#i have never cried at wedding before even though I've been to a handful

[sorryicantquitequeeryou]

Pretty enby in a wedding romper~

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Background: (Y/N) Morningstar with her partner, Alastor, has decided to put some of the Overlords in their place.

Warning: Alastor being Alastor, mentions of pregnancy but no one's pregnant, and Alastor might have a breeding kink

_ _ _

"(Y/N)! What a surpri-!"

"I believe that's Princess (Y/N) Morningstar, Heir to the throne of Hell, and Duchess of Chaos - to you," Alastor loved doing this. He adored how (Y/N) had decided to start using her true power, and to bring respect back to her name.

The family name, to be exact.

Valentino chuckled nervously as (Y/N) scoped out the place, her horns ever presenting and tail flicking with annoyance.

"What a pleasure to be hosting you, Princess. What would be the reason for this visit?" Valentino asked, offering her a drink.

"I'm fine, thank you," She dismissed it, already smelling the poison inside the cocktail.

"I'm here to discuss Angel Dust, and your contract with him."

"If he's too much trouble for the hotel, I'll happily-"

"You're the one causing the trouble," Alastor cut him off.

Valentino sputtered, "me?!"

"You can feign innocence all you wish, Val, but I've heard that you've called my sister a bimbo, along with many other colorful names," (Y/N) slowly stood up, leaning over his desk as the lights started to go out - one by one.

"Charlie is nice. She's always been the kinder of us Morningstars, but apparently this makes you think that you can go and soil our name. My father could have strung every sinner on a hook for eternity, torturing you all second by second as your screams sung into our great halls," no one had been unfortunate enough to see the form of (Y/N) Morningstar, and Val was one of them.

Her height expanded to nine feet tall, her pretty black nails forming into claws and her eyes ablaze with scarlet serpent pupils.

And wings - oh great black wings that could make even Adam rethink his attack.

When he was still alive, of course.

"And you sully his gift by mocking us."

"Look, Vox did it first! Okay?! He said you'd never-!" Val tripped on a tentacle that came from her beloved Alastor, who dropped a TV by his feet.

But not just any TV.

"Oh God," Val gasped, "Vox. . .?"

"I took care of him earlier," Alastor grinned, still reminiscent on his screams.

"I couldn't have my dear (Y/N) sully her hands with his filth. But whatever the Princess wants, she gets."

Oh to see her come into her power was as chilling as death itself.

"You're so romantic, Alastor," (Y/N) smiled.

That's when Valentino spotted it. On the left hand of (Y/N) Morningstar was a ruby wedding ring, the band pure gold.

Alastor finally did it.

He climbed up the latter, but not through power.

Well yes, through power, but he certified that it would always be his.

By marrying Lucifers daughter.

"We're matching, isn't it adorable?" Alastor showed off his own wedding band, ruby's encrusted inside of it.

"Now, where were we?" She grinned, and as an engagement gift, the screams of Vox and Valentino were broadcasted throughout all of Hell.

And they say chivalry is dead.

_ ☆ _

"They're fucking crazy."

"They're made for each other."

On that, Angel Dust and Husker could agree.

The lovely couple had become the center of Hells attention after their engagement was announced, and even though Alastor thought it would be hilarious for Lucifer to find out through the papers, she told him first.

And he cried.

"Oh my baby is all grown up!" Lucifer sobbed loudly, clinging onto her legs, "look at you! You-you used to be this small!" Lucifer grabbed a duck, "and you were so tiny and so cute!"

"Am I invited?" Lucifer squeaked, staring up into her eyes.

"Yes, dad," She smiled, bringing him up to his feet, "but we want to wait a bit before we plan anything."

"You know she used to bite my finger?!" Lucifer grabbed the baby pictures of little (Y/N), "look at how small she was! Oh, and this one is my favorite!"

Alastor truly didn't mind how touchy Lucifer had become with him, but thankfully, Lucifer also knew when to stop.

"Wait, is that why you're getting married?! Did you impregnate my daughter?!" Lucifer gasped, shoving his hand on her stomach.

"Dad! Dad, no! I'm not pregnant!" She quickly cleared up.

"Unfortunately," Alastor muttered to himself. Oh to see her belly swell with his children - his own spawn, it made his cock twitch at the thought.

He was fond of children but his own? Oh he'd spoil his little prince or princess with all the blood sacrifices the world had to offer.

"Yeah but you know what marriage entails, kiddo!" He pointed at them both with finger guns, "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby-oh my GOD I'll be a grandpa!"

He started crying again.

She sighed, "at least we know our hypothetical child will be taken care of."

Alastor nodded, "I could not have picked a better father-in-law."

At this point, Lucifer was ugly crying.

Alastor looked at his beloved with a soft gaze as she tried calming her father down. To be honest, Alastor never thought he would ever find solace in Hell. He anticipated every day being a fight for his life, always looking over his shoulder and always striving for more power. And as cheesy as it sounded, he saw (Y/N) as his shining light. She brought out his sad heart, and for the first time in his life, he wished his mother was with him.

To see just what a wonderful woman he managed to catch.

[ladykailitha]

The Rockstar and the Teacher

Just thinking about a rockstar Eddie and a school teacher Steve who have been together for a decade, but Steve is kept out of the limelight by his choice.

He doesn't want to have his kids harassed because of who he's dating. Plus the whole gay man= pedophile in the minds of most parents.

Things are going great until they aren't.

Steve sees a tabloid with the headline "Eddie Munson photographed outside local bar with boyfriend, hints there may be a spring wedding!" and he's furious. Like seeing red, pissed off.

Because the guy next to Eddie is not Steve.

Whoever he is, he's dressed the same as Eddie. Leather jacket, long hair, chains everywhere.

But he barely has time to get worked up because even though Eddie had been in LA working on the band's next album, he is bursting through their house in Hawkins's door.

Eddie skids to a stop when he sees the tabloid on their kitchen counter and holds up his hands.

"I'm sorry, baby," he mutters and Steve chokes back tears, "I was trying to get home before you saw that."

"Why would you do that to me?" Steve cries.

Eddie slowly pulls out his phone like he's getting it out for a cop and hands it over to Steve, who takes it with a frown.

"It's not me, sweetheart," Eddie says. "I can prove it."

Steve looks at the phone and it instantly opens to Steve's face.

Eddie can see the hope spark in Steve's eyes as he looks through Eddie's phone.

Text message after text message about Eddie planning on getting Steve a necklace with both of their initials on it from Steve's favorite jewelry designer.

Eddie's phone pinging him at a nearby bar, but not the one the photo is showing him coming out of at the time it was taken.

Then the final evidence. A fan photo of Eddie and the girl taking a picture just outside of it the other bar at the time other Eddie was supposedly getting his picture taken with his "boyfriend".

"My management and PR team are on it, Stevie," Eddie tells him. "We think it was a setup from the jewelry guy. He lured me to the bar so that they could stage the pap photo."

Steve frowns at the phone in his hand, his fingers gripping it so tightly that his knuckles go white.

"Why?"

Eddie runs his hands over his face. "Honestly?" Steve nods. "To get you to come out in the public eye."

Steve looks at the phone and then back at the paper on the counter. Eddie can see his heart sink.

"I'm sorry," Steve murmurs. "I've been selfish. If I had just gone to LA with you been your partner all of the time, this wouldn't have happened."

Eddie takes Steve's face in his hands. "You are my partner all of the time. Even when we're apart. You weren't being selfish. You had just gotten your degree when we made it big. You wanted to use what you had paid for, and rightly so. This is on them, not you. Never you!"

Steve lets out a shuddered breath and then nods. "Okay."

He lets out another breath and Eddie smiles as Steve straightens his shoulders and cracks his knuckles.

"Give me two hours and I'll have this sorted."

Eddie doesn't doubt it.

****

Two hours later, Steve comes out in a beautiful cream suit and silver mesh top.

Eddie looks up from his place on the sofa and licks his lips slowly. He had been messaging Chrissy, his manager while Steve was doing whatever it was in his office.

"Wow, baby you look good enough to eat."

Steve grins. "It's a good thing you're hungry because we're going out to dinner."

Eddie stands up quickly and puts a hand on Steve's waist. "Are you sure you want to do this? We don't have to. We're already suing everyone for defamation of character and libel."

Steve grinned. "Oh yeah. I've already spoken to Robin and Chrissy and they're onboard."

"K, baby."

****

They arrive at the restaurant and they sit in Eddie's little two seater.

"Last chance, Stevie," Eddie said, looking out at the waiting reporters. "Just say the word and we'll go somewhere more secluded."

Steve shakes his head. "Let's do this."

Eddie gives his hand a squeeze and gets out first.

"Eddie! Eddie!" one reporter calls out. "What do you have to say about that picture in The Sun?"

"That's not me," he says calmly. "That's not my boyfriend. I would never cheat on him that way."

Then a burst of questions asking about his real boyfriend as he moves around the car to open the other door.

Steve steps out looking like sex on legs. But also like nothing anyone pegged as Eddie's boyfriend.

Eddie kisses his hand and Steve blushes.

Suddenly all the questions are directed at Steve, asking if he's the boyfriend? How long have they been dating? What's his name?

Steve just bats his eyelashes and says quite clearly, "I would ask you to respect our privacy during this trying time."

BOOM!

Mic drop.

The reporters clam up, the cameras stop flashing as they stare at him in open mouthed shock.

Eddie swoops in and gives Steve the biggest kiss. And the only reason it was even caught on camera was because the video camera hadn't stopped rolling.

They go inside and Steve gets two messages on his phone and Eddie asks if he's going to look at them, but he shakes his head.

"It's probably just Robin wanting all the inside scoop."

So they finish their meal and walk back out to the valet, hand in hand. It's then when Steve pulls out his phone. He was right about the first message, the second one was from a private number and merely said:

-Ben fatto, mio caro*

Steve smiles and kisses the the screen before tucking his phone back in his pocket.

As they drive home, Eddie asks about the texts.

"Just my mom telling me she was proud of me in the only way she could."

Mrs. Sophia Harrington was too conceited to send him anything directly, especially since Clint Harrington had cut Steve off years ago due to him being gay. But she could send a single message from a private number that she would never use again, to let her son know that she was proud at how well he had handled the reporters.

Eddie just smiles and they drive home in comfortable silence.

****

Steve goes to work the next morning and stops in at the principal's office. He smiles when he realizes the press hasn't figured out who he is yet. But it will only be a matter of time and he knows it.

The principal holds up a printed copy of his resignation and demands to know the meaning of it.

So Steve tells him.

"Steve..." the principal whines when he's done.

"You know you're going to have parents banging down your door the second it gets out," Steve explains. "It's easier for me to just walk away now and not wait for you to have to fire me."

The principal sighs but agrees. "You'll be missed."

Steve nods and stands up. At least he'll have time to say goodbye to his kids.

By lunch time it's gotten around the school that he's leaving but not why.

Steve had sworn his kids to secrecy so everyone could say goodbye, but a couple of his students come and hang out with him at lunch to talk about it.

"I knew you had to someone cool," the one kid says. "You knew too much about Corroded Coffin to be lame ole Mr. Harrington."

Yeah, Steve isn't going to miss that one kid.

He makes it through the school day and some of the parents have setup an impromptu farewell party on the front lawn of the school.

It's a tearful goodbye, but Steve feels lighter as he makes his way to car with all his things, then he has in years.

****

The news breaks on who he is later that night and Steve doesn't envy the principal's headache tomorrow, but cuddled up with Robin and Eddie on his sofa, he really can't find it in himself to give a fuck.

They'll later go on the Tonight Show and talk about how Steve had been in the closet for years and how he was forced out by this stunt with the photo. He talks about how other celebrities had been forced out too and that apparently it's not just for famous people.

That because he was with a famous person that meant he had no rights either and how that has to start changing.

He's happy he's out now, but it should have been on his own terms and not the media's.

