#i miss Vermin again

[deadandwalking]

if teenage years are the best years of my life why am i apologising to the little girl in my head why am i fearing my family falling apart why am i failing to accept my bio family are not good for me why am i worried about grades and jobs and life why am i preparing to mourn my best friend why am i fearing growing old why do i miss what i never had why do i miss people who don’t miss me why am i disgusted by my own urges, wants and needs why do i cry over the things i love the most why do i seek comfort in fiction because reality is against me why do i fear the touch i crave why do i feel i am dying

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: "Charlie, babe? Can you come over here for a sec? I need help proving a point."

Charlie: "Okay!"

Charlie: (ZOOMS over)

Charlie: "I'm here." (cradling vaggie's hand tenderly) (beaming) "How can I help...?"

Vaggie: "You just did."

Angel Dust: "Fuckin' show off."

Vaggie: (at angel dust) (Smug) "Your turn."

Charlie: "? Are we playing a game??"

Vaggie: "No but it's still gonna be fun."

Angel Dust: "Shush. I'm tryin' focus here! Ah-HEM."

Angel Dust: "Ohhhhh Husky man~ Would ya come over here an' help me with somethin', mr. whiskers-"

Husk: "No."

Angel Dust: "Pweeease~?"

Husk: "Fuck off."

Vaggie: "And there we have it."

Angel Dust: "Bullshit! You're NOT more attractive than me, toots! Not even personality wise!"

Charlie: "Was that the point we're proving?"

Angel Dust: "NOTHIN'S PROVEN!"

Charlie: "Did it even need proving??? I mean, look at her."

Angel Dust: "I'm lookin'. It's a lesbian only her lover could love."

Charlie: "I DO really love her~"

Vaggie: "And I try hard every day- Angel shut up- to be a little bit worthy of that love. Case in point."

Charlie: "Wait, go back to the point about not feeling worth-"

Vaggie: "Old news babe. Hey Husk! C'mere for a moment!"

Charlie: "-she's dodging the question!"

Angel Dust: "She's bein' an annoying bitch of a friend."

Husk: (slouching over) "The fuck do you want."

Angel Dust: "Shut. UP."

Vaggie: "Nothing much. Didn't want you to miss out on Angel Dust pouting that's all."

Husk: "Yeah?"

Charlie: "Awww Vaggie, that's really thoughtful!"

Vaggie: "Just doing my lesbian duty."

Charlie: "Angel Dust is a guy though?"

Vaggie: "A gay guy. It's solidarity."

Angel Dust: "I hate you."

Husk: "Huh. Fake hating people looks good on you, looser." (smirk) "Cute pout."

Husk: (wanders off)

Angle Dust: "......."

Angel Dust: (grabbing vaggie and lifting her to eye level) "I love ya we're besties for life and if ya do this t' my heart again 'm shanking ya in the middle of the night with a shiv made from a sharpened yuri manga."

Vaggie: "And I've never wanted you more. As a friend."

Charlie: "Okay good great wonderful friendship moment everyone. Now!"

Charlie: (holding out arms)

Charlie: "I want MY girlfriend back." (pouting) "Please."

Angel Dust: "May the sapphic be with ya."

Angel Dust: (dumps vaggie in her arms)

Angel Dust: "Ohhhhh Husk....! Guess who's POUTIN' agai- Whiskers stop runnin' an' look at me!!!"

Husk: "Once was fucking enough."

Angel Dust: "Once is NEVER enough fucking with me~"

Charlie: "Wow. Husk sure can move when he wants to..."

Vaggie: "Meh, he's not even using his wings."

Charlie: "He's really not is he? Aww!"

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: "...Vaggie. Is my pout cute too?"

Vaggie: "The cutest, sweetie." (smooches pout) "And most bi-utiful."

Charlie: "HEHEH."

Niffty: (from above) "I bet she'd pout even HARDER if I dropped this DEAD RAT in her hair."

Charlie: "A WHAT!?"

Niffty: "Dead rat."

Vaggie: "Don't you dare-"

Niffty: "Whee! Here we go!"

Chaggie: (running and screaming)

Angel Dust: (distantly) (shrieking) "HUSK RAT HUSK HUSK HELP RAT DEAD RAT HELP HUSK HUUUUUSK!!!!"

Husk: "-oh shit hold still DON'T FLING IT AT ME ASSHOLE-"

-EXLPOSION-

Cherri Bomb: "wHY IS THERE A RAT CORPSE IN MY BRA!?"

Niffty: "Your welcome!"

Cherri Bomb: "How! HOW IS tHERE A RAT CORPSE! IN MY BRA!!!!"

Charlie: "Cherri run just run-!"

Cherri Bomb: "Already one dead rat boob surprise too late for that!"

Niffty: "Happy pride month everyone!"

Niffty: (GIGGLING)

Niffty: "I bleached and dyed each rat corpse a different rainbow color~"

Alastor: "...Hmm?"

Alastor: (oozing out of shadows)

Alastor: "And no rat for me, my dear? No pride for poor old Alastor?"

Niffty: "For youuu? Iridescent cockroach!"

Niffty: (impales one on his antlers)

Alastor: "Oh I AM touched! ...Might I ask why the change in vermin, however?"

Niffty: "Irony!!" (CACKLES)

Alastor: (confused) (still touched) "Ah."

[allfearstofallto]

Always Under Skin, Even When it Gets Removed

Yandere! Childe x Reader

Part of {Mai Playlist}

Childe was a nuisance. Persistent. A vermin. Childe was a pest. Like an infestation of roaches, you could do everything in your power to get rid of him, but he'd still be somewhere nearby. Determination was one of his strongest traits, and he was determined to ruin you.

Being married to him was never in your cards and if you could've never met him at all, you would've been happy. Yet for almost a year, you were forced to be his doting wife. Only managing to steal yourself away after months of planning and a few close calls. The taste of free air, even if it was the air of Snezhnaya, was the best thing on your tongue, better than even your favorite food cooked to perfection.

You didn't think you'd live the life of a nomad, but it seemed easier. Paranoia was second nature to you now, and staying in one place seemed dangerous. He could be anywhere, around any corner, close by, but not showing himself until he knew it would fuck you over. Was living life on the road considered freedom? You didn't know, but anything would be better than another day with Childe.

“How far will this take me?” You held up a good ring to a carriage driver, making sure to keep your face covered beneath your hood. You took a lot when you left, mostly jewelry, things that were small and expensive.

He eyes the ring over before dropping it back into the palm of your hand, “It'll get you pretty far, but where are you even trying to go?”

“Anywhere is fine,” you said quickly.

The man helped you up into the back of his wagon, where he kept his wares. Mostly agricultural things, fresh produce and hay. It wasn't the best place you'd ridden before, but it was far from being the worst.

You understood why people were weary of you. You weren't making much of an effort to not come off as strange, but you weren't out to make friends. The wagon swayed as the sun began to set over the horizon, he didn't tell you how long he'd be driving and quite honestly, you didn't care. At the next port, you'd stow yourself away onto some other vehicle, never stopping, not even for a breath.

You let your head rest back against the hard wooden wall, you let your arms fall to your side, you let the movement of the wagon sway you to sleep. Morning would come and you'd be awoken by the well-known feeling of the carriage lurching to a stop and sunlight beaming through the cracks in the wall. Outside sounded like a bustling city, although you didn't know where, quite honestly it didn't matter.

“It's back here, sir,” you heard the voice of the carriage driver say as you watched shadows fall over the doorway. You can recognize Childe. Recognize his smell, his voice, a strand of his hair if you were to find one, and most importantly, you could recognize his footsteps. Slow, drawn out, and precise. Your blood went cold, noticing that the driver wasn't walking alone.

The door was slammed open and before you could even make a break for it, cold metal was pressed to your neck. Sharp enough to slice your head right off your body if you made any sudden moves, you could already feel the steel biting into your skin.

“Already running away again?” You didn't even want to look at him, but he used the tip of his blade to tilt your head up. Still wearing a smile as he looked down upon you, “I will admit, I'm proud of you. You managed to stay away longer than I expected,” the blade pushed a lot harder into your neck, “I missed you, my angel.”

You could say nothing as he took you by the hand, pulling you from the cart and onto the ground. You weren't treated gently, not when he was angry. His anger was a menace to deal with. The bigger the smile, the words his rage, and he looked practically elated to see you.

“You took everything, but this,” he tossed your wedding band down, it fell onto your body and landed on your thighs. The ring was warm, like he'd been clutching it in his hand. Knowing him, he probably hadn't let it go since he discovered you were gone.

Without much of an argument, you slipped the ring back on your finger. The small band felt more like a shackle, than something meant to adorn your body. With it, your taste of delicious, true freedom was ripped from your mouth almost as quickly as you'd gotten it. But you'd never get to taste it again.

Childe was all smiles and laughter as he helped you into his own carriage. That smile not reaching his dead, hollow eyes. The ride to Snezhnaya would be a long one, you wonder how long he could contain his anger till then?

[hurthermore]

»»------► 𝙰 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 (18+) - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎

Pairing: 𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗. 𝚂𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘.

Word Count: 𝟻.𝟽𝚔

Warnings: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝙰𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝

A/N: 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚊𝚑. 𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜; 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚍𝚔 𝙸'𝚖 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛?? 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈 𝙰𝙽𝚈𝚆𝙰𝚈

𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎.

𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗, 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚎!

You contemplated Alastor’s question as you laid in your bed.

“Why are you wedded to a man you hate?”

His words seemed to swirl like a vortex within the constraints of your mind throughout the entirety of the night as your husband’s disgusting touch held tight against your skin. It plagued your brain; seeping the sensation of guilt throughout your veins as you kept replaying the events that happened after he had asked that ridiculous question.

“Don’t spout nonsense.” You had spat at him; a natural reflex to conceal the truth. “I love my husband; and I don’t need you falsifying information.” A lie that departed right through your teeth. But in that moment, you couldn’t stand how easily he had uncovered how you truly felt about your vile husband within two meetings. “It’s best if we part here.”

Bringing a hand to your forehead as you heavily regretted leaving him standing on the street as you continued shopping alone, you felt like vermin. It ached your heart how you barely remembered how distraught his tightened smile seemed; almost missing how he attempted to grab your wrist as you walked away.

Why did you do that?

How he had known about your distaste towards your husband, you didn’t know. Were you just that easy to read, or was he just really perceptive? Again, you weren’t sure, but one thing you did know was that you felt remorseful with how you reacted once you returned home. Yet regardless of your regrets, you couldn’t understand why it hurt your caged heart so much that his smile seemed to emit anxiety and dread as you had a go at him for just asking a question. 

It was an invasive question, and a small part of yourself wanted to hate him for figuring it out, but the majority of your heart felt vile for even contemplating hating him.

You didn’t know how you could do that to him. How you could switch up on him in an instance and speak to him like dirt. He didn’t mean anything by asking that question, right?

He was the first person who had tried his best to bond with you since you were forced to wed your husband; in the short time you had known him, he had treated you so sweetly with a delicacy that had your heart racing, and you just had to treat him like that.

You could only compare yourself to your husband as you reflected on how quickly you had gone off on Alastor.

Why did you have to speak like that toward him?

You could only replay the same conversation in your mind as you got ready; for what, you couldn’t remember, Vincent had only demanded that you do as such. Looking at your vanity, you couldn’t seem to find the motivation to cover the now healing blemishes on your skin. You yearned to cry; a frequent occurrence for you. You wanted to see Alastor again, to apologise to him for your stupid tantrum over such a harmless question.

Why were you the way you were?

Ever since you had met Alastor; apart from the first sighting where he essentially stared you down on the street, you had wanted him to be your friend. Your first friend in a long time. You wanted to hear his charming voice again; to see his stupidly weird attractive face again.

Sinking your nails into your skin, you sighed. You needed to rid Alastor from your mind. You wouldn’t see him again until the broadcast, and until then, there was no need in fretting over the event; nor replay it like a mantra within the walls of your skull. 

Sitting up from your vanity, instead of using your usual make-up to cover your blemished skin, you opted for a long sleeved ruffled dress that flowed low against your ankles to cover the damage in its stead. Placing some small heels on your feet, you carefully ambled down the stairs, only to slow your pace as you watched your husband reading the local newspaper whilst he sat in the parlour room; your grip on the bannister tightened in frustration as he looked your way.

“It’s about time you were ready; you could’ve made me late.” You flinched at his oppressive tone. “Fucking women.” The frown on your face only deepened. It was his fault you would be late to wherever he was taking you; he was the one who refused to let you leave the bed until thirty minutes ago. Mumbling an apology, he only walked past you as he made his way towards his car, almost slamming the entryway in your face as you paced behind him quickly.

Attempting to ignore his aggressive tone, you sat in the passenger seat before your husband began to drive you towards god knows where. It was rare for Vincent to take you out; and similarly to whenever guests came over, he only took you places when he knew it would benefit him or his business. 

Like you were his accessory.

“You’d better start smiling, doll. Or else.” Vincent brought you away from your thoughts as you nodded silently. Plastering on a fake smile to appease him, he only rolled his eyes before continuing driving.

As you let your deceptive smile tilt down, you wondered if Alastor would treat you differently if he was your husband.

“You know, doll.” You flinched as your husband spoke up again, causing you to completely forget about your strange thought about Alastor before you could even question yourself about it. “You still haven’t given me a child yet.” Your entire body stiffened as those words left his mouth.

Not this again; anything but this.

“But that’s fine. We’ll just keep trying again; tonight, even.” The top of your teeth bit into your bottom lip as the sensation of the salted water behind your eyes threatened to cascade down your face due to his dreaded promise. Not again. You had only just started to heal up.

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Looking over at him, your whole face seemed to blink along with your eyes, almost appearing uncanny as all you could focus on was the steering wheel; your mind contemplating forcing the car to crash into something, anything. If you could only just touch the steering wheel, you could end both of your lives right now.

Then you wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Vincent’s harsh voice brought you out of dissociation again as you saw your hand attempting to reach out toward the steering wheel. Quickly, you placed your hand on top of his, caressing his repulsive knuckles as you tried to cover up whatever just happened to you.

Your intrusive thoughts of murdering him were becoming worse. 

“I… I’m still sore, Vincent. Can’t we wait..?” His eyes glanced at you as he took in your begging expression, your fingers rubbing against his hand as you pleaded non verbally for him to just not touch you for one night.

Just one night without his touch. That’s all you wanted.

Turning his focus back onto the road, he only scoffed. “You can take it, doll. Just like you always do.” Instantly, you removed your hand away from him and laid it into your lap. Of course he wouldn’t give the mercy of one night without his grubby hands all over you. 

You were stupid to even of hoped for such a thing.

You didn’t want this; you never did. And him only stating what he was going to do to you embedded an all too familiar fear into you that would hover around like a parasite on your back until he finally finished what was to transpire later. 

You dreaded it; dreaded the thoughts of him assaulting you again. It made you want to rip out your hair, tear the skin off your face, break every bone in your body.

Maybe then he would stop touching you.

Blinking rapidly as your husband's fingers began snapping in front of your face as if you were some type of dog, you turned your direction toward him with a blank expression. “We're here, get it together, doll.” He ordered before he left the car.

Glaring at him, you opened your own car door, stepping out as you took in the sight of the building you were parked in front of.

Oh no.

You stared at the corrugated steeled words that spelt out ‘Radio Station’ at the top of the large building, the same one that held a radio mast that towered over every other establishment around it.

Was today Friday?

You don’t remember it being Friday.

Why didn’t you remember today was Friday?

Trembling as you tried to accept that you’d be facing Alastor today, you panicked. You hadn’t thought of what to say to him; nor the best way to apologise. You didn’t even know if he still wanted you here to begin with.

He probably wouldn’t.

Not after how you stormed off on him.

He probably thought you were pathetic.

Yelping as your husband grabbed your arm, pulling you alongside him as he walked toward the two large entry doors, he whispered in your ear. “If you keep acting like theres nothing in that fucking skull of yours, then I’m going to make tonight that much harder for you.”

Slowly nodding your head, you began to walk with him instead of against him, forcing yourself to be on alert as you walked through the doors. You couldn’t help the anxiety that washed over you. Would Alastor act differently around you? Did he hate you? Would he tell your husband that you had spent time with him yesterday? 

