid.”

Your baby shower was at the Hard Deck, hosted by Penny and Phoenix. The future godmother of your baby was excited, and she made sure everything, everything was perfect so neither you or Bradley had to worry.

You were expecting twins, and this would determine what you would be having with your husband, and the names you two had settled on as well. Since you met Bradley, you already knew the names of the children you’d want - mainly because you and him had been together since what could’ve surely been the beginning of time.

You had finally sat down after being on your feet for about an hour, saying hello to everyone and doing whatever a good host would do. So finally, you lift your feet onto a chair as you sit on the patio of the hard deck, stroking your tummy. You needed some air from the crowded party, especially because Bradley was worrying about you because you were nearing your due date.

The baby shower was late, especially because Bradley had to go on a mission, and that made him even more protective. He didn’t want to leave, but the way you forced him to made him know that he could, that he had to. You both were aviators before you were going to be parents, and you both sure as hell were going to be aviators after for hopefully a long time.

You let your fingers trail over your tummy, sighing heavily before looking out at the beach. You relax when you feel someone’s hands on your shoulders, those oh so familiar hands that rubbed softly, releasing all the tension they once had. “Oh my… darling, that feels good.”

Bradley smiles. “Of course, darling. Are you alright?”

You sigh. “I uhm… I’m just, a little- fuck.” You cursed, a sharp pain shooting into your lower abdomen. Bradley quickly goes around, stroking your side. “Baby? Darling, you alright?”

I shook my head. “N-No, I’m fine! I’m fine, it’s just… these pains have been happening for a few hours, but uhm… I don’t know, th-they just got worse.”

“Babe, we need to go to the hospital.”

You shook your head. “Why? We haven’t even had the gender-” you gasp, holding your stomach. The sharp pain made you straighten, another loud groan falling from your lips in pain as Bradley looked around frantically.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No! No, don’t,” you say, inhaling deeply as you stand. “J-Just drive me there. Please.”

He nods. “Yeah, yeah okay. I’ll tell them-”

You gasped, holding your stomach as you hunch over. “Bradley. Bradley, oh my god, Bradley- we’re having a baby. Babies. We’re having babies.”

He freezes. “Right now?”

You let out a scream of pain. “Yes! Yes right now, holy shit!”

Six hours later, your sons Nikolai and Zion were born, Nikolai named after Bradley’s father, Nick.

As soon as you were back on your feet, there you were, sitting at the Hard Deck in front of the piano. You were breastfeeding Zion as Bradley held Nikolai in his arms, who you both often called Nick, Bradley - of course - singing Great Balls of Fire.

You laughed next to him, leaning against his shoulder as maverick stood at the bar, sighing.

I’ve got some color back, he looks at you, who smiles back at him.

She thinks so too.

He laughs as Nikolai slams down on the keyboard, absolutely ruining the keys of Great Balls of Fire, but when Bradley laughs and kisses his head, he sighs heavily. I’m almost me again.

Bradley looks back at him, smiling. He jerks his head to the side, beckoning Maverick over. And he does, walking over to see his godson’s babies.

He’s almost you.

reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! I love getting y'alls feedback :)

© asterias-record-shop

#Spotify #asterias-record-shop #requests open #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x y/n #rooster top gun #rooster imagine #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster fluff #rooster x you #top gun fanfiction #top gun: maverick #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader smut #top gun smut

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Waters

summary: Your existence is an insult to the woman you serve, Alicent Hightower. As Viserys Targaryen's bastard, you should not be serving his lawfully wedded wife - and Ser Criston knows this. Still, he can't seem to stay away...

notes: criston cole x targ!bastard!reader (reader is the daughter of viserys, but not one of his wives bc I am a viserys hater at each turn and opportunity) ALSO criston is extremely mean in this for no reason lmao

tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @levithestripper @cookielovesbook-akie  @a-beaverhousen @hightowhxre @dahlias-and-marigolds (msg me to be added/removed)

masterlist | based on this request

In all truth, Ser Criston scared you. Queen Alicent, whom you served as a handmaid, may have cherished her protector, but to you, he was a terrifying shadow, one that judged you for your birth whenever your eyes met.

You were putting away the queen’s jewellery when he practically appeared behind you.

“Are you stealing, Waters?” the kingsguard snapped. You jumped, dropping the Queen’s favorite ring. Quickly, you picked it up, placing it back to its rightful place.

“No, ser. I was only… I only needed to clean this for the morrow.” You stuttered. Criston scoffed behind you, a firm hand gripping onto your shoulder.

“You are a disgrace to the Queen’s household.” He snarled, his voice right at your ear. You shuddered, only ever nodding. You knew that you were a thorn in her eye, a servant that also served as a reminder of her husband’s infidelity. But you’d never chosen where you were. If you could, you would have left King’s Landing with your half-brother, Daeron.

“Apologies, ser.” You finally said. “I shall take my leave.”

For a moment, you were stupid enough to believe that Ser Criston would let you leave. It was only when he blocked the door that your stomach dropped. He smirked down at you, white armor and Dornish beauty making him a sight to behold.

You hated that it made you blush, your head fuzzy,

“Bastard.” He spat. You tried to shift around him, but he never let you, instead pinning you to the wall next to the door. “Did you steal something?”

You shook your head quickly, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

“I shall not ask again.” Criston said, his next words punctuated. “Did you steal something, Waters?”

“No.” you replied. “I swear it.”