There ends up being a spring wedding, but just the following year as Eddie and Steve tie the knot, two beautiful rings on their hands and a dazzling necklace at Steve's throat with their new initials on it EM and SM.

There is a mysterious gift of two tickets to a private villa in Italy after their honeymoon that has them both grinning like fools.

****

Here's a little gay Italian Steve for you.

*Well done, my dear

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

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@useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

[manidk1273]

🎀 — Wedding.

Tony was never the best father to you, even he knew that. You were a variable he never considered.. until you were 17. Surprisingly, Nick Fury himself recruited you for the Avengers. That's where your relationship starts again.. it was rocky, difficult but at least you each other as teammates.

Your name wasn't an unknown name, just like your biological father you were a genius. Even without powers, you were skilled. The first time you fought crime (though it was an accident and just sudden.) You wore a black surgical mask, and got in the fight scene. There, Spiderman himself saw you before you ran away.

„ Who are you? ”

. . . .

„ Whatever you wanted it to be, Spider. ”

You said, masked appearance as you stepped to the edge of the building falling elegantly but not to your death. At first, people thought you had powers but it was debunked by yourself. Tony met you— He never realized you were his kid until he met your parents. The woman he hooked up with years ago, and her now husband.

It was awkward at first but he shoved it off his shoulders. Ever since then, he has tried to restore a relationship. It was awkward between you two at first but you've gone from teammates to friends. Sure, Tony was relieved but he still felt like he wasn't doing enough. Especially when your step father(Mother's husband) would come with your mother. You even called him dad, he thought it was preposterous to him. He wasn't your real dad.

After years in the battlefield.. the world was at peace, but of course it wasn't always gonna be like this so you finally decided to marry your s/o this time of year. You met them having your career as a superhero, and you were so proud of them.. you were so lucky to have them in your life. It took him a slap to the face and Pepper to realize he was actually just jealous.. he was in denial.

Of course, every Avenger was invited. Close friends too.. and especially family. It was a small wedding, no big things.. but the venue was perfect for the two of you. Everyone attended with a plus 1, as the invitation suggested. As the ceremony began.. the usual traditional stuff happened. But one thing made Tony's heart drop.

Your step father was the one who was walking you down the aisle to your groom. It was awakening something in him.. of course, he's proud and happy for you. But when he saw that scene.. that moment, he felt like ripping your father's soul apart from his body. But he quickly shook away the thought. As the beautiful ceremony ended, he didn't stay for the feast. Pepper noticed when he wasn't near the tables and went to the parking lot to see him near the car, sitting by himself.

She knew Tony too much, she already knew what was happening. She sat beside him and took his hand to her palm.

“ Feel like shit, Pepper.. ”

“ I know. ”

It took a few more exchange of words before he just cried to her chest, she didn't expect the conversation to go like that but she was glad he wasn't bottling up his emotions.

He feels like shit, he really does. He knows he doesn't have the right to walk you down the aisle— but it hurts so much. He does see you as a kid, he really did. But he can't just.. reverse years of absence just by a year. He can't blame you.. you're just living your life.

He never wanted to become like his father. He wanted to show he cared, but.. sometimes you just.. become what you don't want to become.

I've been getting ideas I just needed to write. Again, I'm just getting back to the writing industry and I'm still very rusty.. but I hope you like my attempt at angst:)

As usual, Thank you so much for reaching the end and I hope you have a great day.

- Velvette 🎀

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi! I love your headcanons and fics! Can I request Astarion and a Tav that is a follower of Bahamuth the platinum dragon? Could it be a Paladin, a Cleric or a Sorcerer?

Oh, this is a nice idea! I've already made Cleric of Selûne! Tav and Cleric of Latander!Tav - time to see rare gods!

Bahamut, the Platinum Dragon is the deity of good-aligned dragons and metallic dragons, being considered the first of their kind. He is a sworn enemy of Tiamat, the Scaled Tyrant, who is the queen of the chromatic dragons.

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Cleric of Bahamuth!Tav

You are forced into marriage when you were fifteen.

A common practice in your area but that doesn't make it any less awful.

Your husband, a man who has buried three wives before you, is eager to consummate the marriage.

You barely remember the first wedding night and the nights that follow.

Only pain, beatings, and humiliation.

So you decide to run.

Your husband's people have been hunting you like a doe until one day you met a monk.

The monk fight your husband's people with his bare hands.

You are free but for how long.

He is powerful. He is vindictive. He is unforgiving.

You beg the monk to take you with him and he agrees.

You spend a year learning under his training - he is a wise man, kind and intelligent.

He teaches you the ways of magic and secret knowledge of dragons.

You assist him in his travels and help the less fortunate.

One day, he reveals his true form to you.

He is Bahamuth, the god of good-aligned dragons, who prefers to live with mortals.

Оnce the initial shock wears off, you swear your allegiance to him.

The Dragon God makes you his priest, a cleric of the light domain.

Bahamut does not demand anything from you except that you be a good person - otherwise he receives his blessings from you. That is all. You are not obliged to obey him.

As your first mission, you are asked to go to Baldur's Gate and help people who suffer from the Absolute cult but on the way to the city you are kidnapped.

You manage to unite people around you - you strike hope in your companions.

Even in Astarion, though, he will never admit it.

He mocks your religion and your faith but you are patient and, with time, he becomes more accepting.

You don't how to react to his confession - the forced marriage and matrimonial rape made a mental block in your head.

You don't know how to love.

But you know how to care and, gods, Astarion needs a dragon to be saved from his misery.

Your relationship is rather asexual - you both aren't sure you ever want to have sex.

You destroy his master with Flamestrike and Daylight.

In the graveyard, you both forget all your traumas - and spend a night in each other's arms.

In the middle of the acts you almost get arrested for public misconduct but you make a fuss showing your cleric symbols.

It's not like the poor guardian knows Bahamut doesn't require having sex on the cemetery.

With the tadpole gone, you are adamant about finding Astarion a cure.

Not just an ability to walk in the sun, but the cure.

Bahamuth must know how to do that but you can't contact him though you feel his presence.

You and Astarion decide to travel through Faerun.

With time, Astarion accepts your faith. Sometimes he prays with you and he always listens to your theological lectures.

Unfortunately, when there is a vampire, there is a monster hunter.

Astarion is killed - and his body turns to ashes.

You are devastated.

It's unfair.

You deny Bahamuth and spend a year doing everything he despises.

Murders, debauchery, crimes.

One morning you wake in a dungeon cell with a very familiar monk as your cellmate.

Bahamuth listens to your cries and complaints and... ask to forgive him.

He is a god. A dragon. He doesn't understand mortals.

You ask him to return you Astarion and he agrees.

Besides, he's wanted to pay a visit to Hells a long time ago.

He keeps his promise - Astarion is back. Bahamuth says he is going to the Astral Sea and you will probably not meet again in your mortal life.

When Astarion opens his eyes, you are too busy cradling him in your arms to notice something is off.

His eyes are green and his skin isn't that pale.

There is a beating heart in his chest and he breathes.

A resurrected vampire is a mortal.

He needs time to get used to his mortal body but his vampiric years feel to him like a nightmare.

One day he confesses to you that as he was praying to gods to save him he never prayed to Bahamuth.

He just didn't know such a god existed.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids

[dira333]

When I say your writing is the thread I'm hanging by...🤌🤌🤌🙏🙏🙏

We got reader confessing and loving Asahi. For your plotbunny, can I request Asahi giving reader some of that same love in return (in his own style, ofc)?

♡ “i’m not going to sit here and pretend like you don’t own my heart, like i haven’t been yours since the moment i saw you.”

I think I would pass away if he said that.

hihihihihihihihihihi - looks like I'm in an Asahi mood tonight, but don't worry, I'll get back to you (aka the Miya Twins I'm actually writing about) I am having so much fun with him!!!!

“I'm not going to sit here and pretend like you don’t own my heart, like I haven’t been yours since the moment I saw you!”

Asahi's face is flushed and even though you'd never point it out to him, there's a little spit flying. He's trying to get a point across, for sure.

Somewhere behind you, Sugawara is snickering into his hand. Kiyoko, Queen that she is, is simply smiling, but her husband looks like he's debating between murdering Asahi or getting him some water - Asahi is his senpai after all.

"I know Baby, I know." You coo, pulling him back down to his seat. "I love you," you whisper into his ear, "but this is a wedding and it's not ours."

Asahi perks up, trying to get another word in, but Kiyoko, calm as usual, glosses over it with nothing but a smile. The audience is left in shambles, stricken by her beauty. Or maybe it's just Ryunnosuke, who's full-on crying.

"We're celebrating love tonight," Nishinoya speaks into the mic and you're once more glad that the best man is also best friends with your partner. Leave it to him to save Asahi's face. Who knew he was such a lightweight?

-

"I can never show my face again!" Asahi cries into the pillow the next morning. You regret cutting him off last night. Had he continued drinking, he might not have remembered getting up and confessing his love to you in the middle of the best man speech.

"It was cute," you try to calm him, carding a hand through his hair. "I don't think anyone minded."

"I ruined their wedding," Asahi doesn't seem to agree.

"I think Ryunnosuke can manage that on his own. Remember? He split his trousers on the dance floor."

Asahi sniffles before turning his face, showing you puffy eyes. You doubt the redness was only caused by crying.

"Promise?" He asks. "No one's going to make fun of me?"

"Well, Sugawara might make some jokes," you point out, cuddling into him, "but he's single, so the joke is on him."

Asahi sniffles one last time before nodding and clearing his throat.

"He is, isn't he? And I've got you."

And isn't that the truth?

[tennessoui]

Professor-can-fuck-me wedding ficlet? (◉‿◉)

so i realized after receiving this ask that i don't think i've ever actually written a obikin wedding ficlet for any of my aus or fics and i don't want my first wedding ficlet to be this au unfortunately, so no can do but here's 1.6k of wedding adjacent fic (bachelor party)

(1.6k)

“Hi Professor,” Rex greets the moment Obi-Wan opens the door.

And really, he appreciates the boy’s desire to show respect—even though he never even took Obi-Wan’s class—but this is hardly the time or place for such decorum.

“Rex,” Obi-Wan acknowledges, rubbing at his eye with the palm of his hand before blinking at him and then down to his watch. “Good god, man. It’s three in the morning, what are you doing here?”

Then another thought occurs to him. 

“Wait,” he says, “where’s Anakin?”

Rex throws a thumb over his shoulder. “My brothers are getting him out of the car right now. I decided to come up here and tell you first, to prepare you and such.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach drops; his heart rate speeds up. “Prepare me for what? What’s wrong with him?”

Are his palms sweaty? Is his voice high? His grip on the door tightens. Logically, he knows that Anakin’s friend would not bring Anakin home so casually if he were hurt. Logically, he understands that if Anakin were to be injured, Obi-Wan would receive a call from the hospital upon his check-in, or the police if he had died, or Rex in the teary moments after. His friends would not just—knock on Obi-Wan’s door at three in the morning and then dump Anakin’s corpse on his doorstep.

Logically Obi-Wan knows all of that. But he has never been a very logical man when it comes to Anakin Skywalker. If he were, they’d probably not be where they are right now anyway—living together after five months together, engaged after six, married around eight.

Hell, they wouldn’t be in a relationship at all most probably, given the fact that when they met, Anakin was Obi-Wan’s student. And when Anakin kissed him for the first time, Anakin was—well. He was still his student. And when Obi-Wan kissed him for the first time, Anakin was…perhaps ten seconds free from being his student.

So he’s never been logical about Anakin, not really. And while a part of him knows and understands that if something had seriously gone wrong on Anakin’s bachelor night, scant days before their wedding, the man would have enough tact to find a better way to break the news than whatever this is.

But he’s old and overly emotional and high-strung when it comes to his wayward fiancé. And so his pulse is hammering and his palms are sweaty. And he is waiting with baited breath for Rex Amidala to tell him what has happened to him.

