#now that the shotgun wedding is over and done with

[breedtobreathe]

Initially when we had started our relationship Evie had been against the idea of children. She hated the idea of becoming a mother and couldn't bear the idea of losing her figure. Despite her partner's outrageous breeding kink and his constant desire to knock her up she reassured herself that he would never do it.

She tried to satiate her boyfriends desires by letting him hold her belly while they fucked. Sometimes she would surprise him with a good baby and even forked out for a fake pregnant belly thinking it would be enough to keep him distracted and happy.

She was wrong. One night he came home even more pent up than usual. As soon as he walked through the door he picked her up and pinned her to their bed. She loved every second of it and as he whispered all of his darkest desires to her she just moaned and accepted them as fantasy. When he came inside her fertile pussy she reassured herself she was on birth control and nothing would happen. If only she had known for the last month he'd been swapping her pills for fakes.

A few weeks later she began to feel nauseous and started experiencing soreness in her chest. Being the health freak that she was she instantly went out and bought a test. She cried for hours in her boyfriend's arms when those two lines came back. He held her and comforted her telling her everything was going to be okay. He knew what he had done but didn't plan on telling her just yet.

Over the next couple months her body swelled with her pregnancy. Her belly went from a tight toned wall of muscle to a rounded orb filled with her unwanted offspring. Her tits filled out with milk and practically spilled out of her bra. To make matters worse her unwanted bastard son thrashed around inside of her every night keeping her awake.

Eventually she had to go for a scan in the hospital with her now husband. They had an emergency shotgun wedding to try to convince her family that everything was normal. As she lay down on the bed and the nurse covered her gravid stomach with gel she felt a fluttering in her chest. She thought it was fear but just a little part of her thought it could be excitement. As the wand was pressed into her belly she looked at the screen and on the monitor was her beautiful baby boy. Perfectly formed and healthy she was given a clean bill of health and once she got home she rode her husband for hours draining him of every drop of cum.

Something had awoken inside of her. Now whenever her son kicked inside of her instead of anger she felt aroused. She would sit in the mirror for hours posing with her belly sending photos to her husband at work begging him to come home and give her twins.

Now every night she would go to bed with a pussy full of cum feeling her husband rub her swollen womb. She had made up her mind that this pregnancy thing wasn't so bad. She had also made up her mind that she was going to make sure she stayed this way for the rest of her life.

[beachyserasims]

Geneva Island Legacy┃Chapter eight┃Them All  

~ Transcript ~

Beginning / Previous / Next

[ratatatastic]

do you write fic on ao3?

unfortunately for everyone involved i do!

[giuliettagaltieri]

Not Her Man

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Feathers fall gracefully slow

Warning: Girlrotting

Word Count: 3193

Part 1 • Part 3

You were always scared to do drugs.  

You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly. 

But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean.  To suffer from withdrawals.  And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.

Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day.  The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.

Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter.  Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be.  They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.

Rafe tried to contact you multiple times.  First, through your phone, but you blocked him.  Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar.  Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees.  One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.

He never really does anything right.  All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself.  You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said.  Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.

A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning.  Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.

You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls.  Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.

Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device.  You answer without looking at the caller ID. 

“Y/N speaking.”  You mumble lazily.

“Hey, girlie.”  There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend.  “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!”  You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance.  “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”

You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.

“I’m not in the mood for parties.” 

“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.”  She whines behind the line.  Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long.  Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday.  He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.

You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.

“I know.”  You tried to sound apologetic.  “I just can’t, okay?”

She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh.  There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.

“I’m picking you up at seven.”  She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues.  “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.”  You can hear her begging behind the phone.  She and the other girls are just looking out for you.

With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor.  Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier. 

“Fine, I’ll come.”  You roll your eyes.  “Dresscode?”

You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach.  “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues.  In the community beach house.  You dress however you like.  I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”

This makes a smile creep on your lips.  She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her.  “You know I love you, right?”

She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “Duh.  I love you too.”

“See you later.”  You grin.  “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”

“Sure, see you!” 

You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit.  Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them.  You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly?  Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods.  But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work?  Yeah, something casual yet put together.  It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.

A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts.  With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.

“Coming.”  You call while trudging over to open the door.  There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands.  “What is it?”

She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable.  “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss.  He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”

You press your lips in a firm line.  “Tell him I’m not here.”

Your maid smiles apologetically.  “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”

Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently.  “Just tell him I’m busy.”

“He said you’ll say that.”  She mutters, amusement in her tone.  “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”

You close your eyes to keep them from rolling.  “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.”  You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room. 

It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed.  Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs.  It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.

You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.

“Oh, right.”  You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert.  “You’re here.”

Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.

“Yeah.”  He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again.  “I was waiting for you.”

You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

“I know.”  You say simply.  “Gotta go.”  You start walking again to your door.

“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up.  “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?”  He asks hopefully.

“Yes.”  You respond without looking at him.

Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you.  “Hold on, I can drive you there.”  He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him.  “I can drive you to the party.”  He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.

For a second, you look at him, really look at him.  His smile grows wide.  He missed having your eyes on him.  You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side.  He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval.  You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too.  Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.

“No, thank you.”  You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way.  He watches you walk away to greet your friends.  He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.

He doesn’t understand it.

You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him?  You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to.  Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.

Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party.  You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours.  He’ll get another chance there.  He’s certain of it.

He didn’t get the chance.

With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly.  Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table.  You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.

On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves.  The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities.  You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did.  You needed the fresh air.

You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door.  You watch him struggle to keep himself up.  He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk.  You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs. 

His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall.  You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.

“Motherfu-”  He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.

“You alright, JJ?”  You chuckle.

He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins.  “Y/N?”  He drawls out while rubbing his eyes.  “You saw everything?”

Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him.  “I did.”  You smile when he groans out again.  “Are you okay?”

He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  He glances at you.  “Well, this is a strange sight.”

“What is?”  You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.

He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch.  “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.”  He points a thumb behind him.  “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”

You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face.  “That’s all you heard.”

Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh.  “We fought.”

He frowns, back straightening immediately.  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.

“No!  No, he didn’t.”  You reply right away.  “Well, at least not physically.”

You watch him grimace.  “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”

“That’s okay, JJ.  I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”

He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.

“You’re hurt.”  You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.

“Huh?”  He touches his jaw and winces.  “Ow!  Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”

“When you decided to attack the floor.”  You finish for him and he clears his throat.  “You’ll have to disinfect it.”

“Pfft, it’s fine.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s just a scratch.”

But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.

“I forgot to bring wipes.”  You mumble before crouching down in front of him.  He swallows at your close proximity.  “Come on, JJ.  It’s just antibacterial cream.”

He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.

You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.

“It fucking stings.”  He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be a baby!”  You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.

JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away.  When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You throw him a playful glare.  “You’re welcome.”

He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away. 

“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”

You blow out a big sigh.  “He doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit.”  He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused.  “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes.  “I wouldn’t blame him.  I mean, you saw how I can be.”  You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly.  “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”

“I don’t.”  He says quickly.  “I was just being dramatic earlier.”  He rubs his nape.  “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.”  He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him. 

You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.

“I liked being taken care of like that.”  He whispers and your lips part slightly.

“JJ.”  You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you.  “You’re drunk.”

He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting.  “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”

This…this isn’t right.  

You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout.  “You’re such a kid, JJ.”

He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean.  “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”

“Five minutes?”  You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips.  “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys.  It’s unethical.”

He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly.  He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face.  “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”  The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up.  “I really wanted to kiss you.”  Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.

You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice.  “You’ll get over it.”

JJ looks at you exasperatedly.  “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”

You stifle a laughter.  “Oh, so you have feelings for me.”  You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.

“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.”  He says animatedly.  “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”

You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.

“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!”  He dodges a punch from you.  “You’re like the total package.  You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.”  He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.

“When are you gonna get serious, J?”  Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up.  “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”

He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out.  You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.

And your hair stands on end.

There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.

But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.

He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.

“Rafe.”  You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch.  He looks at your hand and then your eyes.  You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.

“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?”  JJ calls.

Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back.  Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow.  He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.

You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him.  For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen.  Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.

Not Your Girl • His Girl

[wendichester]

*slides in with rose in hand and careless whisper playing from a shitty speaker*

Hello there, my fine friend

May I request either of the winchester boys proposing to reader?

Tysm and love your blog <33

𓍯𓂃 the proposal,

summary. the winchester boys proposing to you.

pairing. dean winchester x reader ; sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 538 ; 469

notes. different scenarios that i feel like suit both boys. thank you for requesting honeypie 🩷

The air is thick with the scent of smoke and sulfur as you collapse against a tree, your chest heaving from the adrenaline crash. The hunt had been rough—brutal, even. The wendigo had been faster and smarter than expected, and you’re pretty sure you’ll feel the bruises from this fight for weeks.

Dean staggers over, shotgun slung over his shoulder, his face streaked with dirt and blood. Despite the cuts and exhaustion etched into his features, his green eyes are blazing with something you can’t quite place.

“You okay?” he asks, dropping to a crouch in front of you. His hands reach out instinctively, checking for injuries even though he knows you’ll protest.

“I’m fine,” you manage, though your voice is shaky. “Nothing a hot shower and a week of sleep won’t fix.”

He huffs a laugh, but it’s strained. His hands linger on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing against the curve of your collarbone as he stares at you. There’s a tension in his gaze, a weight that makes your heart skip a beat.

“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, just keeps looking at you like he’s memorizing every detail. Then he shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “Screw it.”

Before you can ask what he means, he shifts back on his heels and reaches into his jacket pocket. Your breath catches as he pulls out a small, battered box, its edges worn as though it’s been carried through hell and back.

“Dean…”

He flips the box open, revealing a simple gold ring. The sight of it makes your heart pound, the world narrowing down to just him and the unspoken words in his eyes.

“Tonight… That thing could’ve killed you,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “Hell, it could’ve killed both of us. And all I could think about was how I can’t—how I won’t—go another damn day without telling you how much you mean to me.”

You can feel tears stinging your eyes, but you don’t dare interrupt him.

“I’ve spent my whole life running from this kind of thing,” he continues, his voice softening. “But with you? It’s different. You make everything worth it, even the crap we deal with on a daily basis. You keep me grounded. You keep me… sane.”

He exhales, his hands trembling slightly as he holds the ring up. “So, I’m just gonna say it. Marry me. Not because we almost died tonight, but because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. However long that is.”

Your throat feels tight as you nod, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Of course, yes.”

Dean’s grin is instant and brilliant, the kind of smile that could light up the darkest of nights. He slips the ring onto your finger, his touch steady despite the chaos of the moment.

And then he kisses you, fierce and desperate, like he’s trying to pour every ounce of his love into that single moment.

When you pull back, the world feels a little brighter.

“Guess we’ve got a wedding to plan,” he says, his grin turning mischievous. “Think Bobby’ll walk you down the aisle?”

The evening is quiet, the kind of stillness that only the bunker can provide. You’re curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, reading one of Sam’s books. It’s one of his favorites, and though you’d teased him about its thickness when he handed it to you, you’ve found yourself completely immersed.

Sam walks into the room, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You glance up and smile when you see him, his hair slightly messy, and his flannel sleeves rolled up.

“Hey,” you say, setting the book down. “Done with your research?”

“For now,” he replies, his voice warm. “I thought I’d take a break.”

He sits next to you, close enough that your knees brush, and the familiar comfort of his presence makes your heart flutter. But there’s something different about him tonight—an energy in the way he looks at you, like he’s holding onto a secret.

You tilt your head, studying him. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitates, a rare flicker of nerves crossing his face. Then he smiles, that shy, lopsided grin that you’ve always adored.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” he begins, his voice soft but steady.

Your curiosity piques as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. Your breath catches, and the world seems to slow down.

“Sam…” you whisper, your eyes widening.

He opens the box, revealing a simple but beautiful ring. The silver band gleams under the warm light, and the small diamond catches your eye, understated yet perfect—just like him.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he says, his hazel eyes locking with yours. “I never thought I’d get to have this, you know? A life where I could even imagine settling down. But then you came along, and everything changed.”

Tears prick your eyes as his words sink in.

“You’ve been my partner in everything—research, hunts, life. You’ve made me laugh when I didn’t think I could, and you’ve been there when everything felt like it was falling apart. I can’t imagine doing any of this without you.”

He takes a deep breath, his hands steady despite the emotion in his voice. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… Will you marry me?”

You blink back tears, your heart full to bursting. “Yes,” you say, your voice trembling but sure. “Of course, yes.”

His smile is blinding as he slips the ring onto your finger, his hands warm and gentle. The fit is perfect, just like everything about this moment.

Before you can say anything else, he cups your face and kisses you, his lips soft and full of love. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and his eyes shine with happiness.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you, too,”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr

[nosesitter]

Wedding Dress.

| father in law! Joel miller

1.8k words

a/n: Not going to lie this seemed longer as I was writing it then the word count hit me in the head like a brick. I’ve missed FIL Joel this isn’t me rushing honestly, this is just what happens when you have good pussy and good personality. The inevitable happens, it’s life.