You hoped all the answers to those questions would be no.

Watching as Vincent spoke to the formally dressed woman who sat at the reception desk, you felt a shock of energy piercing through you; sending a pleasant and familiar sensation down your spine. Tearing your gaze to the left, you saw the man who you couldn’t stop thinking about. Standing deep within the well lit corridor, he smiled at you with a grin that you would’ve found absolutely terrifying if you hadn’t acquainted yourself with him already. 

Alastor. 

As you gazed at him, you couldn’t prevent your expression from softening as he stared at you with that stupid smile you knew only he could pull off. All the anxiety you had built up, all the thoughts of what Vincent was going to do to your body later only vanished as Alastor slowly approached you; holding a bouquet that weren’t filled with just one type of flower, but an assortment of red carnations, red gardenias, and red roses.

You didn’t like how your heart ached as you contemplated who those flowers were for.

Yet as quick as the thought of him gifting another person some flowers pierced your heart, it mended almost instantaneously as he stood before you, pointing the bouquet directly toward you, causing you to fluster up; looking almost dumbstruck as you held eye contact with him. “For you, darling.”

Before you could even begin to wonder why on earth he was gifting you flowers after what had transpired yesterday, your husband's grating voice perked up, forcing your demeanour to flatten like a punctured tire. “There you are, Alastor!” Vincent essentially pushed you aside as he positioned himself in front of the radio host.

You watched as Alastor’s smile almost snarled. “Vincent. Lovely to see you, ol’ chap, but it's quite ill-mannered to interrupt, isn’t it?” Your body could only tense as you heard how furious Alastor sounded as he spoke through almost clenched teeth. It sent sensations through you that were the complete opposite to how Vincent’s agitated tone affected you. Whilst your husband’s aggravated tone always instilled fear into you, the tone that Alastor currently showcased made you feel protected and sheltered. 

It sent a sense of warmth to places you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Feeling a sense of joy and vindication as Vincent’s expression tugged at the muscles beneath his hypodermis, you wanted to laugh; to relish in how easy it was for Alastor to make him act like a recreant. Even if you knew Vincent only cowered for the betterment of his business, it still felt so good watching him be the one forced into a position of obedience and submission.

As Vincent apologised with a knitted brow, Alastor turned to face you again, his expression penitent as he offered you the bouquet of flowers once more. You could feel your husband’s enraged aura flow through the air as your hands reached for the bouquet, brushing the skin of your fingertips against Alastor’s rough yet silked hands. You couldn’t help how your heart raced, how flushed you felt just from the gesture; yet at the same time, it doused you in guilt. 

Why was he offering you flowers with his eyes filled with remorse?

Wasn’t it you who was to be the guilty one?

But you didn’t ask; wouldn’t ask. Not until Vincent left you alone with him. “They’re beautiful; thank you, Alastor.” You smiled, genuinely. Giving him a look of adoration without realising it. 

“Well, I did pick them whilst thinking of you, my darling!” He laughed to himself, making you shift awkwardly as you felt your husband’s looming presence beside you.

You could sense he was fuming from this interaction.

“Lovely that you got my wife some flowers, Alastor.” Vincent spoke with a false jest; you could hear the subtle venom laced within his voice.

“Well someone has to!” As Alastor responded, you could swear that his canine teeth were one of the sharpest sets you’ve seen throughout your lifetime. “That house of yours needs some plantation in it to liven it up!”

Vincent only chuckled with an undertone of frustration before he looked toward you. “Yes, well… I think it best we put them in our room, right, doll?”

No. Is what you wanted to say; you didn’t want anything that Alastor had gifted you to enter that disgusting room where most of your husband’s abuse took place. Didn’t want to sully it’s purity with vile things. But you nodded reluctantly; agreeing with your husband's coercive demands.

“Well!” Alastor almost shouted, startling you from your thoughts. “How about we practise this promotion before we go live?” Vincent agreed with smugness as you trailed behind the two men in front of you. Zoning out from Vincent leading the conversation with the taller male, you awed at the well made framed posters that hung on the walls throughout the building; all of them unique, starring each individual radio host who had ever performed for the station you currently walked within. 

You noticed how quite a few of them featured Alastor.

How had you never heard of him before? Sure, from the past year you knew it was due to Vincent not permitting you any media output to reach your eyes or ears; he very rarely allowed you to read the bloody newspaper. The only thing you had read from the local news was about the ongoing murders that had taken place by an unknown killer. But before Vincent, how had you never heard of Alastor? If the posters were anything to go by, he seemed rather popular.

You wondered what would've happened if you had met Alastor before Vincent was forced upon you.

Shaking your head slightly, you gazed up as Alastor stopped in front of a door that had unlit words above it that spelt out ‘On Air” before he opened it, holding it for you and your husband to enter. As you followed behind Vincent, Alastor closed the door behind you before resting his large hand against the small of your back. Away from your husband's gaze. You could only jolt with a strange sense of delight as you looked up at him.

Why was he always so touchy with you? Surely he knew how provocative it was, placing his hands all over you; a married woman.

Why did that make you feel heated?

Why was he touching you and gifting you flowers when you had treated him so poorly the day before?

He was acting as if it never happened.

Looking back at the flowers in your hands, you wanted to hide your face in them as Alastor gazed at you with tenderness wisped within his eyes. But as soon as his hand touched you, it left along with the moment as your husband turned around. You could only keep your flustered expression hidden from Vincent behind a blank expression and a tight smile.

As you subtly fanned yourself off as Alastor began explaining to Vincent what he was to do during the live broadcast, you took in the environment of the broadcasting studio. You could tell it was expensive just by the type of wood that held all the metalised equipment filled with buttons and dials alone. And as you stood there, you couldn’t stop twiddling your fingers into the bouquet whilst you contemplated what you were to do; there wasn’t anywhere else to sit but the two one seaters positioned next to the microphones, and they were being currently occupied by your husband and Alastor.

You didn’t know how much time had passed as you stood there, staring at different parts of the room, but it was long enough for you to take note of every slight damage within the ceiling. And as Vincent walked past you, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you watched him leave the room. 

Where was he going?

Should you follow him?

As if sensing your unease, Alastor spoke up. “He’s just going to the restroom darling. You can relax.” Looking back at the smiling handsome man who sat at the table filled with broadcasting equipment, he leaned his head against his hand before speaking again. “I apologise for leaving you standing there holding my gift, darling. Your husband wouldn’t shut up.” Offering him a soft chuckle, you made your way over to him as he proposed you set the flowers down on the table. Looking at him as you placed the bouquet down, Alastor grasped your hand within his before he pulled you closer toward him.

Indecent. Was your initial thought as Alastor guided you to stand between his legs whilst caressing your palm with his thumb. As he looked up at you from his sedentary position, your heart began to ache again. You still needed to apologise; perhaps this was the best moment for it.

“I’m sorry, darling.” You stilled as you heard Alastor’s voice be the one to say the words you wished to say to him. 

“Don’t be ridiculous; I should be the one apologising.” You spoke softly, hiding the confusion that doused you. It didn’t make sense to you that Alastor had apologised to you. He had nothing to be sorry for; you were the one who acted pathetically over a simple question.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my darling. I overstepped.” Why did it feel as though you were making up with a lover after a spat? You hardly knew this man; yet you allowed him to caress you and speak to you in such ways that would make any outsider believe you were having an affair with him.

“And I may have overreacted.” You whispered before you sat down in the empty seat behind you; Alastor’s hand still embracing yours.

“It wouldn’t have bothered me if you had screamed at me darling; just don’t ever walk away from me like that again.” His voice was dripped in adoration throughout his sentence until his last few words; they turned sour, almost possessive, angry in a way - yet somehow it made you want to obey him; to be owned by him.

Why did you oddly like the idea of Alastor owning you?

The heart within your rib cage began to thump far too fast for your liking as the thought entered your mind; your lips began to part as you tried to pant away the heat that ensued.

You watched as Alastor leaned toward you. “You still haven’t answered my question, darling. Not truthfully at least.”

“What question?” You tilted your head to the side.

“Why are you wedded to a man you hate?”

Your mouth gaped as your eyes downcast. “Because I have no choice.” You told him as truthfully as you could, stating how it was an arranged marriage; leaving out the fact that Vincent had out right bought you. And then you had lied, falsifying how it was easier to just stay with your husband, to be content with how life had turned out for you as divorce wasn’t something you could legally file for, being a woman in the 1920s and all. Mumbling your words as you asked him who would want you after you had been defiled by your husband if you did eventually leave him.

You said anything to prevent having to admit you only stayed due to the fear of your husband beating you into your own funeral.

Watching Alastor’s smile strain, you swore he said something underneath his breath, but before you could ask him to repeat himself, you heard the door rattle open; forcing you to snatch your hands away from the radio host before you got caught leaning into his touch more than you should have.

As Vincent walked in, he glared at you; looking at you as if you had fucked up. Instantly, you stood up from the chair a bit too frantically for your liking, missing how confused Alastor looked from how quickly you had left his side.

You felt overwhelmed in that moment; Alastor making your heart pump theatrically, Vincent almost catching you holding another man's hand, and having him be oppressively angry with you for sitting next to Alastor in the first place; it was too much.

“You sure are jumpy aren’t you darling?” Alastor spoke up. You felt yourself tense up as you pleaded for Alastor to shut up in your head. 

What if he accidently spilled something that made Vincent even more angry?

Was Alastor just luring you into a sense of safety before he crumbled it down just as your husband frequently did to you?

Why was Vincent’s mouth moving?

Why couldn’t you hear anything?

Why could you only hear static ringing all around you?

“I was only showing this little darling how the dials work, chum! No need to be so invasive.” The ringing halted as you heard those words leave Alastor’s mouth.

Of course he would cover for you.

You were scum for doubting him in the first place, weren’t you?

Looking back to Alastor, your mind fell silent as you saw his glared expression toward your husband switch to one of peace and content as his eyes fell back onto you.

Flinching as Vincent moved around you to sit in the now empty chair, you watched Alastor’s smile twitch in disgust.

Maybe you should have asked Alastor why he hated your husband too.

Gripping your own wrist, you began scratching at the skin above your ulna due to how awkward the air felt. “When do you go live?” You asked almost solemnly. 

Alastor took in your expression before he picked a gold plated pocket watch out from the chest pocket on his waistcoat. “In about ten minutes darling.”

You didn’t know if you could handle being in this room for any longer.

“Doll, why don’t you go and wait in the reception area until we’re done; I dread you having to stand there during it.” Bullshit. You knew that vile thing would relish in watching you awkwardly stand there like some mannequin. But you did want to leave; so with a nod, you quickly left the room, making sure to give Alastor a wave before you disappeared from his and your husbands view.

Leaning against the door, you finally breathed; heaved, almost. You wanted to sleep. The desire to rest was becoming more prominent as the day only seemed to continue to grow more and more overwhelming for you.

Walking towards the reception area, you slowly slumped down onto the hard sofa as you closed your eyes. You felt a huge flickering of conflicting emotions and thoughts surrounding you. You were so tired, exhausted from your husband’s abuse; you always had been, but now it was as if all of his abuse was building up like a bad rash inside of you, and it was breaking you in more ways than even Vincent was intending. 

At the same time, you felt so happy; happy that Alastor had gone out of his way to get you flowers, to apologise to you when you were almost positive he was putting unnecessary blame on himself, how he had held your hand as he listened to you lying about why you wouldn’t leave Vincent. 

You didn’t deserve his friendship, did you?

“Are you okay?” You heard a feminine voice ask. Opening your eyes, you made eye contact with the blonde receptionist from earlier as she stood over you with a worried expression.

“Oh! Uhm,” You quickly sat up straight, feeling embarrassed. She probably thought you were sleeping. “I apologise, am I allowed to sit here?” 

“Of course! Don’t worry; you came to meet Alastor, correct? How come you’re not with him now?" She asked as she sat down beside you. Your heart melted at the kind undertone that spoke throughout her words; words that were fast, rambling almost, like she had so much she wanted to say. 

“He’s broadcasting with my husband, I thought it best to leave them be during.” You explained with a smile.

Her face contorted into confusion as she tilted her head with a bounce. “Huh, if anything, I would’ve thought you were his guest.” You only raised an eyebrow at her as you asked her why she thought as much. “I mean, look at those flowers he gave you! I never thought Alastor would be sweet on someone!” She laughed casually as your heart thumped from the suggestion that Alastor harboured feelings for you. Upturning your eyebrows, you brushed it off as you explained that he only gave them to you due to wanting to apologise, but it sounded as if you were trying to convince yourself more than the woman beside you.

It was impossible for Alastor to feel that way towards you; you were married after all. And who would be idiotic enough to fall for a taken woman? 

Especially one who was as broken as you.

“You don’t know much about the meaning behind flowers, do you?” She smiled as if she knew something you didn’t. Shaking your head, she only smiled further at you; something told you she wanted to expand on her speech, but instead, she jumped as if she had forgotten something. “Oh!” You flinched ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask; do you want a drink?”

Thinking about it, you did feel parched.

Nodding your head as you told her what drink you’d like, she walked off, promising to be back shortly.

Placing your hands over your heart, you attempted to slow the rapid beating of your heart. It had been so long since you had conversed like that with another woman; it was nice, refreshing, easy. You didn’t even know this woman's name, but you liked her. She seemed sweet; the type of gossip, but sweet.

As you turned your head to look through the window, you wondered why she believed that Alastor felt something for you. The meaning of flowers? You weren’t aware flowers had meanings to them. 

Perhaps you could visit one of those florist shops when Vincent next allowed you to go out.

Hearing clicking of heels coming toward you, you turned your head back around as you gracefully took the drink the receptionist gave you; her face beaming with a smile before she sat back beside you.

Not that you didn’t enjoy her company, but didn’t she need to work?

As the both of you sat there in silence, sipping your drinks, you felt at peace. It was similar to the peace you experienced when you were by Alastors side; yet not quite as protective. “You know,” The woman beside you began, interrupting your thoughts. “Alastor’s show has never had promotional content on it before.” She spoke almost absent-mindedly before she took another sip of her beverage. 

You looked toward her, not really understanding why she was telling you this. “Oh?”

She nudged you with a grin. “Yeah, we have a specific host that puts out all of our promotional content during the mornings and late afternoons; Alastor has no need to provide advertisement.”

That was the last thing you expected to hear.

If what she said was true, then why was Alastor so adamant on doing business with your husband? And why was he attempting to form a friendship with you in the process?

Before you could ask her to explain a bit more, you both jumped as you heard a door shut rather loudly; yet not quite a slam. Hearing the faded out voice of your husband coming closer and closer, you deflated. This would be the end of your conversation.

Turning around to say goodbye to the woman before your husband came over, you had to double take as she wasn’t there; she had moved to the receptionist desk. Narrowing your eyes with a raised eyebrow as she sat there, her face expressed sympathy as she gave you a small wave.

“Come on, doll, we’re leaving.” Vincent huffed as he made his way toward the entry doors.

You were leaving already?

You stood up before Alastor turned around the corner, carrying the flowers you had left in the broadcasting room. Smiling as you saw him, you padded your way towards him with a hop in your step. Approaching him, his smile widened, causing his eyes to crease upward along with it.

“I’d hate for you to leave without my gift, darling” He handed the bouquet back to you as he spoke. Looking into his eyes as his fingers brushed against yours yet again, the receptionist's words swarmed your mind. 

Was Alastor sweet on you?

Before you could respond, Vincent called you out by your name; a warning sign not to disobey him.

Thanking him, you turned around, walking toward your husband with your gifted flowers in hand as Alastor closely walked beside you, brushing your arms against one another as you left the building. Yet a frown etched into your face as your husband's car entered your view.

The memory of Vincent’s earlier promise formed in your mind.

“I’d like to come over on Monday for lunch.” Alastor had stated out loud whilst looking down at you. But even if you wished to, Vincent would’ve heard his request, and therefore would not permit it.

“I’m busy on Monday, Alastor. Another day, perhaps.” Your husband spoke out in a grumble.

So he had thought Alastor was asking him. 

Directing your attention onto Alastor, he rolled his eyes with a smile as he mocked your husband silently; you reciprocated his jabs with your own silent chuckle.

Gesturing for him to lean down to your height as your husband’s back turned toward the two of you whilst he unlocked the car, you placed a hand on his shoulder as he obeyed your silent request. Leaning on the tips of your toes, you whispered in his ear.

“I’ll see you Monday, Alastor.”

Quickly skipping away toward your side of the car so you didn’t get caught by your husband, you began waving at Alastor with your free hand before you entered the vehicle. But you weren’t expecting to see Alastor standing there with his hand covering the lower half of his face as his other hand waved back at you.

Why was Alastor covering his face?

Before you could think any further and inevitably piss your husband off, you sat in your seat; only smiling at Alastor until he left your vision as your husband began driving.

It was an oddly silent drive. One that had you trembling slightly.

Sometimes the silence was worse.

As the roads became more familiar, all you could think about was what Vincent was going to do once you got home. As you glanced at the flowers in your lap, you had hoped it would take your mind off your current thoughts; but it was futile.

Suddenly, you gasped as the flowers were ripped from your hands. Shocked, you turned toward Vincent, who slammed the car door as he stormed inside your home.

You hadn’t even realised you had arrived home.

Fumbling to open the car door, you ran after your husband. “Give them back!” You screamed at Vincent; something you had never accomplished before; but it filled you with a rage you had never felt before as Vincent stole your gift.

A gift from Alastor.

“Excuse me?” Vincent said in a challenging tone. His face looked blown out with rage as he dared you to speak up to him again.

“Give them back.” It wasn’t as harsh as the first time you said it, but your tone stayed stern.

Without thinking you reached for the flowers, grasping onto them as you tried to take them from your husband’s dirty filthy hands.

He didn’t deserve to touch Alastor’s flowers.

Falling back as Vincent pushed you away, he threw them on the floor before stomping all over them; killing every single stem that bloomed an assortment of red petals. 

“You’re never seeing that prick again.” Vincent ordered once he had finished desecrating Alastors gift. “I was stupid to believe you when you told me you didn’t want to fuck him; it’s all over your whoreish face that you want him.”

Even as he spoke, all you could look at; all you could think of was the beautiful flowers that had been crushed before you.

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

As Vincent grabbed your wrist with a bone crushing grip, spitting words in your face about how he was going to hurt you, you surprised him and even yourself as you slapped him across the face with a harshness you hadn’t known you harnessed.

Your breath began to heave as he looked at you with an expression that was more vile and disturbing than anything you had witnessed before.

Before you could apologise to him, you blacked out.

The last thing you saw was Vincent hitting you back.

← 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 �� 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 →

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@cherry-cola-100 @hana-en @undrgroundtheme @roxxie-wolf @mutifandomkid @gentle-aesthetic-bby @itsmskeisha @k1y0yo @d34dl0ve @reikamasama @taygirl24 @alastorssimp @ieatcocoa @tremendoushearttaco @spottypug @bishiglomper @marcysbear @zazamagicaldonut @little-slyvixen @wendigonamecaller

[hedwig221b]

several sentence sunday monday

Thanks for the tag, @endwersed!💗 I'm shaking with the need to share this wip that I've been writing for @hotgirlstiles and as it won't see the light until I finish it, I thought I'd treat all of you lovely kittens with this piece

Carefully, he inspected Stiles’ face since the omega refused to meet his eyes. “Do you want a second date?”

Stiles was silent for as long as he could afford, and then murmured a quiet and guilty, “No.”

Sharp satisfaction splashed upon Derek’s insides like burning acid.

“Want me to reject him for you?” he asked with his head inclined.

Stiles stiffened with one steak lifted above the plate. He turned his big eyes at Derek.

“You’ll do that?” he asked in awe-filled disbelief.

Derek clenched his teeth so as not to blurt out all the things he was ready to do just for that gaze alone.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Stiles bloomed with a breathtaking smile. For the first time that day, it was completely genuine, fresh like the first rays of sunshine on the morning dew. His eyes shined and his cheeks went pink with pleasure.

Derek couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to.

“Thank you,” said Stiles with a true shyness this time trembling in his voice.

Unable to speak, the wolf nodded.

He wanted to run again. Not away, but just run to expel the energy, the rage, and elation that built in him from being near Stiles. All his senses were on edge, strung tight like a cord, ready to snap and take.

How much would Stiles fear him were he to know how close Derek was to wolfing out? Would he run? Would he scream when Derek inevitably chased?

The tips of Derek’s fingers shook with restraint. He clenched them into fists.

He didn’t talk much after that, closer to his wolf than usual. He couldn’t tear his gaze — most certainly intense and uncomfortable — from the now relaxed omega. Derek waited until Stiles took the first bite before taking his own — something that was easily missed by the omega who hardly knew any of the werewolf traditions and what it meant when the alpha steps aside and let you lead.

Stiles crawled under his skin where the fur lay hidden, waiting for a chance to burst and growl. He went further, through Derek’s muscles and his veins — his very flesh — to settle there as if he owned the place.

Derek tasted the food that the omega made for him — god if only he knew — and hungered for the taste of the future with him.

He wasn’t alone in that hunger, though. Oh, no. Those filthy vermin wanted Stiles, too. In fact, one of them sat not even an hour ago across from Stiles, just like Derek did now, and fantasized about the same things.

Yet, Stiles came back to him. He came back because he knew Derek could provide for him just like he wanted. Stiles came back and asked the wolf to get rid of his rival.

If only Stiles knew.

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[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

My Fair Lady's Maid (Regency!Aemond x Lady's Maid!Reader)

Part 2: An Ordinary Man

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: none

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: We're only with Aemond this chapter, but Miss Doolittle will return in the next!

An Ordinary Man

Aemond stepped out of the carriage first, extending a hand to help Helaena climb out. He knew his sister well, so he knew her legs would already be sore from dancing all night and did not want her to stumble on the loose gravel drive.

“Did you see the fireflies?” she asked as she climbed out. Her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyelids had begun to droop. “They were insistent, were they not?”

In truth, Aemond hardly remembered there being fireflies in the garden of their host’s estate. He had not ventured outside – the ladies were outside, and he had no intentions of being dragged onto the dancefloor. Still, he smiled at his sister and nodded.

Daeron clambered out of the carriage behind her. His cravat was rumpled, and his hair ruffled, as he always seemed to be after an evening out. “They were! I swear the same one was following me all night. I simply couldn’t shoo him away for longer than a minute.”

“It was all the sweets on the table outside,” their grandfather, Lord Otto Hightower, added as he stepped onto the drive. “I wouldn’t eat a bite. Who knows what other manner of vermin lurked about.”

Helaena flounced through the open doors, smiling brightly at the footman. “Fireflies aren’t vermin, grandfather! They’re beautiful.”

“Forgive me,” Otto said, gently grabbing her elbow so he could kiss her brow. “Of course they are.”

From a distance, Aemond wanted to say, but he wanted to keep his sister happy more, so he remained silent as they all gathered in the parlor. He removed his gloves, dropping them on the surface of the sideboard before withdrawing a bottle of his favorite port, much needed after such a long night.

“Are you going straight to bed?” Daeron asked as Helaena moved toward the stairs. “You don’t want to talk to us?”

“I need my rest!” she called over her shoulder. “My new lady’s maid will arrive tomorrow, and I want to give a good first impression.”

All three men smiled to themselves, waiting until her footsteps faded to speak.

“What use is there in making a good first impression on a servant?” Aemond wondered.

Daeron sighed, rolling his eyes as he stepped up to the sideboard, grabbing a glass and a bottle of sherry before reclining dramatically on the chaise. “Servant or no, the new girl will be her closest companion. Better the relationship be friendly, no?”

He uncorked the port and poured a generous amount into his glass. “I suppose. And it is in her nature.”

“Did any of the young ladies catch your interest, Aemond?”

His hand froze, hovering over the stem of his half-full glass. He swore that if his grandfather brought up the question of a woman one more time, he’d banish the old man to the shabby cottage deep in the woods, where he’d never have to hear that damnable question again.

He had sworn the same the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.

One day, he may actually follow through on it.

That night, though, he simply seized the bottle of port again, filled his glass to the brim, and downed it all in one gulp. The burn in his throat was far more tolerable than any of the simpering women at the ball.

The Tully girl with the lifeless eyes of a dead fish and equivalent intellect. The Lannister could do little else but bat her eyelashes and assault the ears around her with her tittering laugh. The four Baratheon girls, each utterly vexing in her own unique way. And many, many more besides.

“Aemond?” Otto asked again. The false joviality vanished from his voice.

Damn, he’d waited too long to answer. Perhaps he could still pass it off as being consumed in thought?

“Why even ask?” Daeron half-laughed as he swirled his sherry. He always had to swirl it around for several minutes before he deemed it acceptable to drink but gave no reason for it. “He only ever looks at them long enough to notice their flaws.”

Aemond filled his glass again – only halfway this time. “If their flaws weren’t so noticeable, I may have looked longer.”

“Every young lady there was well-bred and well-accomplished. Several of them were even charming, by my estimation. Any one of them would have made a perfectly suitable wife.” His grandfather leaned forward in his chair, steepling his hands together. It was what he always did when trying to use reason to get his way. Oftentimes, it worked.

But not with this.

“I have neither the need nor the desire to find a wife, as I have made quite plain.”

“Every man of our station is in want of a wife, grandson.”

Aemond huffed. “I have no true station. I am nothing but an ‘ordinary man.’”

The words were not his own. It was only an echo of his uncle’s cruel words after the House of Lords had passed the judgment that left Aemond with no more than what his elder sister had deemed acceptable consolation for losing the lands and title that should have been his.

Now, all he had to his name was an old hunting lodge for an estate and a courtesy title. Rhaenyra had not even granted him a pocket borough to allow him into Parliament – that was given to her fool of a son who only rarely attended his duties.

“Even without the title, you are still an important man in the county. Kingswood is a large and profitable estate, and you command great respect from all.”

The empathy in Otto’s voice grated at Aemond. He, too, was a second son who stood to inherit only what his elder sibling would give him. But he could not truly understand; their situations were far too different. Otto had never come nearly as close as Aemond did to the title. It had been so close he could still feel its phantom presence upon his shoulder.

He stared at his reflection in his glass, elongated and deformed by the curved glass. “I still fail to see what benefits a wife would bring me.”

“A proper wife, a wife of good breeding, would enhance your reputation, grant you new allies, and perhaps even expand your holdings.” His grandfather hesitated before continuing, the only indication of his nerves the tightness in his raised brow. “The right match may even bring a title for your children to inherit.”

Aemond set his glass down with such force that it shattered under his hand, shards digging into his palm. It was a welcome distraction. “Nothing I cannot obtain myself.” Save, perhaps, the title. But he knew better to hope for what was impossible.

Otto was silent a while, sipping on his drink. Daeron did not dare disturb the silence. He’d been witness to this fight before. Aemond knew that in only a few more moments, his younger brother would awkwardly raise a different topic, and they could finally move past this particular subject.

But it was not Daeron who broke the silence. It was Otto.

“If you will not accept a wife for advantage, perhaps you will consider the personal benefits?” He looked at his grandson with an affection Aemond had not seen in years. “This estate is in desperate need of a lady’s presence.”

“We have Helaena,” Daeron whispered.

“Yes, but she lives in her own world, and I have no desire to force her into a role she does not want.” He turned back to Aemond, who steadfastly ignored him in favor of picking bits of glass out of his palm. “But we would all benefit from that role being filled.”

Aemond wrapped his handkerchief around his hand, tying it tight enough to stem the bleeding.

“I am not asking you to love the girl, Aemond. Love in marriage is rare, after all.” Otto’s voice faltered. He had experienced love in his marriage, though he rarely talked about their late grandmother. It was better that way, Aemond told himself. Hearing those love stories made his stomach roil. “But would it not be pleasant to have someone by your side? To help manage the estate and ease the burden on your shoulders? She could read to you, sing for you, play that pianoforte that has been collecting dust for years. She could decorate the house, maybe even with her own art. The ladies we met tonight were exceptionally accomplished. They could do all that and more.”

Wishing he had not smashed his glass for want of more alcohol, Aemond finally faced his grandfather. “Is that supposed to impress me? That they have grown proficient in what they have been trained in their entire lives?” He smiled wickedly. “Even the most foolish girl could be trained to do the same.”

“Even that girl we met in Rosby today?”

With his question, Daeron had shattered the argument as if it were a plate of thin glass.

Otto stared at his youngest grandson, then at Aemond, then back again. “What in God’s name were you doing in Rosby?”

“That creature was more beast than girl.” Aemond clenched his fists as he recalled the pitiful thing sprawled on the dirty road, the horrible noises she made, and…

“She was scared, Aemond.” He had never heard Daeron sound angry, yet here it was. “You frightened her.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that.” Aemond dug a finger into the largest cuts on his palm, almost immediately feeling blood soak through the handkerchief. He remembered very well the way the girl had stared at him – at his ruined eye and horrible scar. It was as if she could not believe he was real. Like he was some terrifying monster that had escaped from a book of faerie tales.

Daeron set down his glass, still full, and crossed his arms. “Then you insulted her.”

“I made observations.” He doubted the girl would even perceive his comments as insults, that she had the necessary intellect to do so.

“You called her a wretch and a goose.”

Aemond clenched his jaw in frustration. Why should Daeron care about what he said to some varlet? “I never said she was a goose. I said she sounded like one.”

“A ‘strangled goose,’ if I remember correctly.”

“Semantics.”

“Cruelty.”

Otto slammed his hand into the arm of his chair and stood, his face red with anger and eyes wide with confusion. “Will one of you kindly explain what manner of creature you met in Rosby of all places? And what she or it has to do with Aemond needing a wife?”

“It was nothing,” Aemond insisted. “An unfortunate encounter that has absolutely no bearing on this conversation. Or any conversation.”

“At the market today, Aemond quite literally ran into a poor girl in Rosby who was selling flowers. She was thrown to the ground, her flowers were destroyed, and she was distraught, and Aemond did nothing but dismiss and insult her. He wasn’t even going to reimburse her for the cost of her lost wares.” Daeron stood from the chaise and approached his brother, arms still crossed and eyes hard. “You just declared that ‘even the most foolish girl’ could be trained to act like a well-bred lady.” “Why shouldn’t that be true for that flower girl?”

Aemond snarled, the left corner of his lips twitching upward into a sneer. “I never said it wasn’t. But as I said, she had nothing to do with – ”

“Prove it.”

Both young men snapped their attention to their grandfather, their own argument forgotten.

“What?” Aemond asked. His anger was quickly morphing into something like dread.

Otto approached. There was no longer a trace of anger or confusion on his face, only a delighted smugness that Aemond knew well to fear. “You say any girl can be taught to be a lady. I am asking you to prove it – with that girl from Rosby.”

Daeron barked out a laugh, returning to his sherry and raising it in a toast. “A brilliant idea, grandfather!”

“I can see no reason why I should do such a thing,” Aemond insisted. He was fighting to control his anger and indignation. His jaw was clenched to the point of pain. Perhaps it would shatter like his glass had.

“If it is a reason you are looking for, grandson, I will give it to you.” Though he had no need to, Otto tilted his head back to look down his nose at Aemond. “If you prove that even this pitiful girl you’ve described can indeed be trained to be a proper lady, then I shall never broach the topic of your marriage again. You shall be free to marry whomever you wish or to not marry at all. But only if this wretch from Rosby becomes a passable lady – and not only by our estimation. She must prove herself publicly. The Embassy Ball would be ideal, don’t you think?”

He stepped even closer, forcing his grandson to retreat a step. “But if you cannot, and the poor girl makes a fool of herself, you will marry. I will arrange a match with one of the many fine ladies we saw tonight, and you will marry her within the year. Without protest.”

It was too great a risk, Aemond knew. It was more than likely that he would end up married to a woman he did not love who would upend his perfectly peaceful life.

But there was a chance…

A chance to leave all the countless arguments over his marriage in the past, to never have to hear his grandfather’s nagging again. He could live his life precisely as he wanted, without having to sire heirs he did not want or worry about inheritance. Daeron would be his heir, and his children after him.

Otto knew it, too. He knew he was dangling a feast before a starving man only to lure him into a trap. It was that knowledge, along with the self-satisfied smirk his grandfather wore, that made Aemond’s decision for him.

 “Very well, I accept.” He extended a hand to seal the wager.

As his grandfather shook his hand, Aemond could not help but feel as though he had made the worst decision of his life.

[webslingingslasher]

i wanna bite peter. no. i NEED to bite Peter.

his skin looks so yummy i crave it😁😁

it's been a long three days and you've missed your frat boy past the point of insanity.

mentally, you were scratching your arms and had a twitchy eye. physically, you were power walking to frat row. the second, and you mean the second, peter texted you and told you he was back from his weekend trip, you dropped everything to see him.

he wasn't even done unpacking when he heard your soft stomps up the stairs, he knows it's you just by the sound. peter had missed you more than he would admit, he couldn't wait to give you a bruising kiss to prove it.

'petey!' it's loud and he doesn't care one bit. his girls in front of him.

'trouble!' opening his arms wide, he's ready for the hug of his lifetime. you're nearly bouncing over to him before pulling his arm down. peter's eyebrows furrow, he thinks you're going for an awkward wrap around, until you tug his shirt sleeve up and sink your teeth into the meat of his bicep.

'ah! you vermin, get away!' he's doing the world's weakest job at pulling away, you smile into his skin before shaking your head like a dog with a bone.

peter had expected you to jump on him and kiss over his face. you had done nothing but tell him how much you missed him and his 'strong arms' and the second you can be in them again, you treat him like a chew toy.

you missed his arms alright, missed eating them, that is.

'hey, c'mon, i missed you too! i want a hug and a kiss, then you can nibble as much as you want.'

you dot kisses over the skin you had under your teeth, 'i missed you so much.' peter's whiny this time, 'then give me a hug!' he wants his arms around you so bad.

you wrap your arms around him and tuck your head under his chin, you can tell how much he really missed you when he fully relaxes into your hold.

'slept like shit without you.' kisses on your forehead has you happily sigh into his chest. 'liar, you hate sharing a bed with me. you always threaten to kick me out.'

peter didn't realize how much he missed you waking him up in the middle of the night for some bogus reason. it made him feel loved, it didn't matter what time it was, you wanted him to be the first person you told anything to, even if it was just a weird dream.

he won't admit that though, instead he says, 'you're right, it was nice not being woken up to cold feet and philosophical questions.'

'knew it,' that means you know he missed you more than he'd ever tell you. 'can i please have a kiss now?' if you'd ever say no to that question, especially when he asks it as soft and hesitant as he just did.

but that doesn't mean you can't give him shit, you let out a pretend groan, 'fine, i guess so.' revealing your face, you blink at the overhead light in his room.

instead of grabbing you passionately, he cups your cheeks and smushes your lips together in a pout. peter takes his time looking you over, he's silent and it makes you feel shy.

While you look down for a second, peter whispers out to you.

'my baby.'

his lips are on yours, a sense of home and peace envelops you. clenching at the waist of his shirt, you lean up to fully melt into him. peter's thinking the same way, wrapping an arm around your lower back to pull you flush into him.

peter pulls away for just a second before he's back on you, placing three quick pecks before breaking out in a smile.

'i have no fucking idea how i'm going to survive the summer,' you bite down on your lip, summer is months away, he's not able to imagine a future without you and it makes you ultra giddy.

'easy, i come stay with you for a few weeks. i think may and i would get along.' you expected him to roll his eyes, instead he nods his head. 'i think she'd love that, she's always hinting she needs another woman around her.'

you kiss your teeth at him, 'three days without me and you're planning the future. i love to see it.'

'it made me realize how much i like having you around me, even if you're biting me.'

you gasp, eyes widening at the forgotten idea. 'oo, thanks, petey!' you swing your head to clamp your teeth into his arm, a hiss follows.

'you're a fucking rat and so uninvited from my aunt's house!' 

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Astarion with a chef s/o who loves sharing her cooking with everyone?

He wants to like this. Truly.

The first few decades of being a vampire Astarion missed the taste of food. Disgusted that he had to resort to rats. Feast on blood and death. When he was allowed out, he would always try to sneak meals out as Cazador never allowed him anything but the rats and vermin, but he soon realized that he had no appetite for it. Blood was all he craved. Even the rarest meats just tasted of nothing in his mouth as he chewed. He also realized very quickly that what he was missing was not food but the memories of it he could never capture again.

Astarion knew that [Y/N] was an excellent cook.

They boasted a resume of some of the finest restaurants and taverns in Baldur's Gate and Faerûn. Claiming they were a 'culinary adventurer' before all this mess started. The rave reviews from the public and their camp left no sense of exaggeration on their skills, so if anyone was going to cook something for him, he would like it would be [Y/N]. With their clever cooking skills and all the love they poured into it, surely this would fill him up, right?

Yet still, nothing.

"Everything alright Astarion?"

The vampire looked up to see [Y/N] clearing their mains. His own plate embarrassingly full compared to the almost licked clean ones of their camp mates. He really tried. But all he managed to muster was a few bites and to push the food around. "Oh yes darling. Delicious as always." He replied though. Charming smile in place as he handed them back the food. Guilt coiling into his stomach along with the few bites he ate for wasting it.

"Well, I hoped you saved room for dessert. I tried something new today."

"Dessert? My, what decadence." Shadowheart commented before sipping her wine.

"Sweets are for children. I won't be having any."

"Can I have Lae'zel's then if she's not going to have it??" Karlach asked as the githyanki folded her arms in full resolution against sweets.

[Y/N] came out of their prep area they had made in camp with a tray. Lined with small bowls and handed one to all around the fire. "Pudding?"

"What's so special about pudding?" Shadowheart asked as she poked at her own bowl of goo.

"First of all, it is not 'pudding'. It's sanguinaccio dolce. A southern sweet cream based dish made with bitter chocolate and pigs blood. There's a lot more work in that than just 'pudding'."

Astarion looked up from his bowl with about as much surprise as everyone else. "Whoa whoa whoa. There's blood in this?!"

"I mean, yeah. It's where the 'sanguin' part comes into play in the name Karlach."

"I'm not eating blood!" The tiefling remarked, with a level of disgusted that Astarion felt was warranted but still hurtful.

"There's blood in the roast you just ate. You had no problem with that." [Y/N] remarked.

Karlach seemed to start back tracking. "Well...yeah but...that was cooked...."

"So is this. Try it. You might like it."

"I've actually heard of this dessert before." Gale commented as he examined his spoon full of pudding critically. Like it was a science experiment. "It was mentioned in a few books I read. Not often mind you. It is certainly an acquired taste. More of a traditional dish than anything."

"Look. If you guys don't want to eat it...."

"No, no. I'll give it a try."

"Once you've had a tadpole in your eye I suppose...." Shadowheart said, before swallowing a lump in her throat just before the pudding.

They all took a bite in unison. The expressions of the others lost to Astarion as his eyes lit up. This was actually very good. Really good.

His mouth was filled with blood and dark chocolate. A sensual taste and sensation as his tongue was coated with the velvety soft dessert. And he could actually taste it. Was this what people meant when they said food was better than sex? Because he could almost believe it now.

Astarion ate his dessert with gusto, while the group continued to in trepidation, as [Y/N] came over to sit beside him. No dessert. Just observing their handy work. "What do you think?"

"It's delicious." It might have been the first time he meant it. "It's certainly a...unique concept. What inspired you to try it tonight of all things?"

"You never eat my cooking." Astarion was taken aback. Although honestly, he couldn't be that surprised. They had eyes. They knew he never cleared his plate like the others. "So I wanted to make something I hoped you would eat."

Astarion was surprised. All this effort just for him? No one had ever put in this much effort for him. Or any effort at all. He felt incredibly moved. But of course, he couldn't let them know that. "I eat you darling." Astarion quipped as he slid closer to them. "Isn't that enough?"

"It's not the same." They told him. "Cooking is my life. It's my passion. I wanted to share it with you."

"Are you suggesting our relationship isn't passionate enough?"

[Y/N] chuckled. "Not like that. But...I want more than that. Sharing our interests and hobbies. Not just our bodies." Astarion sat there for a moment. Contemplating their words as he stared at the now empty bowl.

He had heard the phrase before of ‘food nourishes more than just the body, but the soul’. He thought it was some other ridiculous saying like the food was better than sex comment and shrugged it off. But now, Astarion thought he could understand it.

He felt full for once. Not just by the small dessert, but for with the effort, the time they put into it, the thought. He knew very soon his usual instable hungry for what really sated him would be back, but for now he felt….content.

“I suppose I’ll have to start developing some hobbies.”

[Y/N] chuckled. Then gave him a kiss before they took his bowl and went to clean it. He licked his lips once they were gone. Still tasting sweet chocolate and ruby red on them. Already hungry for more.

[mrs-hatake]

JJK Men Texting You After a Break-up

warning: mentions of violence and stalking. relationships: male x afab!reader a/n: i added yuuta to the list :D also, all images below belong to me‼️

Toji:

The monotonous voice filling the room does not succeed in stealing Y/N’s attention from her phone as it lights up with yet another incoming call.

Toji

Stares back at her, his infamous smirk can almost be seen on the screen as the notification shows his fifth missed call in less than two minutes.

Being stuck in an important meeting on a product the company right after a break-up is the absolute worst. 

Y/N and Toji spent the previous night arguing about something that she cannot remember at the current time. But Toji’s thundering voice rattling her heart in her ribcage rings clear in her ears.

A jab to her side and Y/N is met with a side glare from her colleague who points at her phone with her eyes. Flushing in embarrassment, Y/N hurries to switch off her phone when a text message from her now ex-boyfriend catches her. Scoffing, she sends a quick reply before switching it off.

Satoru:

Binge watching all the feel good chick flicks is the best remedy for Y/N’s broken heart. 

She has shed some tears as the women on the screen cried over a relationship gone sour, has laughed when the female characters enjoyed themselves and has felt empowered when the women got over their heartache and moved on with their lives, becoming the better versions of themselves. 

Which is why when Satoru’s name pops up on her phone, she doesn’t feel the butterflies fluttering about in her tummy like they usually do. Instead, there are tiny spiders crawling in her veins, eating those vermin. 

Pausing the movie, Y/N picks up her phone with disinterest. 

A breathless chuckle, one lacking mirth, rushes past her lips. 

What a ridiculous message her ex has sent her.

Kento:

Going to a bookstore, browsing the shelves for hours and filling the basket to the brim with new books and reading one of them at the coffee shop across the street was Y/N and Kento’s go to date idea.

They will sit at the coffee shop from early afternoon until the sun is just about to set. Having read quite a handful of chapters, they’d review the books they’ve read. Though they don’t read the same genres, they have the maturity to respect the other’s interest and provide honest inputs when asked for. 

But after their break-up just a few days ago, Y/N can’t stand the sight of hers and Kento’s bookshelves in their living room. The only way to shield her from such a sight, the one that taunts her of a lost love, is by retreating to her and Kento’s room. The only solace is that Kento is staying over at a friend’s house until he finds a new apartment to rent. 

Even though she misses Kento, even though she wants him back, Y/N refuses to be the bigger person and takes the first step. 

Which is why when Kento texts her, she doesn’t respond in her usual chipper attitude.

Suguru:

“…So I says to the guy, that’s my ma!”

Y/N shoulders shake as laughter erupts from her. Though the joke itself wasn’t funny, the way her date delivered it with so much enthusiasm is hilarious enough. 

Y/S has been nervous for the past week over the prospect of dating again. She just got out of a break up a little less than a month ago and she isn’t completely ready to be back on the dating scene but her friends have convinced her that the only way to get over a guy is by meeting someone new.

So, she downloads a dating app her friends recommended, matched with someone interesting enough and, here she is, on her first date after being in a relationship with Geto Suguru for two years.

Warmth floods her veins at the look her date is directing her way, gentle and curious, it’s a sight Y/N hasn’t been on the receiving end in a very long time.

She’s glad she is on this date. It’s time she thinks of herself for once.

But her resolve shatters when her phone lights up, showing Suguru’s name.

She picks up her phone to block his number but his message has her rolling her eyes. Typing a quick response, Y/N blocks her ex.

Sukuna:

Finally, after years of emotional abuse, of nights crying herself to sleep, Y/N has finally broken-up with her boyfriend of five years. 

Ryomen Sukuna’s luck runs out when he finally pushes Y/N over her limit. Their last fight has Y/N throwing whatever object she can find at the tattooed man. When he successfully dodges them, she chases him out of her apartment with a kitchen knife.

That was a month ago.

Now, Y/N is in the living room of her new apartment, playing some violent game where whenever she rips off the arms, legs and head of a male character, she pictures them as Sukuna.

Horrifying, true, but this is what happens when you date someone as deranged as Sukuna.

Which is why when Y/N gets a text from an unknown number, her blood boils. 

How the fuck did Sukuna manage to get her new number?

Yuuta:

Dating Okkotsu Yuuta is like dating prince Charming. 

He spoils you with gifts, sings songs of praise, touches you with care and wakes and sleeps to your name on his tongue. 

Which is why, when Yuuta calls Y/N the wrong name in bed — the name of a deceased lover, no less — it is as if she has been doused in cold water, waking her up from her dreams.

What surprises Y/N even more is how incessant Yuuta is; calling her phone nonstop, loitering around her work place, following her room, banging on the door and begging for forgiveness. 

When Y/N grows fearful for her life, she quits her job, packs up her shit and leaves. 

Little by little, pretty colors paint Y/N’s world and she finds herself alive again. 

But the vibrant colors are painted over by dark and dull shades when a spam of messages from an unknown number reminds her of the past she’s been trying to escape.

Y/N isn’t going to give up. She will fight for the life she deserves. And if breaking his heart is the price for it, then so be it.

[pursuitseternal]

“To Slice the Tension:” Astarion x Shadowheart knife play smut🌙⚔️

Act 1 Astarion x Shadowheart | E | 2.7K

Summary: irritation comes to threats at dagger point. Tension grows with sharp words and blades, and finally resolves in the night with hot tempers and even hotter smut

CW: knife play, hate smut, keep quiet, semi-public, dry humping, quickie, poor Gale

Ao3 Link | Masterlist

“You! Cleric!” Astarion snarled, blood smattering his chilled face and clotting in his perfect silver curls. “You have one job! Cast your powerful light spell… thing… and don’t miss!”

Shadowheart lifted her head, glowering where she knelt over Gale, the poor wizard having taken a beating from the ghouls and Death Shepherds that ambushed the lot in the Mountain Path. “Shut it,” she snapped back, her glowing blue hands landing on the wizard’s soft belly with more force than necessary. He sputtered even as she healed his wounds.

“You almost got me killed!” Astarion growled, hovering over her, fingers twitching and fangs snapping with rage. “Again!”

“Not my fault you can’t take the heat of a little radiant damage, undead cretton,” she smirked. “Now do you mind? We have companions that can’t heal just by biting the nearest vermin.”

Astarion growled, feral and deep in his chest. “I should bite you, Cleric…. See if you taste as bitter as your demeanor.” He hissed his words between clenching teeth. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, little pain-craving Sharran…” he swiftly moved, crouching just beside her. “You tell me to bite vermin, and here you are…” he dragged his fangs over her neck, a threat born of hunger and rage.

But before he could sink a fang, something sharp pushed across the base of his own throat. Holding his breath, Astarion recoiled slowly, Shadowheart’s blade remaining pressed against his own scarred jugular.

Closing his fangs on nothing, Astarion’s lips peeled back in a snarl. “Careful… I don’t just bite,” he purred, colder in tone as his hand moved swiftly, jabbing the soft of her belly through the one opening of her armor.

“Hmmm,” she hummed happily, gripping his blade-holding wrist and pulling him closer. “Seems we’ve come to an impass, Vampire. Unless you want to admit you put yourself in the thick of the carnage just so I’d have to heal you first.” That black braid shook as she wriggled her head to mock him. Like a child. Like a brat. “Does somebody need attention?”

The wizard on the ground beneath them cleared his throat. “Would you mind terribly if you didn’t bicker … or flirt… or whatever this is… over my injured person? Thank you so much.”

Astarion huffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh Gale, you always ruin anything that’s actually fun… I can’t believe anyone as much of a wet blanket as you ever bedded a goddess,” he taunted, voice edged with playful venom.

“Perhaps you could learn from my divine experience and sleep off your tempers, both of you,” Gale smiled, annoyed and yet polite, “your impulses will be tamer come dawn.”

Shadowheart snorted through her nose, rolling her shoulders back as she resheathed her blade. “Fine by me, but I’ll be sleeping with this under my pillow…” her bright green eyes narrowed at Astarion’s smug, dastardly smirk, “and I’ll keep a stake in my fist, just for extra measure.”

“Sounds like you’re so very sure I’ll come for you in your bed, Cleric…” his silver brow arched. “I do like a midnight snack, but I prefer my treats a little sweeter than you.”

“I prefer my lovers a little more alive than you,” Shadowheart fired back before turning on her heel fast enough to whip that black braid around her shoulders.

And it only made Astarion’s smirk twist more deviously.

The rest of the evening passed in tranquility until the pop and hiss of the campfire was the final spark of movement and vitality.

But given the way his body pulsed from blood in his belly after his hunt today, Astarion noticed the soft hush of sandals in the dirt as he laid, meditating in his trance. The moment that blade pressed against his throat once more, he spread his lips in a fang-baring grin. “Come to kill me again, darling?” he whispered, eyes still shut even as Shadowheart straddled his waist.

One crimson eye opened just a sliver to see the Sharran Cleric smirking down, dagger’s edge caressing his throat gently.

“You’re reusing the same stunt you pulled on the Gith?” Astarion tutted his tongue, closing his eyes and settling back into his bedroll, wriggling his shoulders against his pillow just for show. “Run out of new ways to threaten the campmates that arouse you?”

“You annoy me,” she hissed down at him. “Different a-word, bloodsucker.”

“Oh, but I think you’re too a-a-addled to realize just how a-a-aroused you are,” he flashed those red eyes open at last, the intensity nearly disarming the Cleric on his body. That shit-eating grin rubbed her wrong, pissed her off. And it made her shift on his hips.

That thick upper lip pulled taut as she moved, baring even more of his teeth. And only then, did she realize where she sat…. That unmistakable outline of a hardened cock jutted against her thighs. “Oh, Astarion… I think I’m not the only one who can be accused of a-a-arousal?” Those green eyes glinted, bright with mischief.

Lighting quick, he pulled his hand from under his head, another small dagger pushed against her pulsepoint, the one he knew would taste extra delicious if only because he was having to work for it. And, gods, did he love a challenge, especially by his own terms. “Hmmm, this seems familiar,” he crooned up at her, letting his knife blade skate its sharp edge up and down her neck. “Fortunately for you, I’m quite skilled at how to let blood from these delicious veins just enough to leave you weak and begging for more…”

Shadowheart eased the blade off the base of his neck, using one hand to brace herself on his chest as she brazenly rolled her hips. The growl that reverberated in his ribs beneath her splayed hand confirmed her suspicions. “Familiar, yet not identical. Earlier, you didn’t have a prominent erection, I don’t think…”

The slip of her hand provided just the right opportunity, and Astarion seized it. Well-fed as he was, it was less than an eye’s blink before he caught her wrist and wrenched it behind her back, staying her blade. Disarming her. Pinning her on top of his waist. “You were saying, Cleric?”

She tried to put up a good fight, wrenching her wrist, even as his fingers locked it firmly behind her middle. One exasperated grunt, followed by a “Fuck you, Astarion,” only made that feral and wicked smirk deepen as he smiled up at her. Her pulse was accelerating, her sweat gathered on her brow, and, with every desperate movement she attempted to free herself, another scent permeated the night air.

“Hmmmm,” he purred up at her, all innocent tone long gone as he rolled his hips into that gathering heat between her thighs, “you let your guard down, all because now I’m… dual-wielding?” He gave that insufferable, inane giggle, even more annoying as he kept it quiet. She bit her quivering lower lip as he thrust upwards again. “Ah yes, that’s right, keep it hushed and quiet. I wonder if you’d be more embarrassed to be caught with your legs spread for me or to be caught disarmed by a man you tried to threaten in his sleep… tsk.”

“Dual-wielding?” she scoffed, leaning forward so she could hiss her spite closer to his smirking, arrogant face. “You’re going to compare your cock to a weapon, conceited arsehole that you are?”

“Afraid? It could destroy you, if you’re not careful,” he sniggered. And this time, the way she rubbed her clothed sex over his length caught him just in the right place… right in that spot on his cock head. He swallowed the curse, still audible enough to make Shadowheart grin, “Hells below.”

“What's the matter?” She taunted, that sheen of sweat gathering on his brow encouraging her to move faster. The hand on his chest pushed harder, firm enough to feel the slow dirge-like thump of his undead heart race with arousal. “Don’t tell me your blade is dull…” she taunted, a childish pout on her impertinent lips, “or are you known to work too quickly with your blade to leave your victims unsatisfied.”

A breathless laugh from his slack jaw, and Astarion twisted her wrist captured behind her until it let go of her blade altogether. “You have no idea what I can do, do you little Cleric?” He growled, pulling her lower by the small of her back until their faces were inches apart, his own dagger blade still kissing her neck.

“I have little interest in learning,” she snapped in reply.

That only made him grin and pull her closer, “But you have… some… interest…”

She gasped, feeling those plush lips brush their cool fullness against her mouth, the slightest jerk of her head causing his blade to bite flesh. Just a little, just enough to run down the line of her jaw to her lips… to share a few drops from her mouth to his….

“Gods,” he groaned the second her blood was on his lips and over his tongue.

That one nick in her skin sliced the tension, and it left them both aching and starving. “I need more…” he practically whined, blade skating a little deeper to let just a touch more blood flow. Blood he eagerly lapped by kissing her roughly. He devoured her, exploring those parts of her warm wet mouth that tasted of copper and whatever it was that was her… her essence.

A flick of his wrist, and he tossed his own blade away, that hand now pressing into the back of her head. Turning, twisting, he needed to drink, to lick and suck up every bit of her blood that dared to well from the wound. Rapid, open-mouthed kisses on her jawline, he cleaned her. “More,” he rasped nearly silently against her skin, his tongue laving the path from her jaw to those panting lips of hers.

Fingers in her hair, he yanked her, rolling her over and into the dirt beside his bedroll. Her gasp of surprise made him smile, his mouth locked to hers, their tongues tangling, dueling with their own thrusts and parries. And she was his to pin and cage beneath him.

Shadowheart’s pulse raged, in her ears, her chest, even her cunt as he kept grinding against her sex with more and more need. Rutting, that’s what this was, his strong frame, a crush of pure muscle, pinning her to the dirt. Every snap of his hips grew increasingly desperate. Hungry. Harder. His hand gripped into her trousers, yanking them roughly lower over the curve of her hips. Her flushed skin prickled at the cool night air touched where she dripped and burned for more. And every little buck of her hips she made helped wriggled them to her knees and then ankles, letting the cool leather of his trousers press into her sex. Gods, he throbbed, still clothed and contained as he grinded against her.

Little growls tickled her ear with every frantic snap of his hips, that cool, wet tongue still sucking and cleaning the nick he drew in her flesh.

A single, cool digit slipped inside her cunt, and she moaned, loudly and wantonly, earning a heavy palm over her mouth to silence her. But its gag only allowed her to open that impertinent mouth again to whine louder even as his finger found that sweet spot of nerves in her channel and crooked his crooked touch right over them.

Walls clenched, wet arousal soaked his hand, and his palm vibrated with the muffled, half-swallowed whines he coaxed from her throat as she came. He could taste the change in her blood as it still seeped from neck, that heady tingle of arousal in her system as it coursed in her veins.

“More, I need more,” she mouthed beneath his grip.

Astarion chuckled, slowly as she tried her best to shimmy his own pants down. It was just enough to let his cockhead free, a little more and his erection pushed, flushed and rock hard, against her belly.

Another needy whine ripped from her throat, filled with eager hunger, a different kind than the ache in his belly. He needed to be inside… and the whimpers from her lips and the scent on his fingers all screamed her agreement. Astarion had to bite his own tongue to keep quiet as he slotted himself into her. But it wasn’t enough to keep her own desperate keening quiet.

A sound slipped from under his hand as it shook, grasp slipping as he was seated fully inside her cunt. Shadowheart whimpered, high pitched, loud enough to make Gale in the next bedroll rustle his sheets and puff in his slumber. Nearly waking. One heart raced as they both froze… both sets of lungs holding their breaths as they stilled and waited.

“Mmhmmphmm magic touch,” Gale muttered, sticky-mouthed in his sleep…. Then he snored in that rhythmic way of his.

Astarion wasted no time, determined not to let the wizard spoil his fun a second time. He gripped her waist, thrusting into her, sheathing to the hilt as those green eyes widened and rolled back in silent ecstacy. “Good girl,” Astarion dared to whisper, right into the creases of her short-pointed ear. Then, he swallowed the groan that nearly escaped as he started to fuck her in earnest. Elbows in the dirt, mouths pressed together, tongues fighting for taste and dominance… they battled to be the first to finish, to quench the teasing need that had simmered to boiling. “You like this, don’t you… speared on my cock?” he rasped, nearly breathless from the rapid pace he set as he fucked. “Feels good to lose every now and then, doesn’t it?”

Her blunted teeth sank into his lip, drawing a genuine hiss of cool breath from him, making his hips stutter in their timing. “You, vampire,” she growled against his devouring lips. “Bite me.”

His deep-chested laugh rumbled into her own frame. “Now with you, vicious minx, I need to know… ‘bite me’ as in piss off, or…” Trailing off, he let his silent, smirking lips press against her racing pulsepoint. “You just want to feel the attack on two fronts, don’t you? Fangs in your neck… split on my cock…”

She pulled his mouth up to hers and nipped him again, drawing a taste of his blood from the slit she made in that fleshy corner of his mouth.

He snarled into her near-silent laugh, a hand wrapped around her blue-black braid, and he pulled her neck back into reach, his cock hard and throbbing the moment his teeth bit flesh and blood gushed down his gullet. Tasting her climax first, he groaned against her skin as he sucked more and more from her, pushing her through that creating bliss. Fluttering walls, a belly filled with fresh blood, and Astarion’s fucking hitched and slowed and deepened as he flooded her. A few final thrusts, and all that tension released, leaving them bloodied, breathless. He rested his head in the curve of her shoulder, feeling the remnants of her warm blood pooling yet down her neck.

The night quieted back down until it was only the soft snuffle of snores and steadying out of her heartbeat beneath him.

Then she opened that insolent mouth again. “You’re cleaning this up,” she taunted. “Blades too.” Astarion lifted his head; eyes half-mast and chin sloppy with her blood. “And before you begin, no,” Shadowheart smirked, “you can’t just lick them clean…”

The next morning, gathering round the campfire, Gale couldn’t help but notice the way the Cleric and the Vampire sat near one another. “You two look the very picture of camaraderie, if I must say!” He handed Shadowheart a buttered bun and a hunk of cheese. “I am so very gratified you took my advice to sleep off your tempers. Now look at you! Thick as thieves!” Gale gloated, hands on his hips in a pose of triumph.

Astarion just snorted, pulling out his dagger to sharpen as everyone ate. And much to Gale’s mortified chagrin, he replied, “Yes, very clever. But a good midnight fucking works too…”

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Flowers

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Gardener! Reader

Warnings: Drugs? (Idk how to tag the flowers stuff :S), fluff, a bit of angst, reader POV

Word count: 6,352

Summary: She warned me about the flowers but... With them, I can be with her

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting for yours :))) I love you all!!!

I never went near those flowers, until they were the only way to love you.

I woke up like every morning, in that old cabin. I didn't know what had happened to my predecessor, but I assumed what happened to everyone close enough to that place.

My skill with plants was no secret in the village. Envy? Sure, should I have felt lucky? I couldn't say.

When Mother Miranda, in her infinite goodness, entrusted me with a job, I couldn’t, nor I wanted to, refuse. No one needed my gardening skills. No one seemed to care, no one except Donna Beneviento.

Apparently the gap left by the man I replaced was too big. A large plot of land, a large garden that just one woman was incapable of maintaining.

Yes, the job had its perks: a house to myself, all the free time I wanted, and good pay. I wondered why people were so afraid of Lady Beneviento.

Well, I couldn't really say if she scared me or not. I barely saw her.

From time to time, she would walk with her doll through the garden, I assumed to check that I was working, that I was useful to her. Try to seem helpful, (Y/N)… That was the advice my father gave me before I left. That and to be careful with the flowers. Luckily, I was good at my job, and… Well, I couldn't complain.

“Hey! You,” I shouted, pointing at a naughty rabbit that was threatening to eat some plants.

I was used to vermin making my work difficult, but that particular animal had been bothering me for a while. I couldn't just finish it off, but I could at least get it away from the garden.

“Gotcha!” I shouted, launching myself after it, falling in the snow with empty hands. The damn rabbit escaped again and I growled angrily. “You'll see when…!”

I couldn't continue talking, since in front of my face were those strange yellow flowers, the flowers that Donna Beneviento herself warned me about.

“Oh...” I sighed defeated, knowing that it was inevitable to inhale that pollen, at that moment the question was: What was going to happen to me?

I stared at the strangeness of those flowers. It could have been the end of me, the poison would have eaten away my lungs and I would start convulsing at any moment. But that didn't happen.

“Honey, are you okay?” A strange voice, one that I never thought I would hear again made me wake up from those ramblings about my possible death. I recognized it immediately, but I couldn't believe it.

“Mom,” I sighed as she helped me up.

There she was, the woman who gave me life, my mother, in front of me, on that sinister ground, looking at me with that smile, with that tenderness. I wish I could say I was happy. But no, she just couldn't be there.

“(Y/N), how beautiful you are... You've grown,” she whispered with that voice, with that same voice. I shook my head at the impossibility of what I was seeing.

No, my mother couldn't be there, talking to me. She died, she died years ago.

“No, it's not possible,” I murmured slowly, reaching out my hand to touch hers. It wasn't a mirage. Whatever it was, was physical, tangible. I could feel the same rough feel of the dress she always wore, the subtle scent of the cookies she always made for us. It couldn't be an imposter, it was her. It was my mother.

Oblivious to all the signs that told me that this couldn't be happening, I obeyed my instincts and hugged her, hugged her tightly, wishing for a moment that she couldn't do it, that my arms would only touch the air.

But no, it was not an illusion. I could feel the comforting warmth of her embrace as I dissolved into tears.

“Mom... I've missed you so much,” I cried on her shoulder, letting her caresses serve as a consolation for the confusion of that moment.

“Me too, darling...” She whispered, letting me sink into her body, letting my emotions completely overflow me.

“But, but it can't be...” I said sobbing, with a smile. No, it was not possible and I knew it, would I have died?

Suddenly a draft of cold air made me shiver, causing me to feel dampness on my forehead and to have chills.

When I opened my eyes, my mother was no longer there, nor was I outside. I looked around to try to get my bearings. I was at home, lying on the couch, with a wet cloth on my head. What had happened to me?

There were noises in the house, movement that told me that I was not alone.

“Who, who is there?” I asked, sitting up. The answer was immediate.

It wasn't difficult to recognize the dark figure as it approached me. Donna Beneviento, Lord and owner of the land where I worked, approached slowly, with a cup of tea.

“You're awake,” she whispered with a hoarse voice, with a voice I had never heard before. I shook my head, confused

“Lady Beneviento,” I said in a formal tone, blinking several times in case that it was also a dream.

The woman in black nodded, coming closer, standing right in front of me.

“Here, it will relieve your headache,” the lady said softly, offering me that cup of tea.

I was confused. It wasn't common to see Donna near me, much less hear her talking, but that wasn't the important thing at that moment nor was to know what she was doing in my house.

“Thank you,” I said kindly, taking the steaming cup from her hands, which immediately retreated when they felt mine very close to them. “What…? What happened to me?”

“I was taking a walk and I was surprised you were not here, so I looked for you and well, I saw you lying in the snow, you had fainted,” the lady explained, sitting on the couch, as far away from me as possible.

“Have I fainted? I don't remember...” I said confused, bringing that cup of tea to my lips. To have a conversation with her didn't even seem strange to me, I had just seen my dead mother after all.

“I warned you not to go near those flowers, (Y/N),” she said after a few moments of silence. I opened my eyes and looked at her, well… I looked at the black cloth that covered her face.

“Flowers? Oh, I...” I said with a broken voice, trying to put things in their place, trying to think what exactly had happened. “It was, it was an accident. I was chasing a rabbit and well, I tripped and...”

“An accident,” she repeated, with a suspicious tone.

“Yes, an accident,” I reaffirmed, making clear that I didn’t ignore her warnings. “By the way… What happened to me? I, I felt strange and...”

“They are not ordinary flowers, (Y/N), they have special properties. I imagine you've noticed,” she explained without much desire to talk, probably wanting me to go back to work so she could leave that place.

“I...” I sighed, remembering that hug with my mother, her impossible presence… “I saw, I saw my mother.”

“Your mother?” The woman in black asked, this time with curiosity.

“But, but it can't be possible... I... She, she died and... She was there... It was so real,” I said, wanting to know what exactly had happened, what those flowers did to me.

The woman sighed, shaking her head.

“It's what flowers do. What you saw was a hallucination,” she said with a whisper, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Definitely, just as the villagers had told me, human relationships were not exactly Donna Beneviento's strong suit.

“No, but...” I said, denying to myself that my mother was never there. “It… It was so real…”

“It wasn't, (Y/N),” Donna said briefly, playing with her hands, nervously, before bringing one of them closer to my face, placing it gently on my forehead. “It seems that you are better.”

Her warm hand on my frozen forehead sent a contrast of emotions through my body. It was a soft, delicate hand that barely touched me, but it stirred something inside me.

“Yes, I... I don't know what to say,” I said, lowering my head and looking away from hers, as if I had been embarrassed by something.

Okay, it was true that I haven’t got been a woman in my life for a long time but... But that didn't mean that I had to feel something every time a woman touched me, and even less... With her.

“Just tell me that you will never go near those flowers again,” she said, moving away from me a little, as if she had felt something similar. “You are a good gardener, I don't want to lose you.”

“Oh, no, Lady Beneviento, you won't lose me,” I stated, with a tone grateful for that strange concern.

“People live in their memories, in their whishes...” She explained with an enigmatic tone. “Flowers can revive them or even create them. But they can also make you feel horrible things. They can torment you.”

“I understand,” I said, letting the air out of my body slowly, disappointed. “Well… Thank you…” I said hurriedly, when the lady in black got up from the couch, walking like a ghost toward the exit. “…For, for taking care of me. I promise that I will be more careful Lady...”

“Donna,” she said, interrupting me, as if something had offended her. “My name is Donna.”

“Okay, Donna...”

I was still confused by what had happened. I disobeyed a direct order, but there were no consequences beyond that encounter. I looked out the window, watching this strange woman disappear from my house. It had all been so strange... The feeling of my mother's hug continued filling my mind with that comforting warmth.

I know I shouldn't have done it, but the voices that begged me to feel that way again spoke much louder than my common sense. I got up slowly, finishing that infusion, and I took a breath.

“Wishes...” I murmured to myself, focusing my gaze on a small cluster of yellow flowers in a corner.

The feeling of having what I wanted, that the hugs of my loved ones sent some warmth to my cold existence, made me do something crazy.

I grabbed a cloth from the kitchen, a small empty flower pot, and I left the house with a clear objective.

I put the white cloth over my mouth and nose so as not to breathe in that damned pollen while I bent down to pick one of the flowers. I still asked myself what would have happened if I had been a good girl and hadn't made that mistake.

Everything seemed normal. The cloth had been enough to prevent me from hallucinating while, with a bit of soil, I transplanted that flower into the small pot, taking it inside my house.

My stupid mind thought that maybe, just maybe, those visions would help me fall asleep or not think about doubts or existential torments when it was time to close my eyes. I had seen my mother, damn it, my mother. I wanted to do it again. I succumbed to the temptation of living in dreams.

I put the pot in a glass display case and looked at that flower for a few minutes. How could a simple flower cause that kind of hallucinations? I, who thought I knew everything about plants, found myself at a dead end.

I spent the rest of the day looking through my encyclopedias. Nothing, nothing that looked like that yellow flower.

Then night came and I lay down on the bed. Not even the cold could distract me from my thoughts. My eyes went straight to the glass display case. When I wanted to realize it, something different to the flower came to my head. That woman, Donna Beneviento, fearsome Lords, lonely, inexpressive and dangerous. Her black figure appeared on my thoughts involuntarily; the sound of her soft voice, of that subtle but noticeable accent, the feeling of her hand on my forehead, of her black dress brushing against mine.

I shouldn't be thinking about those things, but I did, thousands of questions filled my mind, thus hiding the curiosity about that flower: who is she really? Why does she hide her face? Why is she alone? What makes her so dangerous? Is she really as crazy in the head as people say? Why do I have the feeling that she is a beautiful woman?

“(Y/N), but what are you thinking about?” I said to myself, rubbing my eyes with my hands, trying to forget the scent of lavender that accompanied Donna, which I now had in my head. “It will be, it will be better… To sleep.”

Before turning off the light, I took one last look at the display case. Do it, don't do it. Like two sides of my same consciousness, those two options appeared in my mind.

A foolish thing, since I began to walk towards the plant, ignoring the strong beating of my heart and lifting the glass cover. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, just for a couple of seconds.

Nothing happened and, shrugging my shoulders, I climbed back into bed.

I was wrong. It didn't take long for the visions to appear. My house was no longer my house, but my parents' house. It was Christmas, one of many before my mother left. I was happy, as if I were 9 years old again. After many sleepless nights, this time, I finally managed to fall asleep.

I knew they were nothing but hallucinations, but I felt good, relieved, as if I had been reborn and saw how wonderful life was.

Every day the same work, every night a different vision. Only happy moments came to see me, only positive and comforting emotions. I didn't understand how something that made me so happy could be dangerous.

On the other hand, the strange relationship I had with Donna grew a little. She continued to walk and look at me, but now, just sometimes, she came up to talk to me. They weren't deep conversations by any means but... Well, they were conversations. I couldn't say that I was starting to get to know her, but my strange interest in her grew little by little.

“Have a good trip, (Y/N)” I said with a smile, after breathing the pollen from that plant again, before going to sleep.

The walk was different. That night, I was walking hand in hand with the first girl I fell in love with. It was a wonderful feeling that suddenly stopped being so. We were sitting, Katia and me, me and Katia, on a stone bench. Our hands were intertwined and our gazes predicted a kiss that would not take long to come. Before feeling the warmth of another woman's lips, something strange happened.

The girl's old clothes changed, darkening until they were completely black. It was no longer Katia, it was Donna. I should have been scared, I should have screamed to wake up but... I didn't want to do it. The sensation was no different, a knot in my heart, the relief of her lavender perfume and… her soft hands brushing mine. I should have felt bad, strange, but I didn't. I felt good, I felt like I wanted more caresses, I wanted to be closer to her, I wanted... I wanted to lift that horrible veil and kiss her. I wanted it, I really wanted it. Was it the hallucination or were those strange feelings towards the lady in black getting worse?

“I want to kiss you,” I said in a sigh, leaning towards her, who laughed shyly, nodding.

“Me too,” she responded, letting my hands go to that annoying black fabric, lifting it little by little. Suddenly, before I could discover her face, a cold current brought me back to reality.

“What?” I said, waking up in my bed, ending that strange trip, the one in which I was about to kiss Lady Beneviento, wanting to do so.

At first I thought it was like another dream, a jumble of feelings, memories, and people, something random. I realized it wasn't.

The feeling I had in that vision was the same one I had when she approached me during the day, when she spoke to me with that soft voice, when she touched my shoulder with her hand, when my heart screamed for her not to go away, for to stay a little longer.

At night, her figure returned to torment me. Not in the way you might believe. Her hands with mine, her caresses, the love I had for leaning on her shoulder and hugging her. Everything was repeated every night, with every dose of pollen I inhaled.

 There was only one problem. Those visions had an end. I never managed to remove her veil, I was never able to see her face, feel her lips on mine. I shouldn't have but... I started to feel desperate, I started to feel that it wasn't a good dream, but a nightmare, the torment of not being able to fulfill my wish, of not being able to kiss her and tell her that I felt something for her, even if it was just that, a dream, a hallucination.

“Why did you do it?”

A familiar voice woke me up one night. Just when I thought the effect of the flower had worn off. I recognized that soft tone, but there was no sign of its owner. I was alone in my house, but for some reason, I was convinced that I had heard it.

“(Y/N)...” The soft voice, her voice, called me again. It was out now, or so I thought. A dark shadow walked outside the cabin. Donna.

Happy to be able to relive those moments, those hallucinations, I chased her, but she didn't stop, which made me run, run until I caught up with her. I knew that road, the road that led directly to her house, to the old Beneviento estate.

My steps were automated and my eyes struggled not to lose sight of her dark figure.

“(Y/N)... Why did you do it?” That voice asked again, a voice that was lost in the sound of the wind.

Her figure disappeared at the door of the house and I... I ran desperately towards her, managing to grab her arm, managing to have her close to me again.

“Donna...” I sighed with a goofy smile. There was nothing that would prevent me from enjoying my visions as I wanted, so I didn't waste time, throwing myself into her arms, keeping her body very close to mine.

She stood still for a moment while I covered myself in lavender, while I stroked her back. Soon her arms surrounded my body as well, and, like every night, we melted into a tender, comforting embrace.

“I love seeing you every night,” I whispered in her ear, making her move away, subtly pushing and taking me by the hand, leading me into the house. My eyes shone with her presence, with her caresses in my hand. I sat next to her, determined to explore that figure a bit more, to delay the moment of removing the veil and returning to the harsh reality.

My hands traveled up her arms, the visible skin of her neck was next, making her laugh sheepishly as she felt my tickling. Her hand came together, caressing my cheek carefully, breathing heavily. I explored her body, she explored mine. It was as if we had just discovered each other, it was... Different.

“Bellisima...” She whispered through her veil. I frowned.

I had never heard her speak like that, but all it did was for my hand to travel under her veil, caressing one of her soft cheeks.

“Stop, (Y/N),” Donna said in a soft voice, grabbing my wrist to lower my hand, to leave her face.

I, convinced of what my next step was going to be, shook my head.

“Please, Donna... I want to look at you. I want to know how beautiful you are... I want to be able to kiss you,” I begged, finding myself at an advantage. It was my hallucination. It would have to obey my wishes.

My body trembled as it relaxed after a moment of tension. She nodded and I... I prayed to Mother Miranda to allow me to live in that dream a little longer, just a little longer, just long enough so that I could contemplate the beauty of her, just so I could get closer to her.

My hands gripped the fabric and my eyes squeezed tight. Please don't wake up… My mind repeated as I lifted her veil.

Afraid of finding myself back in my house, I remained with my eyes closed until I realized that her lavender perfume, that her agitated breathing, was still with me. I carefully opened one eye, then the other.

There she was. Donna had shown herself to me. My visions had mercy and let me stay to admire her beauty, a beauty that seemed hidden by that scar, by the lack of one of her eyes. What made you think you were less beautiful because of that, Donna? You were perfect.

“How beautiful you are,” I said, dazzled by that bright eye, by that half smile that she gave when she heard me say those words.

“I want to kiss you...” The lady in black whispered, grabbing my hands tightly, enjoying the sincerity of my words.

I, excited because that dream didn’t end, because I could see her beautiful face and now I was about to fulfill the greatest of my whishes, I closed my eyes and nodded, letting her take the initiative, curious to see how my subconscious acted in that moment, that long-awaited moment.

She moved, laughing shyly, as always. She leaned towards me and to notice her lips brushing against mine in a subtle way didn't take long. It was almost like just an air current. I had to make a huge effort not to get ahead, not to get carried away by my feelings. I wanted it to be her. I wanted Donna to kiss me first.

Her hand reached the back of my head, pulling it gently until finally, I could feel the warmth of her kiss. It was a simple, shy kiss, without movement, just enjoying the feeling of her lips on mine. I acted later, bringing my hand to her face, to her cheek while she deepened that kiss, while preventing everything from ending at its best moment.

Donna followed me, smiling against my lips, imitating my gestures. Was it her first kiss? It seemed like it but... Why would my subconscious imagine something like that?

“I have never kissed anyone,” she admitted shortly after our lips fought not to separate. Well, if that's what my mind wanted to imagine, there was no harm in doing it. It was better to think that I was the first than to imagine other lips on hers.

“Me neither,” I lied, taking advantage of the hallucination effect.

“I don't believe you,” Donna whispered, very close to my lips again, kissing them in a more determined way.

“You should believe me. I’m the owner of this dream,” I said amused, kissing her harder, with more desire, making her lie down on the couch.

“(Y/N), you must wake up now,” she said, when my kisses went down her neck, when my impatient hands passed over her chest, looking for a crack, a gap to get in and caress her body inside her dress.

“No, I don't want to,” I said, shaking my head, unable to separate myself from her.

It was the best vision I had so far, but a strange feeling came over me.

“What?” I said suddenly, opening my eyes to find an overwhelming truth. The dream was over.

I sat up slowly, reaching toward the nightstand, where the headache pills should be. They weren't there, neither my bed, nor my room. I wasn't at my house.

I uncovered myself scared, leaving the small room. I hurried towards the stairs and… I froze. Hanging on the wall, there was a portrait, a portrait of a beautiful woman, a portrait of Donna. It was her, without the scar, but it was her. How far can a hallucination go? How could I know what her face looked like if I had never seen it? And... Well, above all and most importantly... What was I doing in her house?

“Good morning!” A shrill voice brought me out of my shame and confusion. The Angie doll, whom I feared and appreciated at the same time, called me funny from below.

“Angie?” I asked confused, rubbing my head, wishing the pounding in my brain to stop.

“Good morning, (Y/N)” another familiar voice, Donna’s, said. The mourning woman appeared shortly after, with her hands in front of her body, with the veil on her face, looking at you with a stoic pose.

“Donna? What?” I stammered. “What am I doing here?”

She didn't respond. She simply motioned for me to follow her, where a table with breakfast was waiting for me.

Shame and uncertainty made my hands shake as I picked up that cup of coffee. I couldn't look Donna in the face. Did I go too far? Did the hallucination make me go towards the house? What was happening?

“I, I'm sorry but...” I said confused, with my face burned with shame. “I don't know what I'm doing here.”

“I saw you last night outside the house,” Donna responded, sitting in front of you, eating breakfast quietly. How could she be so calm? Please tell me it was all a dream...

“Me?” I asked, hiding everything related to the flower, and to my vision.

“Yes,” Donna answered, nodding at the same time. “You seemed confused. It was very cold so I took you inside the house and put you to bed.”

I couldn't help but sigh in relief. At least, everything that happened was just a vision, right? I didn't kiss her. I didn't caress her body... I didn't feel that good... At least in front of her, the real Donna.

“Well, I...” I said, hiding the tremor in my voice. I had to think of something, something to divert the woman in black's attention, something to tell her that I hadn't disobeyed her and that I hadn't spent weeks hallucinating with that flower. “The thing is…. I'm a sleepwalker,” I said, holding my breath.

“Uh-huh,” Donna whispered, pouring me some more coffee. She wasn't too surprised by that lie, but, apparently, she believed it.

“It happens to me sometimes, you know, I get out of bed and walk around... I probably forgot to lock the door...” I said, a bit more confident because, apparently, my excuse was more than enough to Donna.

“You should be more careful, (Y/N),” she said with a serious tone, but that gave away something that I was not able to understand. “It’s dangerous.”

What exactly was she referring to?

Luckily, routine returned to my life. Well, partly. The dreams continued. Kisses and caresses were already common. She kissed me and I kissed her. We spent the time the visions lasted looking at each other curiously, touching, caressing our skin. It was an innocent act, but one that I enjoyed every night. My obsession with that flower only got worse the closer I got to Donna in my dreams. But… The fear of returning to her house was present in my hallucinations. That fear of saying, of doing something dangerous, something I might regret, forced me to make a decision.

“Well, tonight I will have to see you only in my dreams,” I said listlessly, turning off the light on the table. If I spent another perfect night with her, I would end up going crazy.

At that moment I began to understand why those flowers were so dangerous.

I had a hard time falling asleep, resisting the temptation to get up and smell that pollen again. But I was strong, for once. I let reality control my actions, and not my whishes.

The creak of the door startled me. It was not a night with a wind strong enough to open it. Someone had entered.

Cautious and scared, I opened the drawer of the table, looking for the knife I had to defend myself from the creatures of the night. I couldn't have defended myself from that creature.

Donna, the woman in black, was there, walking slowly towards my bed. I was sure, completely sure that it wasn't a dream, that I didn't inhale that flower before going to sleep. She was really there, which sent a huge amount of thoughts into my head.

“(Y/N), cara mia...” She whispered, sitting on my bed and stroking my hair. I, confused, decided to pretend, to pretend to be asleep. “Will you come with me?”

She extended her hand toward me, and then I understood. That way of calling me, that hand holding mine. It had all been a hallucination but... I couldn't say when it stopped being one. It was real, Donna was there. Donna was always there, taking me to her house, making me stay enthralled with her kisses, with her caresses. I was dreaming, delirious, but... Not as much as I thought. The kisses, the caresses, the words of love... All of that was real, real to the point of wanting to die of shame, of not knowing how to act.

That was not a vision and I didn't know what to do.

She kissed me. She told me how beautiful I was. Did she really mean it? Did Donna want something from me? Did she feel something for me the same way I did? Did she take advantage of my confusion to feel loved? No, that was not a possibility. She never went beyond kisses. Her caresses were tender and respectful. She probably just wanted to know what it felt like when someone loved you. I couldn't blame her for that, especially because I was madly in love with her.

Faking it would be my best option. Observing what she really did with me, if it was a product of the flower, or on the contrary she made me feel as good with her kisses, as always.

I sat up slowly, taking her hand. I followed her like a zombie, like every night, towards her house.

The sofa was still there, waiting for us. I sat down. She sat down, without letting my hand go.

At that moment I wanted to be aware of everything. The walls weren't blurry, the feeling of euphoria was less, but my heart was beating fast when she took off her veil and her lips kissed mine. I was stupid. Her kisses had never felt so good, so real... That flower served no purpose other than to blur the sensations that being close to her produced in me. I, acted as always, kissing her back, cupping her pale, soft face in my hands.

“I can't live without your kisses...” Donna whispered in my ear, making me shiver, pretending to explore her body innocently, like every night, every night I thought I was hallucinating.

“Me neither...” I whispered back, kissing her intensely, running my hands through her tied up hair, touching, exploring now with all my capabilities. The heat of her kisses, the touch of her skin. A stupid hallucination had nothing to do with reality.

“I would like to think that you love me...” She said, smiling in a sad way, moving away, but without letting my hand go, which was wandering along her neck, across her chest, as if it wanted to guide me where  was needed.

“I love you,” I said without thinking, affirming my feelings towards her, being sincere, confessing something that, in other circumstances, I would not dare to do.

An even sadder smile spread across her face. What was she thinking? Easy, she believed that I was immersed in a hallucination, under the effect of that pollen. She couldn't think my feelings were real. That sent a pang straight to my heart. What should I do? Tell her the true? It seemed dangerous.

No words seemed good, it would be better to act. I threw myself into her arms, kissing her deeper, making her gasp in surprise, making her hands go to my head while I lay on her, kissing her neck, letting myself be seduced by her lavender perfume while I adored everything I could about her body.

“(Y/N)... You have to stop...” Donna said, nervous about how my hands went down to her legs under her black dress, about how I dared to caress her skin with desire.  I didn't know what to do, and I decided that the best thing would be to truly love her, to make her feel loved.

“I would like to make love to you,” I said, faking that soft tone I always had in my visions, going to the buttons on the top of her dress. She shook her head, but only for a few seconds before kissing me back, letting my hand lift one of her legs, wrapping it around my waist.

The atmosphere became too hot. Donna was breathing nervously, unable to contain the urge to continue, clinging to the fabric of my pajamas, looking for a way to control the impulse to taking them off.

“No, I can't do it...” She murmured while my kisses had more skin available to kiss, while my hand opened the top of her dress to delight in her chest. “This… This is not right…”

“It is, Donna, relax,” I said, forgetting about acting for a moment.

She stood up suddenly, roughly pushing me away from her.

“No, (Y/N)... My, my first time can't be like this...” The lady said, getting nervous, sitting down and avoiding my gaze.

“Why?” I asked, studying her gestures.

“It's not you, (Y/N)... You just... Just...” Donna said, her voice shaking, blinking repeatedly.

Seeing the state Donna was in, I decided to act, do something stupid.

“Donna, listen to me, it's me, (Y/N)...,” I said, taking her sweaty hand, a hand that she suddenly pulled away. “I'm fine... I'm not hallucinating...”

“What?” She said scared, looking at me and getting closer, opening one of my eyes with two fingers, checking that I wasn't lying.

She immediately stood up from the couch, desperately searching for her veil.

“Hey, hey, Donna, wait,” I said, standing up, aware of the mistake I had made. “No, nothing is wrong… Don’t, don't cover yourself, please.”

“You’ve disobeyed me, (Y/N), I told you, I told you not to go near the flowers,” she said in a dangerous tone, her face covered again.

“Well I...” I stammered, unable to refute her accusation. “Hey, I don't think you're the best person to ask me for explanations.”

Donna became even more scared, knowing that I knew what she did, what we did.

“Go away, I don't want to see you again,” she hissed, pushing me unpleasantly and passing by my side, which I immediately prevented by grabbing her wrist.

“No, Donna, I'm not leaving...” I said firmly. “I'm not leaving until you listen to me.”

“I don't want to listen to you!” The lady in black screamed, clenching her fists, breaking free of my grip. “What are you going to do? What are you going to tell me? Are you going to tell your friends what we do at night? The way I took advantage of you?”

“What? No, Donna, I...” I stammered, unable to control her shaking, putting my hands on her shoulders. “It’s, it's my fault…”

"You know is not, (Y/N)” she said with a dark voice. “I, I confused you... I, I made you believe that...”

“I disobeyed you, Donna,” I said more calmly, contrasting with her almost deranged attitude. “I wanted, I wanted to continue living those pleasant things, I, I wanted...”

“What?”

“Damn, do you know why I kept inhaling that pollen, Donna? Because when I did it... I saw you... I saw you next to me...”

“Did you see me?” She asked, confused by my clumsy confession.

“Yes, I... I did...” I confirmed, lowering my head, letting her shoulders go, embarrassed. “I don't want you to believe me but I... I'm in love with you and... I knew… I knew that you wouldn't... That you would never love me back... So... well, my visions were the only place I could be with you. I shouldn't have disobeyed you but... I wasn't going to stop doing it if it was the only way I could love you.”

“Are you telling me the truth?” Donna asked curiously, pushing her veil away from her face, tears running down her cheek. “I don't... No one has ever... I don't... No, you can't love me.”

“I wanted... I wanted to stop having those visions and... When I found out that you felt the same way, I... I simply believed that it was the only way to...”

My words were interrupted by a kiss, a hurried one, tender, salty. Her trembling hands grabbed my head, her body was warm close to mine, her breathing stopped being agitated, the complete opposite of the beating of my heart.

“I thought the same...” Donna sighed, on my lips, letting her hands go down to my waist. The shadow of disbelief was still visible in her eye, but a different shine ended up overshadowing it. “(Y/N) you… Would you want to be with me?”

“Yes,” I said dryly, too abruptly. I was waiting so long... So long for you to ask me that question...

“No flowers...” she said, kissing me tenderly, letting our bodies sway together.

“You are my only flower...”

[an-entity-i-think]

Sequel to "I Have A Secret"

When the magical creature finally dropped, everything paused for the tiniest of moments.

Well, paused for Merlin who had a small moment to breath in relief that he stopped the creature right before it was about to swipe Arthur with a fatal blow.

Sir Kay, on the other hand, who saw the incriminating golden eyes like everyone else in the small group, didn't pause at all, turned his body towards Merlin already preparing to swipe his sword.

"No!" Gwaine yells from too far away.

Ducking quickly, barely missing the sharp edge, Merlin doesn't even stutter before running to Arthur and then hiding behind him while breathing heavily as he stands back to back with the prince while curling his hands into the cloth of the blonde's breeches.

Arthur finally blinks and seems to unfreeze from where he'd stood since he'd almost been killed by the beast and then saved by his apparently magical manservant.

"Huh."

He surveys the situation.

Merlin has magic and is currently hiding behind him. Sir Leon is looking at them unsure, Sir Gwaine looks like he's ready to kill Sir Kay and also maybe him or Merlin by the way he keeps looking at them.

Feeling the trembling warmth pressed against his back, he very calmly lifts his sword.

"Gentleman. What seems to be the problem?"

He pointedly keeps his sword up in a way that can be used in any direction, but Sir Kay gives him an appalled look anyways, but Leon stares at him for a moment before nodding to himself and putting his sword down.

Sir Gwaine on the other hand, looks at Merlin in frantic worry, looking like he wants to start inching forward.

Arthur feels like Gwaine is probably safe but he doesn't know for sure, so he gives Gwaine a Look anyway which... obviously gives him a scathing glare back.

"Your Highness," Sir Kay looks at him with worry and Merlin (still behind him) with anger, "He's a sorcerer."

Everyone seems to hold their breath in front of him, but Arthur just looks at them for a few more seconds in blankness.

Did they think he just... didn't notice? He squints his eyes.

Looking side to side, Arthur just deadpans, "I mean... yeah. I thought that was pretty obvious with the golden eyes and yelling a spell two seconds ago."

Merlin snorts behind him. The hands still entwined with his breeches seem to loosen as Arthur feels the back against his own start breathing easier.

Arthur's lips try to trick upward, but he tries to keep them down.

Gwaine, still quite clearly running on adrenaline, looks back and forth between them before landing on Merlin, "Merls, are you sure you want to be standing there, right now?"

They both look at him with tilted heads.

Merlin hesitantly replies, "Um... yes?"

His hands squeeze for just a moment, making Arthur frown at Gwaine.

Gwaine, just squints his eyes, before pressing forward, "And you're not scared? You're okay?"

Blinking owlishly, "Uh. I mean. I was scared that Arthur was going to die? And I guess I was scared of Sir Kay for a second. But... I'm doing pretty good..." There's a small pause, "...How are you?"

Sir Leon lets out an uncharacteristic snort before covering his mouth as he tries to hold back a laugh to himself.

Gwaine sputters, "I meant scared of the Princess!"

They, again, both look at him in confusion, "Arthur? Why would I be scared of Arthur?"

Sir Kay and Gwaine both seem to bluster in the same way (for opposite reasons?)

"Cause he's the prince!"

"He's just Arthur."

Arthur makes an offended face, "I'm not JUST anything, Merlin!"

Merlin finally lets go so he can watch him as he smirks, "Oh yeah? What do you want to be instead of Arthur then? I guess if we count a few minutes ago, you can be a damsel in distress instead~"

Arthur looks back at him with a sputter, "You can't talk to me like that! I'll put you in the stocks!"

Merlin just smiles at him mischievously, "Oh of course, Sire. My apologies, Sire. Just maybe you should double check your next stew for vermin instead of bird."

"If you put rats in my stew one more time, I'll make you eat it."

"-oh, going on a diet, Sire? I've been telling you you need it..."

Arthur huffs to himself, putting one hand on his hip while pointing his sword to Merlin with his other, dramatically.

The others skip a breath.

Merlin just rolls his eyes with a bored look like it's happened a million times. (It has)

"I'm going to have the kitchens poison your next meal!"

"Not if I do yours first!"

"At least then I'll have a break from all your prattling!"

Merlin gasps in mock offense as he takes a staggering step back, "How dare you! What about the children?"

Arthur snorts so loud, he drops his sword as he covers his mouth wheezing as Merlin raises his arm in victory and grins like he won something.

"Who are the children?"

Sir Kay interrupts with a disbelieving huff, "Sire. Sorcerer. Against the law."

Arthur looks at him like he's stupid, even though he's the one who looks a little stupid still bent over trying to catch his breath, "It's just Merlin."

Gwaine and Leon share a laugh between themselves, now completely calm, used to the bickering.

"And besides, it's really on me. I didn't ask," Arthur shrugs like this makes complete sense to everyone. He goes to pick his sword back up, as Merlin nods and steps behind him to look over his shoulder with his hands entwined behind him.

Arthur pretends he doesn't miss the warmth, but the breath on his neck is a close second.

"Didn't ask what, Sire?" Leon asks curiously, as he and Gwaine seem to lean forward, even as Sir Kay stays stock still like he's rebooting.

Arthur looked up at him a little startled, "Oh. Merlin told me he had a secret ages ago. I just didn't ask, cause he didn't want me to."

"Wait wait wait- he told you he had a secret?" Gwaine guffaws.

Merlin steps forward to lean his chin on Arthur's shoulder as he wraps his arms around Arthur's waist, "Of course! I try to tell Arthur everything. He's my best friend!"

Arthur pretends he isn't blushing, as he hums noncommittally.

The other three trade glances.

Arthur just nods to himself, even as his free hand absentmindedly holds onto one of Merlin's wrists around his wait.

The other three raise their eyebrows.

"Anyways. Obviously, there will be no speaking of this to my Father." He looks up stern and serious for the first time in this entire conversation.

Leon and Gwaine nod happily, while Sir Kay takes a moment, before nodding reluctantly and murmuring to himself, "I'm repressing this as we speak."

Leon looks at Kay with interest, while Gwaine just watches in amusement as Arthur's blush comes crashing back when he visibly realizes he's been gently caressing Merlin's wrist unconsciously.

Merlin just looks at Gwaine's smirk over Arthur's shoulder, before squeezing Arthur's waist once and letting go to start walking beside him, vehemently trying to hide his own blush now, too.

Both of them start continuing their walk back to the citadel, looking away from each other, even as their arms brush against each other with how close they walk.

The other three follows them casually.

Sir Kay blinks, before turning to Leon with a whisper, "Did I miss something? What happened with the beast?"

Leon just looks at him unable to hide how impressed he is with the skill of Repression, making Sir Kay even more confused, belatedly answering the question, "...Prince Arthur killed the beast, of course."

Sir Kay just blinks, "Of course."

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Gabriella Ferrigine at Salon:

John Oliver on Sunday's episode of "Last Week Tonight" delved into how former President Donald Trump's second term could hypothetically play out given that polls give him an edge over President Joe Biden. “You can go on his website and see it all laid out, and it’s pretty alarming,” Oliver said, before playing a clip of Trump articulating his plans to dismantle trans rights. "I will ask Congress to pass a bill establishing that the only genders recognized by the United States government are male and female, and they are assigned at birth," Trump said in the clip. "No serious country should be telling its children that they were born with the wrong with the wrong gender," he added, claiming that it is a concept "never heard of in all of human history" until it was recently invented by "the radical left." "That is really the Trump experience in a nutshell right there," Oliver said. "Hateful ideology, a promise to make life harder for minorities, all wrapped up in a non sequitur so stupid it is inconveniently funny. The radical left invented trans people a few years ago? I’m sorry. What?!? Did they put it on 'Shark Tank' and I somehow missed it?” The host then brought up a number of Trump's other plans if he assumes the presidency again, including mass deportation, requiring local law enforcement agencies to implement controversial policing tactics such as stop-and-frisk, slashing funding for schools that implement a mask or vaccine mandate, and impose a universal tariff of at least 10% on all imports.