Because—because if something has happened, then Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan does not know what he would do. Who he would become. How he would continue to—to continue, after, in a world after.

“He’s, well. He’s very—uh,” Rex rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “He’s—”

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin cries, much too loudly for the quiet stillness of their apartment’s hallway. “Obi-Wan, hi, baby!” 

Obi-Wan’s head snaps to look at his wayward fiancé, who is currently half dragging and half being dragged by a very reluctant looking Cody Fett and an entirely too entertained Jesse Fett. 

“Drunk,” Rex finishes. “He’s really, really drunk, Professor.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan says, stepping over the threshold of his door to catch Anakin the moment the other man decides to rip himself away from his handlers and fall into Obi-Wan’s arms. “Perhaps lead with that next time, Mr. Amidala.” 

Anakin rubs his face over the front of Obi-Wan’s sleepshirt. “So soft,” he mumbles, repeating the action. When his lips find the skin of Obi-Wan’s neck, he makes a quiet sound of happiness and presses a kiss there. Then he bites.

“Okay,” Obi-Wan decides. “I’ll take it from here, you three. Thank you for getting him home in one piece.”

“If he throws up, you have to tell us,” Jesse says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall opposite the door.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan’s eyebrow arches up as he tries to imply with one syllable and a single movement that he is a forty-two year old man who does not have to tell these college-faced twats anything unless he wants to.

“Ani’s been giving me shit about throwing up over his shoes during my bachelor’s party since it happened,” Rex says. “Fair’s fair.”

“But I haven’t yet!” Anakin slurs, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck as he nuzzles farther into him. “And you put me in the car and then gave me shots and made it go really fast in circles and I haven’t yet!”

Obi-Wan gives Rex an incredulous look over Anakin’s head. The other man has the shame at least to look slightly sheepish.

“Good night, all,” Obi-Wan says, stepping as smoothly as he can back into his apartment. “We’ll see you at the wedding.”

If his fiancé survives the rest of the night and, presumably, the hangover to follow.

When the door closes, Anakin sags even more into Obi-Wan’s arms. “I missed you so much,” Anakin mumbles. His lips stay against the skin of his neck, and the feeling would be quite distracting if Obi-Wan wasn’t so reluctantly amused at the moment.

“You are very drunk,” he tells him, detaching himself enough to more easily walk and pull Anakin from the doorway through their apartment. “Bedtime for bachelors.”

“I missed you so much, so I thought maybe I could drink extra fast and then they’d let me come home early,” Anakin explains, eyes only partially held open.

“And how did that work out?” Obi-Wan asks, depositing Anakin onto their bed and kneeling on the floor to untie his boots.

“Mm,” Anakin says, flopping onto his back. He giggles for some reason unknown to those sober in the room, and wriggles his toes in an approximation of help. “Not good. They just bought me more.”

“Oh, my heart goes out for you, darling,” Obi-Wan murmurs, placing the first boot on the floor and tackling the second. “You must suffer so much because your friends are very nice and bought you drinks during your bachelor’s party.”

“Uh huh,” Anakin slurs. “Knew you’d understand. Hey–hey, did you miss me too?” Obi-Wan had had a very nice and quiet night, nursing a scotch by the fireplace and grading papers. He’d warmed up a leftover serving of a mince pie and served himself a piece of apple galette for dessert. And yet— “Yes, of course,” he says. “Though I am glad you had fun.”

“It was fun,” his fiancé agrees and then yawns. “Not as fun as the wedding’s gonna be though.” His fingers run to the buttons of his shirt and start tugging at them. Obi-Wan sighs, shifts, and stands to help him in this as well. “I can’t wait to marry you,” Anakin adds.

He looks so earnest and open, rosy cheeks and glassy eyes and shirt half-done. He’s going to be the world’s biggest pain in Obi-Wan’s ass tomorrow when the hangover really hits him. And Obi-Wan is going to take care of him through all of it. 

Practice for the rest of their lives. The wedding rehearsal he hadn’t known was on the docket. 

Still, his mouth turns up at the corner as he smiles, reaching out to brush aside Anakin’s hair. “I cannot wait to be married to you as well,” he murmurs.

Anakin closes his eyes and grins sleepily, drunkenly. “And I’ll get to be added to your insurance which is real good, cause I don’t have a job.”

“Brat,” Obi-Wan scolds, tugging at the end of his hair. “Is that the only reason you’re marrying me?”

“Yeah,” his fiancé says. “But it really helps that I’ve also been completely obsessed with you since, like, the second class of the year.”

Obi-Wan purses his lips, strangely touched. Sober, Anakin doesn’t always like to talk about the very beginnings of their relationship, as if he thinks should they discuss it enough, Obi-Wan may realize he’s made a terrible mistake in taking up with one of his undergraduate students. 

To be fair to him, it is a terrible mistake, and one that Obi-Wan is fully aware of already. And what Anakin probably doesn’t know is that no amount of discussion will sway Obi-Wan from the path he’s decided to walk.

“Only the second class?” he asks, settling onto the bed next to Anakin. “Should I be offended?” “I skipped the first one,” Anakin mutters, turning his face into his thigh and nudging at him until he begins to pet at Anakin’s hair. “Hooked up with a girl from my first period instead.”

Obi-Wan tugs rather rudely on his hair at this.

“But then, you were there during the second class,” Anakin says, though Obi-Wan thinks maybe the more accurate statement would be I was there during the second class, considering Obi-Wan had to be there. As he was the professor.

Obi-Wan hums and restarts his soothing petting.

“And that was it,” Anakin sighs, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s covered thigh. “You were it for me. And I’m really glad I’m it for you too or I would be really, really, really sad, and I’ve been really, really, really happy for ages now.”

“I’ve been happy too,” Obi-Wan confesses, shifting himself to lie down, facing Anakin. “I—”

He wants to say I thought about losing you today, for real and forever, and it hurt me inconceivably. Or, you mean so much to me that I missed you when you were away, and even though there was a fire in the fireplace, it felt cold all through our home. Or, it took me longer to love you, but I do and I do, and I do.

But when he looks down at Anakin’s expression, it’s to find that the man has managed to fall asleep between one breath and the next.

But, well. They have time for Obi-Wan’s I do’s later. In fact, they’ve put aside a whole day for it.

[thebeatles-world]

Free Bird: Part 2

Here's part one

''Wait, Geo please wait...'' You shouted as you ran. You saw George unlocking his car.

''I need to tell you something!!!'' You shouted at the top of your lungs. It drew George's attention to you.

"Listen, I'm not trying to cause trouble." My words ought to have remained silent.'' George begin before you interrupted him.

George, no. You've always been the one.. You have always been my first love and I have loved you unconditionally. I will always remember you. I adore you and you alone. I have always loved you and you alone, therefore I will quickly bring you back if need be."" You said, telling him how you really feel.

"Please don't say that, Y/N." George whispered, his eyes gullible.

"George, you understand that this is the reality… Just be honest, please.'' you pleaded.

"I swear, I didn't mean to ruin your marriage," George exclaimed.

I have never loved the person who proposed to me. Geo, I've always loved you. I have always," you replied.

You went on, "Can't you see that?" I have loved you and will always love you.''

George kissed you on the lips and remarked, "I always had feelings for you too, Y/N."

You returned the kiss. "George, I've always loved you."

''Get in my car, quick, before the fangirls arrive,'' George urged.

You nodded and climbed into George's vehicle. George sped off.

While George was driving, you remained silent. He appeared to be driving far away.

You were shocked to learn that you had canceled your wedding to be with George.

You felt no regret at all.

George drove for an extensive length of time before coming to a beautiful beach.

As you gazed at the shore, you said to George, "Oh, this is beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you love." George told you.

You blushed.

You and George both exit out of the car.

You grabbed George's hand.

George grasped your hand back.

''You know what, it feels good to not have any fans." George said to you.

''Yeah, it does seem that way.'' You agreed.

George and you kept strolling hand in hand along the beach.

George and you both had similar experiences when you two dated different people. Since he and Pattie lost feelings for each other, they drifted apart. When George and Pattie broke up, you were there for him.

When you caught your partner cheating on you with a woman named Wanda, George was there for you. After finding out, you spend the night at George's place, while your fiancé thought you were spending the night at your best friend's house. When you cried to George about this, he comforted you and held you in his arms.

George was the sweetest guy you ever met plus dated in the past. The fact that you two remain friends despite the split was nice to know, even if it was on and off due to Pattie and your fiancé, who didn't seem to be comfortable with you two having remained friends.

You and George continued to walk along the beach listening to the seagulls and waves.

''Hey Y/N? Though I hadn't planned on this happening, I always imagine this moment sometimes…'' George suddenly said. You were given a kiss on the forehead as he stopped in his tracks.

''Yes, Geo?' You asked as you looked into his beautiful brown eyes with a smile on your face.

''This is something I have always wanted to do. When I first fell in love with you, I knew I was in love with you forever. You were the first girl I ever felt passionate about. Having you in my life made everything better. You inspire me to be a better person. The only thing I could think about when we broke up was that I would lose you forever and this time I'll make sure that I don't lose you forever. I'll make sure of it.'' George said as tears began to spring to his eyes.

''George, I'm still here silly. I won't go anywhere.'' You giggled a bit as you wipe his tears away.

''Like what I mean is, I'm still here in your life and I already know how you feel about me George. I feel the same way about you.'' You smiled softly at him.

Listen… darling… what I am trying to say is…'' George got down on one knee in front of you and pulled out the most beautiful diamond ring you had ever seen. "Y/N L/N Will you be my wife? Will you marry me?" George asked.

You looked around the beach in shock and then back at George. You nodded, tears of joy streaming down your face. George put the ring on your finger, and you two embraced in a passionate kiss.

''While I know it was a bad thing for me to propose to you after you left your wedding and ex-husband, I just couldn't wait any longer. My heart belonged to you. George mumbled through the kiss you shared. You and George were kissing nonstop.

''George, stop talking. I've always loved you. "You are my heart," you whispered as your lips brushed against his.

''I promise to never let you go my dear.'' George said as he picked you up and spun you around. "I am so glad I finally have you baby, and I cannot wait to become Mrs. Harrison.".

You and George could feel the joy and love in the air, and you two knew that this was meant to be. You and George were meant to be together. You both vowed to stay together through thick and thin, no matter what life threw your way.

As soon as you and George became husband and wife, you guys promised that the two of you would love each other and cherish every moment together.

[wanderingthroughsands]

IV. So when Morpheus sends you a message, read it carefully

It's heavy now and we don't change Come back down, keep it safe Spinning room, lost my mind Keep it up, killing time Don't wait up, it'll be okay Though, it's coming at me like a tidal wave

- "Tidal wave" by Old Sea Brigade

"Mom?"

I burst into her room so quickly that the door slammed against the opposite wall. Mom lay restlessly in the crumpled sheets, her limbs twitching nervously. As I approached her, I noticed beads of sweat glistening on her forehead and an anxiety written all over her heart-shaped face. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, as if in pain, but not in the waking world—somewhere deep within herself.

"Mom? Mom, please, wake up!"

With a sharp intake of breath, she opened her eyes and jerked her head up. Her gaze still held the emptiness of awakening, as if she were caught between a dream and reality.

"Mom," I repeated softly, drawing her attention. When she looked at me, her brows and cheeks gradually began to relax, and the terror faded from her face, replaced by relief.

"Darling..." she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse, enclosing my hand in hers. "I'm… so sorry I woke you..."

"Are you alright?" I asked, scrutinizing her closely. She was sweaty and disheveled, her dark brown strands clinging to her forehead, her lips dry from the night’s cries.

"I had... I had a nightmare," she replied, closing her eyes briefly. "I dreamt I lost you in that hoverboard accident. I was standing by your bed, and you were so tiny, so absent... I was begging you to wake up, but you wouldn't..."

"I'm here, mom, and I'm fine." I hugged her tightly, feeling a surge of fear spread through my stomach. The memory of the Dream Lord returned as I cast my eyes to the dark corner of the room, recalling the events of that strange night.