The pressure on you relieved itself a little bit, and you took a small breath of relief.

“Perhaps next time, I shall search you.” Criston mumbled idly. You said naught in return, ignoring the thought of I don’t know if I’d mind that all that much.

Your eyes flickered to his lips, and lower, almost automatically. Quickly, you looked back up at his face, before giving a small curtsy. You prayed he hadn’t noticed.

“And what would you be looking at now?” Criston asked. You didn’t answer, didn’t dare, until Criston tipped your face upwards, forcing you to look at him.

“Speak, girl.” He spat. There was so much rage in his eyes, so much anger that you felt yourself crumble, your throat dry as you answered.

“I was looking at your lips, ser.”

Criston laughed cruelly, his hand tightening around your jaw almost painfully.

“Would the little bastard girl like to kiss me?” he asked. You never answered. It had been beaten into you by septas. If you’d lied, you were just like all other bastards. Your silence was enough, and Ser Criston smiled at you so coldly that you wished you could disappear.

It surprised you when he kissed you, but not that his kiss was methodical, devoid of love or affection. And yet, you craved it so much that you leaned into it, allowing his hand to ruck up your skirts and grab your thighs as he pleased.

As his hand travelled up your smallclothes, you were suddenly reminded of the fact that Alicent, your Queen, the woman your father had humiliated, the most powerful woman of the Seven Kingdoms was asleep in the room next to you.

“Please, Queen Alicent is-“ you began, but Criston shushed you.

“You’ll have to shut your mouth.” He said simply. As he dropped to his knees, you closed your eyes, knowing that he wasn’t doing this to pleasure, but to humiliate, to degrade you. As his kisses, this was cold too, but Gods was it good.

Your hand flew to your mouth, covering it in hopes of stopping any sounds from escaping. When a whimper left you, Criston paused, his fingers sinking into you as he looked up at you from his spot on the ground.

“Shut your mouth, you slut.” He insulted, and despite the feeling of humiliation in your gut, you nodded, closing your eyes shut and pressing your hand to your mouth, praying to the Gods that it would be enough.

Criston’s tongue lapped at you, and if you didn’t know better, you would have said that he felt like a starving man trying to sustain himself from just you. Gods, he was good, too good for a bloody kingsguard, and he was doing it all to humiliate you.

Ser Criston was out to get you, to leave you alone in the dark, and the both of you knew it. His hand returned to your thigh, squeezing it tightly, running down your skin and making you feel cherished while the dark look in his eyes did the exact opposite.

Your free hand slowly, cautiously, touched his hair. Carefully, you let your fingers twist into his dark curls, pushing him down to where you needed to be. Had he sprung up and murdered you in that moment, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

He would have done exactly what you expected of him.

Instead, Criston only laughed at your desperation, the hum of his voice making you squirm under his grip. Criston took that as a sign, pushing you further onto your queen’s vanity, skirts rucked up to your waist and cunt exposed to him.

If anyone, guards or the queen walked in in this moment, you were absolutely, royally fucked. Not even your father would attempt to save you then, not that he had ever cared about you all that much to begin with.

Your orgasm washed over you with a cruel intensity. It built itself too quickly, Criston’s movements harsh and unforgiving, and when he pushed you over the edge, it made you feel as if you were truly falling. Your hand still over your mouth, you could feel yourself beginning to truly bite down on it as he kept on going.

Stars exploded behind your eyes, but instead of focusing on how you felt, your only thought was that you could not let the queen hear, could not alert the guards, make any sound at all. Perhaps, if your brain had not turned to mush the second Ser Criston had pushed you up against the wall, you would have told him to stop now.

Of course, there was no guaranteeing that he actually would have stopped. Somewhere in the back of your mind, that thought thrilled you, too.

And when you fell over the  edge, Criston kept going, spurring your pleasure on until it became to much and you tried to scramble away from him on the small vanity space that the Queen usually occupied. Your heart dropped as one of her rings fell to the ground, the sound of it making it seem like the loudest thing in the entire world.

Your heart thumped, waiting for the worst to happen. Instead, Criston paused his assault, sneering at you.

“Dumb whore, watch what you’re doing.” He said, and you looked down, ashamed. The folds of your rumpled skirt only served as a reminder as to what exactly you were doing.

“What, don’t have anything to say for yourself?” Criston asked. Your silence seemed to enrage him just as much as when you spoke, and he stood in front of you. Traces of you glistened on his face in the dark, your thighs already aching from his grip, but it seemed that this was not enough for him.

“Get on the floor.” He commanded. You could have left now, made a run for it for somewhere where guards would think that you hadn’t done anything yet, that it was the kingsguard who was dishonouring you, and not you yourself.

Of course, they still probably would have let it happen, but at least, you only would have been sent away from court with rumours following you.

Yes, you could have left. Yet, your feet planted themselves to the ground, frozen there, and you remained, staring at Criston with the smallest bit of defiance. It crumbled under his cold gaze, and you felt yourself dropping to the ground for him.

He didn’t even have to ask you to open your mouth for him, and so, it was your own mind that taunted you for it. His hand threaded through your hair almost gently, slowly guiding you before he picked up a quicker pace. His cock hit the back of your throat, and you gagged around it, but he seemed to relish that feeling, too.

It appeared as if he got bored with you like this, though. Perhaps he was used to seeing you in such positions of servitutde, kneeling for your queen to straighten out her dress, doing anything and everything to please the people around you like the loyal bitch you were. Just like now.