⚠️: infidelity, recorded sex, mention of onlyfans, one mention of ankle kissing(don’t worry no feet stuff),pussy drunk Joel milller 🫶🏻, fingering, pet names(darling, baby, beautiful bride), squirting (it’s a common theme), unprotected p in v, and one unreciprocated I love you.

“Could I fuck you in your wedding dress?”

It sits in a box in the back of your closet. A white box wrapped in a white bow that’s barely gathered any dust. Your wedding dress. It’s only been a couple years but it should still fit. Walker is out for the weekend, work conference. He’s been working so hard to make sure you maintain your housewife status and you’re grateful for that.

Joel had texted you a couple days ago asking for a peculiar request. Could he fuck you in your wedding dress. At first you were hesitant. Your dress was special to you — it obviously held sentimental value but how can you say no? So here you are searching for the white lingerie you wore on your wedding night to wear underneath your wedding dress.

You can’t help but remember what it was like seeing Joel on your wedding day. A scruffy, everyday man who barely wore a smile on his face but now there he was standing outside the church —in a crisp white shirt, fitting black slacks that hugged his ass and prominent bulge, trying to navigate the people inside.

Even with the limo windows tinted he could see you behind the glass. Hair pulled up, the few pieces falling out the bun accenting your face, glossed lips pressed together. As beautiful as you looked that day all he could think about was the honeymoon you’d have. Getting railed for a week straight in a beautiful cabana, overlooking the beach.

He can’t deny he was a tad jealous. Having a shotgun wedding with Walkers mother, because she became pregnant pretty quick into their relationship and this was back in the day when you needed to be wed first to have a child. So you couldn’t blame Joel for his perverse decision of wanting to bang his beautiful bride.

—

You had about thirty minutes before Joel came home, his home. The place you were staying at for the weekend. In his guest room you had set up everything you needed. Your dress laid out on the navy bedspread, your makeup and hair done just like it was two years ago. And in the next room, Joel’s room, the camera. Ready and set up to capture the entirety of the sick perverted act the two of you were ready to commit.

As you finished zipping up the dress you could hear his truck pull up. Nervousness setting it just like you were outside of the church again, ready to face the man you’d see everyday for the rest of your life. Just outside his own front door, sun kissed skin from working hard outside, the smell of his musk and faded cologne you saw him put on this morning before he left and his hands, dirty with the day he had, ready to grab and stain the porcelain white lace you were wearing.

Your right hand reached to your left to twist off the wedding ring and set it on the kitchen counter. You were ready for Joel and he was ready for you.

Front door opening up this was it, no going back now. Crossing the threshold his eyes couldn’t break away from the most beautiful bride he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing twice now.

“I must’ve died and gone to heaven, darlin’, dropping whatever he had in his hands on the coffee table, Joel beelines over to you. His hands shaky with nerves. His kiss is powerful against you, glossy lips sticking to his, he can’t help but pull away and savor the vanilla flavor now stained on him.

“I can’t deny the request of such a hard working, handsome man. So after some thought I decided yes, you can fuck me in my dress.” His rough hands grab both sides of your face pulling you back close to him to seal the deal. Your hands grabbing each button trying to pry his shirt off him. Hands touching his hot skin. Once his shirt was off he wanted to move this to the bedroom.

“Not to be corny but,” he kneels down and put one of his strong arms behind your knees sweeping you up and into his arms. Your hands come to his neck as you hold on, giggling like crazy as he walks the two of you to the bedroom.

He sets you down on the edge of his bed, his head turns to notice the camera. He walks over and switches it on, the little red light coming alive to record the act. Joel comes back to you, kneeling down grabbing your foot to slowly remove the white heels you’re wearing.

“You look like a princess. So gorgeous.” Your face is hot and there’s no doubt a blush on your cheeks. Pulling your ankle close to your face he gives it light kisses, slowly working his way up under your dress. His thick fingers grab at the white garter pulling it forward and snapping it back against your skin. His beard scratches at your leg as he bites onto the lace and pulls it down your leg and out from under the dress.

The garter rests between his teeth as he grabs your hands pulling you back up to stand infront of him. He turns you around and starts to unzip the dress. Pushing the dress shoulders slowly off, his nose trailing down your neck, inhaling your scent. Things feel different this time. He wasn’t ravaging you the way he had been for a month now. He was taking his time, taking you in. Enjoying himself and you.

“Joel please,” you felt breathless, his fingers scratching at the nape of your neck grabbing the bun you had your hair in. Teeth sinking into your shoulder as your dress puddles onto the floor. A bundle of white lace sitting atop his dirty work boots.

“When you left for your honeymoon all I could think about was you getting fucked day in and day out on a beach.” His hand coming around your front to feel the tightened corset, pretty white panties with a pretty bow right above your pussy.

He’s not completely wrong. Walker bent you over anything that was bolted into the ground. It’s when you started your onlyfans. Recording a video of you giving him head then riding him on a private beach. Walker loved it, loved the wild woman you are. Walker loved you.

You turn quick to face Joel. Finally worried that this is going to far but he’s quick to push you back on the bed crawling up between your legs. He looks like a cartoon wolf, tongue falling out, eyes with hearts in them as he was practically drooling over your clothed cunt.

He wants to rip the lace and dive his tongue right in but he refrains from that and just begins to suck the wetness from the cloth. His tongue pushing through the barrier right against you. He was going to savor this. He wanted to remember this. As sick as this sounds he wants to imagine him fucking you on your honeymoon.

Your hands grab at the salt and pepper curls as you slowly try to grind up into his face. Clit rubbing against his prominent nose it sends goosebumps all over your body.

“Please baby, don’t tease.” As you try to wiggle out of your panties, hips grinding against the bed as they begin to slip down. Joel’s quick to slap your thigh with his large palm.

“Stop that squirmin’! Lemme enjoy this darlin’.” Pussy drunk Joel had his accent coming out more than usual. But he obliges you and slips the panties off. Pushing you further up the bed he lays on his stomach to enjoy himself more. Cock bulging through the zipper he grinds it into the mattress. As much as he wants to just fuck you and bust in you he just pushes two fingers into you. His saliva, your wetness create a squelch that makes Joel smile big between your thighs as his tongue kitten licks your clit.

“You made me an amazing lunch baby. Thank you, but all I could think about was the dessert, this dessert. Sweet-sweet cunt served so beautifully.” Sucking at the bud his fingers push inside of you faster. Moans getting louder you can’t help but chant his name as your stomach tightens. You can feel your orgasm coming, and it’s coming quick.

Adding another finger in Joel seems determined to make you squirt. Hands release from his hair worried that you’ll pull it out and just yank at the comforter underneath you.

“Baby look at me.” Deep brown eyes, practically black are all you see. His bottom lip is between his teeth. He wants to watch your face as you fall apart under him. His hips grinding against the mattress. He’s a mess of a man. You might be about to cum but so is he just from watching you. The coil inside you snaps, the sound of liquid splashing against his hand has you throwing your head back into the bed as he keeps pumping his fingers inside you having you spray everywhere. Quickly he removes his fingers not giving you a moments rest as he shuffles onto his knees and grabs at his own belt.

Grabbing your thighs he pulls you closer to him and pushes himself inside of you. Fucking you missionary has to be the most intimate position so far for the two of you. Joel leans down arms resting by your head as he pushes the hairs sticking to your face back.

“My beautiful bride, the most wonderful woman.” As good as this feels Joel’s losing himself in you and you know it. Worried for anything else he might say you pull him deep into a kiss, tasting yourself and vanilla lipgloss all across his lips.

Headboard smacking repeatedly against the wall, Joel’s creating a rhythm between your hips with each snap of his. Your legs wrap around his waist pulling him in deeper. Joel breaks away from the kiss and moans. He straight up moans, and it’s loud. No shame in the pleasure your tight fluttering hole is giving him.

“Ah, I’m going to cum!” His eyes shut, his mouth falls open and he’s in pure ecstasy as he shoots ropes of his seed into you. Your arms wrap around his neck, a layer of sweat all over his body as he twitch’s above you, slowing down his thrusts. His arms falling from their position to full engulf you with his body.

Not wanting to crush you he wraps his arms around you and rolls over pulling you with him. Now that you’re on top Joel’s completely relaxed. He’s in nirvana as you just lay together in a comfortable silence. Your head resting against his chest listening to his rapid heartbeat slowly regulate. His hand strokes your hair that’s fallen out of its neat bun. His breaths get deeper as he drifts asleep right under you.

“Love you darlin’. “ and there it is. That’s what you were worried about. Sex is no longer the fun thing the two of you were just doing. Joel’s in love. He’s in love with his daughter in law.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Bro you actually got me wanting to marry farm sans 😭 he's so out of my league though. What a man. I like that the whole community wants them to get together too, sans is one of their boys, they gotta have his back and hype him up a little!! I just know there's a monster in town who's offered to plan the wedding for sans, and old ladies love gossiping and playing matchmaker if left to their own devices

"dangit. you found my hiding place before i did."

You jumped, glancing up and over your shoulder, distracted from staring out into the dark. But you relaxed once you saw who it was.

"Ah, sorry." You didn't actually want to move. You immediately felt better for Sans being there, even despite the events that had just transpired, some of your wound-up stress leaking away. "I can go find a new place to cower from socialising,"

"nah, this is fine." Sans sat down on the step, right beside you, letting out a relaxed sigh. He held out a glass of monster champagne to you - you (obviously) accepted. "s'more than enough room for two."

He was right. The beautiful little veranda was spacious enough for a whole party of people. It just so happened that the party had retreated indoors, now that night had fallen. From your spot sat on the edge of the veranda, you could faintly see the lights of the rest of the village, the muffled murmur of the dinner party going on in the house behind you not quite enough to mask the sound of the wind rustling the grass.

You fiddled with the glass. Sans' knee was almost touching yours. He smelled warm, comforting.

"Nice party." You mumbled.

Sans leant back slightly. "yeah. dinner is always good when felinus is hosting."

"Don't tell anyone I said this, but it's much nicer than Theodore's."

"i know he's a dolphin. but still don't get why he only served seafood."

...

You looked at him, and those pretty green eyelights focused onto you.

"So... are you also running away from the matchmaking?"

Sans' smile dropped - then he let out a somewhat pained noise, leaning forward and putting his skull in his hands. You couldn't help but giggle.

"m'so sorry," he groaned. The tension in the air had eased now that you'd finally broached the subject.

"It's fine. Really." You nudged him with your elbow. "It's just old ladies having a laugh. It's probably the most entertainment they've had in a long time."

He rubbed his face. "i know, i know. i just... stars, they're so pushy. it's mortifying watchin' them corner you like that."

You recalled the slight jump of fear you'd had when a cohort of delighted elderly bunnies had seemingly materialised out of thin air in the party to determinedly tell you it was such a shame a 'delightful human like you' was single. They then heavily reiterated how single Sans was, how much he clearly liked you, and what a 'lovely young man' he was.

"They can be strong-willed. That's for sure."

Sans sat up, but seemingly couldn't look at you. "i don't want you to feel some typa way about me because of them."

"... Some way?"

"i know yer anxious to fit into the community." He picked at the fraying sleeves of his knitted blue sweatshirt. "i don't want you to feel... like you have to date me, if you want to be accepted. you can date who you want. or not date. or whatever. i dunno,"

Oh. Your heart fluttered in your chest a little. "I don't feel like that at all."

He eventually looked at you, sheepish. "you sure?"

"Yeah." You waved your hand, eager to cheer him up. "They can be a bit pushy, sure. But it's all in good fun, right? It's not like they're chasing us into a church with shotguns. The worst they've done is very obviously set us up as dance partners at the festival."

A wave of relief seemed to pass over him. "or get us walkin' opposite ways 'round the market so we'll bump into each other."

"Besides." You smiled. "If they like me enough to try to set me up with someone they know, must mean I'm 'in'. So I'm all sorted on the community infiltration front."

He softened even more, nudging your knee with his. "that's true. they love ya. they'll like ya whether or not they've harassed you into datin' me."

"Not like I'd need to be harassed into that anyway."

...

Sans seemed to realise what you'd said before you did. His eyelights, in an instant, were double their usual size

...

"... what'd you say?" He was staring at you.

...

... You could feel the heat creeping over your face, neck and ears. Your mouth had instantly glued itself shut. You didn't answer his question - you just stared at your untouched champagne glass.

...

"SANS! HUMAN!"

Both of you jumped, this time, you felt the cold champagne splash out of the glass and onto your hand as you dropped it entirely. When the two of you turned around, Papyrus seemed just as startled by your reactions as you were to him; he was stood just outside the door, car keys in his hand.

"P-Papyrus!" "bro,"

Papyrus, immediately, gave you and Sans a shifty look. But he quickly covered it up again.

"WE SHOULD HEAD OUT NOW, HUMAN, IF WE WANT TO DROP YOU HOME BEFORE MIDNIGHT."