Your actions are affecting the people around you. With each journey through the Dreaming, even more so.

"Sorry, Becky, I really didn't mean to wake you," mom's voice was muffled against my shoulder, where she had nestled her head. "Go back to bed and I'll warm me up some milk. I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep again so soon."

"I can stay here with you if you want," I offered, slightly pulling away from her.

"I’ve never had to chase away your nightmares," she smiled faintly in response. "So there's no reason you should have to chase away mine now. I'll drink some milk and try to get back to sleep. You go rest up for tomorrow."

She slowly got out of bed, but just as she was about to leave the bedroom, a sudden, sharp thought struck me.

"Mom?" I stopped her as she reached for the doorknob. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she replied, turning her face to me.

"Do you... have nightmares often lately?"

She tilted her head for a moment, as if carefully considering my words, and a brief flicker of surprise crossed her eyes.

"You heard me?" she asked, and though that was answer enough for me, I let her continue. "To be honest, I've been having nightmares more frequently for a while now. It's probably because of work—there's been so much happening during shifts. I come home exhausted, and even though I feel like I've handled everything, there must be things still weighing on me that keep me from sleeping well."

"And... what do you usually dream about?"

"Most of the nightmares I don't remember. Sometimes I forget to call a doctor for a patient, sometimes I'm wandering and can't find the right path, and sometimes... sometimes I still see you in that hospital bed..."

Not only mom had been having trouble sleeping lately. That same day, before work, Alyssa called me and amidst various different updates, she recounted a nightmare in which her entire wedding ceremony turned into a total disaster. Over morning coffee at the office, I asked Veronica about her dreams and although she admitted that last night had been exceptionally peaceful, she revealed that Hector’s grumpy demeanor was due to a particularly intense nightmare. It seemed that everyone I spoke to in the past few days had been tormented by nightmares at night. I started to wonder if the problem was exclusive to my friends and relatives or if I had also brought nightmares to the shop assistants, the librarian bringing me more and more books, or the conductor with whom I had a brief chat at the station. I also quickly realized that although I had awakened many people during my journeys, I had never encountered someone I knew well.

And throughout all these thoughts, the Dream Lord was always present. He had announced that he would await me that night in Fiddler’s Green. He must have already known what was happening to my loved ones while I wandered through the Dreaming. He must have also known that I would want to stop their nightmares and that I wouldn’t be able to achieve this without meeting him. Perhaps he was even deliberately causing their horrible dreams, just to force me back into his realm, to strip me of my power and my life there. In various legends, Lord Morpheus was an exceedingly wise being, but he could also be exceedingly ruthless if someone or something threatened his kingdom.

And apparently, he saw me as a threat.

Yet... during our last encounter, he could have easily destroyed me. Frankly, he could have done whatever he wanted when his energy surrounded me from all sides, making me feel like I was part of a universe where he was the one that set the paths. He was more powerful than I’ll ever be, yet he didn't use his abilities to capture and kill me. He wanted me to understand why my mysterious power was so dangerous.

He wanted me to stop running and come to him willingly.

And this time, seeing my mother’s tired features, Hector’s troubled face, and hearing the worry in Alyssa’s voice, I knew I just had to answer his call.

"I’m back, Dreamlord," I said, finding him in Fiddler’s Green at night, his back turned to me against the backdrop of the ever-lush forest. He turned his head to look at me, and on his lips was that faint smile, still devoid of emotion. "I saw what you did to my loved ones to bring me here."

"I assure you, I have nothing to do with what is happening to your loved ones," he folded his arms across his chest, but before he did, he gestured for me to follow him. "But you do."

We walked slowly among the greenery and the warm rays of the sun. I kept a bit behind, carefully observing his every move, but the Dream Lord seemed unbothered by it. His black robe billowed gently in the breeze, as did his dark hair. He hardly looked at me, and I realized that without the depth of those dark, infinite eyes, he actually looked very human.

“You’ve seen what consequences your journeys through my Nightmares have for the waking world,” he spoke after a moment of silence, staring off into the distance. “As a child born of Nightmare, you attract them, yet they cannot penetrate your being. Instead, they latch onto those you encounter during your days. You could end this if you controlled which Dreams you entered. But this would also have consequences for both your world and mine.”

“Why do you and Matthew call me a child of Nightmare?” I asked, even before forming the sentence, fearing to hear his answer.

“I once created an almost perfect Nightmare, my finest work,” he closed his eyes briefly before continuing. “However, during the time I was imprisoned, many of my creations had left the kingdom, and some had chose to live in the waking world. One of those creations was the Nightmare known as the Corinthian.”

“Imprisoned?” I repeated, surprised. “Who could imprison the King of Dreams?”

“This matter is none of your concern, Rebecca Surrey,” the firmness in his voice sent an icy cold chill through me. “You are merely a consequence of that imprisonment, the result of the freedom of a Nightmare who shared a part of its power, which came from me, with the child it fathered.”

“So you’re sayint that my mother…” I stammered, unable to finish the sentence. “Does that mean the man who is my father is a being you created? A Nightmare?”

“He was a Nightmare. Corinthian defied me, and so I could not allow him to remain in the waking world. Or in the Dreaming.”

"Dreamlord..." I stopped, overwhelmed by so many emotions I couldn't even name them all. Though it seemed impossible, I suddenly felt dizzy, and my feet seemed as heavy as lead. "I don’t understand. If I was born of a Nightmare, why can I wake the dreamers from nightmares? Why do I stop them in my wanderings instead of actually causing them?"

"I was going to ask you the very same question," he looked at me, and for a brief moment, when neither of us spoke, a hint of curiosity appeared in his eyes. "But that’s not all," he continued after that short pause. "Your actions not only draw Nightmares to the people around you. Initially, the consequences of your awakening were almost invisible. Later, I thought they were related to the emergence of a being disrupting the boundary between my world and yours. However, now... the being has lost her power, and the damage to my realm continues. With each of your journeys."

"What damage? How do I actually threaten your kingdom?"

"I intend to let you see it for yourself." As I noticed his arms move, I instinctively jumped back, feeling the rush of fear abruptly return. I was ready to defend myself, to flee, but he, unfazed by my reaction, slowly extended his hand towards me. "I told you I would wait until you came to the Dreaming on your own, and that I would show you why your power must be tamed. If you come with me, you will see it with your own eyes."

"Haven’t you heard that there’s no truth behind dreams? That they are illusive and as misleading as people are?"

Our eyes met again. Hearing a wavering tone of my voice, the King of Dreams smiled—and this time there was something more in that smile, something surprisingly soft, like the sunlight surrounding us.

"It is not my intention to mislead you, Rebecca Surrey," he said with his hand still extended. "I only want you to see the consequences of your wanderings."

"And then?"

"And then... as per your request, I will find a way to tame the power that my Nightmare bestowed upon you."

Feeling a familiar mixture of fear and anticipation, I hesitantly took his hand.

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby- Chapter 19 - The Truth

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I stood by the bedroom's French window, watching the Duchess drive away.

Everything seemed logical: Churchill disagreed with the government, then secretly approached Tommy to sell weapons to the Russians. Yet, for some reason, a vague unease lingered within me.

Economic alliances, members of parliament, government officials, the King, Russians... I've been bombarded with too much information in such a short time.

Despite trusting Tommy completely with matters of love and marriage, as the woman said, I knew nothing, and Tommy told me nothing.

He seemed to forget that I was the daughter of a former government official, raised around those deceitful politicians. My sensitivity to such matters would undoubtedly match his.

But Tommy wouldn't tell me.

I rubbed my chin irritably.

Suddenly, I recalled my wedding day, Aunt Victoria's eyes gleaming as she observed my husband's sisters circling him, wrinkled faces smiling maliciously.

"Do you know why seductresses easily rise to power? Because, no matter how rational and composed men are in daily life, ultimately, in bed, these men think with their lower halves. God created women from man's rib, destined for us to control their hearts."

I successfully pried information about his current situation and plans from my husband's mouth, the cost being legs so sore I could hardly walk and even needed Tommy to carry me into the bath.

"The Economic Alliance General leaked information about the weapons to the Soviet Embassy, and the Russians are sending someone to blow up the train," Tommy said. The Russian woman came today to inform him, leaving the disposal of Hughes in his hands.

"So, you're going to..." I gestured at his neck.

Tommy grabbed my hand, nodding. "He also threatens Charlie's safety."

"But... do you really think he's a Soviet agent?" I sat up from his embrace. "You said Churchill introduced him for this deal."

"Yeah."

"He won't figure out which side Hughes is on?" If he can't, he has no place in politics; he should go back to his estate and focus on painting. "If Churchill is Hughes' superior and their goals align, why would he sell weapons to Soviet enemies? Why wouldn't he handle the deal, benefit from it, and wait for it to be disrupted?"

"...Are you saying Churchill is pursuing a larger conspiracy?"

After Tommy's revelation, we fell into silence.

"...Is Churchill currently out of office in the government?"

"Yeah." With the Labour Party in power now, I knew that from my visit to London before the wedding. The government was pro-Soviet, which led Churchill to seek Tommy for this secret mission...

Secret missions without benefits, larger conspiracies...

"So, their goal isn't really about this business!" I suddenly understood, feeling a chill down my spine, unable to hold back a shocked cry.

With the Labour Party in power, Churchill and other Conservatives are currently unemployed! They need an opportunity to turn the tide and regain control of politics. If the train is blown up within Britain, it would be blamed on the Bolsheviks, giving the Conservatives a chance to rise again.

"Whether there are weapons on the train, who blew up the weapons, whether they reach their destination, whether you get paid, or if there's a danger to life, they don't care. They only care about the outcome they want."

Though I grew up around politicians, witnessing their colonial activities, I never thought they could be so shameless and ruthless—they're willing to sacrifice taxpayers' lives for their political careers!

"...What's your plan now?" I felt a chilling sensation, tightly gripping Tommy's hand. He pulled me into his embrace.

"I hope this isn't true, Tommy... I hope I'm having a nightmare..."

We lay in bed, embracing each other, sleepless through the night until Charlie's cries pulled us out of bed.

"I'll still kill Hughes." He whispered to me while tying his tie, making sure only we could hear. "Can't let the Russians sense anything unusual."

"We can't just follow their orders. We can't let those big shots do whatever they want. No one can threaten our son, Dani, no one."

It's a gambler's move. I glanced at him.

A wild horse, difficult to tame, often holds more power than an obedient one, making it more expensive, valuable, and likable. But if the horse is too unruly, difficult to tame, it will be eliminated.

But do we have a better option?

"Take care of yourself, Tommy."

Tommy went to kill.

But now it's already evening, and he hasn't come back, not a single message. I dare not call Arthur or John; Tommy's absence shakes the foundation of this household.

"It's 11 o'clock, ma'am," Jenny walked over.

"Is it..." I looked at the cold dishes on the table, suddenly feeling that without Tommy, this house is just like 10 King's Road, constantly emitting a millennium of cold air.

"Take these away, Jenny." I got up from the dining room and sat next to Charlie's crib.

Even though his father isn't at home, this little guy is sleeping soundly.

I touched his dark golden hair, his tender face, and his chubby hands. Charlie is a handsome boy; his blue eyes are exactly like his dad's. I still remember when Charlie was born, Tommy holding him so stiffly, insisting he looked like me.

"For heaven's sake! Tommy, he's a boy! And he's so small, how can you tell anything?! At least I hope he looks like you, Dani."

I looked at our son, suddenly thinking of Aunt Polly's eyes rolling around at my wedding, watching those sisters trying to get close to my husband, with wrinkled faces smiling maliciously.

"Do you know why seductresses easily rise to power? Because, no matter how rational and composed men are in daily life, ultimately, in bed, these men think with their lower halves. God created women from man's rib, destined for us to control their hearts."

I successfully pried information about his current situation and plans from my husband's mouth, the cost being legs so sore I could hardly walk and even needed Tommy to carry me into the bath.

"The Economic Alliance General leaked information about the weapons to the Soviet Embassy, and the Russians are sending someone to blow up the train," Tommy said. The Russian woman came today to inform him, leaving the disposal of Hughes in his hands.

"So, you're going to..." I gestured at his neck.

Tommy grabbed my hand, nodding. "He also threatens Charlie's safety."

"But... do you really think he's a Soviet agent?" I sat up from his embrace. "You said Churchill introduced him for this deal."

"Yeah."

"He won't figure out which side Hughes is on?" If he can't, he has no place in politics; he should go back to his estate and focus on painting. "If Churchill is Hughes' superior and their goals align, why would he sell weapons to Soviet enemies? Why wouldn't he handle the deal, benefit from it, and wait for it to be disrupted?"

"...Are you saying Churchill is pursuing a larger conspiracy?"

After Tommy's revelation, we fell into silence.

"...Is Churchill currently out of office in the government?"

"Yeah." With the Labour Party in power now, I knew that from my visit to London before the wedding. The government was pro-Soviet, which led Churchill

to seek Tommy for this secret mission...

Secret missions without benefits, larger conspiracies...

"So, their goal isn't really about this business!" I suddenly understood, feeling a chill down my spine, unable to hold back a shocked cry.

With the Labour Party in power, Churchill and other Conservatives are currently unemployed! They need an opportunity to turn the tide and regain control of politics. If the train is blown up within Britain, it would be blamed on the Bolsheviks, giving the Conservatives a chance to rise again.

"Whether there are weapons on the train, who blew up the weapons, whether they reach their destination, whether you get paid, or if there's a danger to life, they don't care. They only care about the outcome they want."

Though I grew up around politicians, witnessing their colonial activities, I never thought they could be so shameless and ruthless—they're willing to sacrifice taxpayers' lives for their political careers!

"...What's your plan now?" I felt a chilling sensation, tightly gripping Tommy's hand. He pulled me into his embrace.

"I hope this isn't true, Tommy... I hope I'm having a nightmare..."

We lay in bed, embracing each other, sleepless through the night until Charlie's cries pulled us out of bed.

"I'll still kill Hughes." He whispered to me while tying his tie, making sure only we could hear. "Can't let the Russians sense anything unusual."

"We can't just follow their orders. We can't let those big shots do whatever they want. No one can threaten our son, Dani, no one."

It's a gambler's move. I glanced at him.

A wild horse, difficult to tame, often holds more power than an obedient one, making it more expensive, valuable, and likable. But if the horse is too unruly, difficult to tame, it will be eliminated.

But do we have a better option?

"Take care of yourself, Tommy."

Tommy went to kill.

But now it's already evening, and he hasn't come back, not a single message. I dare not call Arthur or John; Tommy's absence shakes the foundation of this household.

"It's 11 o'clock, ma'am," Jenny walked over.

"Is it..." I looked at the cold dishes on the table, suddenly feeling that without Tommy, this house is just like 10 King's Road, constantly emitting a millennium of cold air.

"Take these away, Jenny." I got up from the dining room and sat next to Charlie's crib.

Even though his father isn't at home, this little guy is sleeping soundly.

I touched his dark golden hair, his tender face, and his chubby hands. Charlie is a handsome boy; his blue eyes are exactly like his dad's. I still remember when Charlie was born, Tommy holding him so stiffly, insisting he looked like me.

"For heaven's sake! Tommy, he's a boy! And he's so small, how can you tell anything?! At least I hope he looks like you, Dani."

I looked at our son, suddenly thinking of Aunt Polly's eyes rolling around at my wedding, watching those sisters trying to get close to my husband, with wrinkled faces smiling maliciously.

My mind wandered back to the present, the cold reality of Tommy's absence. The ticking of the clock echoed in the empty room, each second dragging on like an eternity. I couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.

I clutched Charlie's crib, silently praying for Tommy's safety. The world outside seemed to blur into shadows, mirroring the uncertainty within me.

Jenny, ever observant, hesitated before speaking. "Shall I prepare a late-night meal, ma'am?"

I nodded absently, my thoughts consumed by the dangerous world Tommy navigated. As Jenny left, I traced the patterns on Charlie's blanket, finding a strange comfort in its familiarity.

The night wore on, each passing minute intensifying my anxiety. The distant sounds of the city became haunting whispers, amplifying my fears. I fought against the urge to reach out to Arthur or John, fearing what news they might bring.

Finally, the door creaked open, and I shot up, my heart pounding. But it wasn't Tommy who entered—it was Arthur, his face etched with concern.

"Where's Tommy?" My voice trembled, and Arthur's solemn expression deepened.

"We don't know, Ada. He went to deal with Hughes, but there's been no word since. We're looking for him."

Dread settled in my chest, and I clung to the hope that Tommy would return unscathed. We couldn't afford to lose him, not now. Charlie stirred in his sleep, oblivious to the turmoil surrounding him.

Hours dragged by, and the silence in the house became oppressive. I paced the room, my mind racing with scenarios, none of them offering solace. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on me, and I wished for the strength to endure whatever awaited us.

As dawn approached, Arthur returned with news that sent a chill down my spine. "We found Hughes, but Tommy... he's missing."

The room spun, and I steadied myself against the crib. Missing? Tommy, the indomitable force that faced down enemies without flinching, was missing. Panic clawed at my chest, threatening to overwhelm me.

I couldn't accept the possibility that he might not return, that our son might grow up without his father. The bond we shared, forged through trials and tribulations, seemed suddenly fragile.

Gathering my resolve, I turned to Arthur. "We need to find him. Whatever it takes."

He nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. Together, we embarked on a journey into the shadows, determined to bring Tommy home. The stakes were higher than ever, and the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty.

As the first light of dawn illuminated the city, I steeled myself for the challenges that lay ahead. Whatever secrets and dangers awaited, I would face them head-on, for Tommy, for Charlie, and for the fragile hope that our family could endure the storm.

[fleet-admiral-hiba]

Howdy! It's been awhile! I was wondering if your asks were open because I've come with a request. Not a yandere one but I think it will be good. May I request Charlotte Smoothie with a fem darling who had been with her and almost wed to when the darling dies(Killed or died either way). Then several years later, a woman arrives at the island, declaring herself to be the darling. Even knowing stuff that only Smoothie and her darling would know. Thank you and I love your work as always! take care!

Howdy, dear. My ask are always open, though I'm not as active as when on holidays. Anyway, I love this ask so much

LIFE ETERNAL

Everything was going on smoothly. Life was good, you were there and she was happy. You two loved each other so much it made the kids wonder and hope for a love like yours, and it made the elders pleased to see someone of their family so happy.

You were a ray of sunshine, your cheery attitude had rubbed off on everybody.

They all loved you. That's why it hurt even more.

You two were out at sea when it happened. An ambush made the boat rock, Smoothie and her crew fighting the intruders off. You ran to safety, as per request, but a sword pierced your lower abdomen,making you fall. The boat was rocking so wildly you were catapulted out of the ship.

Unfortunately, your fiancée was there to witness everything. She rushed, but she didn't make it. Her hands moments away from yours.

Your body was swallowed by the seas below, and it vanished.

She eliminated everyone brutally, before falling to her knees, crying in despair. She knew that, had it been any other situation, it would have been unbecoming of a sweet commander, but this was her soon to be wife. They were going to see the dress, just to add insult to the injury.

She returned home, the news already been heard, and they held a solemn funeral, to pay their respects to a fallen family member. It hurt, they all cried, but they swore to keep your memory alive.

She went back to work,to keep her mind off the pain. But everything reminded her of you.

Couldn't you hear calling your name out, my dear?

.

.

.

Two years passed and she was starting to come to terms with her loss. The land,though, never gained back the shine it had with you.

She was preparing for the upcoming wedding when a chess soldier ran to the room. She was busy enjoying a nice fruity punch when she heard the words, "Ma'am, a woman out there is looking for you. She looks familiar, but we aren't positive of that. She's asking for you" panted the soldier.

She ran, hope still burning inside her. Maybe after all this time, you may have survived.

She ran outside and she saw you. Her eyes were wide, shock etcher in her face. Could it be?

"Hello darling, it's nice to see you too" you said,mirth dancing in your eyes. She wanted to believe that, but she had to confirm it was really you and not a sick joke.

"Tell me, if you so claim to be my beloved, what is one thing you cannot absolutely stand?" She questioned, waiting.

"Well, apart from caviar, I hate when you talk bad about your body. You know how I feel about hearing the woman I love doubting her undeniable beauty" you stated, confidence flowing through every word.

"What's the next wedding that will happen here?" She asked, knowing very well that only family members, as of now knew about the wedding, "The last one should have been ours, but the next will be that of Pudding with Vinsmoke Sanji. For political and tactical reasons of course, given the advanced technology the Vinsmoke have, with the subsequent elimination of Sanji, if Pudding or Mama so desire" you finished, before having the time to open up your mouth,you were being swopped up.

"You're back" she said, voice trembling ever so slightly, "Yes, love, I'm back. I'm sorry I went missing but I had quite the adventure" you said, before being put down.

"I need to tell every-" you stopped her, "there will be no need, by now I'm sure everyone knows there will be another wedding soon. Your guards did the job for you" you said laughing, while she stared lovingly at you.

Later that night, while they all celebrated your return, with hugs and gifts and scolding, you told your story.

"When the sword pierced me and I fell overboard, I was taken in by the Red hair pirates. Well, they pretty much saved my life. And it was thanks to them that I could make my way back here. It took so long because of the gravity of the injury. But they have been gracious host and they didn't think twice about helping, especially after I told them that my wife, the daughter of Big Mama was soon going to marry me. They were really nice people. They even accompanied me on land before going back" just your luck to be saved by another emperor, huh?

"Well, it seems we have to send a gift to Shanks, to show our gratitude" said Katakuri, happy to have you back.

"I thought about the perfect gift while coming back, so...Smoothie, you are hurting my ribs" giggling,you pried open her hands , taking them into your own.

"He adores having parties, so we could send him some of the best Sake we can find. Those big bottles would be perfect" you finally managed to finish the sentence, before being smothered again by the younger ones.

.

.

.

You spent the day after in a kind of edgy state. Not because you weren't happy to be home, but because the kids could be quite crafty in ambushing you with hugs. And you really wanted your ribs intact, or the dress wouldn't fit.

"Anana, darling, put the knife down. I'm home and I'm safe, you don't have to threaten every person you see. Instead, come with me. We have to look for the rings" and slowly but surely you dragged the little girl to the store, while keeping her knife safely tucked away.

[aquietlifesblog]

The Cost of You (Dio x F!Reader)

"I… I've always wondered if…" For the first time, you seemed unsure of yourself. This is an area in which you had no experience. Thus, he allowed his kiss to be the answer. It was all the comfort you would ever need. OR

You let Dio have you for the very first time.

This is the first short story set in the 'Hungry Eyes' Universe. This can be read as a standalone but canonically happens during the first 'fate to black' scene featured in Chapter 1 of 'Hungry Eyes.' Read the Full Story on AO3

Note: This story takes place during Phantom Blood so period typical attitudes and understanding of sex apply.

Main Story | Masterlist |

"A woman's virtue is all she has, no man of good standing would wed a girl who's been sullied. There is nothing worse than a fallen woman, do you understand?" 

"Yes." 

You understood the threat men posed to your good standing, how their whims could steer the course of your life.

You understood when you were 12, and the city boys followed you around the marketplace shouting vulgar words. You understood when you were 16, and the young footman insisted you accompany him to some faraway fair alone. And you understood at age 20, when Lord Pendleton returned from his long trip abroad and marveled at how much you'd grown. 

You understood. 

And yet…and yet…

The press of Dio's lips against your own was heaven.

'He wants me,' your heart sang, 'just as much as I want him.'