Criston’s hands wrapped around your hips, holding you in place as he bent you over. Your own hands scraped against the wooden floor, trying to find some sort of stability as you tried to find something to anchor you between the ache in your knees that came with kneeling, your pleasure and the absolute humiliation that only served to make your pussy drip even more.

He entered you without warning, and though you had felt his size in your throat just moments before, it still punched the air out of you as he sheathed himself in your cunt. There was a stretch, though you were ready, and though you thought you’d been prepared, but the sting of it still made you bit your lip in an attempt to stay quiet.

One hadn remained on your hip while the other, his swordhand, the one he used to kill, wrapped around the back of your neck Calmly, Criston pushed your head down to the floor, and there was no need to humiliate you verbally, his actions were enough entirely.

Slowly, he began to move, the hand around your hips moving down to your clit, an arm keeping you locked in place. There was nowhere to run, and, even if Alcient herself had walked into the room in this instant, you knew that he wouldn’t have stopped.

A part of your humiliation was soothed by the fact that the perfect, pious Ser Criston could not resist you, a plain bastard. That part of you was drunk on power, quickly beginning to overtake the parts that had been afraid, and you felt brave enough to let a small sound slip. Only a quiet one, one that was sure to be swallowed by thick walls and myrish tapestries.

Ser Criston’s face curdled into a snarl, and his movements picked up, his pace so burtal that you could ee your skirts rocking across the floor. Still the feeling of it was better than most things you had experienced as Ser Criston’s hand feverishly circled your clit. You could feel your second peak approaching, a wave building within you that had one of your hands leaving the floor and going back to your mouth.

You bit down on the back of your hand as you came, walls helplessly clenching down on Ser Criston’s movements. He did not relent, hips jerking into you almost uncontrollably.

There was no warning when he had his release, moaning quietly as his seed covered your walls. With a few more thrusts, Criston pulled out, leaving you panting. Your hair stuck to your forehead with sweat, wrists and knees aching from holding up your weight, but none of it compared to the soreness of your thighs and cunt.

You knew you would not be able to walk the next day.

A small part of you hoped that Ser Criston would show you some affection, perhaps kiss you gently or take your hand, but none of that ever came. Instead, he stood after a few moments, pulling his breeches back on and walking out of the door.

You sat slowly, trying to straighten out your skirts. Still on your knees, you put Queen Alicent’s fallen jewellery back onto her vanity, before you tried to stand on shaking legs. As his seed dripped down your thighs, you had the sinking realisation of what he had just done to you.

If you did naught, there was a good chance you’d soon be carrying his child…

#criston #criston x you #criston x reader #criston cole #criston cole x you #criston cole x reader #criston cole fanfic #criston cole smut #ser criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole x you #x reader #reader insert #ser criston #ser criston x you #ser criston x reader #ser criston smut #house of the dragon #hotd #alicent hightower

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 15A: Dreams

Wilmington, North Carolina

Labor Day Weekend, 1988

I'm hung up on dreams I'll never see Help me baby, or this will surely be the end of me…

 - Dreams, The Allman Brothers Band (1969) [click here to listen]

“I’ll be upstairs in just a few minutes. Did you finish your reading?”

Ten-year-old William MacKenzie shook his head. “I was going to, but that’s when Daddy arrived with Jamie and Claire – I mean, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. And then it was time for dinner, and then - ”

Gillian Duncan MacKenzie bent to kiss her son’s forehead. “All right then. Why don’t you get yourself all caught up?”

William’s eyes darted over to Claire, seated across from his mother at the kitchen table, sipping sweet tea.

“Jamie and I will be here all weekend,” she smiled. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk with him about music tomorrow.”

His face brightened. “OK! See you in the morning!”

Claire couldn’t help but smile as William darted out of the room, footsteps quickly thudding on the stairs.

Gillian turned to face her guest. “He’s so excited. It’s not every day that a bona fide rock star is here in sleepy Wilmington.”

“Thank you for asking him to not tell his friends at school. I’m used to the attention now – ”

Gillian raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you?”

Claire shrugged. “Well – no. I don’t know if I ever will be. But one thing that won’t change is how much we value our privacy. So – thank you.”

“Of course, Claire. Privacy and discretion are what I do professionally – how could I not extend the same courtesy to you, when you’re a guest in my home?”

“Still. Thank you.”

A beat. Claire sipped the sweet tea Gillian had made – the same recipe she’d grown to love, those months at The Ridge. Gillian gently pulled Claire’s left hand across the table, studying her rings.

“You said this was his grandmother’s engagement ring?”

Claire nodded. “He inherited it when she died. His sister Jenny kept it for him, until he asked her for it. Called her the day he got home from The Ridge, and went to see her the next day. He gave it to me a few weeks later.”

“A man who knows what he wants.”

Claire smiled. “And I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”

Gillian returned the smile, then focused on the wide band next to the engagement ring.

“I love how solid and simple your ring is. Silver?”

“Platinum. His is the same. Wide enough for an inscription on the inside.”

“I do,” she had whispered. Smiling through the tears. Thinking he looked just a bit ridiculous in his suit. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Love” across his knuckle.

“I do,” he had whispered. Eyes burning, full of awe. Agape at the simple gray dress she had chosen, his mother’s pearls around her throat. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Heart” onto her finger.