"He's promising to get revenge on his enemies," Oliver said. "At rallies he’s told supporters that ‘I am your retribution,’ which sounds like something you’d hear out of the mouth of Megatron rather than a major presidential candidate." "He's been specific about who will be on the receiving end of that retribution," Oliver added, before showing footage of Trump claiming that he will "root out communists, Marxists, fascists, and the radical left thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country, that lie and steal and cheat on elections and will do anything possible — they'll do anything — whether legally or illegally to destroy America and destroy the American dream." "Was he falling asleep at the end there?" Oliver jokingly asked. "Second, it's not usually a great sign when a politician starts referring to groups as vermin, unless of course they're running for mayor of Zootopia and they're gunning for the little Rodentia votes."

[...] Project 2025's 900-page handbook, for example, includes plans for dismantling the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration because it is "one of the main drivers of the climate change alarm industry." Oliver observed other initiatives included in the handbook, such as installing a pro-life task force to replace Biden's reproductive healthcare task force, disassembling the FBI, defunding the Department of Justice, outlawing pornography, and more. Speaking about the two figures spearheading Project 2025, Trump associates Russ Vought and John McEntee, Oliver said, “Their goal here is clear: To assemble an army of vetted, trained staff who can begin dismantling the administrative state from day one."

On the most recent episode of HBO’s Last Week Tonight that aired last Sunday, host John Oliver had an alarming segment about how Project 2025 would harm America in a multitude of ways.

See Also:

The Guardian: On HBO's Last Week Tonight, John Oliver on a second Trump term: ‘Really does promise to be far, far worse’

Can We Still Govern?: The Public Opposes Trump's Plans to Politicize Public Services

From the 06.16.2024 edition of HBO's Last Week Tonight:

[basicbunnyboo]

Sir?

An Adam x Reader Fic

A.N. - This one is going to be kinda rough. I’ve been wanting to make something about Episode 8 for so long and I found the BEST inspiration during my history class. I’m really hoping this goes well ‘cause angst is kinda hard for me to write. Enjoy, my dears

Cw: Descriptions of blood, stab wounds, and overall harsh injuries / Descriptions of multiple deaths / Derogatory name for Charlie

Adam bleeding out on the battlefield.

To be an Exorcist required a few things: being harsh, unfeeling, ruthless, and ‘badass’. The last part was added by Adam himself.

It required being able to kill off the sinner scum and protect Heaven. There was no need to worry about them fighting back. They can’t. It’s not possible. It shouldn’t be.

So why the Hell was the Hotel’s grounds littered with red and golden blood? Only angels bleed gold. Only angels have angelic steel. But, somehow, these vermin got their hands on it. And now multiple angels have fallen, some injured. Callie was surrounded by cannibals, Mia lay crumpled and left for dead, Alex was hung on a wall with a spear through his shoulder, and even Lute was missing an arm.

All because little Miss Princess couldn’t take no for an answer.

Then there was Adam. The first man, the leader of the Exorcists, and a close friend. ‘Friend’ was rather inappropriate considering everything you’d gone through together. Being one of the few people to ever see his face spoke volumes of how much he respected and cared for you.

He was an asshole: rude, misogynistic, blunt, aggressive, egotistical, and overall a huge prick. It was obvious why his two wives left him. He seemed to care only for himself. The definition of a red flag.

And yet, he wasn’t like that anymore. Well, he was, but not as bad. Everyone noticed. Somehow, at some point, he started to care about you. At first, he hardly noticed. You were just a cool person that didn’t put up with his shit. You were hot. And fun. And patient. And safe…

And then he realized. He was fucked. He promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen again. Not after the last person ruined everything because she wasn’t satisfied with paradise. But no matter how hard he tried, you just wouldn’t leave and damnit it made it worse.

Now he felt anxious when he didn’t see you amongst the others. The chaos was making everything so much harder. Where were you? Were you okay? Did they get you? Are you safe? He absently shot a pack of sinners as he frantically flew around, looking for you. Then a flash of your mask caught his eye. You were by the dumbass hotel shits and that clit-licker that started it all.

He landed behind you, “The fuck are you doing?” He aggressively grabbed your shoulders, looking you over for any injuries, “I told you not to-”

“Take them head on, I know. But I’m not some weakling, Adam. I-”

“You don’t fucking get it, bitch. I- I just…” he hesitated. You knew. He knew you knew.

A pause.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You sighed, putting a hand over the one on your shoulder, “Okay. Just… don’t-“

You both paused at a pained groan and a small giggle. Looking down, you saw gold trickling down his chest and a small, pink bug holding a knife.

It took too long to react, but you pulled him to you, kicking the creature back. He was shaky, clinging onto your back from the shock, “Shit.”

You could hear cheering from Charlie and the supposedly redeemable sinners.

“Adam,” you grabbed his face, “Adam, look at me.”

How could they preach about redemption when they’re willing to kill someone for not agreeing with them?

He coughed harshly as you held him up, only for him to spew out golden blood. He leaned into you, clutching his stomach. “I got you,” she held him closer, “I got you, I got you, I got you.”

Someone walked closer, “He’s done for, ‘sweetheart’. Take your-”

A sharp glare shut him up.

———

“Two weeks?”

They nodded, “We’re guessing. He lost a lot of blood, you have to understand that-”

“I get that,” a sigh, “just… take care of him.”

Please.

[slasherwife]

Hiii :)

I was wondering if I could request the slashers reaction to their S/O being insecure about their freckles? Their face is covered with different shades and some even overlapping of freckles. They have even tried covering them up with foundation but they always seem to show through. Thank you! :D

yes my dove!! i’m really sorry abt the long wait i hope this is good 🥲🌷

Slashers with an S/O with freckles

summary you the beautiful y/n have been blessed with gorgeous freckles, like raindrops on your ethereal skin 💞 your slasher husband finds them so angelic on you, but sadly you disagree, and try to cover them up!! slasher husband not happy :(🥺🌷

warnings female pronouns!

~

thomas

sweet creature, your freckles are what his dreams are made of. he wishes to kiss each one so that their wearer might know how deeply he loves her. he connects them like constellations when you guys are together and you don’t notice. he sees and names each one because ever freckled star is so unique from the last. he adores and worships your freckles to say the least💞🌷

thomas loves deeply with a tender passion, every bit of you. and your freckles are what give you the most character, they are what captivated him when he first saw you. sun shining behind your head like a halo, a soft smile and those gentle freckles layered onto your ethereal face and shoulders, he thought he had strayed into a dream😖💞

it would absolutely break him, if he knew you were trying to hide them out of shame. thomas knows very well the pain of low self esteem, thomas self mutilated his own face because of how much he hated how he looked💔 he would never in a trillion years want you to go through that same kind of pain, even if you were only using makeup to cover them up. 😣🪷

he would go to his knees once he knew what was happening, holding your hands and begging you to stop what you were doing. while your hands were in his comically large ones, you would see his eyes holding the utmost sadness in them, almost making you tear up unexpectedly😣💕 “don’t cover up, please my y/n.” he spoke, which was an extremely rare occurrence.

jason

he could never miss your absolutely ethereal freckled stars. jason isn’t one to really pay attention to physical attributes, but with you, it was different. you were an angel. sent straight from heaven to be with him. to say he wasn’t utterly captivated by your outer beauty as much as your inner beauty, was an understatement😣💕🪷

he’d be the one to want to trace your freckles, but be too afraid to hurt you. jason is an extremely gentle being when he wants to be, but he overthinks very much and can’t trust himself around you as a result :( 💕😭. until he’s comfortably enough and you help him through, he will fantasize about your soft supply skin under the decrepit pads of his fingers, and count the stars on your skin from a healthy distance💞😣

he instantly wants to know who made you want to cover up your freckles. the stars on your skin are gifts of the divine, who on earth would be so jealous and malicious as to make you think otherwise? jason would like to take it up with them for making his angel goddess feel like this. no one would make it out alive🥺💞

you say the girls in the magazine don’t have freckles, which is why you wanted to cover your up. jason is livid about the disgusting vermin showing off their bodies in the magazine, and hates how he cannot hurt them for hurting you😣💕 he can tell his anger isn’t helping anyone, so he just lets you crawl into his arms while he wills himself as careful as possible to graze his knuckles softly against your cheek, admiring all the pretty dots on your angelic skin. his gaze was enough to show that if the outer world didn’t like your freckles, jason lives for them🥹💞💕

michael

again like jason, michael doesn’t really pay attention to physical attributes at all. he might when he’s aroused and steals a good playboy magazine. but when he met you, things turned around. he found you beautiful. pretty. captivating. he’s only felt aroused by some women, but he’s never felt that way about a person. he loves you, in his own toxic way, maybe. he sees you as his mate, his parter, who he found because of fate and circumstance. you’re his partner who he would absolutely burn down the world for, maim and kill, do anything for🥹💗

it’s hard to see into michael’s mind, but i believe he thinks it was your freckles that first made him feel that you were beautiful. he thought your freckles made you pretty. he thought you were beautiful, because of them. and to think you’d try to cover them up almost feels like he’s being denied some of the most beautiful things about you, and he feels betrayed as your lover.

he catches you in the act, sitting on the floor in front of a mirror, smearing makeup onto them. he grabs your wrist before you could make another steak down your cheek, and you look up to michael heavy breathing against his mask, staring down at you. he is confused to say the least, but in a way too, he understands why you are doing it. he tries to go down to your level, sitting on his knees while he uses his sleeve to wipe the makeup from your face, wanting to see you beautiful constellations that he loves so deeply😖💞💕

brahms

to begin, brahms being the hot adult child he is, will throw a tantrum once he finds you messed up your face. your face is for him y/n!! don’t go covering up things that shouldn’t be covered up 😣💕 it throws him off, shows him there’s a change in his usual schedule and he doesn’t like it. plus his baby’s freckles are his favorite thing ever! he can’t count them when they’re all covered up my love😇💞

when he first ever saw you, he nearly collapsed. you were the most beautiful creature he ever saw or could dream up, ever. he loves every part about you. you are his dream come true. and to think you would want him!! he will die happy because of this my darling🌷💕 please don’t cover up something to precious to him!!🥺

he will be angry and throw a fit. gosh y/n you’re making him fix this now? well since you’re so cute he’ll let it slide, just sit still. he gets a clean wash rag and begins wiping away the makeup. nope!! don’t move, not til he’s done😇💞once your tears have dried and he deems you back to your beautiful gorgeous natural self he adores, he will kiss the tip of your nose and pinch your cheeks. hell then giggle and provoke you to chase him through the house in a game of hide and seek 🥺💞

bo

bo is really the only one who’s genuinely confused as to what motivates you to cover up your freckles. he understands the purpose of makeup (to an extent😀), but your freckles are a normal occurrence in your skin, why would you want to essentially delete them from yourself? he will blushingly admit that they make you look pretty anyway 🥺💕you’d have to explain why you are doing this to him 😭 he doesn’t not have the brain capacity to understand why you are covering up your gorgeous freckles.

bo had always not so secretly thought your freckles were so g-d damn cute, and seeing them crease with every smile and laugh you let out, and the ones on your forehead fold when you were surprised or focused, he was made so in love with you it was hard to contain. he believed g-d had taken extra time working on you, for sure. 🌷😭💕

he caught site of your face when he was waiting to go to the bathroom and you were finishing up your makeup. when you went past him, he did a double take, “sweet cheeks? come back here now.” he said, grabbing your sweet face in both his palms examining your newly painted face. “the hell happened to all your dots?” he laughed, searching your eyes for an explanation🥺💕

you explain it to him, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. he doesn’t really know what to say, though he thinks he should tell you something reassuring about your new apparent insecurity, but he’s not very good at comforting people🥲💕 he only asks that you go back and take the makeup off, without sounding demanding, asking gently, which is rare for bo. “why don’t cha take it off for me angel, yeah? you’re just so pretty when i can see all of you.”

vincent

let this man comb his eyes through every part of your face in amazement and shock at your beauty, please gf it’s all he wants to do. vincent has a very keen eye for beauty so the fact that he chose you should be a clear message that you are the most ethereal being ever crossed paths with him🥹💞 vincent more than anyone, worships your freckles. you are just so unique and angelic and perfect. you are his forever muse and he’s absolutely obsessed with you 💗

when i say that thomas begged you not to cover up your freckles, vincent absolutely beseeches you to not cover them up and to let them show. they are just so beautiful on you y/n, my queen goddess y/n, let me stare at you forever😣🌷 vincent just sighs in affection for you whenever he sees your ethereal face with your delightful freckles layering and spotting like rain drops onto your skin. he just simply loves you y/n.

please don’t even try to cover them up my dear, vincent will feel like he’s been betrayed in a way. don’t you ever listen to him y/n? vincent always knows best. your freckles are a beauty unsurpassed about you my darling flower. 💞🌷and that’s fact. if you do, he will so everything in his power to try to convey that your freckles are a blessing and that they shine like stars. he loves them so much and begs you let them show. he only does this, because you are hiding them out of insecurity. he hates this and wants you to proudly show them🥹🌷

regardless of if you listen to him or not, he will want to show you some extra love. he will gently coax you to a peaceful sleep in his arms, stroking your hair with the utmost gentleness and calmness that you fall asleep within minutes🥹🌷 he just wants you to feel safe

[theyanderespecialist]

Striker's Moxxie Girl (Headcanons) Yandere Striker X Female Moxxie Reader (Helluva Boss)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with another chapter, this one was requested from Tumblr. It is Yandere Striker with Reader who is in the place of a female Moxxie. The Headcanons for it! I hope that you all enjoy it, also at the time of posting this! I hope you all have a great holiday! 

(Disclaimer: Reader is taking the place of Moxxie and is Female so she/her pronouns. Striker is not yandere for any Moxxie in canon and is not yandere in general. This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all. Simping for and Shipping characters is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! You know who you are! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!) 

Thanks!] 

-Yandere Headcanons With Striker X Female Moxxie Reader- 

.Striker at first was taken back by the wee little lady you were. 

.He wanted to say you were vermin, but man were you a cute as can be vermin. 

.He fell for you right away and wanted to show off to you how strong he could be. 

.Though it came off as him being an asshole. 

.He hates your wife, Millie, she is NOT good enough for you, and he wants to kill her. 

.When he first choked you it turn him on, you were just so damn little and he could crush you, the power he had over you made him want to fuck right then and there. 

.Of course, that whore Millie had to get in the way. 

.He was not going to kill you because he planned to come back for you. 

.When you went up against him he was angry you were rejecting him and he swore he would have you. 

.Mark his words, he would have his darling little lady. 

.Later when he meets you again this time he is going to kill Mildred or try to. 

.He is pissed at himself that he missed. 

.He is even more pissed that he had to run away without you his darling future wife. 

.But he will not stop he will make you his wife and have you. It is just a matter of time. 

.Striker is the type of yandere that starts as confident, calm, cool, and collected. 

.He knows that he is the best choice for you and that you and he would be an unstoppable husband and wife duo. 

Of course, you are being a VERU disobedient future wife, so when he does get you. 

.He is going to have to break you like a horse and build you back up into the perfect wife and partner in crime. 

.Although each time he loses you he becomes more and more unhinged and unstable. 

.He is only a few loses away from snapping, breaking into your home, killing your wife, and fucking you next to her corpse. (Let's hope it does not come to that...) 

.He would be the yandere to snap very much so. 

.He will kill anyone who gets in his way. 

.When he does confess to you, it will most likely be when you are kidnapped. 

.He most likely will make you go into Stockholm syndrome. 

.Possibly even putting a baby in you. To keep you in line and under his thumb. 

.He would love to kill with you, but the idea of you being a housewife and doing as told is a nice thought to him too. 

.It could go either way with you being his partner or staying home as a housewife. 

.He is the type of yandere that KNOWS he is the best and knows EVERYONE Else is not good enough for you. 

.So if you were to lower your standards and let yourself be with others he would have to punish you. 

.You are the ONLY One good enough for him, so that makes you his and his alone. 

.He is also a very controlling and demanding yandere. 

.As well as very possessive in the way he feels like he owns you, and that you have to do what he says when he says. 

.He also may or may not be a bit sexist. 

.The one thing for sure, you are his darling and you do not get a choice. 

"Come here, Darling, y` better be a good girl, or I have to punish ya~" -Stirker

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS finally got another one done, I hope that you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins! BYE!!!]