You and Sans quickly stood, bolt upright, at the same time.

"You-"

"i'll go say goodbye to everyone. you two get the car backed out."

"Sure. Sure,"

Before you could say anything else to him, Sans had hurried past his brother, back into the house. Papyrus watched him head inside with visible confusion written across his face.

...

"... HUMAN," Papyrus glanced at you. "WHAT DID MY BROTHER SAY TO YOU?"

"Uh, I'll..." You fiddled with your hair. "I'll, m, I'll tell you in the car."

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

AND THE OSCAR GOES TO …

Pairing - Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

Warnings - No warning, the disgust!!! Fluff with a side of angst, I’m shocked… cheesy as

Word count - 2.4+

The day had been exhausting. Cillian, who expresses the importance of sleep, was unable to keep his eyes shut last night in the luxurious king size bed. Usually the award shows were just a part of the job, never taken as seriously as working on the project. But this was different, he had never experienced the honor of such recognition by the industry he adored. Everyone was hyping him up and secretly it terrified him even though he acted unphased. 

Humble, was the word you’d use to describe Cillian. The most modest man in Hollywood, never believing that his work is exemplary. Always reflecting on what else he could have done to be better. It was a guilty desire, to want to win it. He had already won all of the other major awards, but what if he managed to fall short to this?

Likewise to him, you remained awake. Merely embracing him as you two laid in silence. You kept him at bay, he wondered what he did to deserve you. Feared the embarrassment of what you’d think of him if he didn’t win this last one. 

He threw up in the morning. It was all getting to his head. These were the parts he hated most about this job. The expectation on his back now. All eyes were going to be on him tonight. Not to mention the reporters. At all of the award shows they tended to ask insensitive questions about your relationship. 

Your relationship with Cillian was certainly controversial. Age gaps always were. Neither of you ever intended to fall in love, but denying that spark of attraction felt like a major crime.  

At first, you both tried to make yourselves believe it to just be casual. To merely get those urges out of your system. Neither one of you intended on making the encounter romantic or innermost with each other. However, by the third date, it came to light in your senses that this was real. 

The dating stage was a rollercoaster of emotions. Filled to the rim with doubts of if you both would be able to make it work. Yeah, you’ve dated some real questionable guys. But a 20 year age difference was never a bridge you expected to cross. Despite the hesitance of this intangible factor, you two just couldn’t view a future without one another anymore. 

Slowly, you both tackled your insecurities of becoming public to your loved ones. The hardest were your parents, even though there was still a bit of an age gap, Cillian was closer to their age than yours and it was a judgment they couldn’t avoid. It took some time, but as they watched your eyes blossom at the sight of him they knew it was real. 

The public would never know how you brought Cillian out of his despair. A man of privacy he was, hardly anyone knew how toxic his first marriage was. How bad his mind had become after years of trying over something that was long dead cold. With how he had given up hope on ever feeling loved by another again. Most days he felt like a man trying to find a pin in a haystack. 

Dating Cillian taught you the value of privacy and wellbeing. Behind the closed doors, your relationship was paradise. You had never experienced a relationship that wasn’t followed by the media. It was all that you had ever known. But this, being able to focus on him and not on how the world perceived your relationship had changed your whole perspective. 

When the news broke that not only were you dating Cillian Murphy, but pregnant, the backlash was astounding. However, you both had the approval and support from your inner circles and that was all that mattered. You had a shotgun wedding in Ireland with a small number of attendees. It was the greatest day of your life until you gave birth to your daughter, Aisling. 

He looked so charming as you watched him dress in the hotel room. He was laughing nervously a lot, trying to talk about things other than the ceremony. 

You didn’t blame his distress. Years ago you were in the same affair. It was your hardest role and greatest accomplishment. Portraying a woman at her lowest point in a society that she felt she didn’t belong. By the end of production, a part of you felt like you were her. When you were nominated for Best Actress, you were filled with gratitude and honor. But also couldn’t help but to think at the back of your head if you really deserved this. A part of you didn’t feel worthy to be running with your fellow nominees. The anxiety rose inside of you everytime someone asked what would you do if you won? 

But, when the presenter announced your name, the wave of acceptance consumed you deep into the ocean. Everything you had ever done had led to that moment. There was no need for you to secretly bring yourself down. You have pushed your mind, body and soul for this project. The gratitude had overwhelmed you as you accepted this recognition. 

Watching him on the red carpet, you could see right through him. The illusion of confidence mixed with the gratitude of accolades. He wanted the night to be done with, there was nothing more that he wanted to do besides be at home with you and Aisling. It was the first time Cillian had attended the grand event and you observed him look around in awe in the ceremony room. The whole time you had held onto his hand tightly as the big four without hurry finally rolled over. 

“And the Oscar goes to…” Brendan Fraser paused as he opened the envelope.

Time froze over, your iron grip on Cillian’s hand as you stared immensely. There was this clock ticking in your head. Your emotions were masked as Cillian had a stern expression. You could sense how anxious he was with being in the running for the greatest honor.   

Despite the distance, you ever so clearly saw the look that lit in Brendan’s eyes and knew immediately. His gaze looked up to Cillian as he announced his name to the world. A radiant smile grew on Cillian’s lips as the audience started cheering for him. 

He acknowledged you promptly, his blue eyes soft as he leant in to kiss you. After a small exhale of relief, you wrapped your arms around his body and kissed him passionately. His forehead pressed against yours for a few seconds, but it felt like hours. The noise drained out and you both forgot where you were. It was just the two of you. When Cillian opened his eyes again, his gaze was met with your undying smile of bliss. 

The track for Oppenheimer was playing as Cillian slowly let you go and embraced his fellow cast members You were clapping your hands together uncontrollably, your eyes welled with tears of joy as you watched Cillian make the short journey to the stage.

Emily embraced you, you exhaled heavily against her as you were still feeling the overwhelming sensation against your skin. It was all too much to take in, you could see his photo up on all of the screens, the cheers were running down to your ear drums. It felt like deja vu from years ago when you were in the exact same spot. 

He shook all of the presenters' hands. Sharing a few words with each of them individually. The audience were still on their feet as Cillian looked down to the golden prize in his hold, his mouth dry as he struggled to think of what to say. 

The crowd was standing in awe for him. Cillian laughed nervously, his expression overwhelmed and shocked at what was occurring. He has never even dreamt of this moment, never believing he’d be able to make it. His hand trailed over jaw as his eyes took in everything. He waited for the audience to silence themselves but realized that they wouldn’t be doing it on their own any time soon. 

“Um, I’m a little overwhelmed. Thank you to the Academy” Cillian started, his eyes roaming over the room. The crowd came to silence. “Um, Chris Nolan and Emma Thomas, it's been the wildest, most exhilarating, most creatively satisfying journey you’ve taken me on over the last 20 years. I owe you more than I can say. Thank you so much” Cillian expressed his gratitude to them. His mentors, the people that trusted him dearly with many of their successes. 

There was such little time. Shockingly, Cillian hadn’t prepared himself for this moment, despite everyone telling him that even though the competition was scintillating, the Oscar already had his name written on it. Of course he had summed up a few words to say, people to recognise. But the shock had drowned his thoughts. 

“Every single crew member, every single cast member on Oppenheimer. You guys carried me through. All of my fellow nominees, I remain in awe of you guys, truly” Cillian acknowledged, his eyes darting around the room to look for his fellow nominees. 

He truly was in admiration of them. The pair of you had watched all of the nominated films and Cillian couldn’t help to be even in applause of them, but also intimidated by them as award season had rolled over. 

“I wanna thank my incredible team. Ah, big shout out to Craig Bankie!” Cillian grinned. “Brendan Murphy- Brendan Murphy, Mary Murphy. Who are currently taking care of my baby girl back in Ireland. Aisling, my darling, daddy loves you so much” He smiled purely into the camera. 

There was a pause as he blinked heavily. His gaze found its way back to you so lovingly. CIllian stared at you in awe. Even though you were at a distance from each other, he could see you so perfectly. His perfect woman, wife, lover.  

“Oh” he breathed out, tilting his head up the slightest bit. “And there’s a woman” he professed as he closed his eyes dramatically, taking in all of the emotions he was feeling. 

Some of the crowd couldn’t resist screaming out in excitement. Your hand pressed against your mouth as you slowly shook your head in disbelief. 

“Yeah” he said to himself as he nodded his head, eyes still shut. “A woman. Who I love” Cillian vowed, his eyes finding you once more. Cillian breathed out your name as he watched you enchantedly. “You’re the love of my life, and I owe everything to you. You’ve kept me sane throughout this whole process. I wouldn’t be up here without you. This award, it’s for us. I love you” Cillian commended, giving you an angelic smile. 

The crowd roared in exhilaration. The camera focused on you and your teary eyes as you were shaking your head in disbelief and happy embarrassment. 

“I’m a very proud Irish man standing here tonight. So…” Cillian smiled as he raised his award into the air. The crowd cheered as he could feel the privilege of honoring his nationality. “You know, we made a film. We made a film about the man who created the atomic bomb. And for better or for worse, we’re all living in Oppenheimer’s world. So I would really like to dedicate this to the peacemakers everywhere” Cillian finished with a satisfied nod. “Go raibh mile maith agaibh!” He raised the award one final time as he spoke his native language and took a step back from the microphone. 

The music began as Cillian winked to you. Everyone stood up again as they all applauded him, many eyes were on you as well. He engaged with the past winners as they all walked off stage. People congratulated you for landing such a romantic man and you couldn’t argue with them if you wanted you. 

You kissed him passionately in the elevator, the buzz of the champagne you shared in the ride over giving the pair of you slightly too much confidence. Cillian was chuckling slowly as you both looked at the award in his hand. The doors dung open and you were cheered by the guests in the venue of the afterparty. 

A snort left Cillian as he noticed a tap of Guinness at the bar. Neither of you could refuse a pint of it. The night rolled on with many congratulations, drinks, photographs, hand shakes, embraces and conversations on what an achievement this had been. No one would be able to guess how exhausted Cillian truly was. But the adrenaline was still pumping through his blood stream and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.  

As the music blasted and the dance floor filled with highly tipsy people, Cillian confidently pulled you onto it. His arms wrapped around your body as he swayed you to the music. The two of you smiled gleefully, intoxicated with the moment and built up emotion over these past few months. Even though the lighting was dark, you could see the crooked smile on his lips. 

“Let’s have another” he proposed into your ear. You hummed and looked up to him. A heavy laugh left your mouth as you turned your foot to the bar but he stopped you. “No, no” he laughed. “Another baby” he clarified. 

“You only ever wanted one” you brought up. It was unsure if he was being serious, or merely caught up in the moment. 

“I’ve been wrong” he admitted, swaying you perfectly to the beat of the music. You hummed confidently, a sparkle in your eyes, the thought of a baby boy with his eyes coming to mind. “You’ve brought me out of my hardest moments. I know I tell you this all the time but woman, you mean everything to me. Your support, advice, guidance and love is all I’ll ever need to live a fulfilled life. You’ve taught me so much which has benefitted not only my career but happiness and spirit in life. I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say or show you” Cillian confessed. 

Innocent embarrassment made you shake your head towards him. He just had a way with words that made your heart swoon over him, even when he was drunk. A long, gentle kiss connected you together once more. This was life, the happiness you both could share together. Not the expensive outfits, fancy cars or grand events. It was the emotions and feelings intertwined as one between two bodies. 

Cillian had made history tonight, but you were forever to be his grand prize in life. 

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

ONYX STORM SPOILERS (for your readers)

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If you feel like it, will you expand on how you think they are still involved romantically in the end of onyx storm? Like I get that they are married but that seems to more to secure Violet’s future without him. It doesn’t seem to be because he has any hopes of any kind of future for the two of them together. Romantically or otherwise. He doesn’t want her to look for him. Aren’t they as broken up as they can be at this point? I’d love to hear your thoughts (and love another/different perspective because these thoughts I’m currently having are honestly making me feel ill).

Also thank you for your contributions to the fandom!! Honestly I think fanfic is the only thing that’s gonna get me through this. Hope we get an upsurge of riorgail fluff from everyone 🙏🏼

I have never felt like doing anything more, anon!!! I get what you're saying, and I think that's the way Rebecca/Red Tower WANT us to see it, because they want us to be anxious about where it's going so that we buy the next book. However, I refuse to subscribe to that! Here's why:

(I wrote an actual essay, so it's below the cut:)

"Together romantically" My answer to the other ask was me visiting the Xaden Liarson school of verbal gymnastics so that I didn't spoil the ending for that anon. However, judging by Xaden's behavior throughout ALL of Onyx Storm (and frankly, books 1 and 2 as well) he wouldn't marry her just to dip overall. Like, even not being meta here, he wouldn't do that. He's selfish when it comes to her, for one thing, and he says this repeatedly. For another, he CLEARLY wants to marry her just to marry her. I don't want to get sucked in to another re-read (and someone else asked for my thoughts on the ending in general, so I'll reply to that ask once I'm done with my second re-read in the next few days with more page numbers and quotes and things) but in the scene with his mother, Xaden's reaction seems to illustrate that marriage is NOT a tool for him like it was for his father. He wants to marry Violet because he loves her. Now, obviously the shotgun (crossbow?) wedding was ALSO a move to protect her and solidify her place without him as you said, but with how he talked about marriage throughout the book, and how he talked about HER, he's not marrying her just to dip. He's just not! It means something to him, as she does, and he's not going to forsake that.