“I am so pleased to…” Professor Quentin Lambert Beauchamp loudly blew his nose into a polka-dotted handkerchief. “Excuse me. I am so pleased to pronounce you husband and wife. Jamie, you may kiss your bride.”

He did. To the applause of the ten dear friends gathered in Joe and Gail Abernathy’s Boston backyard.

“That’s beautiful.” Gillian lay her own left hand on the table, adorned only by a thin gold ring. “Dougal never gave me an engagement ring, and he insisted I have the gold band for our marriage. His is silver. He had just sunk all of his money into building The Ridge, and we couldn’t even afford flowers at the reception.”

“That’s beautiful, too, Gillian. And I understand why you wouldn’t want to upgrade. Because what you have now, is that much more meaningful.”

“I was sitting here, when Joe and Gail staged the intervention.” Jamie looked over at his wife – his wife!! – gazing up into the arbor behind the house. “The vines were heavy with grapes. I remember thinking, how appropriate that I’m looking at what could be wine.”

He pulled her closer against his side, and kissed the top of her head. Careful of the tortoiseshell combs that Jenny had so lovingly placed in Claire’s hair as she got ready this afternoon.

“Ian confronted me in a hotel room in…Sacramento, I think. I had been so wasted on stage the night before, slurring through half the songs. Jenny had come to see Ian, and she was so scared for me. She had already done the research, made a few phone calls. I puked the whole flight across country to North Carolina.”

“It’s always the ones we love who we hurt the most,” she murmured.

“I’m never going to hurt you, Claire. You know that, right?”

She turned to face her husband – her husband!! – and smiled. Reassuring.

“I do. And you know I’m never going to hurt you, Jamie. Right?”

He nodded. Couldn’t help but kiss her.

“Ah!”

Dougal MacKenzie and Alec MacMahon turned the corner, and cheered. “Here you are! Come on – don’t let us have all the fun without you. Can’t miss your own wedding reception!”

Gillian nodded. “I don’t need it. I have the life we’ve built together, and our son, and a man who somehow thinks the sun rises and sets with me. I’ll never understand it.”

Claire swallowed.

Of course Gillian noticed.

“Don’t ever doubt how much he loves you, Claire. I’ve seen you two together – you’re so natural with each other. That’s never going to change.”

She clenched her hand into a fist. Centering herself.

“It’s…it’s just so…intense, with him,” she whispered.

“We don’t have to tonight, Jamie. We have forever, now.”

His hands shook as his thumb softly, softly traced down her neck, across the pearls, and settled into the cleft between her breasts.

“I want to, Claire. I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. I just…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gillian asked gently. “I can be your therapist, or I can be your friend. But I will listen.”

Claire took a deep, calming breath. “Being on tour – I see now how he developed the addictions. Every aspect of it is so stressful. He feels so much pressure to lead his band, to write music, to live up to the fans’ expectations. And he has to deal with the label and the tour manager and the production guys, and do media, and somehow find time to eat and shower and sleep on top of all of that.” Her thumb twisted her wedding ring. “He’d use the drugs to come up, and the alcohol to come down. And the women to just forget about everything for a while.”

“Are those groupies?”

Colum had organized a small gathering for the band and crew to celebrate the first show of the acoustic tour. No alcohol or drugs in the room – though Claire quickly learned that the rules by no means extended to hallways and bathrooms and storage rooms at the venue.

Jamie squeezed her hand, standing side by side in the corner, both of them holding a can of Tab.

“Yeah. I can ask them to leave, if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

“No need.” She dropped his hand and quietly approached the four women giggling on the other side of the room.

“Ladies. I’m Claire Beauchamp. I’m with him.”

She turned slightly, looked at Jamie over her shoulder, and then turned back to her audience.

“So?” A girl wearing a strategically ripped Def Leppard t-shirt popped her gum. “That’s not what I heard about the last time he was here.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “That was then. This is now. I will say this only one time. If you even think about flashing a boob, or smiling at him, or trying to get him alone? I will end you.”

The girls gaped.

“Tell all your friends here in Albuquerque, please. Are we clear?”

“And now, that you’re there with him?”

Claire smiled. “He’s eating and sleeping a lot better. Has a lot more energy. He so desperately wants to do everything right. And I’m not going to lie, Gillian – seeing him perform the songs he wrote for me at The Ridge, and then being there when he comes off stage, all keyed up from singing and playing the guitar…”

“It sounds like in many respects he’s replaced his additions with you.”

Claire looked up, meeting Gillian’ gaze. “Of course he has. The album and lead single will be called She’s My Addiction. Doesn’t get any more obvious than that.”

“And how do you feel about that, Claire?”

She lay her hands flat on the table. “I’ve never felt more…loved, and cherished, than when I’m with Jamie.”

She frowned and opened her eyes when he stopped brushing her hair, one morning in Minneapolis.

“What – ”

The pads of his fingers swept the left side of her neck, still a bit tender from his kisses after last night’s show. “I bruised you. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm. I’m not.”

She swallowed. “But it’s so, so hard sometimes. He loves me for who I am, but I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up. And he stresses over so much that he doesn’t have to. Gillian, he’s been having panic attacks all tour.”

“My God. Is he seeing anyone to help with that?”

