Summary: Edward struggles to finish getting ready. You help him.
Warnings: wife!reader (no pronouns used but reader wear a gown and is called wife), ooc edward? maybe? it's really just fluff lol
Word Count: 1k
A.N: yeah so i watch house of guinness and fell in love with every character so gg lol, i may write some arthur and byron or maybe even anne at some point idk. I just had the urge to write so here this is, I hope you all like it <3
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From the foot of your bed, you watch Edward as he struggles with the piece satin around his collar. Despite being in his twenties and picking up almost everything else his father had taught him before his death, this was something he had never quite mastered. It had taken you one day at Iveagh House after your wedding to master the skill.
The smell of the fresh springtime botanicals from the gardens just below the open windows hangs lightly in the air and the faint voices of the servants echo from the corridor.
You smooth out your gown for what feels like the hundredth time, staring at your husband's reflection in the mirror as he grows more and more frustrated. His long fingers tie and untie the knot at his throat. Sometimes the threads snag on his cufflinks while other times the knot hangs askew and uncentered against his shirt. Edward tries to keep his curses at a low whisper but his flushed face and dark angry eyes give him away.
"And they say women are the ones who take so long getting ready." You sigh teasingly as he rips the fabric from his neck yet again.
He pauses, eyes finding your own in the reflection. You can tell your jest has gotten under his skin by the way he rolls his jaw from side to side. You raise your eyebrows at him. "Shall I fetch Potter to help you get ready? We must meet up with your siblings before noon, you know."
Edward's breath comes out heavy and slow. The cloth dangles from the back of his neck. "I do believe that most wives do not abuse their husbands in such a manner." Pink lips upturn just slightly at the banter.
"Well that seems like quite a boring marriage."
Edward, with his gaze already concentrated back on the fabric around his neck, merely hums in response. You watch him fiddle with the two strands for only a moment longer before you rise from your bed. The scent of his cologne floods your senses as you get closer to your husband. The wood behind your husband creaks under your feet.
Smiling, you place your hands delicately on his shoulders. His crisp white shirt is soft under your fingertips. "Let me help you, my dear." He shivers as you whisper in his ear, warm breath tickling his exposed skin.
Edward turns to face you, sighing out your name.
"Either you let me help you, Edward, or you can stand at the mirror until you eventually get it right while I sit on our bed and laugh at your inability to tie a piece of fabric around your neck." You flutter your eyelashes innocently as you gaze into his dark eyes. When you first met him, you thought they were as black as the beer his family brewed, but when the light pierced through the Dublin fog like at this very moment, the hidden flecks of golden brown danced in his irises.
Nervous at even the thought of being late somewhere, his hands reach up to push back his hair, relenting to your touch. Strands of hair fall out of place.
"I thought so." You smirk triumphantly, straightening out the fabric.
Your chests just barely brush together, causing your heartbeat to speed up. The lack of space between the two of you, no matter how long you have been together, causes you to grow nervous. Body heat and scents and quiet breaths mingle together in close proximity. You feel Edward's inquisitive gaze fall down upon you at your slight hesitation. As a moment passes, you begin to fold the satin properly.
Edward's hands, however, roam to meet at the small of your back, pulling you closer to his broad body. "Edward!" You gasp at the handsy maneuver. Eyes dart up to his own. A smile grows wide across his face.
"What? Am I not allowed to appreciate my beautiful wife?" His head is cocked to the side.
You grip the beginnings of the loose knot at the apex of his throat tightly in your hands, the satin creasing in your fists as you bring him down to meet your lips. It only takes a moment for Edward to melt into the kiss, tongue licking lightly across your painted lips. You and Edward share breaths, the taste of last night's cigar still lingering.
Reluctantly, he pulls away, teeth still attached to your bottom lip, as the clock strikes the hour. "We cannot be late, I wouldn't want Arthur thinking we were ditching him in order to fool around. You know how he gets when he feels left out."
"Ah, yes," You giggle, "he would pout like a spoilt little thing."
Your grip relaxes on his neckpiece. Muttering under your breath about how improper the wrinkles would look if someone was to take a close inspection at your husband's outfit, you knot the blasted thing in record time. The knot is perfectly centered and the strands are even on either side.
"There." You say, taking a step back and out of Edward's arms to get a better look. "Easy."
Edward turns back to the mirror, once again shocked that his wife had excelled where he had always failed since childhood. "Thank you--" He pauses, still staring at the mirror.
"Hm?"
"You got some of your lip coloring smudged all over me." Edward chuckles as your head whips up to see.
You stifle a laugh at the sight of the light pick smudges across his lips and the space just below his nose. "The color suits you, dear."
He takes his handkerchief from his inside pocket, and dabs it across the lower half of his face. "While I am glad you like it, I believe at least half of Dublin would disagree with you."
Licking your thumb, you rub it across his mouth, ridding him of any color he missed. "Well half of Dublin can kiss my ass."
Imagining a Roadhog that's been out and about in the world. As he plunders the world for riches, food, and plushies to take home, when he saw you, it was over. Soft and curved, sweet and cutely dressed, eyes wide and doe like as he towered over you, a shiver moving through you as you sat in his cast shadow. Looking around him, seeing the many eyes watching, silent sentinels keeping him from dashing away with the sweetest prize he could find back to Australia. (1/2) ()=^.^=()
He thinks quickly, leaning down so you could smell asphalt, rubber, oil, and a faint drift of iron. Roadhog’s large hand quickly envelopes yours, his black fingernails unable to mask the smudge of gunpowder along the cuticle. Leaning down, he quickly and quietly whispered to you “Don’t squeal.” Knowing that fighting back would be no good, you did your best to catch anyone’s eyes, but your new captor’s glassy masked stare was quick to deter and knights in the crowd. (2/?) ()=^.^=()
Dragging you along at his pace, you shortly reached the motorbike with a lanky, shirtless man leaning against it. You could obviously see the shining amber eyes sliding up and down your figure, taking time to ogle without shame. “That the new play thing? Nice tits. Hips like that means they’d be a real jewel in the outback. You sure she wouldn’t be less trouble if we just sold her off?” Fear passed through you, and you pressed closer to the mountain of a man. (3/) ()=^.^=()
“No.” Was his curt answer. The firey man squinted at you for a moment further before giving a shrug. “Well, let’s load up then. Won’t be long before the suits are after us again.” He says with a excited giggle. —- Fast forward to a trip overseas, and days of being pounded and used mercilessly by Roadhog. Junkrat found occasional joy in sucking on your nipples before watching Hog breed you again, at least until you started producing milk. The further you carried life, the more both men went mad.
Imagine that by the time you get to wherever it was that they were taking you, you’re already pregnant. With a couple of ‘em too, well on your way to being big and round. The hog had judged you correctly, made the best decision. You’re just as fertile and susceptible to childbearing as he thought you would be. Mako is just so proud of his treasure. What treasure is more valuable or worth more than a pliant, cute little lady that he can breed continuously and keep filled up and swollen with life that he put inside of her? Ain’t nothing more valuable than that.
(1:3)You're a junkertown resident and you just got dared by your friends to do the dumbest thing. Steal Roadhog's mask. For a brief moment your fear subsides when get two straps undone and see quite a bit of his mouth before he shot up awoke and grabs you and tosses you to the ground. In the process your shirt and bra are ripped off. He should have killed you and you sort of wish he did.
(2:3) Your friends don’t see you for weeks and they assume that you must be dead.Until one day when Roadhog takes a visit into town and you’re with him. You’re walking close by practically wrapped around his arm. There’s a chain wrapped around your waist and connected to his and on closer inspection you bear a tattoo on your arm similar to the one on his stomach. When they try to talk to you brush them off. They try again only to find themselves facing Roadhog.
(3:3)They’re terrified, but feel sick when Roadhog simply thanks them for his new property.
I can imagine Mako being really possessive over his mask much in the same way Reaper is his. Trying to steal his mask from him would probably stir such a great offense that he’ll never forgive you for it and continuously punish you for as long as you remain his property. It’s not nice to try and steal a man’s things ‘specailly something that’s so important to his identity. Imagine him staring these “friends” down until they say “you’re welcome” to the unsettling thanks he gave them. And then he just huffs picks you up and walks off with you thrown over his shoulder.