Maybe even more.

You'd hardly gotten through the door before he kissed you again, and your coats and scarves were haphazardly discarded soon after. You felt as though you’d swoon, that you'd faint like some delicate lady as Dio led you to the bed.

He wanted you. 

The walls of the inn were thin, so the muffled sounds of merry patrons and tired workers drifted up through the polished hardwood floor. It should have annoyed you, but the moment Dio pressed you back against the plush white mattress, the world around you fell away. 

Everything but your sense of self-awareness.

Your heart and body ached for Dio, but you carried no illusions; he wanted you, and he might have even liked you, but he would never marry you; you may have carried Lord Pendleton's blood, but you were just a bastard, the illegitimate daughter of a maid.  

A softer man, perhaps, would say it didn't matter and would promise to marry you anyway.

But Dio Brando was not a soft man. He was pragmatic and cunning. He didn't see the value in sentiment so any promise of marriage would only be a clever lie. He was a liar, a murderer, and a schemer. But despite his ways, he was more honest than anyone else, more honest than even he would believe.

He was a double-edged blade, sharp and unwieldy. But unlike other men, who hid their sharp edges beneath kind words and flowery gifts, Dio never hid himself from you. So when he pressed in close and wrapped his arms around you, you understood exactly what it meant: 

He wanted you.

And you wanted him too. 

"Dio," you hated the way you cried when he released you, needy and desperate like some pinchcock in a brothel. 

"Hush now, dear, have patience." His eyes were so beautiful, like golden pools of honey as he undressed you with his rough hands. They slid from the thick of your hips to the swell of your breasts and back again, peeling away every layer with the grace of a swan.

‘Take this off,’ he told you, and ‘raise your hips,’ ‘your arms,’ ‘good girl.’  He stripped you of your skirts, your blouse, your chemise, and your stays—leaving everything behind as a pile on the floor.

You might have been embarrassed and ashamed of your naked body—women should never bare themselves to a man after all—but you liked the way Dio gazed upon you, like a beast seeking prey. You reached out your arm to hold him but he stopped you, pinning your wrist to the mattress instead. 

"Allow me to admire you," he said, as though he wished to savor the moment, to savor you.

And for a moment it was quiet, with nothing but the low murmur of the downstairs patrons and the sound of whistling wind settling in around you. You allowed him to savor the moment; you savored it as well.  And then you blinked, and something bloomed behind his golden gaze. 

Was it passion? you wondered. Obsession? Greed? You wouldn't let yourself imagine love. 

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, and your heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, soft and low. The rough pads of his fingers brushed across your cheek as he spoke to you, and a wicked smirk graced that perfect face. "Don't act shy now. Isn't this what you wanted?" He leaned forward then, his breath warm and soft in your ear. "Come now, you've never held your tongue before." 

"This is different," you trembled beneath his touch and he laughed at you, a soft chuckle ripe with glee. Dio had experience, you realized, he'd done this before. You briefly wondered if he engaged himself with women of good standing or if he hired women of the night. 

"And so it is…tell me, dear, do you think of me at night?" He pressed down upon your wrists as he loomed above you, his larger form positioned at your side. 

You didn't reply, so he took your silence as an answer. 

"As I thought," he gloated as a deceptive smile softened his features. "Of course you do." His large hand settled against your leftmost breast. You gasped, unsure what to do as he squeezed and pinched your nipple. His movements were slow, torturously slow as he continued. 

"Tell me what it is you dream about," he whispered, "tell me what sinful fantasies run rampant in your mind so that I may do more. Tell me what you think of as your hand slips beneath your bedsheets. I shan’t do more than this till you do." 

You didn't have the words to describe what you wanted and he knew that. But the pleasure of his languid touch was a flame that threatened to consume you. He stopped for just a moment and you whined about it till he started on your other breast. 

"What do you think about?" Your voice was weak and it wavered as you spoke. 

"Me?” He slid his hand away from your breasts and you whimpered again in protest. But he brought his fingers to your cheek, turned your eat toward him, and leaned closer. His thumb traced the gentle curve of your lips and they parted for him.

You wanted him to kiss you.

“I dream of you using that mouth of yours for better things." He told you, slipping a finger partway into your wanting mouth, demonstrating exactly what it was he wanted to do. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes went wide with the shock before narrowing down into a glare that made him laugh once again. 

You may have been inexperienced, but you understood the implication of his words. You've heard men laugh and joke about having women on their knees, of 'their pretty mouths wrapped around their throbbing cocks,' and the very thought made your lips curl in disgust.

He pulled his hand away so you couldn't bite him. So you slapped his hand and sat up, covering your breasts in a feeble attempt to preserve your sense of dignity. 

"I don't want to be with you that way." 

"Oh?" He tilted his head in amusement as you tried, and failed, to muster a proper glare. "Many women enjoy such things; it excites their…sensibilities." He placed a hand upon your thigh and moved lower, but you batted his hand away. 

"It's disgusting." You turned your head toward the door, hoping to express discontent. How silly you must have looked, sitting naked beside him, playing the part of a modest dame. 

"And yet here you are. Were you not writhing naked beneath me not a moment ago?" He tutted, speaking as though he knew your mind. "Some might say the same of you, my dear: an unwed woman quaking at the thighs, so ready and willing, eager to be relieved of her maidenhood." 

"I-" you loathed admitting he was right. You wanted it, you wanted him so badly something warm and wet began to pool between your thighs.

But you turned to glare at him anyway.

You once found a book in Lord Pendleton’s study that contained detailed accounts of sexual intimacy. You were scandalized, shocked, yet the pictures of the couples never left your memory: The man was on top, nestled between the woman's thighs. Her back was arched, her lips parted and her breasts unbound. 

You were told that sex was an ordeal, something for men to enjoy and women to endure. But the woman in the illustration seemed happy; you wanted to share that bliss with Dio, even as he spoke such devilish things. 

"No words? No self-righteous condemnation or defense of your own pure desires? I'm waiting for an answer." He set his hand on the small of your back, and you shivered as he blazed a trail to the curve of your ass and back again. "Or could it be that you're far too enamored to think? Is that it? Have you become dumbfounded by my touch? By the thought of me as I claim your virginity for myself?" 

Dio loved to hear himself speak, and though his lewd insinuations made your heart race, you could only take so much of it. And worse, you were placed into an awkward position, with Dio’s hulking figure set beside you, touching your body as he pleased, saying whatever the hell he wanted...and you hadn't a clue what to do. 

"What more is there to be said?" You spoke out in frustration, "you know how I feel about you, the reason why we're here." Though you never managed to say it. You wouldn't let yourself love him, only want him. 

"I do, in fact. And it brings me joy to know how you ache for me.” He held your face between his hands and leaned forward just so. “Had you told me sooner, you may have been my first as well.”

And with a kiss, he ensnared you again. Dio pressed you back against the bed, wedged a hand between your legs, and settled himself between them. 

“You b-” He leaned over you then, caging your body between his massive arms. 

“Call me what you will, but here we are, blissful agony so close at hand. If only you'd reveal to me your innermost desires I could fulfill your every fantasy. Or are you ashamed? Women should be pure and yet you yearn to be taken, yearn to feel my cock within you..." 

"Must you be so lewd!"

"Lewd? Are your desires so pure then? Look at you, on your back for me, dripping with desire. Yet you refuse to tell me what it is you yearn for.” He scoffed. “At least I'm honest with my intentions.” 

"I want you to kiss me!" You finally crack, embarrassed by your admission and the delirium of desire.

He said nothing for what felt like a long while, as though he was shocked by the mundanity of your words. Dio chuckled softly. 

"Then perhaps your desires are more pure than mine."

Nonetheless, Dio indulged you. He kissed your lips, your neck, your shoulders, and your earlobe. Dio dragged his tongue along your throat, pulling pleasure from your pliable form in ways you never expected.

"Dio," you moaned his name, blindly pulling at the back of his shirt, desperate for something to hold on to as you beckoned him closer. 

"Yes, love?” He teased, one large hand playing at the base of your breast. He held himself up with the other.  

"Dio please," you murmured, again unsure what it was you were asking for. You tried to press your legs together to find relief from the throbbing need that gathered there, but he was still placed between them.

"Well, aren't you eager?" He teased, circling a thumb around your nipple once again. You gasped, startled by the sharp pleasure that spread throughout your body like lightning in the sky. "And yet so delicate.”

“Must you say such things?” You groaned. Never had he thought of you as delicate before. That isn't why he liked you. 

"You speak as though you don't like it, yet your excitement is palpable," he licked his lips. "I can see it in your eyes, how anxious you are for me to fuck you." 

"You’re incorrigible," you hiss.

"Shall I stop?" He threatened as his hungry lips moved lower, down to your collar, across your breasts. 

"No, don't stop." Your entire being ached for him, leaving you in almost pained anticipation as he pressed a trail of kisses down your stomach. But Dio let out a hum of disapproval, so you decided to play to his ego. "I want you to have me."

"And how shall I have you?" He whispered.

'However you please,' you wanted to say, but you couldn't let him get too haughty. So 'quiet,'  was your eager reply. 

"You want me quiet then? Hm. Well, I suppose we share the same dream...allow me to show you the appeal." Your entire body trembled as he looked upon you from his lower position, and inhuman hunger sparked behind sulty golden eyes.

He moved lower still, angling his chest to the bed and hooking your legs around his shoulders.

You didn't understand, but your heart swelled in nervous anticipation.

He could see everything now, see how wet you were between the thighs, see how badly your body quivered.  Would he be disgusted? Appalled? Think you no better than some back alley whore?

"My, my," He started, his voice deep, "aren't you pretty?" 

"I-" You gasped then, unable to finish your sentence as he dragged his tongue across your most tender place and swirled that devil tongue around you. He hummed, seemingly delighted by your taste, and something in your body coiled.

You took hold of the blanket, unsure of what to do. You never considered this, never dreamed of this, never imagined this was something that could happen.

Was Dio a sexual deviant? Is that what was happening?  (He was certainly depraved so you wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.) But if he was, what did that make you? You liked this, you liked the position Dio took below you, you liked the way his hot mouth and greedy tongue felt as he found a constant rhythm.

Frantic gasps and warbling moans spilled from your lips as he found his stride. It was like waves of pleasure, threatening to drag you out into an open sea of rapture. You had no idea how to meet this feeling—so you edged upward without thinking, as though to retreat. 

"Do you not find this pleasurable?" He stopped. You looked down your body to meet an inquiring gaze and smooth pale skin flushed with heat. 

"Do you? " He looked at you as though it was obvious, as though you asked him if the sky was blue.

"Would you like me to continue or not? I thought you wanted me quiet." 

"I…I do. But-"

“Then stop your insistent squirming.” Squirming? You hadn’t realized you’d been squirming. You wanted to protest but Dio was quick to begin again. This time, he leveraged his size to root your body in place. 

"Oh my," you gasped, your voice straining as he regained his stride. "My god," you cursed again, as that thing inside you, that coiling pressure, built and curled like a wave. You took hold of him then, sinking your fingers in his hair to pull him closer. Dio moaned, and the sweet sound of his pleasure blended with your own. Deviant or not, you liked what he was doing, and you didn't want him to stop. You begged him not to stop, not until that wave of pleasure crested and broke upon the shore.

Your breaths came faster and faster, and as he buried his tongue deep inside your needy cunt you found what it was you'd been chasing: the end. 

You met your first orgasm with a breathy cry as your body shook with a pleasure you've never known. It was a storm, a flood, a flower blooming in the night. It was everything. 

'Blissful agony' indeed.

You melted, your body nothing but a bundle of nerves swept by lust's tender embrace. 

"My God," you took a single, quivering breath. 

"Not quite, but you're free to think of me as such." Dio settled back on his haunches, his expression smug as he licked your essence from his lips.

You needed a moment to breathe, a moment to regain your sense of self before you responded, yet every part of you felt tender and warm.

"You're speaking again?"  Was the only thing you thought to say to him, but in truth, you enjoyed the sound of his voice: low, sharp, and deep. But you liked the sound of his moans even more.

"So I am." He leaned forward and kissed you deeply, sharing the taste of your arousal. You squealed at that, but Dio pressed closer, pinning you down into the mattress as he ground his clothed erection against your belly. You weren't sure about the taste, but you pulled him closer anyway. The kiss you shared was long and sloppy.  

"I find your desperation endearing." He smirked. 

"I'm not-"  You moaned again as he left a tender trail of kisses down your neck.

"You are." He countered, and Dio drew your skin between his lips, licking and sucking till he left a mark for you to find come morning. Again you were reduced to nothing but giddy nerves. "Look at you, always so dishonest. Perhaps you'll tell me this: are you ready for me?" He asked so sweetly it gave you butterflies.  "Well?" He asked, rolling his hips against you once more. He was more than ready. 

"I'm ready,"  You said, with more confidence than you felt. You wanted this, you did, but your heart thundered in your chest so hard, you felt the need to turn away as he sat back and peeled away his waistcoat and blouse, exposing the expanse of his chest to you. 

Dio’s body was sculpted by the gods, lean yet toned with well-formed muscle. His trousers left him next, then his underclothes. By the time you managed to meet his gaze, Dio was looking at you, his thick cock stiff against his stomach.

"On most occasions," he stroked himself slowly, large fingers wrapped around his veiny shaft, "I would have asked you to return the favor, but you've managed to excite me all on your own. " 

"Do you seek to flatter all your women?" You asked, blood rushing to your cheeks once again. 

"And then some, my dear, but only those who deserve such praise." He stopped his stroking and stood above you, guiding you into a more favorable position, with your hips settled near the edge of the mattress. 

He kneeled between your thighs and leaned forward till your eyes met, his throbbing member pressed against your belly. 

Dio gazed upon you like a man possessed by greed, as though he wanted to own you, make you his. So you reached out to him, settling your hands against his shoulders, bracing yourself for what was to come as he kissed you. 

"Relax," he told you, reaching between your bodies to line himself up against your entry. He rubbed the head against you, then the shaft, and you shivered. 

It felt so good, being used to wet his cock, so good you might have finished from that alone had he not decided to push inside you.

"Dio-" you winced. It hurt, like a burning pressure deep inside. You whined and grunted as his slick length pushed you beyond a limit you never knew existed—and it wasn't even the whole of it.

"No, please," you cried out. Surely it was meant to be better than this. 

"Hush now, you can take me." Dio's voice was strained as he eased himself inside of you, his breath hot and heavy as you took him inch by inch. He was holding back for you. "You want this to feel good?" 

"Y-yes." 

"Then relax." 

You tried but with little success. But soon he was kissing you again, his lips leaving pleasurable sensations on your ear that made your entire body shudder. 

"There, there, you've done well." He whispered once he could push no further. "And it seems I've drawn first blood. That's a good thing, I assure you." He mentioned, looking down at the place your bodies came together. "Shall I continue?"

'A woman's virtue is all she has, no man of good standing would wed a girl who's been sullied. There is nothing worse than a fallen woman, do you understand?'  

You took a breath. 

"Yes."

Dio gave you just a moment longer to adjust to the feeling of being full. And though the intensity of the pressure lessened, you still held him close as he began to move. 

"You feel divine… just as a virgin should. " Dio praised, rearing back and forth at an easy pace. His girthy member dragged across the walls of your aching cunt, sending shocks of pain and pleasure through you. 

"What a good girl you are, clinging to me for comfort, so—ugh—so demure as I fuck you open—" He let out a curse. Dio rolled his hips against you and you gasped at the sharp pleasure that claimed you as your clenched around him.

Then he did it again and again, driving himself deeper every time. 

"I like that," you told him, urging him on with the sweetest cries: "Don't stop," "Do that again," and "Oh yes!" 

"I prefer you this way." He goads you. 

"And I—I preferred you as you were before." He laughed. Dio's skin was flushed red, his pupils large as he claimed you.

A symphony of grunts and moans echoed through your rented chamber. The walls were thin but that no longer seemed to matter as he speared himself into you. Your labored breaths rose and fell in pace with your lover's thrusting. The bed whined and shook beneath you, moving with the weight of your passion. And soon, pleasure came and went like the tides, ebbing the pain away. That same warm dreamy feeling returned to you, settling in the pit of your stomach and building much faster than before.

"You're so tight—so perfect. " 

He grabbed you by the hips and brought you forward, helping you meet his every thrust. 

He called your name. 

"You were made for me weren't you?" 

"Yes!" 

"That's what you want, isn't it? For... me to take you every night?" 

"Yes!"

"Then you're mine." 

"Yes!" 

You hardly registered the words he said, hardly realized how loud you moaned his name as he pulled that sweet, primordial pleasure from your body.

"Yes, yes, yes!" 

Little by little, his strokes became rougher, quicker, and more demanding. Your eyes were shut, but you could feel him staring.

In and out, in and out...he set into a frenzied, desperate pace. Soon, Dio doubled over, pressing his face into the side of your neck as his cock pulsed and throbbed within you. He was close to the end.

in and out, in and out...Dio's breath grew ragged and he pushed inside you with a final shaky thrust. His groan was deep and throaty, and you could feel his body shake as he filled you with his seed. 

A strange new pleasure bubbled up inside you, warming your body like a spring. You've never known this feeling, the feeling of being full. 

And so you laid together in silence, nothing but heavy breaths and a sweaty pile of tangled limbs.

"How utterly careless of me," he broke the silence, lips still flush against your skin. "You simply felt so good,  I could hardly control myself. You don't mind, do you? I'm sure nothing will come of it."

Nothing will come of it? Surely he wasn't referring to— 

"I can't fall pregnant," you spoke without breath. "Not the very first time." Isn't that how it worked?

He didn't move. Dio remained in that position for a few moments longer before lifting off you. And when he pulled out, the excess of his finish spilled from you as well.

"It's as I said, nothing will come of it— don't look at me that way, as though you'll cry...there's a medicine woman in London, I will have something prepared to ensure you aren’t cursed with my child." He rolled his eyes. 

Dio stood, snatched a folded sheet from the closet, and shook it out. 

"Though you should thank me for the opportunity, I'll be sure to use a contraceptive next time."

“Next time? You’re... you're rather presumptuous, aren't you?” You tried to frown, tried to return to form, but you found you were far too happy. 

“You still have much to learn; what better teacher to have than me?” He all but threw the sheet at your face and instructed you to change them, saying he refused to lay down in filth and that it was your mess anyway.

 You scoffed but made a mental note of the sick satisfaction that shone in his eyes when he saw the red stain of blood amongst the other fluids.  

"I pity the man you vow yourself to, having been denied such a gift." 

You rolled your eyes and turned denying him the chance to see the blush that darkened the apples of your cheeks. You stripped the sheets in silence.

"I suppose it doesn't matter. You're free to be mine for as long as you wish to be." You were shocked to see Dio move the pillows, making it so you could place the new sheets on the bed. 

You wanted to ask if that meant he was yours too, but you feared knowing the answer.

Dio took the sullied sheets without a word, tugging them from your grasp. You reached down for your chemise but he ushered you back to bed. 

"Leave it. Sit down." 

You didn't expect Dio to help you wipe your legs with the soiled sheet or be the type that wanted to hold you, but he did. After tossing the sheet into a corner, Dio stretched across the bed, one arm bent behind his head, the other resting at your side as you curled beneath the blanket.

Predictably, Dio began talking, speaking this time of ambition and all his future plans.

"Perhaps I'll let you be my secretary," he smirked, and it was your time to laugh then, letting out a deep and throaty chuckle. Because Dio didn’t see you as a girl who's been sullied, as a woman who committed a sin.  No. When you looked into Dio’s eyes you saw desire there, a hunger with no end.

"I suppose I'll consider it." You told him, content to lay your head against his chest. 

He would never marry you, you knew that, but he’d find a way to keep you at his side. 

No matter what it cost you...

[dalliansss]

You know I’m in love with you. It’s not just convenient. I love you.”

nice things to say to people

context: [a wedding]

"You know I'm in love with you. It's not just convenient. I love you."

Fingon looks up from where he had been studying his fingers. After everything has been said and done, and the initial shock had ebbed following the lucidity afforded by the sobering tea, here they sit, in his chambers, by the balcony. This particular balcony faced away from the grand courtyard and instead looked out at the vegetable garden he had tended himself for years now, during his quiet idyllic days of freedom. A few white goats roamed around nearby, nibbling on grass.

He looks up at Aegnor. Aegnor, standing before him, panic in his eyes and mingled with worry and concern. Through their freshly-minted bond, he feels those emotions, and perhaps they help echo his own, though his own set of emotions are well-controlled in comparison. But they share common ones: panic, concern -- perhaps a tinge of fear.

For his part, Fingon-- how is he supposed to explain this? That right after the feast honoring Hador Lórindol, he gets into this kind of unprecedented trouble? There was not even a feast for betrothal first. No formal proposal. No ceremony expected of him as the High Prince of the Noldor. Worse, this was a match that the Valar themselves forbade in Aman, even though they are in Beleriand and the cultures of the Sindar and Avari proved otherwise.

How is he supposed to even begin to explain to his father the High King what exactly happened, between him and Aegnor?

"Did you wed me because you were threatened by Hador?" Fingon asks, his voice soft, but he could have brandished a sword at Aegnor, for the way the bigger, taller elf flinches and a frisson of hurt shoots through their bond.

"Finno, that's not--" Egg cries out, sinking into his knees and grasping his hands. "This-- I love you, Finno. I always have! I realized this not long ago-- I admit-- I'm not the best with feelings, or how to truly, properly articulate them-- and I don't deny that I've been flip-flopping around like grounded fish, so many years, even in Valinor--!"

"Yes," Fingon says, not pulling his hands away. "Even in Valinor. You ran to me after every heart break, every failure. Was your heart break with Andreth so great, you had to do this to me? Was your fear of Hador Lórindol so insurmountable? You imagine a mere adan could threaten you?"

Hurt flares across the bond. Aegnor's tears spill over from his eyes and he pulls back, dropping his hands. Fingon clenches them into twin fists, though his gaze never left Aegnor's face.

"There are consequences, Aegnor," he continues. "We are princes of the Noldor. There were a great many expectations for us, regarding these things, and we have flouted them all. You can't run from these consequences now. We face them, or..."

Or what?

"What makes you think I wouldn't?" Aegnor says, and through their bond Fingon feels the beginnings of the other's anger.

"How you treated me over the years of our friendship speaks otherwise," says Fingon. "You will excuse my small doubts. You have no choice but to do so."

The door opens. Fingon's chamberlain, Vorosanya, lets himself in. The ellon bows to them, concern in his gray eyes.

"The High King is looking for you both. I cannot delay, my lords," says Vorosanya.

Fingon stands. "Then we will go meet my father for the breaking of the fast. I'm sure he will excuse me and my....spouse...for the tardiness."

He exits the room first. Aegnor follows, silent, and Vorosanya trails after them both.

[asterhaze]

If you get this, answer w three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs! Anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog :)

Thank you for the ask! I have enjoyed talking about myself a little bit lately.

Serious: I also art! Though I haven't posted any of my newer stuff online because my tablet broke and some of my traditional work is stuff I want to eventually draw digitally and hopefully sell. I'm terrified of AI taking away my dream of being a super cool artist writer dream before I even have a chance. So yeah.

Silly Fact: I have a horrible phobia of mascots. It inspired a comic idea that I will probably end up writing about evil mascots that try to take over the world and cause the apocalypse. It's a pretty serious phobia that councilors and therapists have tried to help me with but nothing has worked because I've refused exposure therapy. There are some masks that trigger this phobia, but honestly it's mostly helmets!

Random: I only started writing seriously last October, and the amount of progress I have made this year shocks even myself. This is hard for me, but here is an example of my writing from last October versus something I wrote a few weeks ago.

October:

Glen stood beneath the willow tree in a small graveyard. He stated down at two small graves whose names had been worn away by time. But he knew them well and kept them close to his heart.

"Maria. My love. I miss you dearly, even still to this day." Glen began, going down on one knee to brush his hands across the grass. "I wish I was there with you. Wherever you are and whatever is beyind this life. I wish we could sit beneath our willow tree and I could tell you how much I love you again."

Last week - a longer piece that may or may not make it into a final draft-

“Now your suit really will be ruined. Your socks too.” But I have the money now to buy new clothes. Who cares, Maria, about suits and pants and socks and shoes? Who cares about arranged weddings? Who cares about any of that when you’re dead, dead, dead and I’m here, here, here? I’m still here, here, here… He reached out, brushing his fingertips along the front of the tombstone, weathered smooth by time. Faintly he could see the first letter of her first and last name but the rest was worn away. He traced the letters, very gently, before pulling his hand away and putting it back in his lap. Willow had cried and cried so many times sitting here before Maria’s grave. Mourning her, missing her, wishing desperately that she would come back to him and forgive him for everything and being left with only memories. The tears had dried decades ago, but the longing in his chest and the aching in his soul still remained. Now he just stared, his eyes glossed over, his lips moving without a voice as he spoke in his imaginary world where Maria was fussing at him for this, that, or the other. He knew he was crazy, or ill, or pretending, or at least that whatever he was doing was wrong but it made him feel better. Talking there, remembering things, it made him feel complete despite reminding him otherwise and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was that people left him alone at the graveyard, let him spend however long he wanted there, or maybe it was because he was close to her again. Eventually, when a headache was starting to form across his temple, he imagined Maria turning to him and smiling. Still wearing that horrible dress that flattered only her body, sickly yellow. Maria fluffed her skirt, slapping it when she was done, before turning to walk away. Won’t you take me with you this time? Can’t we go together? I’m tired of living without you, Maria. Maria looked over her shoulder, a sad look over her sunshine eyes, as she sighed and turned away. “You’re too good.” And with that, he imagined her walking away and fading from his vision in a great glowing light that blinded him until he closed his eyes so tightly shut he prayed he would never be able to open them again. Anything else he would see would just tarnish it. Tarnish his memory of her, but eventually he did open his eyes, and there was all that was left of her before him. Faded, worn, and nearly falling apart. Here Lies M….M…. Loved Forever.

Tagging: @mthollowell-writes @rainisawriter @doublegoblin @gummybugg @veetvoojagigthemagnificent

[floralcyanide]

Jerry Schilling Dad Headcanons

as requested here!

>> eeeee this was so fun to do!! @austin-butlers-gf and I were talking about Jerry as a dad and we were like “yeah he’s a girl dad” so this is primarily based on Jerry and you having a daughter. Elvis, Steve, and Austin (maybe more idk yet) are coming soon 😎 also I can't believe I've posted so much this week tbh it's been a while since I've posted so much, I'm happy with everything I've put out!!

masterlist || add yourself to the taglist HERE!

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

❁ Jerry is such a girl dad, he gives off those vibes to me

❁ when it’s time to find out the gender of the baby, he cries when you’re told it’s a girl

❁ he is constantly talking to your belly whenever he possibly can

❁ Jerry throws the most spectacular baby shower and invites everyone. literally everyone. and even Elvis makes an appearance.

❁ when your daughter is ready to arrive, Jerry helps deliver her 

❁ Jerry is an emotional mess when your daughter is born, and you’ve never seen him so happy before, not even on your wedding day, but it comes pretty close.

❁ your daughter has Jerry’s eyes and nose, and it looks like he spit her out himself

❁ okay but he loves dressing her up in cute outfits. you swear he enjoys having a daughter more than you do.

❁ when your daughter becomes a toddler, he’s the most patient guy in the world

❁ surprisingly, your daughter grows into kindergarten age without any issues. she’s relatively tame and only says what she deems important, just like Jerry

❁ your daughter and Lisa-Marie are roughly the same age, so they spend a lot of time together growing up

❁ he totally lets them put makeup on him, mess with his hair, and for sure lets them paint his nails when Lisa-Marie comes over to stay the night

❁ when your daughter gets older and becomes a teenager, Jerry becomes even more protective 

❁ he knows his limits though, and knows when to back off and give her space

❁ when she brings a boy home for the first time, Jerry tries not to freak out or seem nervous, but he doesn’t want his little girl to grow up

❁ when your daughter goes off to college, Jerry is just as emotional as the day she was born

❁ when your daughter brings the guy she thinks she’s gonna marry home to meet the family, Jerry is hesitant to shake his hand at first

❁ Jerry doesn’t wanna accept the fact she’s a grown woman now and could possibly be having a family of her own soon

❁ please don’t get me started on grandpa Jerry because it’s a whole other world with his grandbabies 

❁ Jerry is just as emotional walking your daughter down the aisle as he was the day she was born

❁ he makes a big speech at the wedding, talking about fond memories and about how much he loves his little girl, who isn’t so little anymore

taglist: @cozacorner @onxlymnsn @anangelwhodidntfall @butlersluvbot @jolovesfandoms @austinbutler17 @slutforblueeyes @misspygmypie @mamaspresley @mirandastuckinthe80s @bobbykennedyfan @sodonebruh @lizzymizzy-blogg @defnotreadingfanfics12 @izzvoid @homebodybirkin2003 @thatonemoviefan @sarachacha @kittenlittle24 @alltheflowerstomav @tubble-wubble @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @apparently-sunshine-deactivated @amiets2 @mrs-butler @mesbouquins @ari-nicole @austin-butlers-gf @feral4austinbutler @inlovewithchrisevans @shynovelist @mommy-maia @karamelcoveredolicity @thtguyovrthere @starry-night-20 @coldonexx @hangmanswhorey @shelbysbitchh @mavericksicybabe @coco-bitch @bobthefishiesworld @emmymaehereeeeee @myguiltypleasures21 @rainydayz101 @finelineskies @cryingabtab @kaitaesupremacy  @specialk6802 @ash-omalley

[almost-gabrielle]

Love your writings🤍 Would love a Frodo imagine where he has always loved Y/N. Y/N has had hardships too (not on Frodo’s level, but def still some trauma). He comes back to the Shire from healing & expresses his love for Y/N, Y/N do too. Then a proposal/wedding/wedding night (if seggsy details are permitted)?🥹

Hi :)! Thank you for requesting & thank you for being the first one to request! I hope that you like this imagine. if not, i can totally redo it if you want me to :)! PS: i'll try and add a little bit of segc moments but i won't overdo it. Lemme know if you want that to change!

Title: For All Eternity

It's been nearly eight years since Frodo left for the Undying Lands with Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and Gandalf. He'd promised that he would come back, but I didn't know when. I'd spent countless days looking through the windows of Bag End (which he gave to me before he left) waiting for him to return. I spent countless nights crying because I knew that it would be years before he returned. His side of the bed that he used to sleep in when we were still dating, felt cold and empty.

I missed him desperately. It wasn't obvious. Even Sam had done everything he could to distract me from the man I loved. Merry and Pippin had done their best.

I sighed, staring up at the ceiling of the bedroom that Frodo and I once shared. I did not want to get out of bed. My thoughts kept straying towards Frodo and all the difficulties we'd gone through together. But obviously, his hurts were deeper than mine. I only had to witness what my beloved Hobbit was going through. I didn't go through what he went through. And I could tell that he was going through hell during our long, dangerous trek to Mordor.

The sound of someone knocking on the door brought me to my senses. At first, I ignored it, thinking that it was Sam coming to try and get me to be motivated during the day. Or maybe it was Merry and Pippin. They were always trying to find some way to drag me out of bed and do outdoorsy things with them. Of course I had to go with them, though reluctantly. I'd rather stay in bed all day and do nothing.

But when the knock sounded again, I groaned, grumbling to myself. I rolled out of bed and slumped towards the door. I reluctantly opened it. The first thing I saw first, obviously, was a pair of large, hairy feet. My eyes travelled to the rest of his body and finally, his face.

My eyes went wide when I saw that it was my beloved Hobbit standing in front of me. I shrieked with joy before jumping into his arms for a hug, sobbing with relief. Frodo responded and wrapped his arms safely and securely around my waist. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

I missed this feeling. I missed the feeling of him being close to me. I missed hugging him whenever I got the chance.

"God, you have no idea how much I've missed you!" I breathed though excitedly, as I broke from the hug. "I thought that you'd never come back!"

"I'll always come back for you, y/n," Frodo reassured.

I examined his face. The color of his eyes were still the same. But this time, they were no longer filled with pain, sorrow, or regret. They only glowed with love. He looked healthier than he had been in years. He smiled for the first time since he left for the Valinor. Still holding his hands in mine, he got to his knees, and spoke.

"Y/n? Ever since before my adventure, and during my adventure, I'd always loved you. Even though you weren't officially there, you were the reason why I kept going. I always have. And I musk ask: Will you marry me?"

As he was speaking he pulled out something from his back pocket. And I realized that it was a ring.

"YES!" I squealed excitedly. I threw my arms around his neck and jumped into his arms, almost knocking him backwards. I cried happy tears. Once I'd calmed down a little bit, he took the ring from its place and gently slid it onto my finger.

He scooped me in his arms, kissing me fiercely. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. The kiss was full of need, passion, and love. We began to plan the wedding right away.

Several months after Frodo had proposed to me, it was finally the day of our wedding. We'd invited nearly everyone in the Shire (except for the Sackville-Bagginses, who'd always wanted Bag End). Even some members of the Fellowship came to celebrate with us! Unfortunately, Aragorn or Arwen couldn't make it, as they were expecting their third child any time soon, and Aragorn was incredibly busy ruling Gondor and the rest of Middle-Earth.

That day was lovely. Frodo and I said our vows to each other, promising that we would take care of each other during our difficult days. I looked him firmly in the eyes as I said my vows to him. I was scared on the inside, but I knew that my vows were what I wanted to say.

"You may kiss the bride!" the Minister said.

Our lips touched and the entire crowd cheered.

That night, we settled into Bag End. We'd finally be sharing that home together. Once we set foot on the threshold of Bag End, Frodo immediately scooped me up in his arms, carrying me bridal-style to the bedroom we'd share together for the rest of our lives.

Once we got changed into some different clothing, I immediately grabbed Frodo by the neck, and shoved him gently down onto the bed roughly, causing him to chuckle. I began to kiss him. His lips were soft and pillowy, and tasted slightly of the ale that we had drunk during the feast. The kiss felt cautious and tentative. But gradually, it began to get rough and full of need, and he flipped the both of us over so that he was on top, and I was on the bottom.

His hands slipped underneath the hem of my shirt. His cold hands felt nice against my skin. I gasped lightly and arched my back a little bit. I then began to fumble at the buttons of his shirt with shaking hands, exposing his bare chest. My eyes examined the scars that were left on his body since the quest.

Frodo noticed my stares, and immediately became insecure. He tried to hide his scars by wrapping his shirt around himself, but I only stopped him, pulling his hands away.

"Don't," I whispered, forcing his hands away from his shirt. "You don't have to be embarrassed about your scars, love. It means that you've survived. It means that you're strong."

Frodo blushed at my comment, and bent down, as to kiss me. He kissed me ferociously, causing me to moan slightly. I made sure to kiss each of his scars, letting him know that I was there for him, and that his hard days were over.

Frodo gave me a look of adoration. Tears of relief came to his eyes and he bent down to kiss me again. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

I reached over to grab the candle snuffer. Frodo began to pull the covers over us. I snuffed out the candles and Frodo pulled the covers completely over our heads.

***So sorry if the ending was crappy! Lemme know if you want me to redo it!***

***Update: I hope that this is a bit more of what you hoped for, anonymous! Thanks again for requesting!***