Claire sighed. “You’re looking at her. Thank God I did that psych rotation when I was in med school. I’ve helped him recognize the signs, and he knows enough to tell me when it’s happening so that we can get away and I can help him through it. But I’m not a psychiatrist. I can’t be everything he needs. He has to do a lot of work to explore what’s triggering him, so that he can manage that. Because after we take the break at the end of the year, we’ll be on the road for most of ’89. The label has booked more than a hundred shows.”

“And you’ll be with him?”

“Of course. He’s the air I breathe. I know this sounds insane, but we want to try for a baby next year. That way he can be off the road, off touring, to be with me if the timing lines up.” She sighed. “So I’ve talked to him about bringing a therapist with us on tour. He needs to have that kind of support from someone other than me. Especially when we’re in Europe and he’s playing soccer stadiums and dealing with a next level of bullshit.”

“Do you want some recommendations? Between Dougal and I, we can definitely help you find someone.”

Claire smiled thinly. “That would be wonderful. It has to be someone we both trust. Who can deal with all the craziness.”

Gillian nodded. “Consider it our wedding gift to you. I – we – really want to help you. You know this, Claire – getting sober is hard, but staying sober is so, so much harder. It does and doesn’t get easier with time. Dougal would say the same thing.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

She settled her chin into his shoulder, nestled securely in his lap. Together they watched the cornfields of Iowa glide by, thousands of feet below.

“No. Not really. The pills helped me deaden the pain. And my life doesn’t have that kind of pain at all, now.”

The private plane had four clusters of four seats, two seats on each side facing each other with a table in between. Jamie and Claire always had a cluster to themselves. Ian, his bass tech, Jamie’s guitar tech Arch, and Angus’ drum tech always sat together. Colum kept to himself. Leaving Angus in the final cluster – which he shared with the two groupies he’d been surprisingly faithful to since Albuquerque. He hated flying, but the girls certainly made it easier for him – plying him with snacks, rubbing his back, squeezing him between them in the big seat.

Claire turned slightly, and inhaled at his temple. Kissed his earlobe as he shivered. “I know you miss it, Jamie. And it’s OK.”

His grip tightened on her hip. “You taste so much better,” he whispered. Eyes far away.

Claire wiped the corners of her eyes. “I just love him, Gillian. So fucking much.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so proud of him, for everything he’s done, and for the man he’s worked so hard to become. I’m not going to lie – sometimes it’s so damn hard to deal with everything. With all of his past shit, and how he still lets it mess with his head. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told him that none of it bothers me. Not the drugs, or the alcohol, or the destroyed hotel rooms, or what is probably hundreds of women. I can’t let any of that bother me, because that’s not the Jamie I know. But Gillian…”

Gillian reached across the table and took Claire’s hand.

“He makes everything so fucking hard sometimes. He starts to spiral, and he worries that I’ll have had enough and walk away. But then we just take a deep breath, and we look at each other, and all the bullshit is gone, and it’s just so easy again.”

“You need a day off!”

Jamie rubbed his hands over his face, exasperated. “I do have a day off tomorrow, Claire. You know as well as I do that there isn’t a show.”

She huffed, hands on her hips. “Not the point, Jamie. I saw the call sheet for tomorrow. You’re meeting with the label, and then with Colum to talk to the merch guy, and then the lighting team, and then you’re doing some local radio spots. That’s NOT a day off!”

He shrugged. “At least we can get dinner together and it won’t be shitty venue food.”

She pursed her lips, trying so hard not to scream. “Do you not remember the panic attack last night? You were sobbing in my arms, Jamie. It was really, really bad. And then you were so exhausted, but you wanted to be a hero and do the show anyway, and then you tripped over your fucking amp when you went on stage and could have broken your arm. Where would that leave us, hmm?”

He reached out to her – and she stepped back.

Not done with him yet. 

“You need rest, Jamie. Your body is going to shut down. And that won’t be good for anybody.”

“Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Beauchamp?”

A hint of a smile. Good.

“Yes. I’m your personal physician. I’m prescribing a day in bed, sleeping.”

He smirked. “OK. But only if you’re in it, too.”

She shrugged. “I’m not making any sense.”

“Yes you are,” Gillian smiled. “You said it’s intense between you – there’s no way it couldn’t be. Set aside his being a musician, and being in just about the biggest band in the world right now. Think about how and when you met. What had happened to both of you beforehand. All the changes you’ve made in both of your lives, in a relatively short timeframe. It’s overwhelming. And being on the road with him this summer had to have just upped that intensity.”

“We’re together non-stop. Which has been great, because we have so much time. We have what nobody else has, and I treasure that, I really do. But it’s also exhausting sometimes.” Claire paused, considering. “Nobody else knows what I’m about to tell you, but it’s another factor. We…we didn’t…” She closed her eyes. “We waited until our wedding night.”

Gillian’s silence was a gift.

“We were both so scared. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I think we were worried that…that it wouldn’t be good, for some reason. And it was good, Gillian. So fucking good. We both cried.”

“You’re everything.” He kissed her nose and cheeks and forehead and mouth over and over and over again, his tears mixing with hers. “My heart is going to burst.”

She hugged him tighter, nails digging into the flames tattooed on his shoulders. “Love you,” she whispered, breathless. “Love you love you love you love you…”

“I don’t need to tell you this, Claire, but I will anyway. It’s been a really good decision to spend so much time together, to really get to know each other, before you were married. Both of you deliberately wanted your relationship to be different from anything you’d known or done before. And now that last barrier is gone between you. So everything has changed, am I right?”

