#wedding heavy jewellery

[shaadiwish]

Check Out The Most Stunning Nath Designs For Brides This Wedding Season

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Who is This? - Bucky x Reader

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky had a wife during the 40s, she was left heartbroken after the telegram arrived (missing, presumed dead). It's surprising when 80 years later, she was working behind a bar in Madripoor of all places!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2

Bucky followed Sam and Zemo into a loud bar, he immediately wanted to turn around and go home, why had Zemo demanded he go back to being the Winter Soldier (even if it was one night)?

The sound of heavy drums and guitars also deafened his hearing, a song he had come to learn was The Wild Boy by a band called Duran Duran. A few bartenders and waitresses were walking around, there was only one who stuck out to him - a dark-haired young woman who reminded him too much of his departed wife.

His heart breaks even more, thinking of the woman he had left behind, his girl. The love of his life. Bucky doesn't think he will ever 'get over' her.

The way the young woman walked, carrying a tray of empty glasses (before being tossed an empty bottle by a patron), was so similar to the way his girl walked in the hole-in-the-wall diner she worked in.

She wasn't quick enough to duck under the bar before they got to the door leading upstairs (which was coincidentally next to the bar), Zemo was talking to the bouncer. "Excuse me, gentlemen," the young woman said, squeezing between the back of Zemo and the front of Bucky. Which is when he got a good look at her face.

There she was.

His girl. His wife.

He couldn't even say anything to her, as he was taken upstairs and away from his girl. He could only hope he would be allowed back in at the end of the night to see her.

Y/N Barnes made her way behind the bar, glancing up at the TV where the Kansas City Chiefs were currently playing the Buffalo Bills at Arrowhead Stadium, then down at her phone which showed the live score of the Dodgers game against the San Francisco Giants.

She had been a long-time Dodgers girl, even after she found out they had moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles.

"Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Yasmine asked, pushing a dry Martini in front of a 26-year-old woman.

Y/N looked up from the glasses she was putting in the dishwasher. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"One of the men who went upstairs. The way he was looking at you," Yasmine fans her hand for dramatic effect. "I would drop my panties for him in a millisecond."

"Like you don't do that every night."

Yasmine rolled her eyes and served the next half-drunk who had come to the bar.

"Don't listen to her," Anastasia told her, rolling her eyes as Yasmine flirted with her current flavour of the week.

"It's not often I do, darling," Y/N replied, fiddling with Anastasia's curls for a second, before spotting a patron. "What can I get for you, darling?"

He hung off the bar, obviously far too drunk to understand what was going on. "Another beer and your phone number," he slurred.

She shook her head, reaching over and grabbing him another beer. As far as the boss of the bar (whoever that was) was concerned unless they were unconscious- why should you stop serving them? Y/N thought it wasn't right, but no matter how often she voiced this - she was shut down.

She set the beer in front of him and then went to the register to add it to his bill (good thing she currently has his credit card behind the bar).

"Oi, sweet cheeks!" He calls, but Y/N doesn't pay attention looking over at Yasmine and Anastasia with a raised eyebrow. "Sweet cheeks! I asked for your number."

Y/N replied by simply raising her hand proudly displaying her engagement and wedding rings to the drunk. It was only a small diamond (given Bucky worked on the docks before he was deployed), and the plain band she inherited from her great-grandmother.

"What's the matter with that 'un?" He hiccups. "He got you costume jewellery or somethin'?"

Y/N shook her head. "I'm going into the back for a moment," she tells Aidan.

Little did the drunk patron know, all those years ago, this was the date she was handed the telegraph - putting in such blunt words. Her James was missing, they presumed him to be dead. It breaks her heart that they never got to have a proper funeral.

"You alright, honey?" Elizabeth (another one of the waitresses) asked, she had been outside on her break. Elizabeth was the only one who knew her true age and about her James.

"It's the day I found out James was missing," Y/N said, before bursting into more tears.

Elizabeth wrapped Y/N up in a hug, everyone oblivious to the fact that Y/N's presumed dead husband was now running through the bar, flocked by Sam and Zemo, and into the alley behind the bar.

When Bucky was sure Zemo, Sam and Sharon were asleep, he slipped out of the safe house and into the night - determined to find out if the woman he saw in the bar was that of his (presumably? should be?) dead wife.

He eventually made his way to the front door of the bar, the bouncers had long since gone home. He could see lights on in the building and just about make out words being spoken thanks to the Super Soldier serum running through his veins.

He grasped the handle and gave it a push, the door hadn't been locked, as it gave beneath the slight push.

He could see three young women sitting on the bar, a man who was counting the money from the register and another man who was dancing.

The young woman sitting closest to the bar, had golden curls hanging around her head. "Mark, you didn't lock the door!"

The man dancing, Mark, looked over at Bucky, eyes widening when he saw the size of Bucky. "I say we just serve him, then lock the door behind him."

As the bartenders and waitress argued amongst themselves, Bucky's eyes never left the woman in the middle. It looked as if she had been crying. "Babydoll?"

The woman stopped giggling, tipping her head back to normal and looked at him, before dropping her glass as tears welled up in her eyes. "James?"

The curly-haired woman gasped, setting her glass down and giving Y/N a push off the bar.

Bucky held his arms out to catch her as her feet landed on the floor. He couldn't stop looking at her big eyes, he'd always loved her big expressive eyes. He always knew how she was feeling by just a look in her eyes.

"James? Is that you?" Her hand came out slowly, and shakily, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing in front of her.

"Hi, babydoll," Bucky smiled, tears starting to fall down his cheeks, a heavy sob held tightly in his chest at the moment in time. As soon as her fingers met his skin, Bucky let out a heavy sigh of relief, reaching over and pulling her into his arms. Y/N's arms dug themselves away from his chest and up around his neck before her hand soon started fiddling with his hair.

The couple stood there for a moment, finally finding their slice of peace. Some came barging into the bar, and the dark-haired woman who had been sitting on the other side of Y/N practically demanded Mark lock the door before the Hounds of Baskerville came in.

Y/N was so happy to finally have her James back in her arms, but there was a whirling sound she couldn't let go. "What's that noise?"

Bucky looked from his wife to his arm and back to his bride. "I'll explain everything to you later, but... I lost my arm, and I now have a prosthetic one," he tells her, letting go of her for a moment so he could take his glove off and show her the black and gold Vibranium one he had made.

"Ok, James. It's a good thing you gave me this," she reached beneath her top and pulled a ring out from beneath, hanging from a chain. "Before you were deployed."

Bucky smiled, cupping her face so he could kiss her. Bucky pulled away chuckling a little. "Babydoll, will you please put my ring back on?"

She reached behind her to unclasp the chain, and slid Bucky's band off, "if it doesn't fit we'll get it resized."

"I don't care what size it is, as long as you put my ring back where it belongs," Bucky almost growled, a piece of him falling back into place with the ring back on his finger.

The next morning - Sam, Zemo and Sharon came into the living room, seeing Bucky sleeping on the sofa (Sam was expecting this, after being told by Steve), however, there was a lump lying next to Bucky they didn't recognise.

Sam slowly makes his way over, gently easing down the thick blanket lying over Bucky and the lump.

Lying there, practically on top of the 'bionic staring machine' was a young woman.

"Did he somehow pick up a girl?" Sam whispered. Sam and Sharon were trying to be quiet - however, Zemo (who didn't care) started clattering around the kitchen, causing Bucky to wake up in a start, which then caused the young woman to look up with tired owl-like eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

[honeyhenry]

Apple Pie and You and I

A little story of the Seresins aka Hangman being a softie for his girl. Fluff, no warnings, please enjoy!

Jake Seresin, a lone star state boy through and though, always found himself feeling closer to home with a warm apple pie and a country song playing with a gentle thrum on his Pop’s old record player in the room next door.

The only time he felt closer to a sense of home was with you - his lovely lady who had managed to lure and capture the Hangman hook line and sinker by batting her pretty lashes and making him work hard for her attention. It had taken him 3 weeks of smirks that turned to smiles, and insistence that turned into nothing shy of begging, for you to agree to a date. The only holding back he’d done was in omitting to state the thought that had urged him to act in the first place; “Oh, she's gonna be my wife someday.”

The typically cocksure brazen pilot hadn’t the need to utter those words for another 14 months, past the utterly exclusive dating period, nor in between months of loved up sweetness and the pained inevitability of month-long deployments. He’d told you the very moment after his 1 month deployment - which had extended into 7 and a half weeks - of a monogamous routine, where a few pictures and fond memories were just not cutting it any more.

The tarmac had scratched the khaki material of his bags as he'd dropped them with a heavy thud to the ground, only eager to reach your arms sooner. Your little sundress catching in the soft wind, the warmth of the sun heating your cheeks and nose as he engulfs you in his arms, holding tight before he'd pulled his head away to take a proper long look at your pretty face - and then brought your lips to his. He'd kissed you over and over and over, the smile on his face growing every time, your eyes clear and watering, having waited for this moment.

And quietly, once the decision was made to catch your breaths, he'd whispered, lips ghosting over yours, that you were it for him. That he was going to marry you.

According to the Navy, Hangman had no one at home, no next of kin unless you provided the contacts of his parents down in their ranch a few states away should there ever be the need for the passing over of belongings and dog tags to fatefully occur. But Jake Seresin? He had a whole life to get back to; one he needed to kick start with a ring and a question.

The ring itself would be an heirloom, no doubt about it, and had required a trip back to Texas to see his family and share with them his upcoming plans. Having met you a handful of times over Christmas and on big family birthdays, the Seresins were entirely on board. Jake's Momma had given him a close hug with tears in her eyes while his Dad and siblings cheered and grinned the classic Seresin smile. Their family often grew each year, but his Momma and Grammie had worried that their headstrong, flirtatious boy would get too caught up in the ways of the world to settle down. He was a softie at heart, and you had been the best thing to ever happen to him.

They adored you. Enough for Grammie to take her grandson into her study, and open the jewellery box safely nestled inside a locked cupboard door. "This one is a diamond", she'd said as she'd taken out a piece." It's been in the family since before I was born. It's even got the family name engraved inside." Jake had taken it, listening respectfully to his Grammie but still lost in the thought of how the ring would look so beautiful on your finger. Thinking of you being his, forever.

That had been 18 months ago now, and the glinting stone on your ring finger, alongside a shiny golden wedding band, showing that all had gone to plan. Hangman proudly wears his ring too, occasionally looping it around his dog tags if need be. However currently, in the Lone Star state, the dog tags are off and his ring fits snugly on his fourth finger as he holds you close.

It's campfire night at the ranch, and you sit on his lap, curled in and admiring the way his face has caught the sun, inspecting every detail of him in the glow of the fire he had helped to start. He looks between his family; uncles, cousins, grandparents, now and then but his main focus is always you. Your hands clasp his left one as he uses the other to nurse a beer after working up a sweat teaching his youngest nephews to play football earlier that day. It had been so endearing to watch as you'd prepared the barbecue and baked fresh cookies using the special Seresin recipe, with his Momma and sisters.

"I got the recipe from your Mom, for the cookies, so we can have them at home." You'd whispered sweetly as the chatter around the fire continued. "Do you know", Jake murmured, looking deep into your eyes as his green ones pierced into your soul. "Do you know how much I love you?"

Your giggle had been soft and the eye roll that followed made Jake smirk lovingly. Still in awe of how he got the girl that barely spoke to him but was still batting her lashes and playing hard to get. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing the point just above where your rings lay on your finger.

"The kids'll love 'em. You're gonna be a great Mom." He stops smirking and now looks at you, fully focused with a soft, genuine smile. Placing the beer down, he rests his hand on your stomach, underneath the sweatshirt of his you've borrowed that splashes the words University of Texas, Austin on the front. It's old and thinning out but it smells of Jake, so it's something you will happily bask in and nap in and snuggle in until you have to leave his family home once more.

"Shhhh. I already think Grammie knows", you scold him. And she does. Grammie knows and as his Momma watches the two of you interact now, she's certain that she knows too. Call it a Mother's instinct. Jake's little check-ins throughout the day had not gone unnoticed, nor had your daily naps that you blamed on the heat, despite it only being the middle of May.

"But Grammie knows everything, a few more days and I can finally tell 'em all. Been dyin' to sweetheart." His hand rubs your stomach gently, not to raise suspicion but also to comfort you. Sure, as the cookies and apple pie were brought out, he had felt a little nostalgia, but with you in his lap wearing his ring, and his baby in your belly, Jake Seresin had never felt more at home than in that moment.

[youremyheaven]

Random Vedic Astrology Observations

Adele who is Ardra Rising and Lana Del Rey who is Ardra Sun both have a Paradise tattoo on the side of their hand

This is very interesting symbolism because Ardra nakshatra is preceded by Mrigashira nak which follows the fall from Paradise.

2. Pisces natives 🤝🏼 sculptures

L to R

Rihanna- Revati Stellium (including Moon & Rising)

Ava Gardner- Ketu in (1 degree Pisces) Purvabhadrapada

Bella Hadid- Ketu in UBP

Rosie Huntington Whiteley- UBP Mercury & Rahu, Mars in Purvabhadrapada (0 degrees Pisces) and Jupiter in Revati atmakaraka

Jin- UBP Moon

Isabelle Adjani- Revati Rising

Salma Hayek- UBP Moon

3. Jyeshtas really love jewellery

Vidya Balan- Mercury in Jyeshta (atmakaraka)

Rekha- Jyeshta Rising

Kim Kardashian- Jyeshta Rising

Nicki Minaj- Jyeshta Sun

4. I'd earlier made an observation about how Mars influenced men tend to go after older women and I thought I'd add a few more examples to that list!!

Sachin Tendulkar & Anjali Tendulkar have an age gap of 6 years and their wedding was hugely controversial when it took place in the 90s. Sachin was only 22 when he got married.

Sachin has Mars in Dhanishta atmakaraka and Moon in Purvashada amatyakaraka

Shikhar Dhawan and his ex-wife Ayesha Mukerji have an age gap of 10 years.

Shikhar is Dhanishta Rising, Mars in Chitra atmakaraka with Purvaphalguni Moon

Arjun Kapoor and Malaika Arora have an age gap of 12 years

He is most likely Chitra Rising

He also has Venus (amatyakaraka) conjunct Rahu in Bharani

I know that Bharani is Venus ruled but Bharani is the confluence of Mars & Venus energies and is ruled by the Mars ruled Aries and is another nakshatra that commonly appears in the charts of men drawn to older women

Aditya Pancholi is 6 years younger than his wife Zarina Wahab

He has Sun in Purva Ashadha, Venus amatyakaraka (in Jyeshta) Jupiter in Bharani and Rahu in Mrigashira

Karan Singh Grover is 6 years younger than Bipasha Basu

He has Moon in Dhanishta, Mars (amatyakaraka) conjunct Saturn (atmakaraka) in Chitra with Ketu in Purva Ashada

Vicky Kaushal is 5 years younger than Katrina Kaif

He has Venus in Mrigashira, Mars in Dhanishta, Jupiter (amatyakaraka) in Bharani, Ketu in Purva phalguni

Farhan Akhtar and his first wife, Adhuna Akhtar have an age gap of 7 years.

Farhan has Sun (atmakaraka) conjunct Mercury (amatyakaraka) in Purva Ashada and Saturn conjunct Ketu in Mrigashira

5.

idk if im crazy but i think these 2 women have similar features 😭😭

Zhou Xun is Chitra Sun, Anuradha Moon, Swati Mercury, Chitra Venus & Mars

Ning Ning is Chitra Sun, Bharani Moon, Swati Venus and Ketu in Anuradha

6. Rihanna has a tattoo of Goddess Isis on her chest

Rihanna is Revati Moon and Goddess Isis had powers like love, healing, fertility, protection, wisdom and magic. By virtue of her magical knowledge, she was said to be "more clever than a million gods". Revati nakshatra natives are endowed with divine spiritual wisdom and the deity of Revati, Pushan is the Sun-god in the form of Divine Guide and Nourisher, who helps us to find the right path and leads us to the right solutions.

Revati represents wisdom, empathy, unconditional love, fertility, growth, prosperity & spirituality.

7. Harry Houdini was a Hungarian-American escape artist, illusionist, and stunt performer, noted for his escape acts.

He has UBP Sun, Mrigashira Moon, Venus in Revati (exalted) and Ketu in Swati with Shravana Rising

Swati is connected to Maya or illusion so it makes sense as to why someone who has Ketu placed there would become notorious for hoodwinking the public.

Mrigashira nakshatra involves HEAVY themes of running away, escape and being trapped AND finding a way out. If you look at the mythology, its about Brahma's favourite daughter who takes the form of a deer to leave the heavens and run away to the earth to escape her father's sexual advances towards her.

Pisces rashi is almost always present in the charts of magicians or people who have some kind of illusory appeal on the public. Most mega successful celebrities have prominent Pisces placements, most supremely talented actors and singers do. The ability to put yourself out there yet remain completely mysterious and keep people under a veil is a uniquely Piscean trait.

Obviously with that Shravana Asc, he was basically born for this job. Moon dominant people are ADEPT at manipulation and making black seem like white or vice versa.

Dua Lipa recently released a song titled Houdini and she's Punarvasu Moon which I think is another nakshatra that is good at casting illusions.

[qdbs-writes]

Do you write fem readers?!? 😭 If so can you write some head cannons about the Cullens with a goth s/o

i proudly write for all readers, nonny! and I'm gonna assume this about about trad!goth, but I'll try and make sure this applies to most goth subcultures!

Cullen Clan x Goth!Fem!S/O

Carlisle Cullen

He's confused but supportive. Back in his day, the term 'goth' only applied to the people who sacked Rome, which he'll remind you of regularly, especially if you're visiting the Volturi (who will also assume that you are directly connected to the ancient Goths, and would fear you as a result).

He'd be interested in your genealogy, because he thinks you're connection to the goth style can't be mere coincidence or personal choice, and it wouldn't be difficult to find out either, all he'd have to do is check if you have any Germanic ancestry from the last 2000 years.

Esme Cullen

If you're happy and comfortable, she's happy and comfortable. While it probably isn't her style personally, she's quick to see the benefits. For instance, black is a very easy colour to maintain, particularly with regards to cleaning.

Her only concern is getting you clothes other than black so that you can have something to wear to events that may require specific colours, like if you two are guests at a wedding (she wouldn't want you wearing black as it's bad luck for the couple).

Edward Cullen

Edward himself is basically a diet-corporate goth, so dating you will probably help him develop his own sense of comfort in the style.

The two of you are regularly seen brooding in the Forks CVS, loitering around the hair dye section, silently terrifying all of the elderly people waiting at the pharmacy.

Edward is likely already very familiar with goth music, has absolutely been to some Bauhaus concerts in his time, and probably has a respectable collection of gothic rock records in his room.

Rosalie Hale

It'll be like a Barbie/Oppenheimer-esque clash in aesthetics. I personally see Rosalie with a very Y2K aesthetic, so the two of you walking down the street together might turn some heads.

That doesn't mean that she isn't fully supportive of your style though, and appreciates the philosophy of the aesthetic, how it's a style built on defying expectations of conformity and obedience. In her short life, all Rosalie knew was to dress properly, smile, be open, happy, a willing host, an amusing guest. In death, she's proud to be herself, and even prouder to be with someone so comfortable with dressing exactly how they want, regardless of what others might think.

Emmett Cullen

You dress scary and Emmett loves it. He has regularly compared you to a venomous snake, your black clothes and aggressive makeup mean that almost everyone in Forks steers clear of you. But not Emmett, he's never had the survival instincts to stay away from things that could kill him, in fact, your "unapproachable" style only drew him in more.

Absolutely loves wandering around Forks with you, even if you aren't particularly doing anything. He thinks it's hilarious that some people cross the street to avoid you, it's like having 'scary dog' privileges.

Alice Cullen

She'd seen you in her visions for some time, but she almost didn't recognise you when you started dressing strangely and wearing heavy makeup. At first, it disturbed her, you looked like the sleep-paralysis demons that used to haunt her in the asylum.

Once she gets the chance to meet you in real life, that fear quickly subsides. Through your relationship, Alice learns how much of a safe space goth society can be, and that she can rely on other goths to not be judgemental towards her like so many others are.

Jasper Hale

Greatly appreciates the Victorian-era elements that are incorporated into your clothes, it helps him feel less old. You'll make his day if you show any interest in his clothes and jewellery that he had in life, particularly the more morbid pieces (such as the ring made out of his mother's hair).

If you're looking particularly historical, he'll love to get in his original clothes from when he was alive (except the ""uniform"" that shan't be mentioned), and stroll about Forks with you, arm in arm, like a true Southern gentleman.

[kitcat22]

Elrond’s Jewellery collection!

Some things that were handed down, gifted or just bought for himself. only a select few pieces, his full collection needs an entire room of its own.

Peacock hair comb - belonged to Maglor. It was bought by Celegorm from a street vender in central Tirion for Maglor’s birthday. He said that since Maglor acted like a peacock so he may as well dress as one.

Lily flower earings - a gift from Cirdan after Elrond and Elros’s return. The boys were going through a lot mentally especially Elrond as Elros began to get closer to the Edain. Lily’s are a symbol of rebirth and resurrection.

Elwing’s wedding ring - once belonged to Elenwe’s. Jewellery making wasn’t a major priority in the havens of sirion so this was the best Earendil could do.

Golden cuff with a beautiful picture of a field on a sunny day carved into it. - Belonged to his nurse from Sirion. He took it from her corpse. She had no family left in middle earth so he kept it with the intention of returning it one day.

A set of rings each with a little dogs carved into it. - Bought from Haladin merchant.

Delicate pearl necklace with two small swan’s intertwining. - Gifted from a tween Findekano with a not-at-all-obvious crush to Maitimo after he returned from visiting Aqualonde.

Cherry blossom Hairpin - that functions as dagger. From a sindar lord with a bit of a crush.

Bronze bangles - Celebrimbor bought them from Narvi and sent them to Lindon as one of Elrond’s coming of age gifts.

Crystal earrings previously belonged to Galadriel. He claims to not know how they ended up in his possession.

Seahorse Broach bought in Numenor during a visit to his nieces and nephews.

Flower crown made of solid gold crafted by Feanor after Maitimo went through a very public and very bad break up with a Vanya nobleman. He showed up to the spring festival wearing it like princess Diana in her revenge dress.

A heavy golden choker with red jewels. Gifted to Maitimo by Melkor on his birthday during the years of the trees no one was comfortable with this least of all Maitimo but he couldn’t refuse a gift from one of the Valar so publicly. Even Celebrimbor’s maia friend seemed very tense and almost angry when he saw it. Mostly stays inside jewellery box, occasionally goes on display in museums.

A little coin with boats on a raging ocean engraved on it Earendil found it washed up on the beach and gave it to him and Elros to share. Has a little gold chain that lets it be worn as a necklace.

[adnauseum11]

Non- Mission Essential (John Price x Reader)

John owes Kate a dinner and makes good on his promise. You are introduced to people from John's work life.

3k words

CW: swearing

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U series, the Masterlist is pinned to my blog

The restaurant is based off a real one that exists elsewhere in the world. It's a sumptuous affair so it's sprawled over two chapters.

If it wasn't clear that I grew up before cell phones, this chapter should solidify that. I'm roughly the same vintage as John and can confirm life before caller ID and knowing who is calling.

Feedback welcome!

The evening is lit up by streetlamps by the time you arrive at the Chop House for dinner, the cold air heavy with threatening snow. The sidewalks gleam wet under the streetlamps and headlights of the passing traffic. John looks dapper in a dark grey three-piece suit, the tie and handkerchief patterned with a deep green that compliments your dress. You had smugly assumed John would be the problem tonight, his gaze heating every time he caught a glimpse of velvet stretched over your curves as you got ready.

He had been preoccupied with getting himself dressed so he had missed your initial lingerie selection, a strapless bra and no panties – the dress too tight for anything else without showing lines. Not much escapes the big man’s notice but you are thankful that seems to have flown under his radar, although with his inclination to be handsy with you, you wonder how long your luck will hold. As it turns out, however, the tailored lines of his suit keep drawing your eye, distracting you completely. His broad shoulders fill out the jacket like it was molded to his measurements with exacting precision. He’s caught you out twice so far, not paying attention at all to what he’s saying, wrapped up in fantasies that glaze over your eyes. The second time he smiled deeply, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gently jolted you out of your X-rated daydream to put your high heels on. You’re wearing a long black pea coat over your dress, the velvet doing a decent job of keeping your legs warm as you step out into the cool night air.

You share a secret smile with him when he helps you out of the car, the valet waiting for the door to close behind you before taking the car to be parked. You have butterflies in your stomach, wanting to make a good impression on these women. John spoke highly of both of them, although he’s only worked with Kate. His presence is soothing, an anchor to your tumultuous anxieties. You run your hand over the front of his jacket, unnecessarily smoothing his lapels down, letting your eyes wander over the material wrapped around his deltoid.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that-”

John’s voice is pitched low, for your ears only, but he gets cut off by someone calling his name. You’re slightly disappointed you don’t get to hear the rest of the threat, John’s hand landing low on your back, steering you forward.

“Kate. Michelle.”

A pair of women step towards you, one dirty blonde with shorter hair and the other slightly taller, wearing her dark, thick, curly hair slicked back, gathered into a high bun at the top of her head. It creates a halo effect, framing her face beautifully. John greets them both with brief hugs before introducing you first to Kate, the blond, and then her wife, Michelle. Kate has no jewellery aside from a wedding ring that you can see, but Michelle has golden hoop earrings that complement her honey skin and her matching wedding ring. As John advised earlier you forgo air kisses for shaking hands with them both, Kate’s grip is firm where Michelle’s is gentle.  

“Shall we?”

Kate asks, her accent not as twangy as you had anticipated. John leads the way, holding the door open for your group as you file in behind him. You hand your coat over to the attendant at the coat room, waiting for the rest of the group to do the same. Kate is wearing a suit herself, a dark blue with black silk lining the slim lapels and a crisp black button-down shirt. Michelle is wearing a retro off the shoulder A-line cocktail dress, thick pleats of navy-blue fabric gathered around the waist of the skirt creating a classic feminine silhouette. A chunky gold necklace matches her earrings and catches the subdued lighting.

“Oh, I love your dress!”

Michelle says as she turns to rejoin you after handing over her own coat. You feel heat crawl over your cheeks, shooting a look at John before thanking her and telling her you were just admiring hers. John looks smug, and his hand resettles on your lower back, sparking the low simmering desire in your belly. A part of you knows you will never be able to wear this dress again without thinking of him, buried deep inside you and telling you he thought of you wearing it when he was alone, off working somewhere in the world. John’s warm hand stays on your lower back, a tactile reminder of those recent erotic memories until you reach your table, when he pulls your chair out for you.

The restaurant is styled in classic old-world opulence, the wingback chairs wrapped in leather and the table tops made of marbled quartz.  Kate repeats the gesture for Michelle, pulling out the chair opposite yours for her to sit. John and Kate exchange a look you don’t understand before taking their own seats. John sits beside you, looking like the cat that got the cream. Kate notices as well.

“You’re looking well John.”

John looks up from the drink menu, casting an assessing eye over Kate before responding.

“Been resting up at home the last few days. Are you looking forward to getting home soon, Michelle?”

John redirects the conversation, and you smile to yourself. You know better, his definition of ‘resting’ in this context broad enough to include making dinner every night and doling out regular toe-curling orgasms.     

“The townhome Kate’s work puts us up in when we’re here is starting to feel like home. It’s the weather I can’t get used to. This wet cold is the worst.”

Both Kate and John make sounds of agreement, but you’ve never been anywhere with any other type of cold. Isn’t snow just frozen water?

“What’s a dry cold? How is that better?”

You venture and John turns to answer but Kate beats him to it.

“A wet cold means you have to dry out first before you can warm up. Dry cold doesn’t have the moisture in the air.”

“Doesn’t get in to your bones in the same way, love.”

John adds. Kate’s face softens for a brief moment before she carries on. Her delivery style is no-nonsense but kind.

“You only really get dry cold in places with low precipitation.”

You already know better than to ask how they know this, assuming it’s something learned first-hand. You’re realizing, not for the first time, that there is a significant part of John’s life that you aren’t privy to. Silently you wonder if Michelle is equally left in the dark about her wife’s work life.

“Is it a dry cold where you live then?”

“Washington gets its fair share of precipitation but it’s nothing compared to this country. It’s a good thing the rental comes with umbrellas ‘cause we didn’t pack any.”

Michelle answers you, and you smile at her quip, agreeing that they’re more necessity than accessory here. The waiter stops by, delivering the menus and water. John looks at you for your drink order so you don’t have to raise your voice across the table and you ask for a glass of full-bodied red, letting John choose on your behalf. Kate notices everything, her vigilance reminding you somewhat of John’s inability to relax in crowded spaces. John orders himself a single malt whiskey and your glass of wine and Kate orders a gin and tonic but Michelle sticks to water which elicits a remark from John.

“Rough night last night?”

“No, we have a Doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Trying to keep the system primed. Want it to take this time. As much as I love our semi-regular jaunts across the pond, I’m ready to sit a few out.”

“You complain about not having direct access to Gregg’s sausage rolls when we’re home for longer than two weeks.” Kate deadpans, unconvinced by her wife’s statement.  

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you, that’s exciting.”

John ignores Kate, and Michelle rewards his discernment with a smile. He turns to you and explains the doctor in question is a fertility doctor which crystalizes your understanding of the conversation.

“That’s very exciting! Congratulations, I hope it works out for you tomorrow. You must have a generous boss to let you travel as much as it sounds like you do.”

Michelle grins, her excitement palpable.

“Thank you, I’m nervous but looking forward to it. As far as bosses go, I own my own consulting business; I do environmental data analysis so I can work from anywhere and generate my reports. I have some university students who work in placements doing the data collecting and then we assimilate it and generate a report.”

“Oh, that’s interesting!”

“Yes, and varied, each project is a new challenge. I love it.”

“She’s highly sought after in the area, there are a lot of National Parks nearby. A lot of businesses have to do impact studies if they’re operating in or near the parks.”

Kate clarifies for you, pride bleeding into her tone.

“Well, that’s lovely, built in clientele. Is that how you two met?”

Michelle tips her head back and laughs as her wife turns slightly red, but smirks nonetheless.

“No, we met in a bar in Annapolis, her boyfriend at the time was being an asshole and I de-escalated the situation.”

Kate supplies, and you suspect that’s not entirely true given Michelle’s bout of laughter. Once she’s calmed herself, she colours in Kate’s bare bones explanation.

“I was dating a man who had a delicate ego-“

Kate scoffs but holds her tongue when Michelle shoots her a look.

“-and he didn’t like that I was thinking of quitting my job at the time to start this business. He didn’t think I could make a go of it and was going to blow my life savings. Kate listened to him berate me for about ten minutes at the bar before she brought her beer over and joined us, without asking, and proceeded to counter every negative thing that man said with a potential positive. You should have seen his face. She talked me up so much I ended up leaving the bar with her that night and broke up with him the next day. I’d never dated a woman before but the confidence was so sexy, I was like a deer in the headlights. Couldn’t look away. Still can’t.”

“Aw! that’s the definition of sweeping you off your feet-“

Kate changes the topic you before you can comment any further, clearly uncomfortable with being the object of praise.

“So, how did you and John meet?”

“Oh, nothing as romantic as that. John was mates with a boy I was seeing at the time.”

It’s John’s turn to scoff but unlike Kate he doesn’t hold his tongue, adding his two cents to the story.

“Boy is right, his mouth was writing cheques his ass couldn’t cash.”

“John.”

You admonish gently, more to keep him from getting worked up about something that happened over two decades ago than anything. He sits back, gesturing for you to continue as the waiter returns with the drinks. You wait until John requests some more time with the menus before continuing, taking your wine out of his outstretched hand smoothly as you speak.

“John found out his mate had been harassing me after we broke up. Following me home from school. Waiting for me outside shops, not taking no for an answer when I told him to leave me alone. Repeatedly calling my home and asking for me even after I told him I was done. Making my life a general hell. John caught him bullying me on the way home one day after he got back from basic training. He’d been hanging around waiting for his mates to let out from school and watched my ex badger me down the lane. John got into a fist fight with him about it. Broke his cheekbone. The ass left me alone after that but John gave me his number in case he started following me around again and we stayed in touch after that.”

John sips his whiskey, seemingly satisfied with your version of events. Kate is clearly not, however.

“How come you weren’t charged with assault? None of that is in your transcript. If the MP’s got wind of it, it would have been.”

Kate asks, clearly mystified. You can’t help but note that she’s read John’s transcript and wonder what else she knows about his life.

“The lad’s parents were convinced that the natural consequences were better than their son standing trial for a stalking charge that had multiple eyewitnesses.”

“Who convinced his parents?”

It’s your turn to ask, never having considered that part before and John slides you an even look before he answers.

“My father.”

“Ah. Well, that tracks.”

John hums in agreement with you and Kate looks from you to John and back again.

“Sounds romantic to me.”

Michelle offers and you can feel heat creeping over your face again. You had been given a front row seat to a bloody and painful exchange; it had never occurred to you to think of it as romantic. Heroic maybe, but you had attributed that to your gratefulness of having the harassment finally put to a stop.

“John was just doing the right thing. We stayed mates for years after that. We only started dating a few months ago.”

You explain to Michelle but the back of your mind is now trying to rehash the past for clues of John’s feelings. Was it romantic that he beat up your ex? As if the man in question can read your racing mind he reaches over and rests a big hand on your tense thigh, his thumb stroking over the velvet in tiny circular motions. The distraction works and redirects your attention to the present moment in time to catch Kate’s words.

“Sounds like John. Can’t watch a situation go sideways without mixing in.”

She’s looking at John with the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The man beside you doesn’t argue, raising his whiskey in salute to the dirty blonde.

“So, you’ve known each other for a while then?”

Michelle gets the conversation back on track, her eyes bouncing between you and John.

“Oh lord, yes. I couldn’t have been more than 15 or 16 when all that went down? Put me right off dating for a while. My brother would tease me that I’d be a spinster.”

“You have a brother? What was he doing when you were being harassed?”

Kate is indignant on your behalf which is endearing, considering you barely know the woman.

“He thought it was funny. He’d answer the phone and tell me it was one of my girlfriends to get me to pick up. He’s younger than me, so thought it was all a good laugh to see me scared. My parents thought it was just teen drama and told me to sort it out myself. They both worked and weren’t around much.”

John’s hand squeezes your thigh before retreating, a comforting warmth rolling through you at his easy familiarity in front of his friends. You shoot him a smile as the waiter returns to the table to take orders. Unsurprisingly, John makes the most of this opportunity and orders a porterhouse steak. You and Michelle both order smaller servings of filet mignon, and Kate surprises you by requesting a lobster and steak combo. The women seated across from you exchange a glance, Michelle clearly wanting to say something about Kate’s ambitious selection. You hide the smile that wants to erupt behind a sip of your wine at the unspoken conversation happening across the table.

“How’s your wine, darling?”

John’s eyes are on your hand, wrapped around the stem of the wineglass you are holding aloft. You’ve painted your nails a deep red, matching your lipstick, the contrast against the green of your velvet gown eye-catching. You finally let the smile that’s been threatening to creep across your face loose, John’s distraction a small victory as far as you’re concerned.

“Very good, French this time?”

You ask, his interest in all things food and drink related an endless source of fascination to you. You suspect it’s partly due to the military food he’s been eating for half his life that drives his taste to the more refined when he’s given a choice. You trust his judgement and he’s rarely steered you wrong.

“Spanish, small vineyard.”

Kate’s new line of questioning interrupts your reply to John.  

“So, you have a younger brother, what about your parents? Are they still together?”

You feel your heart drop, even though you’ve fielded this question many times over the years. It never seems to get any easier for you, nor have you developed a simple way to gloss over the loss to make it more palatable. You set the wineglass down on the table while you take a breath, forcing the smile that was stretched across your face back in to place.

“Yes, they were killed by a drunk driver in a head on collision. I’m told it was instantaneous.”

Michelle’s gasp has the smile slipping but you rally, John straightening up in concern at your side.

“Shit – I’m sorry-”

Kate tries to apologize but it’s your turn to interject, waving her concern off.

“No, it was years ago now. It’s fine, I just never know how to casually slip that in when it comes up. I’m going to freshen up before dinner arrives, excuse me, won’t you?”

Your heart is thrumming against your breastbone as you stand up, John half out of his chair before your palm on his shoulder stops him. You just need a moment alone to take a few deep breaths and recenter yourself. John’s concerned hovering will only muddy your waters.

“It’s alright, I’ll be right back.”

You reassure him quietly, your voice thin against the sudden wave of emotion. Your fingers squeeze the broad muscle of his shoulder before weaving your way across the large room to the bathrooms. You don’t have to look behind you to know John’s eyes are following you, you can feel the heat of his gaze on your back sending pinpricks of awareness through you.

Next Chapter

Ao3

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[i-cant-sing]

Queen, how many likes, comment, ask do you need so that we can have chapter 4. As a peasant I will be happy to oblige about how many more are needed

I am on cloud 9 rn, okay? Because I just attended a desi wedding, and yall know how brown people go all out on weddings, proper fancy shmancy, right? So here I was dressed up in a HEAVY LENGHA CHOLI, MY MAKEUP WAS POPPING, FOR THE FIRST TIME MY HAIR WAS GOOD, and I wore GOLD JEWELLERY TOO, but the thing is.... I dressed up like it was Indian desi wedding.

It was a Pakistani desi wedding, and not only that, but it was a proper Muslim desi wedding, so even though it was just close family and friends, many women either wore hijabs or niqaabs, or dressed modestly (I was so envious of the niqaabis, they looked so cute with their eyes popping out. God please, I also want a niqaab 😭😭😭)

AND THHERE WAS ME IN MY CHOLI THAT HAD A CIRCULAR CUT IN THE BACK (WHICH IN AUNTY'S MIND = BACKLESS = SLUTTY DRESSING) but honestly I didn't care, I looked good.

The music was good, food was amazing, people turning their heads to look at me was an ego boost, the wind breezing in the back of my dress made me cool down, some aunties asked for my name, profession, details (looking for proposals for their sons)

So with my self esteem through the roof, I'm going to tell u that yes, I need a lot more of your comments and likes and asks. And they better be good.

[lilys-of-the-valley]

So, I just started HotD, and I'm obsessed with Aemond!!! Can I pls request him and his new wife on their wedding night. Where fem reader is a Virgin and super sensitive, and has no idea what she's doing. But he guides her and is really kind and gentle and stuff. Pls and ty!

OF course! I love Aemond as well 🩷🌸

Warnings: smut (this is my first time writing it, idk if it's good😭) mentions of pregnancy.

The wedding ceremony for both you and Aemond had not long finished, you were being ushered back into your chambers for one last time by your handmaids before you went to Aemonds' chambers where you would stay for the rest of your married life.

The handmaid's rushed around you once you were in the room, and hands were all over your body as they undid the laces from your wedding gown. The heavy fabric dropped to the floor in a heavy pile, leaving you standing in your thin undergarments. Your handmaid's re-brushed your hair and removed any jewellery that might get in the way.

Once they deemed you were ready, they lead you down the halls of the Red Keep quickly, guiding you over to Aemonds bed chambers. Your anxiety was getting the better of you now you were here, stood in front of the looming wooden door as the Handmaid's knocked and requested to be let inside.

The door creaked open enough for you to slip inside. The handmaid's didn't enter with you but instead shut the door behind you and left you inside the room alone with Aemond. You peered around anxiously until your eyes fell on Aemond.

He was stood by the edge of the bed, his hair was loose about his shoulders, and he was wearing his nightwear. You shuffled where you stood, anxiety and panic creeping up in your chest. You felt majorly underdressed and scared as he stood there.

He turned and finally acknowledged your presence. He had been nothing but kind to you all throughout your courting and wedding day, but still, you couldn't help but fear the removal of your maidenhead.

He gave you a small smile, a rare thing for Aemond, as his eye trailed up and down your body, you shuffled again, your hands clammy and shakey as you fiddled with your fingers.

Aemond seemed to notice your nerves as he approached. He put one hand on your shoulder, then cupped your cheek gently in one rough, warm hand, his eye staring into yours as you pretty much trembled. He finally spoke up, his voice low and rough. "Do not be nervous... we do not have to do this if you would prefer that?"

You looked into his eye, searching for any hint that he was tricking you, but he was sincere, you shook your head no. You knew it was your duty as his wife to provide an heir. Your mother had told you that you were going to have to pleasure your husband and have many children for him.

When you shook your head, he nodded. He cupped your face with both hands and spoke again. "I will stop whenever you request it, I will be as gentle as I can, and I swear to you I will not hurt you." His voice was as serious as you'd ever heard, and you nodded meekly at him, giving him a small smile, feeling reassured.

He leads you over to the bed, his hand holding yours as he helps you lie back on the bed, the furs and covers were thick and luxurious under your body and it was comforting to be laid there. Aemond crawled above you, one hand going to cup your cheek again, running his thumb over your bottom lip as he stared at you with a glazed over eye.

He leant down so that your faces were almost touching, his nose brushed against yours as he murmured. "May I kiss you?"

You nodded, the anxiety that had settled in your belly dissipating as he asked for your permission.

His head dipped low again, and his lips caught yours. Your lips moved in sync for a short while. It was almost a teaser to see if your lips fit together. When he pulled away he gave you a small reassuring smile, his hand trailed down to hold your waist as you laid below him.

Both of his hands went to hold your sides gently, he rubbed them up and down, feeling the curve beneath the fabric of your undergarments. He gave you another soft smile before he asked. "May I remove your clothes?"

You nodded and finally spoke up, excited but also still nervous. "Yes Aemond... please"

He let out a soft groan as you spoke. You blushed at the noise, feeling a wet warm sensation spreading between your legs. He moved his hands to grab the hem of your undergarments and he slowly pulled it up, you moved to help him get it off.

He tossed the fabric aside once it was removed, and he stared down at you hungrily, his eye tracking over every inch of your skin, committing it all to memory. You flushed under his gaze, feeling exposed and shakey. You lifted your hands to cover your breasts.

He pretty much growled at that, removing your hands from your breasts himself as he spoke. "Do not conceal yourself from me, I want to see all of you"

You flush again, more wetness pooling between your thighs as he spoke. His hand went between your legs, his long fingers gently rubbing through your slicked up folds, your breath hitches at the feeling, and you bite down on your bottom lip.

His fingers moved almost skillfully, and you found yourself spreading your legs for him. One finger delved between your folds, running along your soaked slit. A small sigh leaves your lips.

Aemond smirked at your reactions. His other hand went to cup your right breast as his fingers pushed between your folds, feeling every inch of your wet parts.

His thumb rubbed over your nipple and one finger prodded gently at your dripping entrance. He looked at you for permission, and you nodded eagerly. His finger slipped inside, your walls stretching a little to take his digit, and you moaned softly.

The feeling was an odd one. Having his long slender finger inside of you was weird. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and started to move his finger inside of you, pulling it out then pushing it back inside.

Moans tumbled from your parted lips as he sped up, chasing your noises. He lowered his head again and kissed your perky nipple. He took no time in sucking it into his mouth. He sucked at your nipple as another finger pressed against your hole.

When he pushed it inside, your walls struggled to take them both. Your walls were tight and wet, and his fingers slowed a little, and he pushed past the initial tightness. It didn't take long for you to adjust and he sped up his pace again, still sucking and licking at your nipple.

You moaned loudly as his fingers pumped in and out of your slick hole quickly, the wet noises making you blush as he groaned against your tit. You felt a coil in your belly, tightening more and more until you came hard on his fingers. He slowled down his pumping until you recovered then he pulled them out.

"Good girl," He purred as he sucked your wetness from his fingers. Your breathing was ragged, and your walls were still fluttering, but you gave him a small smile at the praise.

He looked deep into your eyes and gave you a lustful look before he started unbuttoning his breeches, they fell away easily, revealing his hard heavy cock.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him, he was long and thick and the tip was red and bulging, his balls hung low and full between his pale thighs and a long blue vein ran along his underside.

You swallowed thickly at the sight of him, he wrapped a hand around his base and gently pumped himself a few times, making sure he was ready. He asked. "Do I have your consent to take your maidenhead?"

You nodded quickly, your eyes blown wide with lust as he smiled down at you. He positioned himself between your thighs, he nudged them open until his tip could press against you.

He ran his fingers along your soaking cunt and spread open your outer lips, revealing the soft pink hole underneath, you flushed at the action but moaned softly anyway. He shuffled again and then started rubbing his tip up and down along your slick hole, gathering up your fluids for easier penetration.

"Please... Aemond please..." You mewled out, a desire for him coursing through your veins.

He nodded and smirked, pressing his fat tip against your hole. He looked down at you again and spoke lowly again. "This will hurt, but I will go slow and I'll stop whenever you need me to"

You nod, and he pushes inside. The tip stretches you out wide, and you grimaced at the horrible sensation. The rest of his cock was harder to get inside. It felt like your insides were on fire as he pushed his seemingly never-ending length inside of you.

He got to a certain point in your cunt when he stilled his hips, looking down at you with a blown out eye. He spoke, "I'm going to have to push harder here, bare with me, love."

The nickname made your heart flutter and he placed both hands on your hips, he squeezed them once before pushing almost harshly inside, you felt a horrible stinging sensation but then felt that he was now balls deep inside of you. He stroked your hips soothingly as he allowed you time to adjust.

As your walls stretched to accommodate his size, he lowered his head again to gently kiss your neck and collar bone. You sighed happily at the feeling, and soon enough, you were ready for him to start moving.

You nod your head up at him and he nods back, starting with slow thrusts to let you get used to him. The pain turned quickly into pleasure and soon you were moaning for him to go faster. He heeded.

His pace was brutal, his tip brushing your sensitive spot with each deep thrust. He was bent over your body now, his hips snapping into yours as he groaned and growled softly into your ear. Your hands were digging into his shoulders as his cock bullied your insides.

You felt that coil building up in your stomach again and pathetically mewled out for him, he nodded and kept up his brutal pace, the sound of his balls slapping your ass with each thrust filling the air.

"Cum for me" He growled, his voice taught with lust.

You nodded and seconds later you were pretty much screaming as you came hard around his thick cock. He came to, the feeling of your hot wet walls squeezing him was too much.

His hot cum spilled inside of you and the sensation drew a long moan from your mouth. His hips kept pumping softly as he came, his seed spilling deep inside of you.

He kissed your neck and stilled his hips, his cock sheathed inside of you. You moaned softly and rested your forehead against his shoulder. He murmured words of praise and affection and soon you were fast asleep, still fluttering around his softening cock.

Note: I'm not sure if this was good or not 😭 also, my requests are open still so feel free to ask or request :) 🩷🌸

[shaadiwish]

Best Nath Designs For Brides Of 2024

[ltash]

Ashes to flames

Part 1

British India:

1940s.

The flames flickered and crackled ominously as they prepared the pyre. You stood there, clad in a brilliant red silk saree that shimmered under the fading light. The red dot between your eyebrows, the sindoor parted across your scalp, and the heavy gold jewellery that adorned your fragile frame all marked you as a widow, a bride bound to her husband, even in death Your pearly white skin, striking against the deep red of your garments, seemed too pure, too innocent for the fate that awaited you.

Your long, dark black hair, wavy and unbound, cascaded down your back like the night sky, and the henna tattoos that covered your slender arms and feet were still vibrant from your wedding day. Each intricate pattern felt like a mocking reminder of what should have been, but never was.

The weight of the moment pressed upon you, and memories rushed through your mind like a torrent you couldn’t stop.

You had been born into a wealthy Rajput family, one of privilege and tradition. Your parents, progressive for their time, had sent you to school with British girls. You could still hear your father's proud voice.

"You're not just a daughter," he’d said, his eyes gleaming with pride, "you're my pride. You will make your own path in this world."

But the dream of forging your own path had shattered the day he passed away. The vibrant, strong man who had nurtured your hopes and dreams was gone, and with him, your world collapsed. You remember standing there, watching as your mother stepped into the pyre beside him, her face serene with acceptance, fulfilling her role in the cruel practice of sati.

You had begged her not to go, gripping her hand tightly, but she had only smiled. "This is my duty, my child," she had whispered. "It is what we must do."

And now it was your turn.

At 23, you had been forced into a marriage with an 80-year-old man, a frail and terminal figure you barely knew. Your uncle had orchestrated it all, ignoring your protests and pleas. Your life, once filled with promise, had been reduced to caring for a dying man, a man who never loved you, never saw you as more than a young wife to be bound to his deathbed.

As you stood upon the pyre, your heart pounded in your chest, cold terror coursing through your veins. The deceased body of your husband lay beside you, his wrinkled face unmoving, eyes closed in eternal sleep. It felt like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from.

Your uncle’s voice boomed from behind you, cold and resolute. "It is time. Your duty is clear. You belong to him, in life and in death."

Tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You were an abomination, they said, cursed to burn beside your husband. There was no escape now. You looked at the faces in the crowd, their expressions a mixture of reverence and indifference.

"I don’t want to die," you whispered to yourself, the words barely audible above the crackling wood and the ceremonial chants. Your body felt too fragile for the weight of what was expected of you.

For a moment, the world around you blurred, and you were back in the classroom, sitting at a desk with your British classmates, laughing and learning. You remembered the joy of those days, the dreams you had once nurtured, and the freedom you had tasted.

But it was all gone now.

The fire beneath the pyre roared to life, the heat licking at your feet, pulling you back into the present. Your breath hitched, your hands trembling as they were bound for the final rites. The crowd began to chant, their voices blending with the wind, carrying you closer to your fate.

You stood in shock, your mind screaming for escape, but there was none. The flames rose higher, and the scent of burning wood filled the air.

In that final moment, as the fire closed in, you closed your eyes and let the memories of your father, your mother, and the life you had once dreamed of wash over you. You had been a flower, once full of life, now destined to wither in the flames.

The flames raged around you, a roaring inferno that licked at the edge of your red silk saree, threatening to consume you whole. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning wood, filling your lungs with every breath. Your screams had become raw, a desperate plea that seemed to vanish into the night, absorbed by the rising chants of the crowd. Their faces, once familiar, now appeared distant and monstrous in the glow of the fire. Every inch of you trembled, trapped in the suffocating weight of tradition, knowing there was no escape.

Suddenly, through the deafening roar of the flames, another sound broke through, the thunder of hooves pounding the earth, fierce and unyielding. The chanting faltered, and for a moment, all eyes turned toward the source of the sound. Out of the swirling smoke, a figure emerged on horseback, riding at full gallop. The villagers stumbled back, their voices fading as the rider approached.

"Enough!" A voice rang out like a clap of thunder, so powerful it seemed to silence the world. It cut through the noise through the chaos, commanding attention.

Through the haze, you saw him, Lieutenant Admiral Simon Riley. His tall, imposing figure sat astride a powerful black horse, the silver insignias on his pristine uniform gleaming under the darkening sky. His face was set in a mask of anger, jaw clenched, eyes burning with purpose. His gaze met yours across the pyre, and in that moment, time stopped. The weight of the flames, the pressing heat, the terror, all of it disappeared as his eyes locked onto yours. They were sharp, focused, and filled with a fierce determination that left you breathless.

In one swift motion, Simon dismounted, drawing his sword in a fluid arc. The blade gleamed like polished silver, a beacon of power in the dim light. Without hesitation, he strode through the crowd, parting them with the sheer force of his presence. The people, once so confident in their cruelty, shrank back in fear.

His gloved hand reached for you. Strong, steady, unwavering, he grasped you by the waist as though you weighed nothing. With effortless strength, he lifted you from the pyre, cradling your fragile frame against his chest. The heat of the flames still crackled beneath your feet, but in his arms, the terror that had gripped you began to fade. You clung to him, your heart pounding, your body trembling from shock.

“I am taking her with me,” Simon declared, his voice low but lethal, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. His sword remained raised high, its deadly point gleaming, daring anyone to approach.

Your uncle, face flushed with rage, stepped forward. “You can not do this!” he shouted, his voice trembling with fury. “She is an abomination! The consequences, " He faltered, his eyes flickering with a mix of fear and arrogance. “The consequences won’t be good. Saahib, I warn you.”

Simon’s icy blue eyes narrowed as he turned to face your uncle. “You dare threaten me?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm. His grip on you tightened, his body a wall of strength and defiance. “You call her an abomination, yet you are the one trying to murder an innocent woman in the name of your backwards traditions.”

One of the villagers, emboldened by your uncle’s words, stepped forward. “She has a duty to fulfil! She must burn with her husband. It is our way!”

Simon’s jaw clenched as he glared at the crowd. “Over my dead body!” he thundered, his voice booming across the gathering. “You barbarians think you can hide behind your so-called customs? Killing an innocent woman under the guise of tradition? I will not allow it.”

His eyes swept over the villagers, daring them to defy him. No one moved. Even your uncle, who had always wielded power over your life, seemed small and insignificant in the face of Simon’s wrath.

The soldiers who had followed Simon arrived on horseback, dismounting swiftly and surrounding their commander, their faces set in grim determination. They moved into formation, shields, and rifles at the ready, forming an impenetrable barrier between Simon and the villagers. The crowd’s courage crumbled as Simon’s men stood at attention, their loyalty to him unshakeable.

Simon sheathed his sword with a sharp clink and swiftly mounted his horse, never once loosening his protective grip on you. With one fluid motion, he pulled you up onto the saddle in front of him, his arms encircling your body as he guided the reins. You pressed against his chest, your heart racing, your body trembling, still reeling from the terror of what had almost been your fate.

“Hold on,” Simon whispered, his breath warm against your ear, his voice gentle now, a stark contrast to the fury he had shown moments before.

As he urged the horse forward, the powerful animal surged ahead, hooves pounding the earth as the village disappeared behind you. The wind whipped through your unbound hair, and the world blurred around you as Simon rode with speed and precision, cutting through the night. His chest was firm against your back, a solid presence that anchored you as the remnants of the horror faded into the distance.

You glanced up at him, still too shocked to speak. His face was set in determination, but there was a tenderness in the way he held you, as if he had just saved something precious. His residence came into view on the horizon, a beacon of safety amidst the storm of chaos you had left behind.

As the horse galloped toward his estate, you knew that the life you had been condemned to, the pyre that had almost claimed you, was far behind. In Simon’s arms, you had been saved, not just from death, but from a life you had never chosen.

By the time you reached his mansion, your body had given up. The exhaustion, the terror, the sheer weight of what you had just survived had drained you of every ounce of strength. You could no longer hold on, and with a faint sigh, you collapsed in his arms, your head lolling against his chest as unconsciousness claimed you. Simon’s strong arms caught you, his grip unwavering as he dismounted his horse with practised ease, cradling your limp form close to him.

The grand doors of his mansion swung open as Simon carried you inside, his boots echoing sharply against the marble floors. His face was a mask of calm control, though the tension in his jaw betrayed the turmoil raging beneath the surface. The servants, startled by the sight of their master carrying an unconscious woman, rushed forward, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Sati! But she is alive!" one of the servants gasped, his eyes flicking nervously between you and Simon. The whispers spread like wildfire, murmurs of shock and confusion filling the air.

Simon’s eyes, cold and resolute, silenced the room. “She will stay alive,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. There was a finality in his tone, a command that left no room for doubt.

“But, Saahib… you shouldn’t have brought her here,” another servant, an older man with worry etched into every line of his face, stepped forward cautiously. He glanced nervously towards the door, his voice lowering as he continued, “They will come for her. The village… they won’t let this go.”

Simon’s eyes darkened, a flash of anger crossing his face as he looked down at you, your fragile form still limp in his arms. “She will stay here from now on,” he declared, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. His gaze returned to the old servant, daring him to say otherwise.

The servant hesitated, wringing his hands together anxiously. “But, sir… she has committed...”

“She has committed nothing,” Simon interrupted sharply, cutting him off with a glare that froze the words in his throat. “What they tried to do to her, that was a crime.”

Without waiting for another word, Simon turned and carried you through the wide, opulent halls of his mansion, the luxurious surroundings a stark contrast to the horrors you had just escaped. He moved with purpose, his grip on you gentle yet protective as if he were carrying something precious and fragile. As he reached his private chambers, he nudged the door open with his boot, striding inside.

He walked toward his grand bed, the soft linens and dark wood frame a world away from the pyre you had almost perished upon. Lowering you carefully onto the bed, Simon’s touch was tender, as if he feared you might break. He adjusted the pillows beneath your head, smoothing your hair from your face as he stood over you, his gaze softening for the briefest moment.

“She has nowhere to go,” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else, his eyes never leaving your unconscious form. His fingers brushed against your cheek, the warmth of his touch a faint comfort against your feverish skin.

The silence hung heavy in the room as Simon stood beside you, the weight of his decision clear in the set of his shoulders. He had saved you from the flames, but he knew the storm was far from over. They would come for you. But as long as you remained under his roof, under his protection, they would have to get through him first.

And Simon Riley had no intention of letting you go.

The soft clink of your heavy gold bangles stirred the quiet room, breaking the early morning silence. You blinked your eyes open, the weight of the ornate jewellery and the lingering scent of smoke bringing back the harsh memories of the night before. Your body felt heavy and exhausted, but you were alive. The bed beneath you was soft, a far cry from the pyre you had stood on, and the air was cool and still.

Simon, who had been standing near the window, turned at the sound of your stirring. His eyes, sharp and alert, softened when they met yours. "You’re awake," he said, his voice low but gentle.

You slowly sat up, feeling the weight of your golden jewellery shift as you moved. The red silk saree you still wore clung to you, a reminder of the ritual that had nearly claimed your life. Simon watched you closely, his expression unreadable for a moment, but there was something in his gaze, something like awe. You looked like an Indian goddess sitting there, the rich red fabric and gleaming gold of your attire contrasting with the delicate vulnerability of your face. Even in your weakened state, you were breathtaking.

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You are safe now,” he said softly, his tone reassuring, firm. “Nobody will touch you. I will make sure of that.”

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten with gratitude and fear all at once. He was offering you something precious: safety. A luxury you hadn’t known since you were forced into this nightmare.

“The servant will prepare breakfast for you,” Simon continued, his voice softening as he spoke. “Whatever you wish to eat, just tell him.” He offered a faint smile, one that barely reached his eyes before turning to leave, giving you space to gather yourself.

But something inside you panicked as you watched him turn away. Your hand reached out instinctively, fingers curling around his wrist. “They will come back for me,” you whispered, your voice trembling, the fear returning in waves. The memory of the village and the pyre still haunted you, lurking just beneath the surface.

Simon paused, his back still to you, his muscles tensing beneath your grip. For a moment, he said nothing, his silence weighing heavy in the air between you. Then, he turned his head slightly, his voice calm but resolute. “We’ll see,” he replied, his tone carrying a quiet confidence that made you want to believe him.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Simon’s servant stepped into the room, bowing slightly. “Saahib,” he said, a nervous tremor in his voice, “the village minister has come to see you.”

Your grip on Simon’s wrist tightened, fear surging through you once more. “They’re here to take me,” you muttered, dread filling your voice.

Simon looked down at you, his expression softening as he gently removed your hand from his wrist. “Relax,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “I will take care of them.”

He turned and strode out of the room, his footsteps purposeful, leaving you alone with the crushing weight of your fear. You sat there, frozen, barely breathing as you listened to his retreating footsteps echo down the hall. The walls of his grand mansion felt suffocating now, closing in around you as the threat loomed just beyond the doors.

Simon entered the living room, his posture straight, his face unreadable as he approached the man waiting for him. The village minister stood at the threshold, his weathered face lined with anxiety. As Simon drew nearer, the minister removed his turban and knelt before him, bowing his head low in submission. The gesture, one of both respect and desperation, seemed to fill the room with an oppressive air.

“Saahib,” the minister began, his voice thick with pleading, “please… I put my honour before you. Give her back to us.” He kept his head bowed, his hands trembling as he placed his turban at Simon’s feet, a symbol of his surrender.

Simon’s eyes flashed with anger, his jaw tightening at the man’s words. He took a step forward, his presence towering over the kneeling minister. “Give her back to you?” Simon’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it, sharp as a blade. “So you can burn her alive again?”

The minister flinched at Simon’s words but kept his head bowed, the weight of his shame clear. “It is our way, Saahib. The village demands it… her duty...”

“Her duty?” Simon’s voice rose, cutting the minister off sharply. He took another step forward, looming over the man. “Her duty is to survive, not to be thrown into the flames like an offering to your backwards traditions.”

The minister dared to look up, his eyes wide with desperation. “Please, Saahib, you do not understand… This is how it has been for generations. The village...”

“Don't try to lecture an officer of the East India Company. I don’t care about your village,” Simon snapped, his anger barely contained. “I will not let you murder her. Not under my watch.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, and he leaned in slightly, his eyes blazing. “If you think you can come here and take her, you’ll have to go through me first.”

The minister’s face paled, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words, but there was no room for argument. Simon’s authority, his sheer presence, left no space for negotiation.

“Go back to your village,” Simon said coldly, stepping back. “Tell them she is under my protection now. If anyone dares try to harm her, they will face the full force of the British army.”

The minister, trembling, scrambled to gather his turban and stumbled to his feet. He nodded hastily, backing away toward the door. “Yes, Saahib. I will… I will tell them,” he stammered before turning and fleeing from the mansion, leaving Simon standing alone in the heavy silence of the room.

Simon exhaled slowly, his fists unclenching as the tension ebbed from his body. He had made his stance clear, but he knew the battle was far from over. They would return, perhaps with more men, more pressure. But for now, you were safe.

And that, Simon vowed, was all that mattered.

[percervall]

it all fades to nothing (when I look at him)

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader Words: 2787 Warnings: mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of emotional abuse, slut shaming, Google translated German A/N: @kostasstsimikass and I started talking about Toto being your +1 to a wedding, and it got a little out of hand

---

When the wedding invitation came in, your first instinct was to say no. There was no way you were about to subject yourself to a public humiliation willingly. However, the longer you thought about it, the more guilt churned in your stomach. It wasn’t just anyone- not some vague acquaintance or a cousin thrice removed. It was the person you had come to see as a brother. His parents, your aunt and uncle, had been there for you and had taken you into their home when it all had gone to hell. So, suffice to say you couldn’t not go, and a phone call with your cousin made it even more clear that both him and his bride-to-be wanted you there. 

Your boyfriend had smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he read the invitation over your shoulder. The man loved a wedding –loved any excuse to get dressed to the nines and, in turn, spoil you with a pretty new dress or a piece of jewellery. It’s up to you, liebling, he’d said, but I know you will never forgive yourself for not going. You hated how well he knew you. You hadn’t been together long in the grand scheme of things, although it felt like you had known him all your life.

“Does this mean I get to spoil you?” Toto asked after you had filled out the rsvp.

“Knowing who will probably be in attendance, I don’t know whether to give you full rein or tell you no,” you replied, doubt tightening itself into a knot that sat heavy in your stomach. 

“You know how little I care about their opinions when it comes to you, liebling. If anything, it makes me want to spoil you more.” 

You did know how little he thought of them, disgusted by the way they had treated you –they being your parents, who had practically thrown you out of their house when you switched mayors your first year in University and pursued a career in law rather than medicine like your father had wanted you to so you could eventually take over the family practice. And a small part of you, a petty part, wanted nothing more than to show up dripping in Toto’s adoration as you showed off your combined wealth. Yet the majority of you was too scared to be branded the common whore again, the way they had when you were in your teens. Rationally speaking you knew it shouldn’t matter what they thought of you, after all they had made it abundantly clear they did not love you, but even after all these years that inner child still craved their approval. 

“I’ll think about it,” you eventually agreed. 

After a long phone call with your aunt, and later with your grandmother, you met him halfway: you’d pay for the dress and shoes, but Toto could buy you whatever jewellery he wanted. The grin he had given you when you set the terms of the agreement was truly a tribute to his last name and made you a tiny bit nervous that he would buy you a necklace with 50 separate sapphires or something ostentatious like that. Then again, Toto had impeccable taste so why should you be worried? The only clue you gave him was a photo of the colour of your dress –a stunning burgundy that reminded you of the blood oranges you would eat every time the two of you were in Italy. On his part, Toto gave you no clues as to what he had bought you until it was the day of the wedding. Your cousin was getting married in Tuscany and had offered the both of you a room in the villa they had rented for the wedding party. You were about to get ready after having breakfast on the little balcony of your room when Toto stopped you.

“I have something for you, liebling,” he said, pulling you onto his lap as he produced two jewellery boxes. 

“Toto…” you said, not finishing your sentence. You felt him smile against your skin as he kissed your cheek. 

“Open it,” he murmured. Opening the largest box first, you gasped quietly when you saw the dainty gold chain with two baguette cut diamonds –one along the length of the chain and the other vertically in the centre. You had a feeling that the stones would sit on the two places along your clavicle Toto loved to shower you with kisses and love bites. His habit of marking you had almost gotten the both of you in trouble on numerous occasions before you went public with your relationship, and even after it was often met with the unmistakable giggle of Lewis and a knowing look from Valtteri.

They glittered beautifully in the sun as you let the chain run through your fingers, your head filled with memories of the two of you in various hotel beds across the world. You just knew it would compliment your dress beautifully. 

“You spoil me,” you muttered, running a finger along the length of the chain. 

“Mm, good,” Toto replied, sliding the second box in front of you. You threw him a glare that you only half meant, and opened the box. Inside was a gold ring with three diamonds in the same cut as the necklace. The stones were held in place by two gold bands, making it appear as if the stones were floating. It was undeniably stunning and the set had probably cost him a pretty penny. 

Toto took the ring out of the box and slid it onto the middle finger of your left hand –a secret fuck you to your parents.

“Eines Tages wird das ein Ehering sein, meine Liebe,” he murmured in your ear as you both admired the way the stones caught the mid-morning light. Although your German had vastly improved ever since joining the Mercedes’ legal team back in 2021, it wasn’t enough to fully understand the words that sat heavy in your heart; even if you didn’t understand him word for word, the sentiment wasn’t lost on you. It felt like a promise, almost an oath. A year ago it would have terrified you, sent you running for the hills, but right now it filled you with so much love that you thought you could burst. You studied his face while he sipped the last of his espresso, admiring the lines framing his eyes and smile, hair still messy from where you’d tugged on it last night when it hit you square in the chest: you’d give up everything if it meant having him forever. 

Untangling yourself from him and the emotions that formed a lump in your throat, you excused yourself to get ready. Toto kissed the top of your head when he passed behind you ten minutes later to get in the shower as you sat down at the vanity to do your makeup and style your hair, deciding it would be easier to pull it back in a low bun. You slipped on the dress, running your hands over the silk material as you admired the way it hugged your curves in the mirror. Toto stopped buttoning his shirt to admire you. He came to stand behind you, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulder.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, schatz,” he said, leaving a final kiss behind your ear. You felt your cheeks heat up at his praise as you turned to look at him.

“Help me with the necklace, please?” 

Toto happily obliged, his large hands deftly clasping the chain, kissing the top of your spine. The tiny gesture sent a shiver down you as his hands came to rest on your hips. You looked at him in your shared reflection in the mirror. 

“Toto..” you warned him, but your voice was devoid of any real threat. He smirked a wolfish grin that had become his trademark over the years, but moved away from you. The look he gave you as he finished getting ready left no room for misunderstandings: at the end of the evening you were his to do with as he pleased. 

+

The ceremony had been beautiful, the display of such unfiltered love and adoration between two people had left you feeling emotionally raw. There had been several moments throughout the years where you had felt unworthy of such love. It had taken you nearly a decade of therapy and experiencing unconditional love to realise your views on reality had been skewed because of the way your parents had treated you. Toto handing you a flute of champagne pulled you from your thoughts.

“Are you okay, schatzi?” he asked, his eyes glued to yours. He knew exactly what had happened with your parents. During those long nights dealing with the FIA back in 2021, you had spent a lot of time together going over what had happened in Bahrain and combing through the rule book. Toto was a great observer, and while at the time you detested it, he had figured you out in an instant. He had been the first man who allowed you to open up while being there every step of the way. It had been so hard to be vulnerable, the damage done throughout the years making it near impossible. 

“Yes. No. I will be,” you replied, pulling him down for a brief kiss, not trusting yourself to say the words bubbling up in your throat –that you couldn’t stop thinking about tying you to him for forever. This was not the place nor the time to do so, this was supposed to be a moment to celebrate your cousin and his wife. 

Toto smiled at you, eyes soft and full of his love for you, and kissed you back as he murmured an ich liebe dich against your lips. You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him get pulled away by your cousins a moment later to discuss either a business opportunity of some sorts or golf, although that quickly faltered when your eyes met your mothers’. 

“Here we go,” you muttered, downing your champagne in the hopes it would provide the courage and patience you would need in order to deal with her and your father. 

“Mother,” you gave as a greeting when she approached you. Anxiety gripped your insides, but you steeled yourself, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she still held a shred of power over you. 

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal daughter,” she all but sneered. Her face was a tight mask of pleasantries but her voice betrayed her disgust.

“Oh no, see, that's where you’re mistaken. In order for me to be the prodigal daughter I would have had to come back home with my tail between my legs; show remorse for my transgressions. And if there’s anything I’m not, it’s remorseful for prioritising my own happiness over yours.” 

You could see your rebuttal took the wind out of her sails. She had anticipated you crumbling under her thinly veiled attack on your character, and had this encounter taken place three years ago or maybe even a year ago, you would have. 

“Your sharp tongue was always the thing that got you in trouble. No wonder you’re alone wearing cheap clothes and fake diamonds. There’s no man who would want a woman like you,” your father commented. It was a loaded comment, not only meant to degrade your intellect but also a way of framing you the way he had done when you were a teenager: a woman owning her sensuality and her sexuality could never be anything other than a slut in his eyes. 

There was no denying that his words hurt; he always knew just where to hit to knock you down. You could feel the anger simmering in your veins, trying your hardest to keep your cool and not give them the satisfaction of knowing they could still affect you. The scent of Toto’s cologne, the brush of cotton against your exposed back and the warmth of his hand on your hip as he came standing behind you was enough to ground you. Even if he was behind you, his presence felt like a shield against their vitriol. Of course his height helped in that sense; even in your heels, you just about reached his shoulder. 

“Everything alright, liebling?” Toto asked quietly, giving your hip a squeeze. You rested your hand on top of his, giving a squeeze in return as an answer and straightened up, rolling your shoulders back. You saw recognition flicker across their faces when it dawned on them who he was and what he was to you.

“My sharp tongue landed me my dream job as in-house counsel at Mercedes AMG Petronas F1, it got me a boyfriend who looks at me as if I am made to be worshipped. I don’t think he’d take kindly to the accusation that he buys me fake diamonds,” you said, your voice even and ice cold. It was the voice you usually reserved for dealing with stupid men in legal battles. Toto chuckled behind you, breaking the tension in your body. You were sure your parents were about to protest, make up excuses as to why you didn’t deserve any of the accolades behind your name, how dating a man twenty years your senior was more evidence for this. You didn’t want to hear it, no longer cared for what they thought of you. You had never been good enough for them, there was always something that displeased them; if it weren’t your grades, it was the way you dressed, how you flirted with a waiter, that you ate too much or too little. Something clicked inside your brain, a final piece of the puzzle that you had been looking for all those years: You were done trying to appease them, realising you never would get their approval –realising you didn’t want their approval, not anymore. The only person whose opinion mattered loved you unconditionally despite all your flaws and frayed edges, he could read you like an open book and knew just what you needed without you having to say the words out loud. 

“If you’ll excuse us,” you interrupted your father’s spluttering, turning around to face Toto who just smirked at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Both his hands rested on your lower back now as he leant down to kiss you. It was both so tender and so filthy and full of promise for later that it left you light-headed. 

“Wanna get out of here, schatzi?” he murmured. You nodded and let him lead you outside, leaving your parents seething behind you. 

Outside, you took deep, gulping breaths, tears burning behind closed eyes. They weren’t tears of sadness or grief, but you felt… Relief. Even though it hurt to have to hear those words, you were relieved you could finally stand up to them. You could feel the last rays of sunlight on your face as the sun slipped lower behind the rolling hills of the Tuscan landscape, painting the sky with hues of lavender and peachy pinks. It mirrored the way Toto’s words and actions warmed your soul.

“You did so good, am so proud of you my love,” Toto said softly, hugging your back to his front as he shielded you from prying eyes inside the ballroom. He kept whispering his praise and love for you, the words washing over you like a balm for your still healing heart. 

“I love you so much, liebling,” he said, brushing a finger against your cheek as you turned to look at him. His expression was so open, so full of adoration, it squeezed your heart seeing him this way and cemented the feeling that he was the one you wanted to spend forever with. 

“I know it’s unbecoming to discuss this at someone else’s wedding, and maybe this is all the emotions of today speaking,” you started after a moment of silence, “but I can’t imagine life without you. If-.. If you were to ask, I’d say yes,” you all but whispered. Toto didn’t reply to your admission, not with words at least. He tilted your face up, brushing his lips against yours as he whispered i love yous in between kisses. That was all the reassurance you needed that he felt the same way about you. A tiny voice in the back of your mind whispered that it probably wouldn’t be long before he’d give you a new piece of jewellery to symbolise just how much, to serve as a permanent reminder of his love for you, to make you his and him yours. 

This fic was meant to be a Toto supporting his girlfriend as she deals with her shitty parents, but it somehow ended up being strangely cathartic? (this is still a work of fiction, don't worry about me) It got a little out of hand and I am not entirely sure of the flow of this fic, but I also know I need to set it free because I could nitpick this thing apart for all of eternity. Please let me know what you think, your comments truly feed the fanfic goblins in my brain For anyone else who recognises themselves in this fic, I am sorry you had to deal with that, know that you are loved and worthy and good enough 😘

click here for more of my work

[autumnshighlady]

Am I Making You Feel Sick?

Celegorm x reader

summary: Celegorm has taken things too far, and you're both pushed to the breaking point and things get heated

warnings: THIS IS NOT A HAPPY ENDING FIC! celegorm is an asshole and reader matches his energy, borderline emotional abuse

fic based off of the song Strangers by Ethel Cain

word count: 2.8k

request: you are such an amazing author, i am in awe of your writing! if you are accepting silm requests, can i request a celegorm x reader? we all know that this lil meow meow can be very rude and cruel, even to people he loves, especially when he's stressed :((( what if reader is his wife and lately tielko has barely paid her any attention, causing them to argument :(( and in the middle of the argument celegorm being celegorm gets impulsive and throws his wedding ring towards reader :(((( today i woke up and chose angst

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“Are you listening to a thing I’m saying?” You snapped at Celegorm, patience wearing thin. Your husband was pacing back and forth, his fists clenched and his blue eyes dark. His long, pale blonde hair was unkempt, hanging loosely around his face. Normally, your husband took care in his appearance, weaving and braiding intricate jewellery into his locks. When you had first met Celegorm all those centuries ago in Valinor, he was always dressed immaculately, a playful smirk on his face and a mischievous light in his eyes.

But there was no sign of the elf you married before you. There was no light or kindness in his face as he scowled at the marble floor, muttering to himself in Quenya and ignoring you. “I do not think Finrod will appreciate you wearing holes in his floors,” you added. “So stop pacing and talk to me.”

“We cannot stay here,” was all Celegorm said sharply for the tenth time that evening. “I will not be indebted to my pathetic cousin who is content to let a mortal man pursue that which belongs to my father.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Too naive you were to think that Celegorm and Curufin’s peace and gratitude to their cousin for sheltering them would last. You had lost count of how many times you had been relocated. Your husband was prideful, his refusal to accept help and be seen as weak becoming your downfall.

“And where do you propose we go, exactly?” All patience you had left was gone, and you crossed your arms and stood in Celegorm’s path, halting his incessant pacing. “Morgoth broke the siege, the Pass of Aglon has been taken, we have nowhere else to go. We have to stay in Nargothrond until we regain our strength. We suffered a heavy loss, my love–”

Celegorm’s eyes narrowed. “You have lost nothing,” he hissed. “It is I who have suffered. You weren’t on the damn battlefield.”

His words cut you like a knife. Normally you could handle your husband’s angry moods, fits of rage that would blow over as quickly as they came. But lately they have been more and more frequent, each one leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Centuries of war and an endless quest had slowly chipped away at your husband like stonemasons on mountain rock. He had become a shell of the person he was when you fell in love with him, one that was harder to forgive with each argument.

“How DARE you?” You snapped, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze with equal fire. “You think I have not suffered amidst this ceaseless fighting? You think the constant war, the waiting on the edge of battle and having to pack up and move every decade has not had an effect on me? I may not be on the battlefield, but a piece of me is with you every time you go out there in that armour to try and get back some jewels. All because of that stupid oath.” 

To your fury, Celegorm merely rolled his eyes, turning away and striding over to the table by the bed in the guest room you were currently residing in. He grabbed the pitcher of wine, pouring yet another full glass and speaking with his back to you. “I will not have you whining about what you signed up for by marrying me,” he said dryly, taking a large swig from his goblet.

You scoffed, blood boiling. “Only you would call basic communication ‘whining’. I signed up for a marriage to the elf I loved. The elf who spent his days hunting and riding through the forest, who braided my hair in the morning and kissed me goodnight–”

Angrily, Celegorm slammed the goblet down onto the table, splattering droplets of red wine on the wooden table. They dripped down onto the pristine marble floor like blood from a wound. You flinched, stepping back as your husband stormed over to you. There was a mix of hurt and rage on his face as he grabbed your jaw in his hands, cupping your face. The gesture was anything but tender - it was possessive and dominant in a way that scared you. “Are you saying you don’t love me anymore?” He asked, voice trembling slightly.

Tears filled your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I’m saying that the elf I married and the one before me are not one in the same, and I do not recognize the latter.”

“That wasn’t an answer.” Celegorm said more sternly. “Yet it told me everything I needed to know.”

You shook your head, the grip your husband had on your jaw starting to ache. “Do not be like this. Do not make me your villain just because you want an enemy you can actually defeat and beat down.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you are losing this war, Tyelkormo. And you are taking it out on me and shutting me out because I am a reminder of all your mistakes. I am the face of your guilt and that is causing you to pull away from me because you cannot come to terms with everything you’ve done.” Your throat was thick with sadness, stomach churning at having finally uttered your darkest thoughts out loud. Never in any of your previous fights did you lay the truth so raw for your husband, ripping apart his delusions of grandeur and forcing him to face his reality.

Celegorm’s eyes darkened. “Everything I have done? It has all been for you, to end this quest so we can finally settle down and have a life together.”

You grabbed his wrists gently. “Do not lie to yourself, husband. You cling even now to thoughts of your own glory, and you are blinded by your own ambition.”

Celegorm growled and ripped your hands off of his wrists, releasing your jaw harshly and turning away. As you rubbed your jaw, the son of Fëanor continued his pacing angrily. “I swore an oath to my father–”

“As you did to me!” You yelled, voice echoing throughout the large chamber. Done you were with trying to reason with your husband. His anger and pain had festered like a wound for years, transforming and morphing into a dark and twisted creature that sought only the satisfaction of vengeance.

Celegorm matched your rage, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Why must you insist on my loyalty to one oath and my subversiveness to another?”

“Because one of those oaths is destroying you!” You crossed your arms in defiance.

“I cannot seem to figure out which one that is, as of late.”

You flinched as if Celegorm had struck you. The room felt still, as if any love between you two that was warming the space had been snuffed out. But your tears did not fall, to your surprise. Nor did you feel deeply wounded. You felt numb, as if those words he uttered had switched off all physical and emotional feelings. “If you feel our marriage is the oath that is ruining your life, then why are you still in it?” Was all you said, coldly.

Celegorm ran a hand through his ragged hair. “Why are you? If you feel shackled to this life then why stay with me?”

“Stop turning my questions around because you’re too much of a coward to answer them.”

He smouldered, that fiery rage inherited from his father blazing up within them. “I am no coward.”

“Yes, you are.” You let the words lash out of you, empathy gone. You wanted to hurt Celegorm, to make him feel a fraction of what you felt right now. “You are a coward who is too afraid of what others think. You are a coward who is too afraid to make the choice that you know deep down is right, a choice for which you refuse to make since it is easier to blame an oath you spoke in the fragility of youth all those centuries ago.”

Your husband angrily grabbed the table with the spilled wine, hurling it with all his might against the wall. The wood splintered and shattered with a loud crack, its broken pieces falling to the floor amidst the red liquid. “How dare you–” he began to yell but you cut him off angrily.

“Ah, yes, resorting to throwing things in a tantrum when I force you to see the truth,” you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “You really are your father’s son.”

Celegorm’s face went red, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “That is a compliment. My father was a great elf!”

“Your father was a fool,” you spat. “It was his arrogance, selfishness, and pride that got him killed, and I now see you will suffer the same fate.”

You did not stick around to hear your husband’s response as you brushed past him, slamming the door behind on your way out.

********************

The evening air felt good on your skin, the gentle water lapping at your feet. You sat on a flat rock by the edge of one of the cave’s pools, soft lantern light giving the area a yellow glow. It had been hours since your fight with Celegorm, and you had not crossed paths. You knew your husband would not be the first to apologise, not after everything you said. You were well aware that your words were hurtful, yet no guilt burdened your shoulders. It felt oddly freeing to finally explode like that, to throw words in his face instead of just being on the receiving end. 

Undoubtedly, Celegorm was sulking. Your husband’s temper was something you were always well aware of, and usually you were shielded from it. And for the last few decades, you had tried to understand his pain, to look at things from his perspective to justify his anger.

Yet now, you could not even do that. Celegorm’s madness had gone beyond your reach, the weight of his oath and actions dragging him down under the surface. You were no longer sure if you wanted to drown with him. A hundred years ago, you’d have walked through Angband for your husband. But now, you were tired of fighting. Tired of going to bed knowing that since you’ve been with him throughout this whole ordeal, you served as a walking reminder of the life he could no longer have. 

Celegorm would not be satisfied as Finrod’s guest for long, especially after the King allowed the human Beren to seek out a Silmaril with his blessing. You used to be able to predict how far Celegorm would go to get what he wanted, but now you were not so sure. Would he truly usurp his cousin in a mad scramble to gain control? You did not know.

Familiar footsteps sounded behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Celegorm was standing behind you.

“Am I no good? He spoke quieter this time, sadness replacing the anger in his voice from earlier. “Am I simply not good enough for you anymore?”

You closed your eyes and sighed, refusing to turn and face him. “It is not a question of being good enough for me, my love,” you said gently. “It is a question of being good enough for yourself, of being the male I know you can be. Your endless pursuit of the Silmarils has been at the detriment of me, your brothers, your soldiers, everyone. Yet you keep pushing as if we do not matter.”

“You don’t understand,” he continued, his voice echoing up the chamber of Nargothrond’s caves. “I have to do this. It matters more than anything.”

“More than me?”

A cruel laugh sounded from behind you. “Ah, so we come to it long last.”

You frowned, pulling your feet out of the water and standing up to face your husband. There was no sorrow in his eyes, his mood changing like a storm amidst the flowery spring fields. “What does that mean?” You asked through narrowed eyes.

“It means I always knew that one day you’d ask me to choose between you and the Silmarils,” he said heartlessly, his voice callous and devoid of love. “I’m surprised it took you this long, in perfect honesty.”

Anger churned in your gut. “You have forced my hand into doing so!” You snapped, voice rising. “Am I supposed to live forever in your shadow as a slave to your mindless choices? To never prioritise my own happiness or seek a life outside of war and quests?”

Celegorm gritted his teeth. “Again, you knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“But did you know how far it would go? How many losses you would suffer, how many battles you’d lose and how many fortresses would be taken? If you had, would you have married me?”

“I love you!” Celegorm insisted, his blue eyes wide and wild. “I have always loved you and wanted you by my side. It matters not what we face as long as we are together.”

“Do you not hear your own words?” You were yelling once again. “The horrors we have faced have been partially your own doing, you fool! We have been made refugees Eru knows how many times already, been rationing food and living in fear all because of a war you did not start but have certainly helped uphold with vigour!”

“Keep your voice down, many listening ears are turning our way.” Celegorm hissed, glancing around and the shadows of elves scurrying past you in the distance, no doubt wanting to get away from the yelling.

“Good, let them hear us,” you said sternly. “Now they’ll see you exactly as you are.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “And what is it, exactly, that I am, dear wife? A kinslayer? Murderer? Thief? I am many things but a liar is not one of them. I’ve always shown you exactly as I am, and you have accepted me until now. What has suddenly changed that entices you to hold this against me now?”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “Because you have not seen the error of your ways and refuse to change! I had hoped that as time went on you would mend that broken part of yourself and start choosing the path out of this darkness, but lately you have been rejecting that choice at every turn.”

“Everything I have done has been for a reason! There has been no error of my ways, nor do I need to change! I am simply doing what I swore to do and should not be punished for ensuring I see it through! You have not seen what I have seen, and yet you judge me for my actions. You have not been my wife as of late but a burden I must carry around, one that I can never make happy.” Celegorm’s rage was almost animalistic, like a wounded lion lashing out with anger. “If I’m such a horrible male, then go find someone better.”

With his final words, he yanked off the sapphire wedding ring from his finger, throwing it into the pool. You exhaled in shock, something inside of you breaking as the small but steady stream swept the ring away, carrying it into the deep crevices of the rock never to be seen again.

With a deep sadness, you looked into his eyes. The anger had subsided, and they were now wide as if for the first time in the entire argument, he couldn’t believe his actions. It was like a candle inside of you had been snuffed out - no longer was a scrap of the elf you fell in love with residing within the one before you. The Celegorm you loved was truly gone, replaced by a dark, angry shell of who he once was.

“You’re pathetic,” was all you whispered in disgust as the shock on his face changed into desperation.

“Shit, wait,” Celegorm pleaded, grabbing your hand and trying to hold it within his own large ones. “I didn’t mean–”

“Yes, you did mean it.” You ripped your hand out of his grip before turning to leave. After a few steps, you paused, as if some final hope within you wanted him to follow.

But he didn’t.

You sighed, turning to face your lover for the last time. “Consider yourself freed from the burden of our marriage,” you said coldly. “I hope you get those Silmarils you seek so desperately, and when you finally hold them all you can think of is what it cost you. And as the blood on your hands from the kin you have slain stains their precious light, and all that you hold dear is gone and turned to ash, I pray that you think back on our courtship. I hope the image of me haunts your every waking moment; and not even Lórien himself can banish the ghost of my memory, even as it walks amidst your dreams. I hope the mere thought of me makes you feel sick until the end of time itself.”

[sassyfrassboss]

So I work for a jewellery firm used by members of the British royal family and other foreign royal families, and the industry gossip or whatever you want to call it is that Meghan wanted an emerald from the Delhi Durbar necklace recut into an emerald cut stone with two emerald cut diamonds flanking it while on a rose gold band with pave diamonds… obviously she was told no but as the industry gossip goes, Meghan AND Harry were asking around different firms asking questions about stone recutting and custom made rings from owned stones. She was obsessed with having large, heavy weighing emerald as the centre stone and is for some reason obsessed with emeralds. Apparently its why she had a May wedding and had Archie in May too in order to try and get emerald jewels, and while some have firmly noted that Meghan wanted to customise the Lovers Knot tiara with the Vladimir emeralds, it is said she had also asked about Queen Victoria’s emerald tiara coronet and the tiara worn by Eugenie to various firms like the one I work within.

Well obviously Meghan has zero depth perception because the “Cambridge Emeralds” which are the emeralds used in the Vladimir tiara are way too large to ever fit in the Lover’s Knot.  

When her PR came out in August of 2017 about her getting an emerald engagement ring I knew that she was going to try and make “emerald” her signature color. Much like sapphire for the Princess of Wales. It was Meghan’s way of competing.

What I always found odd is that since then, Meghan has never worn any significant emeralds. I would have thought by now she would have a nice suite of emeralds on her own but instead she flashes her nouveau rich jewelry.

As for Queen Victoria’s emerald tiara that is now the Fife Emerald tiara. I wrote a theory about this years ago and stand by that theory. At the time the tiara was on display at KP and I think that Meghan thought she could just use it as it was there.

[iamjustaholeforyousir]

Breathe Me In

part 9 of Look What We Became

summary: the prince and the princess try to come on decent terms before taking big decisions, but not everything goes as planned

warning: fluff, smut, oral sex, f receiving, mention of various body parts (tho none of them are described in heavy detail.)

word count: 3000

minors DNI

part1 part2 part3 part4 part5 part6 part7 part8 part9

You decide to wake up late the next morning, too tired from the events of the previous night. The sun had risen completely as the rays pricked your close eyelids. You sit up, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes and look at the sofa Harry was supposed to be sleeping in, but you only found it empty. 

Not thinking much of it, you decide to get ready for the day. 

You had a short bath, and were now wearing a silk blue dress with intricate yellow and red patterns, the skirt of your dress matched the corset and the sleeves, the fabric on your chest had frills and matched the one on your skirt, that went right in the middle. 

You put your gloves on, and reached for your jewellery box, you took out the golden and blue earrings that your mother had gifted you as a parting gift at your wedding, the blue stone was stuck to the middle of the gold plate. 

You kept the earrings aside and you took out a matching pendant. 

Looking up in the mirror, you put the pendant around your neck, and when you reach down to pick up the earrings, you find one missing. 

A bit weary you wear on the earrings and then start frantically searching for the other one. 

“I believe we are looking for this.” you hear someone speak from behind, with a knowing and slightly annoyed face, you turn around to see your husband, holding one of your earrings, he had a smirk on his face, an expression that had invited you for a challenge, 

“Give it back.” you say, walking towards him

“No ‘ my lord’ or ‘prince harry’? Why princess, where are your manners?” he says, with a false disappointment. You take a deep breath “prince harry. Give. it .back.” you say, “not good enough, princess, i don't quite hear the begging element in your voice.”

“Please, my lord, give me my earring back.” you say, feigning sweetness.

“Why don't you come take it yourself.” he says, and so you take a step forward, and he takes one back, you take another one forward and he takes another on back, you walk towards him and he walks towards the door. 

“Catch me if you can, princess!” he says, before sprinting out of the room.

If he wants to play a game, you will give him a game, and you run out behind him. 

Running around the halls, hiding behind servants walking around, you both were just causing such chaos. 

You both were bumping into people walking, as you saw him make his way to the gardens, and you were glad, since you had more space to somehow catch up to him. 

You thanked the gods above that they weren't watering the grass just yet, because if they were, your dress and shoes would have been ruined. 

You are near the exit, a few feet behind your husband, when he takes a turn to the left, you reach the door and turn behind him, but he is not there. 

You stop, out of breath, you walk ahead searching for him, you look behind the wall, turn around and look the other way. How can one just disappear like this? You were starting to get concerned.

“Prince harry?” you called out, frantically looking around, trying to look behind the fountains, turning around to look back at the wall, doubting yourself, when suddenly you feel strong arms around your waist as you are pulled behind, hitting a very strong chest. 

His scent filled your senses immediately, a hint of caramel, sweet-smelling dried leaves and a touch earthy, hay-like scent, it calmed you down in an instant, as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

No words were spoken, as he just held you in his arms, for god knows how long, he let go when he felt your breathing was normal. 

He then removed one of his hands from your waist and tightly wrapped the other one around your torso, as if you would escape, if he let you loose. Opening his fist, your earring comes into sight, you put your hand on his, to take it, but he swiftly closes his fist again, trapping your hand in his, you look to your side, giving him a quizzical look, but he simply raises your hand to his lips, and gives it a light kiss.

He slowly moves down, kissing your wrist, peppering them along your forearm, placing a featherlike one on your elbow, moving up to your arm, kissing on your clothed shoulder. He reaches our neck and rubs his nose on it, inhaling your smell. 

He then lets go of your hand, and gently turns you around, your arms immediately flying up and snake around his neck, as his hands find the small of your back.

He pulls you in completely, your body flush against his, and kisses you, slowly, gently, calmly, not like the one he gave you last night, right now he was taking histamine, as if he was getting to know you.

Breaking the kiss he says, “if i knew you tasted so miraculous, i would have done this the second i saw you. Would have been all over your soft skin, taking away that innocent glow from your eyes, god you make me ferrell sometimes, you know that?” resting his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath. 

“Whatever happened to “getting to know one another before taking big steps”?” you ask, equally out breath, “i am getting to know you, aren't i princess? I know what you taste like, what you smell like, how you laugh, how you smile, how worried you get, what a poor runner you are-”

“I am not a poor runner.”

“Yes you are”

“I am not.” 

You both stare into each other's eyes, as if staring at the souls inside your bodies, with so much intent, the gaze was fierce, “yes. You. are.”

“No. i’m. Not.” 

It was getting really intense, before you both burst out laughing, “and now I know you are horrible at pretending to be intimidating as well!” he says, laughing like a madman, “oh really? You are quite pathetic at hiding!” you say, “please, you couldn't find me, you got all scared as well,” he says, as the laughter died, he had not let go of you completely, though the hold was loose, but he pulled you closer again, “careful princess, some might think you care for me.” he says, and you slowly move your head to look up at him, “i do care for you.”

“The queen is calling you both for breakfast.” you hear a voice, far from sweet, as if words were being forced out of her mouth, you both turn around to see who it was and sure enough it was deborah. 

Harry keeps his hold on you, and it becomes tighter, you look back at the girl, who was looking at you with sheer hatred. 

“Let her know we will be there soon.” he says, nodding his head, but she didn't move an inch, as if she had no intention of conveying that message. 

“I-”

“Let the queen know, we will be there soon,” he says again. A bit stent this time. 

She only looks down, bows and leaves. 

“Why must you be so distant, she was your lover after all.” you say, “i loved her, yes, i felt tied to her, as if we were already living a life together, and i deem lechery as the greatest of sins, though she did not commit lechery, not technically, it felt as if she did, and she showed no remorse. Now you tell me, my wife, wouldn't you show disdain to a monster such as her?” 

“I would not call her that.” you say, lowly

“If it were up to you, a traitor shall also receive a chance of redemption, you are too kind.” he says “something i am grateful for of course, if it weren't for this kind heart, i would not be able to do this.” he says, as he reaches to kiss you once again. 

You smile against his lips, before pulling away from him entirely, “do not take me for being too kind my dear, i can be ruthless when i want to win.” you say, “catch me if you can!” you say, and run back inside, Harry shakes his head and laughs, before running after you. 

You both reach the dining hall, panting as you both composed yourselves. Walking inside youtube your seat next to your husband. “Good morning, dear, did you sleep well?” the queen asked

“Yes, of course, mother.” you say, shyly, it was the first time you had called her that. 

“Mother? Aah,'' Harry says out loud, then leans into you and whispers “first you steal my heart, now you are stealing my mother? What more should I expect from you princess?”

You blush at this, you knew why he was saying such things, of course it wasn't as though he was in love with you, but he was making an effort, to show you that he at least likes you. 

“Yes dear, she is just like my daughter,” she says to Harry, and then turns to you and askes, “I saw you two retire early, was everything alright?” she asked, in a very innocent voice, you choked on your juice as you thought of what happens when you both ‘retired early’, you could feel yourself getting flustered at the thought of it, his hands, all over your body, his face so close to yours, and you don't know why, but it caused you to squeeze your thighs together. “Is everything alright?” she asked again, and Harry started patting your back,

 “Mother!” he says, looking at his mother with glaring eyes, “what?” she replies, again, innocently, “everything was quite alright, mother, we just needed to discuss some…things.” he says, while patting your back, your coughing came to an end soon, but your face was red, your brain was constantly playing the events of last night, the good ones, not the sad ones, you put our hand on his thigh, and you squeeze hard, which alerts him a bit he snaps his head to the side and looks at you, “princess?” he asks lowly, “um ... .uh, you must excuse me.” you say, as you get up, bow to all of them and leave for your chambers. 

The feeling was there again, and it hurt, you were really uncomfortable as you walked up to your chamber. It was the same unbearable feeling, the frustration. Blood rushed through your skin, and suddenly everything became hot, your brain was fuzzy, you couldn't form words, you could barely keep your eyes open, you carved the feeling again, the closeness, touch ,you craved touch, his touch, no one else's. 

You sit on your bed, as you remember the feeling, when he made you grind against his knee, that feeling when he was so close to you. God you needed to compose yourself. 

Harry was confused, you seemed just fine before, what happened? 

“She is probably tired, you both were running around quite a lot today.” his father offers some explanation, “no dear, i don't think that is it.” his mother says, with a knowing look. And Harry seems to understand, getting up he says, “i shall go see, weather she is alright.” and he sprints to your room, bursting the door open he finds you, laying on the bed, your chest heaving, as tears run down your eyes, you had closed the curtains and the room was dark, your dress sleeves falling off your shoulders and your skirt up around your waist, your knees were bent, and your legs were bare. You turned to face him,  begging him to come closer with your eyes, and he did, he closed the door, and ran to your side, “princess? What ails you?” he asked, and you just shook your head, you couldn't possibly say anything, “if you don't tell me, how will i help you? Hm? Tell me princess, whatever happened?��� he asked again, but you just took his hand, and guided it towards your inguinal region, his eyes followed your movements, as he saw what you're doing, he looked back at you. This was the boldest gesture you had made so far.  

“Princess.” he says, before taking a deep breath in, “please, do something, it hurts.” you whisper out to him, your voice was whiney, thin, small. 

He smirks at you and says, “Whatever happened to “getting to know one another before taking big steps”?” but you just whine louder, “i don't care! Just please! Do something! Please!” 

Your plea was enough for him to remove his coat, and climb on top of you, bending down he kisses you hungrily, he had never seen you this desperate, and he was loving it, your hands find his hair as you kiss him back, his hands reach your shoulders, pushing the dress further down, you help him remove the sleeves off your hands, and then immediately find his hair again, he again puts his leg between yours as you grind on it, and this time you moan, loudly, “whatever has gotten into you today? Never seen you like this, tell me,” he says, all breathy, “what made you so needy?” 

You dont reply, partly because you were too embarrassed to admit to your lewd thoughts and partly because you could not form a sentence in your head, “I asked you a question, didn't I princess?” he asks, and you just wail, “that is no answer.” he says, “what made you so needy princess?” he asks again, you shake your head, trying to find your words, as the feeling of pure pleasure fills your body, “y-you” you say, as you squeeze your eyes shut, due to the intense pleasure. 

That one word, seemed to have done something to harry, as he goes completely wild, he rips his dress shirt open, and pulls your dress below the swell of your breasts, he puts one hand, beside your head, removes his leg, from between yours, which causes you to whine once again, his mouth finds your right breast, and his other hand reaches down to rub circles against your clothed clit. Your right hand finds his shoulder, while your left pushes his head further down on your breast, the feeling had heightened, and your mouth was now open, no sound came out, no words, until you finally let a moan out and it was music to his ears. 

in one swift movement, he pulled your entire dress off of you.

You were bare in front of him, and you looked absolutely beautiful. He hovered over you again, and plants kisses on your neck, slowly moving down, to kiss the valley between your brests, to your stomach, and when he finally reached your clothed mound, looking up at you, he slowly, takes the fabric of your underwear between his teeth and pulls it away, you arch your back as cold air hit your wet pussy, then you feel him place a feather like kiss on your inner thigh, inching closer to your centre, he slowly brings his hand up and places his thumb on your now exposed clit, applying slight pressure and drawing circles, which seemed to make you look at him, moving closer to your pussy, he licked a bold stripe, tasting your arousal, and his eyes rolled back in his head, you could feel his hot breath against your cunt, which was contrasting with the cold air attacking the rest of your body, it made shivers run down your body, and harry looked up at you, as if to ask for approval, you nod your head, not knowing what exactly he wanted to do, but anything would good right now. 

You keep looking at him as he moves to come directly above your slit, to you, he was just being cruel, taking his time, mocking your state, but for him, seeing you like this, he was in awe, never had he been so sensual with anyone, never so gentle, no one had ever begged him like this, silently, they were all loud, and harry loved it, but this was different, and your taste was heavenly, nothing like he had before, nothing like hers, yours had a different sweetness, a different scent, and it was making him wild, like an animal, your whimper seems to break him out of this transe as he looks up to see your pained expression, without wasting more time, he ducks down and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it, and it made you hiss, without stopping he looks up at you, back arching, breasts in the air, and he didn't know if he was hurting you or if that was a pleasurable sound, so he stops completely, “Don't stop! please!” you cry out and that was all he needed to go back, tongue flicking the sensitive nub,  your hands flew to Harry’s hair, pushing his face further into your cunt, it felt right, and it felt good, you try to squeeze your legs together, but he pries them away with one hand and then brings his other hand and holds both your thighs in place, the room was filled with your moans and the sound of him licking you up, he unhooks his left hand from your thigh and goes to grab your right breast, pinching you nipple, your own hand finds his and you hold it from behind. 

You then feel a knot in your stomach, and it feels like you might pee, “ha- prince ha-harry!” you mewl and he hums against your pussy, the vibration caused you to moan loudly, “i- i think-”

“Let go.” he says, lips still against your mound, and that was all you needed as you came crashing down, felt like you exploded, you closed your eyes and saw stars till everything went black.

A/N: OMG FINALLY DAMN IT. i hope you enjoy this one really, part will definately be posted more frequently from now on, i was having some personal issues due to which i couldn't post on time. love you all.

stay safe❤️❤️

@strwbrrydaydreams @remuslupinwifee @inlikea-coolway @mypolicemanharryyy @sunshinemoonsposts @stilesissaved @novalunosising @sleutherclaw @dear-mylove @kiy0hime @rafaaoli @st-ev-ie @urmomsksjdjdjsj @lomlhstyles @love-letters-to-uranus @panicattheuc @grace-vega28 @inlovewithfictionalcharacters123 @natykn @ttkttt

[mahi-wayy]

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐍 | ᴅᴀʏᴀ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : Daya x Fem!Oc

ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ : Temper

ʟᴇɴɢᴛʜ : 2.1k

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs : Daya being daya, chaos with a capital c, gunfire, possessive behavior, cursing, I feel a little bad for murthi ji.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 he meets her and people are concerned, for themselves and the world.

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

------------------------

Naam daya hai jo usmein bikul nhi hai.

Accurate representation of him, he admits. People usually used it as a taunt which didn't really bother him because having mercy or empathy wasn't his point anyways.

But Daya was not a sadist, contrary to popular beliefs, he just didn't like to bother himself with things like fighting for righteousness. Especially in this day and age.

He was not enjoying tormenting people, he just had really really good survival skills okay. 

Another misconception was that he liked to play girls which he absolutely did not do, he just hadn't found the one he wanted to commit to. 

Well until that night. That night he found her.

It was ten in the night, he was on night duty and a little drunk when the police phone rang.

“Murthi!!! phone!!” 

He yelled knowing the male would answer the phone of his desk in a second. He hears bits and pieces of the conversation groaning at the last part of them heading over urgently.

Way to have a quiet night.

“Sir..”

He knew he would have to go but he doesn't bother lifting the file he has used to shield his face from the direct light over his head, his feet resting on the desk.

“What is it??”

“A girl called, her sister is being married against her will to some gangster. We should go sir."

He groans, keeping his position for more than ten minutes before sighing and lifting the file off his face, his hand going to grab the beer bottle, sipping it as he stands up.

It was a fifteen minute drive before they reached the house, decorated from top to bottom but definitely a little less for a wedding.

He steps out of the car, twirling the now empty beer bottle in hand, the jeep was parked beside the house, away from the entrance. The groom's procession isn't here yet so he hasn't gone out too why? Well he has a very simple plan.

Once the groom comes he will go demand a sum of money to get this marriage done, then he will go the girl's dad and propose to hide the plans of his daughter running away for some more money and at last he will call girl and ask her to come down and get her out of here for exchange of her jewellery.  

Wonderful plan no? He was patting himself on the back when he heard a loud thump from the roof of the jeep and turned just in time to catch a fully grown woman slipping off the roof of the vehicle.

Daya doesn't have much time to contemplate what and how, his feet move faster than his mind, rooting themselves in the ground, bracing for impact as he catches the woman.

He was about to say something very Daya but one look on her makes him speechless. The woman that fell in his arms was beautiful, long brown hair braided and decorated with jasmine garland, honey brown orbs staring back at him, dressed in a heavy sari and bare feet.

“Thanks!!”

He snaps when she pushes her way to stand up, picking up a bag she dropped.

“You're the bride?” 

He looks at Murthi when the man speaks before he could and just gives him a tight smile.

“Bri- Oh yeah that would be me.”

“Your sister called us to help, we will sort this out. We will make sure you don't have to marry that gangster.”

“...Yeah well my friends are waiting for me. Can you drop me there first?” 

The way she says that makes Daya suspicious but intrigues him at the same time. Before the old man could bring the morals he agrees to take her to her friends.

His suspicions start to come true when the woman asks them to stop in front of a club. She steps out, telling them she will make her friends inside and leave with them.

He watches as she easily slips into the club, like a regular there. Ten minutes turn into fifteen turns into half an hour and half an hour turns into a full hour.

“Did you know what the bride was named?” Daya asks, his suspicions now turning into full blown beliefs.

“Savitri.”

Daya turns to Murthi, eyes sparkling in amusement as he chuckles at the man's worried face and voice.

“What do you think is going on with her right now?”

“She is a girl in a club, anything could happen sir.”

“Should we go and check then? For her safety.”

“Really sir?”

“Yeah yeah come let's head in.”

It's really entertaining to watch Murthi give into him like this, they pass through the security easily, thanks to their IDs.

Inside while Murthi looks around towards the darker area his eyes search the dance floor and when he spots her his eyes widen, an amused chuckle leaving him as he taps the older constable on the shoulder.

“Hmm look, your Savitri is there.” Daya says, his finger pointing towards the bar and sure there she was.

Standing on top of the bar, dressed in a black mini bodycon dress, her hair flying like a wildfire, puff net sleeves covering her arms while her legs were bare, Her feet moving in a smooth rhythm even in a three inch heel as she danced to the music.

“Sirf naam Savitri hai, harktein Sheela wailin hain.”

The statement feels familiar as it rolls off his tongue but Daya brushes it off, choosing to turn towards Murthi. He snickers at the constable's expression before making his way over to the bar, slapping a boy out of the way who was reaching for her legs. For a minute he just observers her.

“Savi, here!!” 

A voice calls out from the crowd, the girl turns to catch a bottle of alcohol in time, definitely not her first of the night and chugs it down making Daya laugh out loud. He watches her dance for a little more before reaching out and folding an arm behind her knees knocking her off balance and he catches her, on his shoulder.

The female gives weak protests as he carries her out of the club, dumping her on the bonnet of the jeep, while the constable sits in the driver seat with a clearly upset look.

“Isn't it too soon to be celebrating a broken marriage?”

“What marriage? I wasn't getting married. I was under house arrest from my father. He's a businessman who had a party today.” Her words, even though slurred from the effect of alcohol, were clear to him and it just made his eyes widen.

“And used the police for it?”

He was amused, maybe a little irritated too but more amused.

“He cutt of my damn call services, there are only handful numbers I could dial. Ambulance wouldn't have gotten me out that left police, so I did.” 

“And what off the trouble you caused us?” 

“Well going by what I heard I don't really have money or many valuables on me but…” She slurred pulling off the golden bracelet and keeping it in his hands.

He was looking at the bracelet when a hand grabs his jaw and turns his face and before he could say anything two lips were pressing against his cheeks in a firm kiss.

She pulls away with a audible sound and a droopy smile and he is starts questioning everything he has ever seen in all the girls he has ever came across. 

She jumps down the hood and stumbles a few steps before he has to rush to catch her, passing out because of alcohol it seems. He laughs softly before tucking a hand under her knees and lifting her up bridal style and laying her down in the backseat.

From that night till today, that's a month later, him and her have practically moved in together. Savitri- sorry Savi went under another house arrest after that night and called him up again, his time going ahead and telling him to come get her.

He drove to her house but this time two bags fell down first before the woman jumped down on his jeep, the girl decided to leave her house but not without a good sum of cash and her favorite dresses.

Since she was adopted, she left behind a note for the actual daughter of that couple and her younger sister to just take her place and ask her parents to forget her.

For first weeks her whereabouts were a mystery before she walked into the police station, ten in the morning. Dressed in a red short cocktail dress, her hair were a mess she ran a hand through, while the other held her heels, her brows frowned in pain as she walks towards him.

“Why is there so much light?” She had groaned before sluming down in his chair, while he sat on his desk, her feet coming to rest on his thigh.

Turns out she got kicked out of the hotel she chose to stay in due to coming back late night, drunk and causing disturbance.

He had shook his head, sending someone to get her stuff from the club she was crashed in last night and just pressed his relatively cool hands to her eyes, she really was hungover.

Daya then has offered her to stay with him as roommates of course she has said yes. Living together was good, she stayed in for the day, they partied or simply drank together at night and sometimes gave him a idea or two get the extra money out of people.

They were like a match made in hell, for people that is. 

For them, Daya has felt the sparks between them since the moment she has kissed him that day and he knows is by the way she looked his way but she was ignoring it on purpose.

She was the one who kissed him first, she will be the one to propose to and he knew how to get her to say what he wants.

It was a simple plan, find a girl, talk to her and get Savi jealous. Yeah it went just a little bit downhill.

Over his corse of duty he has ended up befriending the blur cross owner, Saanvi. He decided to take her out, of course he told her it wasn't a date, just to hangout while he invited Savi to join him at the beach too.

When the female arrived all dressed in a blur dress and ready for Daya to ask her out, the only thing that had stopped her was the said man sitting with a girl. Too close for her comfort.

“Murthi ji!!!” She has yelled, practically summoning the constable from the driver side of the jeep, she stood by, to infront of her.

“Who is that bitch!?”

The male turned his head to look at Daya and Saanvi and answered her immediately.

“Oh!! She is Saanvi, the blue cross owner. She is really kind, sweet and a good girl-”

“Did I ask you to read the fucking thesis on her nature!? Did I!? Why the hell is she so close to Daya!?”

“The girl seems to like sir and maybe Daya sir would reciprocate her feelings too.”

When that didn't get a reply and just the way she opened the door of the jeep he thought she would storm out of the place, not her grabbing the back up gun and aiming for Saanvi's head, while the pet lover had her back to her.

Daya who has seen the jeep arrive from his peripheral, turned his head just to see Savi's face but he almost paled noticing the gun in her hand and a panicking Murthi beside her trying to calm her down. 

Woman lowers the gun and he sighs but the relief washes away as she strides towards them, gun still in hand which she does fire, right in his and Saanvi's feet.

She fired four shots before he yelled for Murthi to get Saanvi and held back Savi who yelled some very colorful sentences at the woman.

“Stay away from what's mine you bitch!!” 

“Savi-”

He was cutt off when the said female turned and pressed the gun to his chest, the barrel still a little hot from firing those bullets.

“The only feelings you will reciprocate are mine Daya, got it?”

He sighs before smirking and walking closer to her.

“So you do have feeling for me?”

“I do, I like you a whole lot SI Daya and I'm the not the normal kind. The next time I see you with that wretched bitch or any other girl I will shoot her first and then…” 

The gun clicking is all he needs to hear to know the other half of the sentence was, he nods before circling a hand around her nape and pulled her in for a feverish kiss.

Vizag was pretty fucked to be honest.

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tags : @vijayasena @voidsteffy @jkdaddy01 @mayakimayahai @mellaga-karagani @warnermeadowsgirl @rambheem-is-real @allari-ammayi