Violet Violet isn't letting him marry her just to dip either. Her thoughts throughout the entire book are that she isn't scared of him and she isn't running, and she isn't letting him run from her, either. The way the scene is set up with Sgaeyl, we see:

(Sgaeyl) glances over her shoulder. "And you think she'll help?" "She loves me." "Tairn does not, and you haven't looked in the mirror yet. The red veins branching from your eyes look like her lightning." "She'll help." It comes out with a hell of a lot more certainty than I feel. "She promised."

I am slightly worried about pronoun fuckery in this bit, but we know Violet loves him more than anything, and this portion of Xaden's chapter makes it clear Violet has to agree to whatever the plan is (murdering dragons, stealing eggs, etc) and that Tairn does as well. I think Tairn would actually support them breaking up, to a certain degree, and whatever the plan is, Sgaeyl does NOT think Tairn will be down.

And then, for more confirmation:

"We will ask," Sgaeyl finally says, flexing her claws in the rocky soil "And her decision will determine our fate."

They need Violet on board for whatever they're doing. Violet isn't going to be on board with him dumping her post wedding. I know some of these lines can point in other directions, but I don't think they do, for the reasons I'll go on to spell out below!

3. Memories I know some people were confused about what, precisely, Imogen made Violet forget, and it seems like she's missing 12 hours (which, insane signet growth, Im). I could not get over Violet forgetting her wedding. Hours after I finished the book, I was like, oh my God. She can't remember her wedding, and I burst into tears. Repeatedly. At length. Which is insane, because these books NEVER make me cry. All this to say, (again, given Xaden's tone specifically surrounding marriage) they aren't going to take having her forget their wedding lightly. They just aren't. She has to forget everything in those twelve hours, because she helps Xaden concoct/finalize whatever the hell he's planning on doing (I'll probably share what I think he's planning on doing in my response to the ask I mentioned above, but the gist of it for now is that mans is going on a quest of his own), but Violet ASKS Imogen to make her forget. In the marriage aspect, Xaden's protecting Violet, but in forgetting, Violet's protecting Xaden. This is why I say romantically together as well. I think the love is more important than anything else. I think the point of this book was to make it clear they'd both do absolutely anything for the other, and the ending is a culmination of that. I know some people suggested that they have her forget so that she can't be interrogated and used against him, and I think that's definitely true (although I think making her duchess also protects her from this, but Violet has always doubted her own ability to lie). Personally, my gut instinct interpretation was that deal she made with Ridoc that she'd let Ridoc kill him if Xaden took being venin too far (which, side note, do we all just forget about them being interconnected when it suits us??? He can't die because then Violet will die. We've been over this. I digress). Clearly everyone seems to think his little "display" at the end of the book is "too far." I don't know if he killed anyone important in that scene (again, I actually thought Bodhi dies? At first? And THAT was why she had to marry Xaden to secure the duchy while he was gone? but Red Tower seems to be very in tune to fandom priorities, and with how many people love Bodhi, killing him off page would certainly be a choice) but he's still at least an Asim, if not a Sage (given the veins, I'm 99% sure he's a Sage, but again, we don't get anything concrete in that ending. side eye, Red Tower. side eye.) and therefore everyone thinks he betrayed them, and he needs to get out of there before everyone else kills him! By forgetting, Violet is saving his life. That's romantically together to me.

4. Quest! Xaden doesn't leave Violet to pull an Edward and frolic around Europe for a few months or whatever it is. He has a plan. This what he shows Sgaeyl, I believe, and what Vi and Tairn have to agree on. It involves stealing the dragon eggs, killing the elders and/or the other dragons (save me third re-read of this damn scene, save me) and getting the hell out. @maethologies told me privately that the very act of going on the Quest means Xaden has hope for a "cure", just like Violet said he still had hope if he was trying to get Brennan to mend him. I think this is the Second Krovlan Uprising tie in: trade the dragon eggs (side note: why are there 7? did Andarna steal an egg and bring it back ????) and get allies against the venin (and eventually Navarre) (and perhaps do other cure-related tasks, idk). I also personally think Xaden's going to find more answers for Violet about her connection with Dunne. A huge theme of this book was that (explicitly) Xaden and Andarna don't know who they are, but Violet doesn't really know either. She spends book 3 helping them, and in book 4, I think they help her. Basically, he returns to the isles for quest part 2! Also, I think bringing 3 riders with him is a clear sign he's not just dipping. I'm hoping my second re-read helps me finalize who the hell he brought with him besides Garrick, but if they go to the isles like I'm thinking, my moneys on Dain or Aaric for the language translation (both of whom love Violet). I have a variety of other quest nonsense to share in the other ask, but the gist of it is that he is moving with a purpose! And his purpose is Violet! Because he's in love with her!

5. Meta This is where I get a LITTLE messy. I don't know if everyone reading this saw my 2024 reading wrap up, but I have read the vast majority of RY's catalog, and I consider myself to be very familiar with the themes she likes to write, and the situations she likes to return to, over and over again. A HUGE focus for her is the war in Afghanistan. She's been obsessed with that for ten years, which makes complete sense given who she is and her lived experiences. If you happen to not be super familiar with Rebecca as a person, her husband was in the military for a very long time, and her primary sub-genre is military romance. I don't know if this carries over internationally, but in the United States, marrying your partner early on in your military career is incredibly common, because it protects them in the event of your death and while you're deployed. I was really upset about him marrying her and then immediately leaving at first, but when I thought about it, it makes complete sense for who Rebecca is and what she's gone through. I'm not trying to accuse her of self inserting or anything like that, but she clearly likes to write situations that are important to her (as do I! As do we all!) and so it makes sense to me that she'd call upon something like this for X and V. It does NOT make sense to me that she'd call upon something she went through with her husband she's still married to and then make it a break up. Will it cause tension? Obviously! But to quote Mr. Riorson himself, they're past the break up stage. (Rebecca does some silly things with foreshadowing in her books, and sometimes she says things like this to prove them wrong, and other times, she says things like this prove them right. I really think this is a "prove them right" scenario, but I'm basing that off vibes, frankly, and my knowledge of her body of work. My Rebeccca-dar, if you will.)

6. Xaden Liarson I see your point about the note, and maybe I'm deranged, but I do actually just think he's lying. I don't think he's stupid enough to think she won't come looking for him at this point. He knows her too well for that. I think the "don't come looking for me" or whatever it is is a cover up for everyone else who thinks he betrayed Tyrrendor. Also, it slows her down! I am certain she'll look for him eventually (peep her broken compass from the god of luck, anyone?), but the note + the memory wiping make it so she can't immediately go looking for him. I think that's the point of it, not that she never looks for him again.

To conclude this literal essay, I think they're still together romantically because of Riorgail's most up-to-date characterization on their own and dynamic together, as well as who Rebecca is as a writer. I actually could probably write another essay on this, and I probably will in the other ask, but if there's anything else, let me know!! I need to bleed this book out of me so I can be normal again. But even if they are "broken up", it doesn't matter long term. The five book series WILL end with them together. That's how romantasy works. Xaden isn't dying. Violet isn't dying. Everyone else is fair game, but those two are fine, LOL.

Also, you are SO welcome for fic, always. I am not a fluff girly, unfortunately. I don't really write it in general, but we'll see if I get possessed. I do have a girl dad Xaden fic in the works (in which I have to re-work their wedding....) and I have some new smut ideas I want to write sometime soon! I think that will scratch the itch for me, anyway! As I've mentioned throughout this post, my hangover cure of choice has been to dive right back into Onyx Storm again, and I honestly think that was the best idea for me. I didn't do that after Iron Flame because I thought it was somehow "bad" to do so, and then I just longed for these characters for months. But, you do you! I wanted to make a masterpost of my hangover cure recs, but we'll see if I ever get to it. If you've read this far I am personally giving you a virtual gold star.

[lostintransist]

Guys I saw a fic idea yesterday (I for the life of me cannot find it so if you know who is was please tag them) but the idea was basically that toxic!Ghost and his ex-girlfriend are still in love but she won't be with him because again TOXIC but Ghost keeps showing up to argue with her and then take her to bed.

But anyway my brain went mmmm don't like that let's make it so ex-girlfriend is truly done like calls in a friend with a shotgun to keep Ghost away kind of done.

CW: violence threatened, bad friendship interactions

He knocks like a cop, all force and meaty part of his fist pounding, rattling the door in its frame. You look at your friend. Tears have started to well in her eyes.

"Please," she whispers, "He's right there."

"Absolutely not. You asked me to come over to keep you honest, you want to be done with him. That can't change because he hate fucks like a deity." You point one stern finger at her, brows pulled tight, "You stay here."

The pounding knock comes again as you grab your salt loaded shotgun from the guest bed. Grip firm with your right hand you level the gun as you swing the door open. He had been slamming his fist into again.

Dark pits for eyes meet yours above a dark balaclava. He lifts a single brow with the slightest tilt of his head. He steps across the porch to stand at the stairs.

"Interesting."

His voice doesn't rumble the way you expect it to. It's still deep but not as deep as his frame would suggest.

"She's done. Now leave." You center the shotgun on his chest.

"I'd like to check that," he steps to the side as if to move around you.

Tracking his moment you tsk at him.

"I know you military types have issues with women and authority but I would happily spend a few nights in jail for putting some holes in you."

He takes another step forward. Forcing the barrel up and to the left you fire off a round into the night before centering on his body again. Once your gaze is locked with his you rack the next round into place.

His hands drift up from his sides. No fear is in his eyes, only cool calculation.

"I will be here all night, so don't even try it."

A moment of silence stretches like taffy between you.

"You handle that well." He is referring to the gun.

"I hunt dick, I mean deer for fun." He doesn't miss your intentional word slip.

At some point that you can't determine he decides. Standing tall he drops both hands to his pockets, turns and whistles as he walks back into the dark. You don't move from your guarding position until you hear the throaty roar of a motorcycle fade into the distance.

Stepping inside you close and lock the front door before breaking the gun open to remove the ammo. Your friend comes tearing around the corner crying.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don't know what you did but thank you. I love him but I finally feel free?" She throws her arms around you in a hug you can only half return because one arm is still full.

"You need to move, like by the end of the week. I'll help you get movers scheduled."

She squeezes you hard once before stepping back to wipe her eyes.

"Want some wine while we look at options closer to work?"

"God yes. Let me put this away and I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Time passes, yada yada yada. The friendship changes so that you are hardly speaking when the wedding invitation arrives. But you're free that day and drop it in your calendar.

She hadn't invited you to the ceremony. No big deal, while you missed the friendship she wasn't a great friend after you forced her ex boyfriend to leave her alone. You almost wonder if you are associated with him now in her mind, hence the distance.

You were surprised to find her ex among the crowd at the reception. Clocking him you made a point to avoid him. He caught you though, halfway into your wine taking a breather from the air that had turned muggy under the tent.

"You look good tonight."

Closing your eyes you took a deep breath.

"I look good every night, what's the point?"

He stepped up beside you.

"I'm looking for a -"

"Let me stop you right there," you cut him off. "Micro dosing poison will still kill a person. I've heard, repeatedly, how you are. If you want to have a shot at this conversation? Go the fuck to therapy and work through your issues."

With that you turn and stride inside, dropping your wine off at the bar you make your goodbyes and slip away into the darkness.

He finds you eight months later at a coffee shop. You had been listening to music when the chair across from you slides out and a ghost from the past settles into it. He slides a business card across the table to you.

Moving on headphone you give him your best 'the hell do you want' look.

"That's the contact info for my therapist," he taps twice on the card with a finger. "She has permission to speak to you about how I'm doing."

"And why would I want to do that?" You ask archly.

"Because you're interesting, and interested."

"Am I?"

"My number is on the back," he taps the card one more time before standing and leaving you bewildered and, unfortunately, the teensiest bit interested.

Masterlist

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

CHAPTER 10

Summary: mistakes were made the previous night, and Tommy and Nina are forced to come to terms with what the consequences of their actions will be.

Warnings: time-typical misogyny, talks of arranged marriage, talks of forced marriage, mentions of killing, mentions of violence, mentions of sex, angst, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s). This is set between season 1 and 2. English is not my first language.

Important information for context: the honour killing and the shotgun wedding at the time in Italy were recognised by the Penal Code and were only abolished in 1981.

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Dividers credits

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

It took Nina less than a minute to realise that she had woken up in a bed that wasn’t hers, in a room that wasn’t hers, beside someone she wasn’t supposed to be lying with. Memories from the previous night flooded back to her mind in a powerful wave. The passionate but gentle touches, the reassuring words, the adoring glances of that man that had bursted into her life to sweep her off her feet and make her question everything, all in the name of something more intense than anything she had ever felt.

Her eyes trailed over Tommy’s face, tracing the regular line of his jaw, the small scar under his chin, the outline of his slightly parted lips, the curve of his nose, mesmerised by the way his long lashes brushed his freckled cheeks. There was no hint of the stern, cold facade he put on every single day. He looked relaxed. Peaceful, even. Once again, she found herself drawn to that beauty, a beauty that seemed carved from marble by God himself.

Shit.

Careful not to wake him, she got up to collect the stained bedsheet she had tossed on the floor the previous night, wondering how she’d manage to wash it without arousing the suspicions of her mother. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door just enough to make sure no one was in the hallway, half-convinced that her mother or her father would appear from nowhere and find out the disgrace she had brought upon the family.

Just fucking do it, she scolded herself.

After one last moment of hesitation, she walked out the room, closing the door behind her ever so slowly before sprinting towards her bedroom. As soon as she was in the safety of those four walls, she breathed out a sigh full of frustration, nervously dropping the items she was holding to the floor.

What the fuck had she done?

Her gaze was caught by the bloodstain on the bedsheet, red, vibrant. She kicked it in a corner of the room, unable to think under the accusatory looks it seemed to send her. What would she do now? Pretend nothing had happened, again? She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. How was she supposed to act normal around him, now that they had truly crossed the line? How was she supposed to even look Agnese in the eyes? She had betrayed her. She had betrayed her whole family. Not only had she ruined herself, she had ruined herself with her cousin’s future husband. A future husband who hadn’t even proposed yet because of her. Not to mention that she wasn’t just ruining a marriage, but she was ruining the only chance they had at peace for her own selfishness.

The scariest thing was that wasn’t even the worst part. If the thing were to come out, she’d be irremediably deemed as a whore. It wasn’t her reputation she was worried about, it was the consequences her family would face. The consequences she would face. She had tarnished the Ferrante name, and only her blood could wash that stain away.

Normally the options were two: a shotgun wedding or an honour killing, but in her case the choice was even more limited. Because while her father might consider marrying her off to Tommy, uncle Mario would never accept the offence. And everyone in the family would vote against the alliance with the Shelbys. She knew her father and brothers would never actually kill her. They would get angry, maybe even beat her, lock her in the family home for the rest of her days, but never that. They would’ve learned to live with the shame. But she had uncles, and aunts, and cousins who would want to clean their name.

No, the truth couldn’t come out. What had happened the previous night must never get past the walls of Tommy’s room. Even if it meant losing him forever.

That morning, Maria Ferrante was rather surprised to find out her daughter had woken up feeling particularly cooperative and decided to wash and change everybody’s bedsheets of her own free will. She was now hanging them out in the sun, under her incredulous stare.

“Even your brothers’?”

“Yeah, for when they’re back.”

That was new. Nina had always stubbornly refused to even set foot in Salvatore’s and Pietro’s rooms, adamant that it was their responsibility to keep their stuff clean. Maria figured that, just like her, she didn’t like it when her father sent them away on business, and that her worry had taken the shape of rare gestures of fondness. Or maybe she was just keeping herself occupied, as she always did when something troubled her.

The first assumption wasn’t too far away from the truth. Sure, Nina had her own interests behind that sudden prodigality, but getting their rooms ready for their return made her feel like they would, with no doubt, come back. Like nothing would go wrong.

“That cake I found in the kitchen,” her mother inquired again, and Nina had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at her unrelenting interrogation. “Where did it come from?”

“I made it last night. Couldn’t sleep.”

A few seconds of silence followed, and it made her hope her mother was done with the questions. She had never been a good liar, not with the people who knew her well. Her face was an open book on which the truth stood out, black ink on pristine white paper.

“Nina,” Maria’s stern voice cut the air. “I know what’s going on.”

The blood froze in her veins. She thought she had been careful. She was sure no one had seen sneaking in or out Tommy’s room, all hell would’ve broken loose otherwise. There was no way she really knew. She swallowed, sending her a glance, completely unable to say anything.

Her mother’s face twisted in a sour expression, and her knowing eyes pierced right through her. “Stefano.”

Nina had to hold back a sigh of relief. She secured a pillowcase on the line, able to breath again now that she knew her secret was still safe. However, that name alone was enough to deepen the frown on her face, the mere sound of it making her skin crawl.

“You’re worried cause your father wants to give you to him.”

Give you to him. That sentence made her wrinkle her nose. She had always disliked that expression. Give you to him as if you’re a possession to be handed from one owner to another. Give you to him as if you’re a bargaining chip. Give you to him because you belong to me and you’re mine to give.

“I wanted that too,” Maria continued. “I thought he was good, but now I see. These men,” she lowered her tone, as if to tell her something meant for no one’s ears but hers. “They’re all the same. They’re cursed.”

It would’ve been an understatement to say that her words had taken Nina aback. That woman so defined by her role as a wife and a mother had now a look, an anger in her eyes she had never witnessed, that clashed with the meek acceptance she wore on her face every day. “Do better. Marry someone good. Someone honest, with an honest work. Leave this life behind while you’re still in time. I didn’t have that choice,” she shook her head, her features hardening under the weight of a pain that had been suppressed for too long. “I was poor, my family was starving, and when your father came to speak to my father I couldn’t choose. Your father has been good to me, and I grew to love him. But he is who he is and does what he does, and it’s not something easy to live with.”

Nina opened her mouth to speak, but closed it right away. Nothing she could possibly say after that was even remotely worth saying. All of a sudden, she regretted all the times she had cruelly told her she’d rather kill herself than end up like her.

Her eyes widened when her mother grabbed one of her hands and held it between both of hers, her calloused fingers a reminder of the years she had spent working to bring money to her parents. Maria Ferrante never spared herself when it came to show affection to her sons, but with her it was different. Nina had always believed it depended on the fact that she was not the daughter she would have wanted, or on the countless fights they had, or even on some kind of resentment she didn’t know how to justify. But the naturalness with which she brought her hand to her cheek to tenderly caress it carried a motherly love that left her speechless, and almost made her feel uncomfortable.

“Listen to me, find a good man. Or your father will choose for you and you’ll never get out of here. You will be cursed, and if you have sons, they will be as well, just like your brothers.”

Nina took a step back, the rage that had been simmering inside her ever since she was little threatening to rise to the surface and spill out. As a child, she had often imagined that feeling she couldn’t name as a stream of lava that would rise and rise until there was no room for it to grow anymore and it would overflow, implacable, ruthless, destroying everything it found in its path. Even now that she was older, even now that she had learned to recognise her anger, it still felt the same.

“I have a friend from church, who has a son. He lives in Florence now, but he’s here for the summer. I can arrange something-”

“Mum…” she interrupted her, not even listening at that point. But her mother went on, talking fast, as if she no longer had control over what she was saying.

“I can arrange something, and you can leave this life behind. You can come visit, from time to time. On holidays.”

“No one ever leaves this life, you should know it,” she murmured, trying hard to keep her calm. It was clear her mother wasn’t thinking straight, in her desperate attempt to spare her from the same destiny as her. Unaware that she was accidentally pushing her in a very similar direction.

As though that simple statement had managed to bring her back to her senses, Maria blinked, her expression changing.

“I won’t drag anyone else into this mess. And sure as hell I won’t marry a man just to escape another,” Nina said firmly. She wasn’t going to let Spinietta influence her decisions more than she had already done. She wasn’t going to let the fear make her stray away from her morals, her beliefs. She wasn’t going to lose herself.

Back to her composed demeanour, her mother straightened her shoulders, her voice hardening. “You’ll end up marrying Stefano this way. You know it.”

She was aware her mother was implicitly telling her that her father had made up his mind, and that she wouldn’t be able to help her. Yet, she wasn’t scared. Because she’d fight tooth and nail against it. They could drag her to the altar, take the vows out of her mouth by force, it wouldn’t matter. She would raise hell before she let them succeed. She would burn down the church and everybody in it, including herself. She’d die before she surrendered to a life that wanted her bent, broken, obedient.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” she said through gritted teeth.

“But this is what it’s like. It’s time for you to accept it.”

Bad news was received that day. Antonio Ferrante had written from England, saying that two of Sabini’s men had been caught trying to blow up his restaurant. In the letter, he specified that after a civil conversation about the motives of that unjustified attack, the two had walked away in cement shoes. A coded way to say they had been interrogated and then sent sleeping at the bottom of some river.

It was the first open act of war, and the family was worried it wouldn’t be the last. The strength they had demonstrated by thwarting Sabini’s plan and killing his men would buy them some time, but it wouldn’t be enough in the long run. That was why Tommy found himself sitting in Vincenzo’s office, trying to maintain his imperturbable facade as the Italian stood behind his desk in all his height, with a grave expression on his face. Tommy felt like he was studying him, searching for a sign of weakness that he could use against him, that he could use to make him cave. He recognised that look, cause it was the same one he wore whenever he needed to assert his power.

“I called you, Mr Shelby,” Vincenzo started, turning to grab a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. “To remind you of your end of the deal.”

Tommy cleared his throat, sitting straight in his chair. “I intend to propose-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Ferrante cut him off, brushing away the matter with a gesture of his hand. He took his time to pour the brown liquid in two glasses, before sliding one across the wooden surface in front of him and beckoning him to drink. Tommy gladly did as he said, the familiar taste of alcohol feeling necessary to face a conversation he wasn’t sure where would lead.

“You promised us men, in our war against Sabini.”

“And men you’ll have,” Tommy assured, switching to the tone he reserved for business. “As soon as I receive the compensation for the warehouse you blew up.”

That had been the result of strenuous negotiations, and to achieve it, not only had he given up on any kind of reparation for the two pubs under the Blinders’ protection the Italians had destroyed along with the warehouse, but he also had to offer some of his best soldiers. However, the war against Sabini was also in his interest, and the power and money he would gain were worth compromising.

With a single, satisfied nod, Vincenzo took a seat in his leather chair. “I am a man of my word, Mr Shelby. You’ll have your compensation,” he guaranteed, grabbing his whiskey. He swirled the drink in his glass, pondering his next words. “That being said, my brother has expressed his concerns to me…”

Here we fucking go.

“His concerns about your lack of a proposal.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, bringing the liquor to his mouth to stall as his brain formulated an answer. “I still have two days, haven’t I?”

The shadow of a grin grew on the Italian’s face. “And you intend to wait until the very last one,” he pointed at him. “To keep us on edge,” he added, lowering his voice, the grin seeming to become less amused and vaguely threatening. Tommy’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t falter, nor did he break his stare, for the faintest hint of vacillation would make him as exposed as a prey in front of a beast that could smell fear.

But then Ferrante cracked a smile, his tone lightening. “Or to enjoy what is left of your time as a free man before being handcuffed.”

Tommy let out a forced chuckle, tilting his head in agreement. For once, he couldn’t think of anything to say. What could he say? ‘Speaking of enjoying my time, I fucked your daughter yesterday night’? He would have his head right there and then.

He was in deep shit, and until he found a way to dig himself out, he needed to keep up the act. For himself, for Nina. He couldn’t make any decision without speaking to her first.

“I heard you’re a man of your word as well,” Vincenzo spoke again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “So I told him he has nothing to worry about. Don’t make me regret it.”

Although the last sentence held a clear warning, the Italian spoke calmly, as though he was asking him a favour, rather than admonishing him. He talked and acted like a man who didn’t need to make threats, who knew his word was law and no one would dare go against his wishes. Tommy knew that feeling all too well, he had gotten a taste of it during the past year, and it hadn’t taken long for him to get used to it, and to want more. But in that moment, in that place, he was on his own. Sure, his reputation preceded him, and it protected him to some extent, but he was outnumbered and at a disadvantage. So he had no choice but to comply. To take a step back in order to be a step ahead in the future.

“I won’t.”

“Good,” Ferrante leaned back in his seat, more relaxed now that the important stuff had been cleared out. “Cause Agnese is the apple of his eye,” he added, taking a cigar out of the pocket of his jacket. “His only wish is to see her happy.”

Things were far more complicated than Tommy had anticipated, and despite all his efforts to come up with a plan that would cause the least damage, he couldn’t imagine one scenario in which things didn’t go wrong. He could only take risks.

“Ah, daughters have their own special way of giving you a headache,” Ferrante murmured, waving the cigar. “If you have one, you’ll understand. You may go now, Mr Shelby.”

Clearing his throat, Tommy left the office, his mind endlessly mulling over the matter. He had his hands tied, and that feeling alone was enough for him to fume. No, he wasn’t going to have his hand forced, and he wasn’t going to let anyone scare him into a decision.

A newfound determination made its way inside of him. He was Thomas Shelby, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t need to ask anyone for permission. He took whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He made the rules. He held the power. Those people needed him just as much as he needed them, if not more, otherwise he would be six feet under already. He wouldn’t make a choice that would suit everyone, he would make the choice that suited him. Him and the woman who was now carved in heart.

Because Nina would suffer the consequences of their actions as much as him, if not more. He had taken liberties with her, and although he had no regrets, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t have a responsibility toward her.

But it wasn’t just duty. He wasn’t going to make that choice because he felt guilty, or responsible, or because it was the right thing to do. He was going to make that choice because he thought they could make it work. He knew her, and she knew him. She had awakened feelings in him he thought would stay asleep for the rest of his days, she had made him believe that even he could have a chance at happiness. She didn’t look at him like he was a lost cause, or a devil, or broken beyond repair, she looked at him like there was something beautiful in him only her eyes saw. And if those eyes had found even a fragment of something worth saving, that meant that he wasn’t utterly unredeemable, that there was still an amount of good, no matter how small, that had survived the bad.

As soon as he walked into his room, he opened the drawer of his bedside table. The small velvet box was sitting there, next to the gun he had carefully kept hidden since his arrival. He knew what he had to do.

The weather had turned grey. The afternoon sun had been covered by dark clouds, and the air already smelled like rain. Nina had rushed out to take the laundry inside, hoping the storm that was approaching wouldn’t cause the efforts of a whole morning to go to waste. When she had finally come out of hiding - hiding was definitely the right word - she had quite literally ran into Tommy, almost knocking him over in the process, before scurrying away like a thief. And now there she was, still deeply embarrassed by her graceless flight, hurriedly putting the clean bedsheets in a basket.

She had been openly ignoring him all day. Or rather, avoiding him. She hadn’t shown up for breakfast, nor lunch, and she sought refuge in the closest room every time she heard him approaching. She wasn’t proud of that childish reaction, but she genuinely didn’t know how to act. The intensity of her feelings scared her. She was afraid that they would get in the way when the time to push him away came, that she’d yield to him again the moment her gaze met his.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

That deep voice made her hasty movements come to a stop. Her heart raced in her chest as she heard Tommy’s steps coming closer, until he was mere inches away from her.

“Here I am,” she mumbled, not sparing him a glance as she resumed folding the laundry in the basket.

“We need to talk.”

“Be quick, they can’t see us.”

Those words burned on her tongue as she spat them out. It hurt her to treat him like that, when what she actually wanted was to have him close to her again. But did she have any other choice? Indulging in those feelings had only caused trouble. She had to let him forget about her just like she needed to forget about him.

Tommy didn’t seem fazed by her hostility. He put a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her to turn around. The contact roused the memory of his warm fingers trailing over her skin, and a shiver ran down her spine. His eyes searched her face, and there was a tenderness in them, a fondness that left her completely disarmed.

A lightning split the sky, followed by a crack of thunder, and the first drops of rain began to fall, bringing Nina back to reality.

“There’s not much to talk about,” she blurted out, abruptly taking a step back. “What happened yesterday can’t happen again.”

Tommy’s eyebrows knitted as she hastened to collect the rest of the laundry. He reached out to her, but she swiftly escaped his grasp, taking another sheet off the line. “Nina…” he tried again, but the more he got close, the more she slipped away from him. He rubbed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His patience was wearing thin at that point. He clenched his jaw, willing to make one last attempt to get her attention nicely. “Nina.”

Still nothing.

Fed up with that behaviour, he testily collected the rest of the laundry himself and threw it in a mess in the basket under her astonished stare. “Will you listen to me now?”

Surprisingly, there was no anger in his expression, nor annoyance, but there was still a hint of sternness that made her eventually give in. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to speak.

Tommy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, Nina’s piercing gaze feeling like a knife cutting through him, unraveling and exposing the deepest parts of him. “What happened last night…” he trailed off, realising there were so many things he wanted to tell her that he didn’t even know where to start. “I overstepped, we-”

“We made a mistake,” Nina finished his sentence for him, trying to keep her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I made a mistake.”

She shouldn’t have opened up to him. She shouldn’t have gone to his room. She shouldn’t have kissed him. She shouldn’t have led him on when she knew nothing could ever happen between them. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away, she didn’t want to let him see how much she was hurting herself as well, for she could sense that if he got even a glimpse of her real feelings for him, he wouldn’t give up. A futile attempt.

Tommy’s gaze softened at the sight. “Hey,” he whispered, delicately squeezing her arm. “Look at me.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t bear that look full of affection. It almost caused her to break down. The drizzle was intensifying, and she could only hope that if her tears betrayed her, he’d mistook them for raindrops.

He grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to look at him. “We can make it right,” he said reassuringly.

“What do you mean?” she frowned.

Tommy hesitated for a moment, a nervousness equivalent to the one he had felt the previous night awakening in him. His hands started to shake, his heart to hammer in his chest. That was a point of no return which would either seal or break the bond that had formed so naturally between them. A bond he dreaded to lose. A bond he’d never have with anyone else.

Nina’s eyes widened as he took a velvet box out of his pocket, the realisation of what he was about to do crashing down on her.

“No,” she quickly took his hands in hers, keeping him from opening the box. “No,” she repeated, more softly.

“I know it’s a jump in the void,” he said, his hand going to cradle the nape of her neck. “I know. But we can make it work. You and me.”

“Tommy…” she shook her head. He was making it so difficult.

“I want you by my side. I don’t want a wife, I want a partner. Nina, I…” he paused, words getting caught in his throat. “I care about you.”

She squeezed her eyelids shut, pain spreading through her whole being at his revelation. She wanted to bring him close, to feel the warmth of his body against hers, to let herself be enveloped by the sense of safety his strong arms brought. Instead, she forced herself to pull his hand away from her, her fingers briefly tightening around it before letting it go.

“I don’t.”

Tommy looked at her as if she had just stabbed him. Hurt flashed across his face, causing a pang of guilt to hit her in the stomach. God, she felt like she could throw up.

“You’re lying,” he accused her in a hoarse voice.

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

“Stop it.”

Why couldn’t he just leave? Why was he forcing her to inflict all that pain on him? Tommy was the last person she ever wanted to hurt, and in doing so she was hurting herself twice. By being the cause of his sorrow and by giving him up.

His body stiffened, and the heartbreak in his features disappeared to leave space for the coldness he constantly shielded himself with. “Say it. Say you feel nothing for me.” It sounded like an order, but Nina didn’t miss the crack in his voice. “Say it’s all in my head.”

Her mouth went dry, but she didn’t avert her gaze this time. “It’s all in your head.”

She felt empty. That one last lie had taken all the energy out of her, and left her with a feeling of numbness that made her lose all sense of herself.

Tommy nodded to himself, taking a step back. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. “You’re right. This was a mistake.”

With another clap of thunder, the sky broke open and the rain came pouring down. Nina rubbed her own arms in a soothing motion, watching as the lightning spread in the distance, drawing lines of light that flared and vanished into the grey above.

“You should go, Mr Shelby,” she murmured.

A muscle twitched in Tommy’s jaw, and for an instant he looked on the verge of saying something. Then he stormed off.

Nina let out a shaky breath, and the tears she had held back suddenly began to stream down her face. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob, the ache in her chest threatening to tear her apart from the inside. She shut her eyes tight, unable to watch his frame getting smaller and smaller as he walked away from her.

When she brought herself to look in his direction again, he was knocking on Agnese’s door.

NEXT CHAPTER

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer

General tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys

@lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989

@call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[athenasdaydreams]

okay i should be studying for my bio final but i couldnt stop thinking of jj maybank asking kook!reader's parents for permission to marry you (still on s2 of outerbanks idk what happened after that....)

jj, at 23 years old, thinks its so archaic to ask your parents for permission to marry you. hes been thinking about it for months now. he would much rather pick you up and go over to a courthouse and get it done with. not a flashy type of guy. but, growing up rich, you had mentioned so many times about a dream wedding and who was he to deny his girl's wishes. youd mentioned it so many times, even going as far as sending him your wedding pinterest board after being inspired by sarah and john b's shotgun wedding (or rather in an effort to make sure jj didn't expect you guys to have a shotgun wedding).

sarah cameron wanted to be as much of a pogue as possible, while you were reluctant to give up your kook lifestyle of dior lipgloss and chanel handbags. that was exactly why after taking up a second job at the wreck, a loan from the bank, a third job cleaning some kook's boat, and another loan from the guy at the fishing store (he didnt know it yet but jj was sure he'd pay him back), jj stood outside your family's mansion with a gold band tucked in his back pocket, and some pictures of some houses he was looking at, ready on his phone. he felt like he'd been standing out there for hours. 'now or never, maybank,' he mumbled as he wiped his hands on his old faded blue jeans which had been paired with pope's white button up, knocking on the door.

the woman who opened up the door looked exactly like you, just about 40 years older. 'evening mrs l/n, i'm jj maybank, your granddaughter's boyfriend.'

after giving him a scrutinising once over, she said 'she's not here,' and attempted to close the door. jj made sure to tell her that he wanted to talk to your parents about something important, and she somewhat reluctantly let him in.

your mother was sitting on the couch, reading the latest edition of vogue (something he could picture you doing a few years in the future) while your father had presumably just gotten back from work, enjoying some expensive looking drink while talking to his wife about his day.

'mr and mrs l/n?'

both of them whipped their heads around and looked towards jj.

'jonathan?'

he was regretting ever telling you his full name, more so regretting letting you introduce him to your parents like that, during that one horrible dinner that ended with you and your mom crying and your dad and jj almost killing each other. as time passed, they stopped hating him so much, but some resentment remained.

'uh, jj is fine. listen, i gotta talk to you guys about something'

'you didn't get her pregnant did you?!' your father stood up, trying to intimidate him. what for, he didn't know.

'NO no i didn't! i promise!!' he said as he stood in front of them, reaching into his back pocket. 'I came here to ask for your permission to marry your daughter.' your mom looked like she was about to have a stroke and your dad was about to protest.

'listen, before you guys say anything, i want you to know that your daughter was the best thing to ever happen to me. i love her more than anything in the world and i would sacrifice everything, including my own life for her. i know you guys think i don't have the means to support her or give her the life she deserves and i agree. i'll never be able to give her the life she truly deserves but that doesn't mean i'll try. i've taken up 2 more jobs to buy her this ring and save up for a house- its really nice by the way, i have some photos-and i would take up all the jobs in the world just to give her the life she wants. so please, please let me marry your daughter,' jj said in what felt like one breath.

your father was shocked and your emotional mother was on the verge of tears.

"jj?"

at the sound of your voice, jj turned around to be met with your confused face. "i didn't know we had plans today... and why're you dressed like that?"

he turned to your father, who gave him the slightest nod, signalling him to approach you.

"i had a whole thing planned to do this, with dinner and candles 'n shit, but i feel like if i dont do this now im going to explode."

"jj, what do you mean? you're scaring me." you looked at him with concern, the poor boy looked like he was about to pass out.

he got onto one knee and held out the ring he had bought for you.

"from the moment I first saw you, I knew you were something special. you were unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. And now, standing here in front of you…I’m pretty damn sure that i wouldn't wanna spend my life with anyone but you."

your vision started blurring from the tears in your eyes.

"will you marry me?"

[gaymurdersalad]

[ HOWDY Y’ALL! WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM FOR A FUN BROADCAST!

If you haven’t noticed, it’s pride month! That means we’re legally allowed to be gay for an entire month before we have to disappear into our burrows once more! To celebrate the occasion, I decided to do a fun little pride post! ]

[ I’ve gathered all the little fuckers in The Void to poke and prod at them like zoo animals. In other words, I figure they all have some neat identities and wouldn’t mind being interrogated in honor of pride month. I’ll go ahead and turn it over to them, but I’ll say now, no matter how much they kick and scream, I am definitely NOT holding them at gunpoint! This workspace is… definitely OSHA approved. Don’t let them tell you otherwise. Have attem! ]

> This is fucking stupid. Stop waving that gun at me. I’m talking.

> My identity isn’t anything special. I’m just some guy who decided he was a guy way later than everyone else did. I don’t really give a damn what pronouns people use on me because usually they just end up avoiding me at all costs or scampering away like frightened animals.

> I’m bisexual, is that anything? But, like, only bisexual in a sexual way. I could not fucking fathom living a long prosperous life with anyone. How the hell are you supposed to enjoy someone for that long? Getting married seems like a scam. I bet it is. I bet it’s like the invention of Valentine’s Day for greeting card companies. You’re not actually supposed to be in love with someone for that long, it just doesn’t seem possible.

> … My marriage with Dave does not count, that wasn’t an officiated wedding. I’m fairly certain he fished those rings out of a water fountain and pawned his dress off a hooker. I do vividly recall dumpster diving for my tuxedo.

> Uhhhhhh wuh? Hmmmm, I’onno what the hell I am, Old Sport! Fuck!

> Shit, I guess I like everyone. A hole’s a hole. Why the fuck would I discriminate? I think I got a preference for men though! They’re so fuckin’ easy to romance! Unless they’re the likes of Sportsy, then it’s the hardest goddamn thing you’ll ever seduce. He gets real gay when he’s on acid, but then again, I get real gay on cocaine. Man, our wedding was immaculate. Imma tell our kids about it one day!

> Likewise, I’ll be any gender you fuckin’ want me to be. I got like, pocket gender, I can just whip it out on request. Want me to be a dude? Fuck yeah, alright. Want me to be a pretty lady? No goddamn problem at all! I can be both at the same time or one more than the other— who gives a shit? I’m just havin’ fun.

> Good fucking lord, really? That shotgun does not scare me, you orange fool—

> … I have a complicated identity. As any other living organism does.

> I have found that over the years I do not experience sexual attraction and that I experience little to no romantic attraction. I only recall feeling romantically attracted to one person in my entire life. I doubt it will happen again. > And it may seem, uhm... Embarrassing, but I do deviate from your traditional "man's man". In laymen's terms, I do not feel particularly drawn to being male. I am very certain I was born with the intention of being a man, but my mind has refused to accept it. I am not sure why. Instead of feeling like a proper bloke, I feel rather empty. If I could have it my way, I would be some... human silhouette rather than a full fledged man. I do not know. This is idiotic. > I cringe every time someone addresses me in a masculine way. I wish I could simply have no pronouns. I can deal with them because I am indeed a grown ass... person, but I just wish it were not so. Whatever. I am done complaining.

> Oh! That’s very simple, this is really easy.

> I literally don’t have anything going for me at all.

> What with the entire fabric of time being on my shoulders and all, I don’t even think about gender or romance much. I do love being a girl! It’s one of the things I miss most about being alive, actually. Pretty dresses, playing with makeup in the bathroom, trying to curl my hair without burning my scalp— I mean, it sounds horrendous sometimes, but you can’t beat it. Feeling alive and content in your own skin. Just one of those precious things that spawned from the chance of life.

> … Uhm, Uhhh… Men.

> Yeah. I Like Them. I Think… Yes, I Could Probably Date A Man Or Two. I Don’t Know, Employee, Why Did You Pull Me Out Here? You Know I Have Copious Paperwork To Do! Some @$!# $#*@ Kid Just Fell Into The Ball Pit And Got Mauled Jaws-Style And His Parents Are Really Grilling Us For It. Dumb&@#*s, It’s Not My Fault Their Kid Heeded The Call Of The Sirens. I Swear, This Job Is Going To Kill Me Or Force My Hand Into Becoming The Next Purple Guy—

> extremely in love with my wife and my gender!

> it was actually very cute how we met, employee. have i ever told you? heh heh, we met in highschool. she was on the football team and i was a cheerleader, can you believe that? oh, i was head over heels for her instantly. she was strong, she was quick thinking, she was so hecking beautiful, employee… i never got to tell her how i felt while we were in highschool, but we were good friends. very good friends. come a few years later, some old buddies of ours want to have a get together and dish it out like old times… go vandalize and drive off into the sunset in the back of a pickup truck sipping on horrendously cheap beer and laughing off our university work or our jobs. when i get to our spot, though, i see her. i’d recently wised up to my gender, y’know, had my hair cut and fresh scars on my chest, so suffice to say i looked nothing like i did when i cheered for her during football season. she’d done the same, employee— she grew out her hair to the middle of her back in such beautiful dark curls, her bangs tied back so every inch of her perfect face could glimmer underneath the neon lights of the derelict bowling alley we’d found ourselves in. she looked at me, and i sensed instant recognition. she smiled through her bright red lipgloss and rushed up to me, wrapping me up in a hug, and i swear, she hadn’t lost any of those muscles— almost broke my ribs!

> the rest of the night, we were so… comfortable together. sure, during highschool we were close, but without saying a single word about what happened to us between then and now, we understood, and employee— i think it brought us closer. it was around three in the morning while we sat around a bonfire with the rest of our buddies when she layed her head on my shoulder and i felt an unfathomable warmth. i knew i wanted her for the rest of my life.

> … i just love her so much, employee.

> oh ok

> its rlly whatever. any pronouns any gender anybody who wants me. who cares

> oh i do have a preference for girls. theyre pretty. if you disagree u are not blessed enough to be loved by gods best creation and ur pissed about it. i can tell

> what if i was actually catholic would that be fucked up or what

> …

> … I cannot… physically stress how abhorrent sexuality is to me. What… What an utterly damning notion. Someone’s greedy hands cursing you and plaguing your with their own dirty human desires. How disrespectful. How… invasive. Why on Earth would it be my responsibility to supply someone with something to love? Am I really subject to whatever the hell people think of me? Whether they “love” me or perceive me as some… some man, some object of attraction? Disgusting.

> If I could shed every trace of a sex or gender from my loathed corpse, I would. Often times I lay awake at night and consider skinning myself for the hell of it. I’ve related this to David and he said I sounded “fuckin’ insane”. Stupid bastard. I want to be a skeleton. I wanna be a fucking skeleton! Pretty and thin and not alive whatsoever! God damn this accursed body and its… rancid flesh and unidentifiable mystery goop. Ugh. Ugh!!!! God, the biggest blight on my “life” was being cursed with gender!

> I was born as a female which was just laughably wrong, then I recall amending that and trying to become a man, but none of it worked. All of it sucked. All of it was wretched. The ideal form is a ghost or ghoul or skeletal figure. You can’t romance a ghost or ghoul or skeletal figure. Can’t have sex with that. Unless you’re really, really determined. I don’t think even David could be that serious about his sexuality.

> … I… Hope. Oh dear. Oh god, I really am unsafe from the horrors of this world. God, I wish that bear had taken me out before I showed him to his grave.

[mrpuzzlessimp420]

Mario Simulator (Joke Fic)

Chapter 3

Warnings (Just in case): Arson, Suicide (no one actually dies, SMG3 is just dramatic and contemplates it for a second)

Ships: Marware, Battery Acid (Orange Juice x Mr Puzzles), Swagmaster69696969 x Sonic (like for a second)

It was a new day at Mushroom Akademi and Mario was lovesick, staring at the countless of definitely consented and not at all stalker-like photos of his one true love on his spaghetti-themed flip-phone with a Teletubby keyring hanging on it.

One day they would be together and have a pretty wedding and he'd be his everything and be together forever, but right now he'd has to put in the effort for that to happen. Sadly. Why couldn't life just make things easy for him? Why did he have to be born with this condition?

Anyway, Mario noticed Meggy waving at him to come over so he Naruto ran over, gusts of wind flowing away from Mario as he stopped, nearly causing everyone to fall over except Meggy cause she's built different.

"Hi Red! How's it going?" She playfully punched him which if it was done on any other person, would have sent them flying into the nearest wall. This was Mario though so it didn't. "We were just talking about- what were we talking about again?" She looked at SMG4 who quickly went into autism mode.

"We were just taking about how Sonic the Hedgehog is actually a good franchise and that it isn't as 'cringe' as some would say because it's a beautiful piece of media filled with cool mechanics, fleshed out characters, great stor-"

Mario quickly shut of his ears as SMG4 yappered on about some dumb blue hedgehog.

In the background, Sonic is seen judging SMG4 while holding his swagalious boyfriend's hand, who is aiming a gun towards SMG4's head.

"Oh uh Mario," SMG3 said while SMG4 still was autisming "I need to talk to you for a second, uh, privately."

"Okie-dokie! Good luck Meggy!" Mario exclaimed leaving Meggy alone with a cringe failure of a man and a declining sanity from being with him.

After they were out of view, SMG3 dragged Mario behind a perfectly cut and well placed bush.

"Okay, I think we're safe. Do you remember the plan from yesterday?" SMG3 whispered, careful not to raise his voice any higher in fear of being caught.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nope!" Mario said, smiling innocently.

"Of course you don't" SMG3 hit his face, annoyed at himself for expecting Mario to remember anything. "We are going to spread a rumour about Orange Juice liking content farm videos."

"Why can't we just kill him?" Mario said while pulling out a double-barrel shotgun from his infinite storage pocket.

SMG3 sighed heavily "You said it yourself, Mr Puzzles will get depressed if we do that without ruining his relationship with Orange Juice first. If Mr Puzzles is depressed, we won't want to be with you."

"Wow, Mario is-a so smart!" Mario exclaimed

"Now, are you-" SMG3 tried to say before being cut off by a familiar single mother.

"What are you two doing?" Karen asked, looking down on the two suspicious individuals.

Mario had to think of a distraction, quick and fast! "UHHHHHHH Mario's PINGAS is-a stuck in the door again!" Mario shouted, a door magically appearing closed on his PINGAS

"Damn it Mario, not again." Karen stated, dragging Mario on the floor to the Nurse's office once again. Mario looked over to SMG3 and gave him the thumbs up, signaling to him that SMG3 had to start this on his own.

"The things I do for that Italian.." SMG3 whispered to himself as he strolled back to his small friendship group, in which Meggy was in a hospital bed, dying of boredom while SMG4 was still ranting about that blue rat.

"-and that's why The Murder of Sonic The Hedgehog is the best Sonic game ever and no one can tell you otherwise!" SMG4 stated, cheerfully while Meggy noticed that SMG3 was coming back and was immensely relieved.

"Oh hi SMG3! You're back! Please help me he won't stop talking about Sonic the Hedgehog" Meggy begged, clingying onto SMG3 with desperation.

"Aren't there content farms of Sonic?" SMG3 asked, ignoring Meggy's pleas for freedom

"There's content farms of everything." SMG4 gritted his teeth, at the mention of those horrible, cheap, lazy, brainrotting pieces of trash. "Why do you ask?"

"I just overheard that Orange Juice likes content farms, like unironically. Kind of cringe /neg if you ask me." SMG3 mentioned, planting the seed in his two friends head of the rumor.

"Really? Remind me never to talk to that guy ever again." SMG4 stated

"You'd believe that? What if it's just a rumor?" Meggy said, the only one in the group with a functioning brain cell.

"I heard him talking about it to Water Bottle and Apple Smoothie so I doubt it." SMG3 lied.

"Huh. I bet if Mr Puzzles finds that out, he's going to be pissed" Meggy stated.

"Probably." SMG3 hid a small smirk. This was way to easy, he probably should have asked for another condition other than not having his secrets be exposed. It was too late now for that.

The extremely loud and ear-bleeding bell rang, signaling for first period.

"Ugh, I have catering next..." Meggy sighed.

3 months ago she was banned from entering the class kitchen because she and Mario had burned the entire building down because they had tried to heat up some water. The school had to be closed for 1 week because it had to be rebuilt.

So she had to spend all of her catering lessons for the rest of her time being in this school in a dark empty classroom, writing down "I will not try and burn down the school" over and over again until she gets arthritis.

"Oh good luck then, I have to go to my art class now." SMG4 said, leaving the two so he isn't late.

"What do you have Three?" Meggy asked, not wanting to walk in silence.

"Physics, which is directly next to your empty classroom" SMG3 answered.

They both talked about random things until they reached both their classes and said goodbye.

The rest of the day before Lunch went pretty smoothly. The rumour spread like wildfire because of SMG3's conversation with SMG4 and Meggy and soon enough the whole school was talking about it, even teachers.

Mario even got to spread it even more when he got out the Nurse's office, talking to anyone and everyone about it, no matter if they wanted to know or not.

"Mario's a-proud of you S-M-G-3, you really out did yourself today." Mario patter SMG3's back like a father would to his child.

"Well, the sooner it gets done, the sooner I can leave." SMG3 stated, ignoring the fact this was the most fun he'd had with Mario ever.

Then the two of them were interrupted by a scream, a very electronic and theatrical scream coming from the rooftop of the school.

SMG3 and Mario ran in the direction of the scream before SMG3 pulled out a plot convenience portal which teleported them to the scene of the crime.

Mr Puzzles, looking obviously angered and betrayed was yelling at Orange Juice, who was backed at the edge of the railing, one nudge away from failing to his death.

"I swear I don't like content farms! They're gross and unoriginal! I would never-" Orange Juice tried to plead, before being interrupted by a furious Mr Puzzles

"I know your lying! I've heard the stories! I thought you loved me!" Mr Puzzles exclaimed, gasoline pouring out his screen, resembling human tears.

"I do love you my dear pookie bear you just have to believe me when I say that content farms are created by hell itself and I don't like them." Orange Juice stated, wiping Mr Puzzles' tears lovingly

Mr Puzzles breath hitched at the contact of his love, wanting to lean into it but just controlled himself, needing to know if Orange-Kun was telling the truth.

"If you mean that, you'll burn that place from the SMG4 Vs Content Farms video for me" Mr Puzzles stated, needing to know if Orange Juice was telling the truth or not.

Immediately, without stopping a beat, Orange Juice pulled out a comically large gasoline container with a tiny lighter and opened up a portal to that disgusting hell-like place. He then poured the entire gasoline can into the portal and lit it on fire, closing the portal before it could even spread into the school.

"So you are telling the truth?" Mr Puzzles whispered (and whimper- -gets shot-)

"Of course I am, now let's get you fixed up you beautiful doll." Orange Juice said, taking Mr Puzzles' hand and walking off into the distance, cherry blossom petals falling romantically as they did so.

Mario and SMG3 stared in shock at their failure of a plan that just played out in front of them.

"ARE YOU A-FUCKING KIDDING ME?" Mario finally shouted as SMG3 debated on jumping of the school rooftop before realising that would be an incredibly dumb idea after just one failure as afterall,

Tomorrow is another day.

[cannibal-wings]

So... that all happened.

In an effort not to drown in current events, here's some WIP Wed for You Pay the Cost. This is all extremely rough. And I'm talking extremely here. A lot of this will get changed as I finish out the scene and edit it. I just wanted to share something. Gotta head to work now, but enjoy.

Leon was the last one to go through the door, he ducked under the frame and moved his tail all the way inside before closing the door behind him. He watched Luis set a small backpack down on the couch and begin to go through it.

“You ok?” Ashley asked him. She caught the way he seemed to hover uncomfortably near the door.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m good.” Neither of them were sure if that was the truth. He stepped a bit further into the room and shrugged his rifle and shotgun off his back. Leon didn’t really know what to do with himself.

Luckily Luis saved him the trouble by turning his attention to him. “Ok,” he started with, “lets give you a quick lookover, Big Guy.”

Leon raised an eyebrow and rubbed his two bottom pedipalps together. “A lookover? For what?”

Luis stepped closer to him and said, “Your product line has a high failure rate, as far as mutations go.”

“Product line?” Leon frowned and stepped back.

Ashley asked, “So you know what he is?”

“Well, now that I’ve seen the full mutation, yes. I had a guess before, but seeing the whole thing in front of me, there’s only one product type it could be. Verdugo.”

“Ver-what now?”

“It means executioner, but I think a more fitting title should have “Guardian” or “Protector” even “Body Guard” would have gotten the product’s purpose through more clearly.” Luis closed the gap between himself and Leon once more. “They were created to be soldiers but Saddler quickly abandoned that idea after learning their abysmal survival rate through production. The research teams shifted focus and fine tuned the serum, more survived but not in the numbers he was looking for. Instead of scrapping the project, it was re-pitched as a line of personal body guards.”

Leon ignored most of that. “So you think I’m going to die?”

Luis shook his head. “Most likely not. You survived the mutation process, but I’d like to double check.” He reached up for Leon’s face and said, “Bend down for me, ok?” When Leon hesitated he added, “It’s best we get this done now, yeah?” Leon relented and Luis reached up to touch the outer jaws. Instantly Leon flinched back away. “Leon,” he said more sternly, “don’t be difficult.”

“I just- is this really necessary?”

“Yes. Now stop being a baby.” This time when he reached for Leon’s mandibles he was less gentle. He pulled him back down and opened them up. “I must remind you, my lab did not work on the Verdugo line, I was primarily a special variant Plaga researcher. However, they made us all sit through the presentations of the other labs, so I know just enough to get you sorted.” Leon kept trying to pull away from his touch, no doubt partly on instinct and partly due to being uncomfortable. And while Luis could sympathize with him, he still needed to check him over. “You mutated quickly and aggressively. The process normally takes a week, sometimes more, and is done in stages, induced with serum injections in increasing doses. Now this,” he manipulated the mandible in his hand, “this isn’t the correct outer jaw that goes with this body plan.”

“Yeah?” Leon wanted to yank it free but he let Luis continue. The other man ran his hand along the inside of it, feeling for something. It was uncomfortable, Leon felt the tip of his tail twitch. “What’s it go to then?”

“Las Plagas,” Luis said bluntly. “I think something interesting happened with you. The Plaga can also cause mutations to the host. The drone types have predictable mutations that follow their life stages. The controller Plaga often have more unique mutations, suited to the individual host. These can be triggered at will or in a life or death situation. Sometimes due to stress as well, or as a trigger from another, stronger Plaga.”

“So you think the Plaga was also trying to make me into a monster?”

“Yes,” he said. “But it got overridden by the Verdugo mutagen. The jaws and extra arms are not from the Verdugo mutagen. If I had to guess, they are from the Plaga.”

“But he’s done now, right?” Ashley asked. “No more changes?”

“Theoretically, yes, but-”

“There’s always a but,” Leon said with an eyeroll.

“But until we get the Plaga out of you, it could try to mutate your Verdugo form. Unlikely, since this is such a strong mutation, but it could happen.” Luis finished feeling around one side of Leon’s jaw and moved to the other. “Are you in any pain? From the mutation? Anything still hurt?” Leon shook his head. Luis finished pushing on Leon’s jaw lining. Nothing felt inflamed or swollen. “You don’t appear to have venom sacs, I don’t know if you’d consider that good news or not.”

“Wait, I could have had venom sacs?”

“Yeah, the Plaga with this face type can sometimes develop a venomous bite. You’d have a gland back here,” Luis reached in again with his hand and pressed just under his ear, where the skin of the outer jaws fused with his human skin. “But I don’t feel anything. It’s possible it’ll develop later.” He turned his attention to the large fangs at the end of each mandible. “I doubt it though, I don’t see a hole in your fangs for the venom to leave through. In any case, if you feel swelling here,” he pressed again, “or here,” and did the same with his other hand, but on his neck this time, under the human jaws, “it might be the gland coming in. It won’t affect the remains of your human jaws, or at least it shouldn’t, and your spit won’t be venomous. But your outer jaws could deliver a toxin strong enough to bring down an elephant. So exercise caution.”

“Great,” he said unenthusiastically. “What about,” Leon almost hesitated to ask, but he knew if he didn’t do so now, he might never get the chance. “What about acid? The ones I’ve come across can vomit acid.”

“Ooooh, that’s a tough one my friend. That organ is internal and I’d have to open you up to see if its in there. Your cousin species, the Novistadores have acid as well, but your species isn’t often engineered with it.” Luis moved away from Leon’s face and began to run his hands along the various plating on his chest. “I wouldn’t worry about, if you develop it, it’ll be because of the Plaga.”

“And the only way to know would be to open me up and check?”

“Yes.” Luis pressed on one of the plates that sat just below where his diaphragm would be. “Does this hurt when you breath in?” He could feel Leon expand his lungs and his ribcage moved under the carapace.

“No.”

“Good, good. Some issues that were reported with this line had to do with lung capacity and the ability to breath uninterrupted by the carapace.” He continued to move his hands down to his stomach. “Have you had any bowel movements?”

“No. Haven’t really had time.”

“You eaten anything recently?” Leon didn’t want to answer. He clamped his jaws to his face and looked at Ashley. “Leon?” When he looked up it was clear that the question had made him uncomfortable.

Ashley said instead, “Remember when I called you? And I said Leon wasn’t acting like himself?” Luis looked to her then back at Leon and nodded. “Well, when he wasn’t… himself,” she settled on, “he had eaten some of the cultists.”

“Oh.” Luis looked again to Leon who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I see.” The blood around his jaws had been a giveaway, but he thought that maybe he had only used them in self-defense. “While I wouldn’t suggest your diet become comprised of human flesh, I will say that your guts are designed to process raw foods. Vegetables, fruit, and yes, meat. So eating them won’t have any negative consequences on your health.”

“I’m a fucking monster,” Leon said quietly.

Luis dismissed that with, “You were doing what you were designed to do. Protect Ashley no matter the cost.” When Leon looked at him with an eyebrow raised, he said, “It’s pretty obvious that its her you’re being made to protect. I don’t know if Saddler had you imprinted or if you did that all on your own.”

Ashley asked, “Wait, imprinted? Like with baby animals?”

“Perhaps that was the wrong word, “paired” might have been better. You see the Verdugo line, like I said before, was shifted to become a guardian type weapon. The first few iterations were not biologically bound to the one they were supposed to protect.”

“And now they are?” she asked again.

Luis nodded. “We have two ways of doing it, both involve the use of a Plaga. It’s clear that Leon has a Plaga inside him,” he said and turned over Leon’s arm to show off the dark veins that were still visible in the gaps between his carapace. “Sometimes both parties are infected with a custom made set of paired Plaga, this, along with picking a person close to the one needing the protection, insures the best results post mutation. If the client has the money and Saddler decides they’re worthy, the client will receive a custom Controller Type Plaga. Then it doesn’t matter as much which Verdugo is shipped to them, if it carries a normal Plaga the client will have no issues with commands or its loyalty.”

“And Saddler would do that? Just give someone a Controller Plaga?” Leon snorted. “Doesn’t that seem a little dangerous?”

“No, it’s actually a benefit to him as well. You see his end goal is to control the world with Las Plagas. The more people he infects the better, and if these folks are eager to do so willingly…” Luis trailed off. “It’s not a safety concern for him because Saddler’s Plaga is the strongest we’ve seen. He wouldn’t give out something that could usurp him to some random militant group.”

Luis put a hand on Leon’s back and started to lift and check the various plates. “You have a Plaga but Ashley doesn’t,” he was focused on Leon and didn’t catch the way that she froze up, “but you’ve clearly already paired yourself to her. Your body language gives it away, I’m sure you feel it as well?” Leon nodded. “The instincts that come with the mutation are strong. Incredibly strong. New Verdguo if not previously paired will pair themselves with someone eventually. We normally keep them in solitary until a client buys one for that reason alone. The pre-paired ones are obviously made to order.”  Luis continued, “Once the bond is made its made for life. It cannot be paired again. Of course, that doesn’t mean it can’t serve another, but the biological connection? That’s a one and done deal.”

Leon looked at Ashley who was staring back at him. “What does that mean?” he asked. “For me?”

“Well, you might be switching careers friend. Being separated from the one you’re paired with for long distances and durations will cause immense feelings of anxiety and sometimes violence, if you aren’t brought back together.” Luis asked, “Can you bend forward for me? Like you’re going to touch the ground?”

Without giving it much thought Leon leaned forward and dropped his hands to the floor and stretched. “So that’s it? I’m fucked?”

“Oh I wouldn’t go that far friend. You have options. Control over yourself will come with age. Some of our Verdugo on the market have been around for a couple of years now. They settle pretty easily, at least, that’s what I gather from the reports I’ve read.”

“I’m sorry,” Ashley said, “Leon I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would happen.”

“Neither of us did, not your fault.”

“On the bright side,” Luis said, stepping away, “you are built wonderfully. I’ve never seen such an exceptional specimen. Your body seems to have adapted perfectly to the mutagen, nothing is out of place. Full range of motion, carapace that has a bit of give, everything slots perfectly together, honestly, a perfect example of your species. If the Plaga hadn’t don’t a couple of its own mutations you’d be exemplary.”

“Please,” Leon winced, “please stop talking about me like I’m a product.” He stood back up to his full height.

“My apologies, Leon, but you are. Best shore up with that now instead of later.”

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: The Story of Us Fest (Part 3)

The Story of Us Fest 2024:

Guilty as Sin? by Gibbsy - E, WIP - So, there is no denying it. Dreaming of Draco Malfoy has become her addiction. It’s comical, really, that the man who has dedicated his life to hating her has become the only one to bring her relief from this disappointing world. The fact sits heavy on her heart. It’s a secret she will take to the grave. Or, Hermione accidentally becomes addicted to a potion created by Draco Malfoy that makes her dream about her deepest sexual fantasies. AKA, Draco Malfoy himself, whilst they share the Head Boy and Girl dorms.

But Never in the Mirror by BrowsingAround - G, one-shot - Draco is caught off guard at a ministry event as his past rolls over him once again. Hermione interrupts his spiral.

The Walpurgis Wailer by Sartaeon - not rated, one-shot - The Dark Lord has won, Harry Potter is dead and Hermione Granger becomes more than just a casualty of war. In a time where the imperative is to save every drop of magical blood, death must be a meaningful and honourable ordeal. As the chosen one’s friend and a muggleborn she becomes a placeholder for all muggles and their many crimes against wizard culture and society. A special collar is made for her, the Walpurgis Wailer, and while Lucius becomes her handler, the Knights of Walpurgis gather to bear witness. (WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, RAPE/NON-CON, CHARACTER DEATH

Finally, Clean by LilacsintheRain - E, one-shot - Everyone is supposed to date a string of idiots in your twenties, right? Hermione Granger certainly felt like she had. Except that some people leave marks long after you leave them. And who better to help smooth them over than a new fling?

Shotgun Weddings & Paper Rings by InAStarlessSky - G, one-shot - “Trust me, love, I would have done it with a paper ring, but my mother would have had a heart attack. Now, I do believe you’re supposed to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. The ground is very hard, and I might have a bruise here by tomorrow.” Hermione had laughed then, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I do have an answer, Draco, but unless pureblood wizards propose differently than Muggles, you’re supposed to ask a question.” Or the one where Draco tries to figure out why a Muggle device won't stop buzzing, has no idea why December 15th is so important, and finds love again.

This fest is ongoing.