Indianapolis. Married one week. He couldn’t stop smiling at her, standing side stage during the show. She couldn’t stop giggling when he found her after the encore, threw her over his shoulder, and ran to his dressing room. His breath hot against her lips, breathlessly pleading for her to stay quiet, as they loved each other on the sofa and the techs and roadies and catering people and production staff bustled by the locked door.

“It has, Gillian. But in many ways it hasn’t. It feels like yesterday, and it feels like forever.”

New Haven. Married two weeks. The morning after a powerhouse show at the Coliseum. A penthouse suite overlooking the water. She had slipped out of bed in the dark, opened the curtains wide. Watched him watch her as she returned to bed. Held his gaze as they loved each other, dawn breaking over their faces.

“I get that. You’ve introduced another layer to your relationship. Probably the most complex layer that there is.”

Providence. Married two weeks and two days. Holding each other in a bath, Jamie’s hand splayed across her belly, Claire’s nose buried in the curtain of his hair.

“So, be patient with yourself, Claire. Cut yourself a break.” Gillian reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “And just enjoy yourself! My God – what an incredible life you have.”

Claire’s smile was the widest Gillian had ever seen.

“Holy shit. I married a rock star.”

“I heard that!”

And then Jamie was there, smiling, and kissing Claire’s smile.

Dougal hung back in the doorway. Exchanging smiles with his own wife.

“Come on, rock star. You said you’d help me hook up the new CD player.”

Jamie pulled back. Rubbed his nose against Claire’s.

“Hey, Dougal?”

Dougal crossed his arms. “What?”

Jamie stood. Squeezed Claire’s hands. Kissed her wedding ring.

“Love is a much better high than any drug.”

Dougal rolled his eyes. “I’ll put that on the new pamphlets we’re printing up for The Ridge. But the stereo won’t install itself. Help out, and I’ll even let you play that new stuff you brought.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be #jamie and claire

[yallemagne]

Luthur (Lucy/Arthur) Propaganda

I'm writing this with all the pent-up rage of an entire year of seeing "Lucy's so dumb, she should have picked my favourite suitor" posts and "who should Lucy have chosen?" polls that always result in practically no votes for Arthur.

This is not an anti-Jack or anti-Quincey post by any means, though it may come across as defensive. It is just a pro-let-Lucy-choose-for-herself post. And yes, letting her choose for herself even includes letting her be monogamous when she has made the conscious decision to remain monogamous.

So, to the proposal descriptions--

Seward tries to hide his anxiety by putting up a front of sternness. From how Lucy describes it, it sounds like he's negotiating a contract:

He spoke to me, Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me to help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off and asked if I could love him in time; and when I shook my head his hands trembled, and then with some hesitation he asked me if I cared already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope. And then, Mina, I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that if I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best.

Sounds like he hardly popped the question so much as stated: "I would be honoured to have you (I need you I need you I need you I need you) as my wife. If you don't love me back, I will die."

This proposal comes across as very neurodivergent to me. He goes into it thinking mostly about what he wants from Lucy and how good the marriage would be for his mental health, not stopping to consider if she's already seeing someone (literally the man who introduced them) or just maybe... that he's putting too much of a burden on her with this style of proposal. This approach would work better with another no-nonsense B, but Lucy is overwhelmed. He didn't think of her feelings in the matter because he was too busy schooling his own emotions so he wouldn't screw it all up. It comes across as very scripted until he sees that he's upset Lucy-- that is when we get a glimpse of his care for her. But then he's back to his bullet points of "but could you love me one day? do you love another now? on a scale from one to ten, how would you rate this interaction?"

Lucy gets through Seward's entire proposal without getting carried away and writing about Arthur instead, but with Quincey--

I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him. I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr. Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and yet—— My dear, I am somewhat previous.

She certainly finds Quincey charming, but she cuts herself off to talk about Arthur. While she momentarily thinks that telling adventurous tales would win a woman's heart, she says that it didn't win her own. There's a sort of peacocking going on with Quincey prefacing his proposal with tales of his adventures. It's very much like Seward's stoic attempt but with far more confidence and pizzazz.

Mr. Quincey P. Morris found me alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could; I am not ashamed to say it now. 

Quincey "found [her] alone". Now, before, she said "Mr. Morris was telling us his stories"-- who is us? I am guessing that perhaps Lucy's mother or someone else was sitting in as a chaperone? And then Quincey found an opportunity to talk to her in private?

Again, she drifts off talking about Arthur while she's trying to explain Quincey. "Arthur tried twice to make a chance"-- my best guess for what this means is that Arthur has tried to have un-chaperoned time with Lucy twice before in order to propose to her, but he never succeeded despite her attempts to aid him.

Which makes this all so much funnier? Some joke that the Suitors probably arranged it all, but this hints that Arthur has been trying his damndest to propose, but the one day he actually gets a chance to, he finds out his two friends proposed to her first! Those dogs!!

I do not know myself if I shall ever speak slang; I do not know if Arthur likes it, as I have never heard him use any as yet.

Lucy interrupts her "haha the silly American talks silly American gibberish" with "would Arthur like it if I spoke this way?" Gah, she's so in love with him. It's funny that she says she's never heard him use slang considering she's already mentioned "Dress is a bore." which she even called slang.

Well, he did look so good-humoured and so jolly that it didn't seem half so hard to refuse him as it did poor Dr. Seward; so I said, as lightly as I could, that I did not know anything of hitching, and that I wasn't broken to harness at all yet. Then he said that he had spoken in a light manner, and he hoped that if he had made a mistake in doing so on so grave, so momentous, an occasion for him, I would forgive him. [...] And then, my dear, before I could say a word he began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I shall never again think that a man must be playful always, and never earnest, because he is merry at times. I suppose he saw something in my face which checked him, for he suddenly stopped, and said with a sort of manly fervour that I could have loved him for if I had been free...

She remarks that Quincey's more light-hearted nature makes him easier to refuse than Seward. However, she finds it harder to reject him when he drops the act and starts behaving more earnestly. She finds it easier to imagine loving him when he's being sincere. She doesn't have this same thought with Seward because, unfortunately, even when he snapped out of his legal negotiation of the potential marriage, he still kept himself emotionally guarded through the rest of the interaction.

Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble? But this is heresy, and I must not say it.

I must say... Lucy here is not saying "I want a harem of men.". Stop. Just stop saying that she is. That interpretation has led to every single adaptation that brands her an insincere cheater who strings along men and deserves to be punished by the narrative. Just stop. What she is expressing here is guilt at not having an option that would please all parties involved. She's been raised as a people-pleaser, but in this scenario, there is no choice she could make that wouldn't lead to someone being hurt. So, she makes the decision to follow her heart rather than her guilty conscience.

And think, just earlier, Jack planted this seed of insecurity by saying that he'll be upset if she does not love him. And then goes even further to imply her loving another robs him of his hope. It makes it so that, even when Quincey is more gracious in accepting her refusal, she can't help but beat herself up for practically destroying these men's lives (hyperbole, of course) all for her own happiness!!

Lucy clearly displays polyamorous traits. She laments that, if she did not love Arthur so much, she could love Quincey (rip Seward). But she has chosen not to explore those feelings. Part of her cutting herself off while writing about Quincey to talk about Arthur could be subconsciously reminding herself: "nope, there is no chance with him, I want Arthur". She compares the two constantly as if to remind herself she made the right choice. There's also her love for Mina, but she has plausible deniability in this era and can claim that as just classic girl love.

But when she considers a woman marrying "as many men as want her" it is not reflective of her being polyamorous because she doesn't have this thought out of "I love these three men enough to marry them" but "I feel guilty about being loved by three men at once, and I have to repay the favour somehow, but I can't". She does not say "as many men as she wants" because it's not about the woman's feelings but about the feelings of the men that surround her. But you know what? She showed agency when she picked the man she wanted and didn't bow and pick the man who would be the most devastated upon being rejected, and I'm proud of her.

Lucy is incredibly brief when describing Arthur's proposal, but let's. just. think about this. Previously, she has tried to hold back her overwhelming love for Arthur in her writing to Mina (she failed, lol). Other than wanting to be discreet, she explains:

My dear, this quite upset me, and I feel I cannot write of happiness just at once, after telling you of it; and I don't wish to tell of the number three until it can be all happy.

She doesn't want to taint her happy feelings with bitterness about how "oh, I'm so horrible and selfish for picking the man I love! I don't deserve to be loved by anyone!" And even then, she goes into a bit more detail in her post-script:

P.S.—Oh, about number Three—I needn't tell you of number Three, need I? Besides, it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me. I am very, very happy, and I don't know what I have done to deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.

Such a friend. Before this, Seward and Quincey were not friends of Lucy's. They were acquaintances that knew her through Arthur (though she does not explicitly state this about Quincey, so she could have met him somewhere else?), and upon being rejected romantically, they swore friendship to her. Before then, they saw her as a potential bride.

But Arthur was already a friend to Lucy. They have been close for longer than she's known either of her other suitors, and while they'd never said the L-word (love) to each other before, I think what wins Lucy's heart is that Arthur is genuine with her. We don't get to see it (she teases us!! how dare!!), but that feels like the most plausible thing that would set him apart from Seward and Quincey. Now, the other two are honest men (we see it when they comfort her), but they both initially put up a front to impress/entertain Lucy. Meanwhile, Arthur doesn't bother with that. He comes into the room, and she's practically already in his arms! It's so effortless with him. She doesn't have to imagine herself being happy and in love with him because she already is.

#dracula #dracula daily #re: dracula #lucy westenra #john seward #jack seward #quincey p morris #quincey morris #lucy x arthur #arthur x lucy #luthur #may 24 #wrote this like a few nights ago lol #just had to

[midnight-moth-musings]

The Butcher's Boy, Part 1

John "Soap" Mactavish x reader, medieval au

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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I stare at my reflection in mirror in front of me, trying to ignore the endless chatter of my mother and the seamstress behind me. The dress is gorgeous--fit for royalty I suppose. The expensive, purple silk cascades down my body and pools down to my feet just right, hugging my corseted waist tightly. I begin to tug at the long sleeves with mild frustration. The expensive silk itches at my skin as I try to adjust it. My mother approaches from behind and slaps my hand away.

"Stop with your fidgeting. Ladies do not fidget." I would roll my eyes at her, but that would call for a later punishment--one that I would like to avoid.

"Yes, mother." I murmur. I avoid making contact with my own eyes in the mirror, knowing that there are likely glossed over as the reality of my situation sinks in.

"Many girls would kill for a chance like this. You have been chosen as a possible wife for the king, are you not happy?" I turn to face my mother. A stern woman, one who has embraced the life of a noblewoman steadfastly.

"I am happy for you and father." My mother purses her thin lips and silently seethes at my reply. Before our conversation can progress further, the seamstress approaches. I envy the older woman's calm demeanor and her simple life.

"How do we like the dress, dears?" She smiles brightly at us. Her hair is greyed, long and curly, only pinned back to reveal her face. My mother looks down on her, I can see the judgement in her eyes every time we enter her shop.

"We will take it." My mother replies quickly. The seamstress nods and begins to undress me. She begins to help me undress and put on the dress I came in. My mother walks outside to our carriage to wait, albeit impatiently.

"Thank you, Miss Imelda." I smile at the seamstress as she finishes fixing my hair by tying a silk scarf around my head. I walk outside the shop and enter the carriage slowly to try and avoid the stern talking to I will likely receive. Instead, I am hit with silence as my mother ignores me. The carriage lurches forward and I stare outside the small window as we travel home. We reach home after minutes of silence, and I am helped out of the carriage by one of the footmen. My mother pushes past me quickly to enter our home and I walk upstairs to my room alone. I collapse on my bed and burrow my head against one of my pillows in a huff.

"Lady Y/N?" I tilt my head up with a groan to meet the smiling face of my maid, Clara. I feel the bed move as she sits beside me. "It seems you had great fun at the seamstress." She giggles as I roll my eyes.

"It was awful. My mother insists on dressing me like a doll. If she insists upon dressing my hair in pins and bows, I may impale myself on one of the pins to escape it." Clara rubs my back gently as she smiles down at me.

"I could think of worse fates than to wed a king." I begin to roll my eyes again, but Clara pinches my cheek. "Hush." I swat at her shoulder grumpily as I rub over the sore skin. "Would it brighten your mood to join me for some errands?" I sit up with a grin, eager to leave the confines of my home as I am often not allowed to leave for such trivial tasks.

"Of course!" Clara giggles again as I hug her tightly and stand up from the bed.

In town, Clara and I walk from shop to shop as she collects a variety of items. I scrunch my nose as we approach the butcher, already imagining the stench of raw meat and blood. Clara tugs me along impatiently as we enter the shop. She walks over to the end of the counter to speak to an older man who awaits her with a smile. My eyes flicker around the shop as I stand in the corner. I take a few steps toward the counter hesitantly, looking to the array of raw meat and animals products strung about. My attention is distracted by the sudden entrance of a young man through the back of the shop. Clad in a white apron stained in red, his bulky frame approaches. My eyes trail from his muscular arms down to the large piece of meat in his hand. He carries it almost weightlessly.

Slam! I'm snapped out of my daydream as he slaps the meat on the counter and begins to chop at it with a knife. Instead of repulsion, I find myself oddly interested in the action as his thick arm slams down on the meat to separate it into pieces. Blood splatters on his already dirty apron as I watch him quickly butcher the piece of meat into small pieces. Ladies do not stare, I begin to repeat. He begins to wrap several pieces in brown paper, tying with string to keep it intact. His nimble fingers quickly tie knots around the paper, gripping the packages with his large, calloused hands. Dark specks of coarse hair cover his hands and arms. I begin to imagine the feeling of it contrasted with my soft skin. Ladies do not stare. His head tilts up and I'm met with the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Dark brows and a coarse beard frame his face almost perfectly. I quickly avert my eyes to the stone floor as he notices my staring, cursing at myself for my lack of manners.

"Need somethin' lass?" My stomach drops at the unfamiliar voice but I raise my head cautiously to see the man staring at me with a boyish grin.

"N-No, I'm just waiting." I curse myself again for stuttering. Ladies do not stutter, my mother's voice replays in my head. I catch a glimpse of dark tufts of hair sprawling down his neck to his chest as he leans against the counter.

"Aye, you're here with Clara hm?" I look back over at Clara, who is in a deep discussion with the older man. I muster a nod as I look back at the man next to me. "I haven't seen ya here before. Would've remembered a face like yours." I find myself reddening as he winks boldly at me.

"I-I...no, I haven't. I'm Y/N." I gulp as he extends his arm to me. Never allow a commoner to touch you, mother says. Throwing caution to the wind, I take his hand hesitantly and he pulls mine in for a soft kiss. The bristles of his beard brush against my skin as his lips touch my knuckles gently. I almost forget to breathe for the moments that follow. Our hands disconnect and I carefully put my arm to the side as the area he touched remains tingling.

"Johnny." He smiles brightly at me. "Johnny Mactavish. It's a pleasure to meet ya bonnie." I smile back at him widely, my cheeks red as he stares back at me. We stand silently for a few moments before Clara walks over and grabs my arm.

"Ready, Lady Y/N?" I'm snapped away from his blue eyes as I look over at Clara next to me. I nod, wiping at my cheeks as if I can remove the blush with only my hands. She smiles over at the man next to me--Johnny.

"Safe travels, ladies." Johnny waves at the both of us, focusing his attention longer on me as he sends me a second wink. Clara walks us out of the shop and I feel almost empty as we leave--as if my soul just found a missing piece of it and is now being ripped away. I smile softly to myself as Clara and I travel back home, unable to fully immerse myself in her chatter as we walk together. Later that night, I catch myself dreaming in a sea of blue as I trace a finger over the skin of my knuckles that he kissed.

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This is the dress that I imagine for the beginning ^^^

-P

#cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish fanfic #johnny mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader