#shockingly good husband

[valiantstarlights]

I am obsessed with your writing especially Demon Dream and the lovely priest he took as his husband

I keep wanting the angst though of Hob getting kidnapped while he is carrying their baby and Dream threatening to unleash the apocalypse until he gets Hob back

Thank you 🖤 I love them too, blasphemous as they are. 🥰

Okay. So while I think it's highly unlikely for priest!Hob to get kidnapped, especially when he gets pregnant, let's say it did happen.

CW: violence and gore, but neither dream nor hob gets hurt so don't worry 😊 strangely fluffy 👀

Maybe the lower demons squatting in Destruction's abandoned territory thought it was a good idea to kidnap Dream's pregnant consort as a hostage. Give us what we want and you'll get your whore and your spawn back.

Maybe they managed to plant a couple of their own agents among Dream's household servants, and they knocked Hob out and carried him out through a hidden passageway in the dead of night while Dream is visiting one of his siblings' territories for some administrative business.

Maybe they even manage to drug Matthew the hellhound's food, knowing that the hellhound never leaves Hob's side, especially with Dream gone with Jessamy.

(Matthew has followed Hob around like a 3 month old puppy since he arrived, always begging for pets and treats. Matthew is as large as a warhorse and he is very spoiled. 🐶)

The lower demons behind the kidnapping plot are very happy that the first phase of their plan succeeded without a hitch.

For the second phase, they write a threatening letter to Dream with their demands. They foolishly mention that they're gonna hurt Hob and their unborn child.

Dream, currently in Desire's territory, goes ballistic when he receives the letter. He goes full Nightmare form, towering over everyone, horns and wings and tail on display, fanged mouth dripping with blood, claws long and sharp, his feet leaving fiery footprints in his wake.

(In short, very scary sexy.)

Desire, Unity, and a pregnant Miranda do their best to calm him down, but every time Dream sees Miranda's stomach, he is reminded of Hob and he wants to tear Hell apart looking for him.

Desire feels for their brother. When Unity had been pregnant with Miranda, they almost had their entire territory on lockdown. So they offer to join forces with Dream to look for whoever is responsible and fashion a new level of Hell just for the culprits. Them and Dream are going to personally torture them all for eternity.

Dream is very grateful and calms down a little. He is still freaking out, thinking the absolute worst scenarios and remembering the last morning he spent with Hob, with the man standing behind him in the vanity, combing his hair and being very careful about his horns, how warm he felt when they embraced, how the baby kicked between them, as if wanting attention as well. Hob had laughed when the baby continued kicking and stretching, with Dream's large hands pressed against his stomach, imploring the child to take it easy on Hob's body.

Did he tell Hob that he loves him before he left? He must have. He remembers kissing him until Hob pushed Dream's face away playfully and told him he's already running late.

Before Dream left, Hob told him that he wants guava jelly donuts and smoked sausages when he comes back from visiting Desire. They had visited together, a long time ago, before Hob got pregnant. Dream remembers being dragged to various food stalls, and Hob chatting with the food vendors, who were happy to serve him and Dream their best creations.

He wants to see Hob's smile again. Feel their child moving in Hob's belly again.

Desire helps him write messages to their other siblings, informing them of the situation, and has their own trusted messengers send the letters.

Dream is glad that Desire is helping him, because he cannot think clearly right now. He wants to storm Destruction's abandoned territory first, and Hob cannot possibly be there.

...Unless the rebellion they quelled years ago have managed to build their forces back up again and they were the ones behind this.

He tells this to Desire, who finds his logic sound. And without another word, they gear up for battle and call upon their armies.

--

Meanwhile, Hob is being kept in a glass cage. Not like Dream's fishbowl, but kinda like an aquarium. Roomier, and has the amenities of a prison cell, which Hob is actually thankful for, because he pees a lot these days.

No one has touched him yet, but he has heard the things they want to do to him: unpleasant things he'd rather not hear. He hopes his baby is asleep and not listening because he doesn't want them to be traumatized.

He knows that Dream is coming for him and that all these lower demons would pay for what they have done, but he wishes he would come sooner rather than later. He is still a couple months away from giving birth, but he worries about his nutrition. He wants his baby to be healthy, and prison food in Hell is just...not it.

(He's only been here like a day and he hates it.)

And he misses Dream. This is the first time they've been away from each other this long. He wants to lay in bed with him and have him hum lullabies from his own childhood while he presses kisses on Hob's stomach. He wants to read books sitting on Dream's lap, Dream reading his own book, and Matthew and Jessamy napping at their feet. He wants to eat his meals with him which would eventually lead them to fuck in the dining room.

Dream is gentler, these days, torturing Hob sweetly when he goes slow and gentle rather than fast and rough like Hob sometimes craves.

Hob wants his husband.

Hob wants his child to be safe and healthy.

Hob wants to kill every single last one of these motherfuckers who dare lay a hand on him, and would dare harm his child.

As you can see, once Hob enters the anger stage of the five stages of grief, he's as vicious as Dream and his other siblings. He may just be human, and he may be currently pregnant and seemingly helpless, but you have to remember that this is the same man who murdered someone in cold blood when he was still a priest because he wanted to save a convent full of nuns from being the man's victims.

Also, Hell has changed him.

He vows that he's going to survive, and in a couple of months, he'll safely give birth to his and Dream's child in the safety of Dream's castle.

And so he waits.

He waits until the lower demons grow restless, and for them to become stupid enough to want to enter his cage and do what they said they were going to do.

He barely has to wait a full day.

The first batch of demons enter his cage, and they're all smirking, telling him that Dream has abandoned him, and that he's their plaything now.

Hob has his back against the corner, but he is calm and says nothing back. Just caresses his belly complacently.

When the first one brazenly steps closer, Hob opens his mouth and starts reciting scripture.

The demons, almost as one, clap their hands against their ears before they explode in a shower of blood.

Hob continues speaking, projecting his voice louder, the way he used to do when he gave Mass as a priest.

It was an accident, how he found out that scripture can hurt the lower demons.

Back when he was new in Hell, a servant had given him his meal in his rooms. Dream had been across the castle attending to some business, and Hob had begged him for a reprieve after the previous night's activities so he was still in bed.

The servant served him his food, then demurely steps to the side, in case he has a need for anything else.

Unthinkingly, Hob had said grace. And the poor demon girl had shrieked and clapped her hands against her ears, and Hob immediately shut his mouth and apologized profusely.

The servant girl's ears bled a little, but her full recovery time took a week. She was a lovely girl and so Hob sent her gifts every day until she healed, genuinely apologetic about his thoughtless action.

Back then, he had only spoken the first four words of the prayer. Now he is reciting the entire Book of Psalms.

--

Desire and Dream, along with their combined armies, arrive at Destruction's territory and mercilessly slaughters all the demons they meet. Their bodies will reform later, but they have been marked for torture, and will not be able to escape or hide ever again.

Dream is a monster in the battlefield. Demons actually flee at the sight of him, but he does not let them. He carves a bloody path straight to Destruction's crumbling castle, where his heart is telling him to go.

Once he disintegrates the castle doors, he descends the stairs towards the basement, heart in his throat, fearing the worst.

He is barely halfway down the steps when he sees a massacre.

From how the bodies are positioned, though, they look like they were fleeing something. Some died covering their ears. Others are just a spray of red on the walls and floors.

He walks on.

In the middle of the basement is a glass cage. He snarls at the sight, imagining Hob being caged and treated like an animal, when he should be placed on a throne and dressed in the richest and softest materials, spoiled and well-fed and loved.

The cage's walls are covered in blood, and Dream knows he has to go inside and check, but what if--

He can't bear it if--

He hears humming.

He runs forward and wrenches the cage's door open, and is met with Hob, sitting on the bed that is pushed against one wall, covered in blood but looking unharmed.

Hob's face lights up when he sees Dream, and Dream rushes towards him, falling down on his knees and running his hands all over his love, checking if he's safe. If the baby is safe. Dream is going to start torturing everyone responsible as soon as their bodies reform.

"I'm fine, Dream, honestly," Hob says, laughing and batting his hands away.

It's so good to hear him laugh again. Dream kisses him, unmindful of the blood smearing between their faces.

"And our child?" Dream asks, hands still on Hob's arms, holding him so his mind registers that this is, in fact, real. Hob is alive. Hob is fine. "Are they safe?"

"Of course they are," Hob says. "Although I have to say, they have had enough excitement for a while. No excitement again until they're at least a century old, please."

"You would not let them help me torture the demons who dared to end their life before they're born?"

Hob hums and thinks about it. Finally, he says, "Not if I were there to remind you both to take breaks."

Dream laughs. It's terrible and frightening, but Hob loves it. And oh, how Dream loves his husband back.

"Thank you for rescuing me, by the way," Hob says as he stands. Dream helps him up, and places his hand on Hob's back, gently massaging the area. "Oooh, that feels good, thank you."

"I do not think you needed rescuing at all," Dream remarks, now looking at the scene around them. Only the place where Hob was sitting is free of blood and guts. "Did you do all this?"

Hob looks at him askance. "Of course I did. Have you so little faith in me?"

Dream pulls his beautiful, brilliant husband towards him again, and together they stand in the middle of the carnage that is Hob's doing alone. Between them, their child moves and greets Dream with a gentle nudge against Hob's stomach. Dream presses his hand against the movement, and with the other tilts Hob's lovely face up so he would see just how much Dream means his next statement.

"My love, you are the only one I have unending faith in, and the only one I will gladly spend the rest of my life worshipping." He leans down and gives his love a chaste kiss on the lips. They are both covered in blood, but it doesn't matter. It's irrefutable evidence that they would do everything in their power to get back together and keep their family safe.

Hob hums. "I'm looking forward to this eternal worship by first eating the guava jelly donuts and the smoked sausages I asked you to buy."

"And you shall have them," Dream promises. "For I have not forgotten."

"Carry me home?"

Dream obediently leans down and picks his husband up in his arms. Hob's ankles must be killing him. All the more reason to make these bastards suffer. He is looking forward to showing them just how badly they fucked up.

But that can wait until after his husband is happy and sated and safe behind his castle walls again.

#priest hob AU #phew this got a bit long #ask and you shall receive #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs #bamf hob gadling #shockingly good husband #dream of the endless

[fuzzbraiin]

you and me, we’re not the same

i am a sinner, you are a saint.

#same ship different fonts #average ofmd enjoyer shockingly enjoys good omens #merging my two interests #ineffable husbands #blackbonnet #our flag means death #good omens #ed ofmd #ofmd #edward teach #blackbeard #aziracrow #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #crowley #stede bonnet #ofmd stede #fuzzbraiin art

[plantdad-dante]

Book #145 - Der Schimmelreiter by Theodor Storm

[english title: The Rider On The White Horse] (a PSA to all (future) teachers: this is not a good book for 8th graders. this is not the first classic that any kid should read. there are better ways to explain what a framing narrative is, please.)

A thing that I have realized over the last few months (possibly starting with something I wrote about Hold Me Closer, funnily enough) and which has definitely festered into full-on brain damage since then...

I love reading. I love books. I love stories. (Yes, I know, duh, but hear me out.)

Up until now, these things were true, yes, but in a more limited way. I loved reading good books. I loved reading stories that I liked, that I related to, that made me feel warm and fuzzy and good (or that completely devastated me emotionally, which is equally valid). And I liked it enough to not have it soured by books I ended up not liking. I liked the quiet of reading, I liked that I didn't need electronics to do it, I liked that it didn't chain me to a sofa for a minimum and maximum of two hours. In short, I liked the convenience, the ubiquity and the comfort of books that lit up my brain.

Unfortunately, it has kind of come to pass that that is now... uh. Every Book. Like, I still have opinions and biases and and personal taste, but now I love reading whether or not I like the book I'm reading right now. I have fallen in love with the thing itself, and I refuse to climb back out of this hole.

Btw, wanna know how I know all that? The Rider On The White Horse is boring as shit! Or it should be, if I were still sane. Because this book is mainly just about a weird dude who becomes this official (dikeduke??) and builds a family and a dyke. And a lot of pages are spent on this dude doing his official business, planning and drawing schemes for his dyke and getting permits and having local spats with his neighbors.

Like, the most interesting thing here by far is the framing narrative through which we know that this dude will somehow end up being a ghost story to scare grown men in a pub near the dyke half a century later. And it is spooky and atmospheric, yes, but remember that, in between that, the narrator insists on telling us in detail about the process of building a dyke, and about planning meetings, and about every spat he has with this one dude who hates him for no reason, and ugh. And still, I ate it up.

Half the book, before they get married, he has this sorta cute romance with his future wife, and it is mainly just them talking and having similar interests and holding hands and she is teasing him but also standing up for him, and she helps him into that official position for which they are both intellectually qualified (but, well, 1888. but hey, she can do math and doesn't get ridiculed for it, so yaaay). And she is wicked smart and them doing this shy little dance around each other is actually really sweet and the first time my brain mentioned that to me I kinda just  had to stare at a wall for a while because what

Do you see my point? I am gushing. About a book. That is a 100 page snore fest. And this was just a taste, I could go on for at least twice as long again.

(help me)

#der schimmelreiter #theodor storm #the rider on the white horse #ok shit I didn't mention: #he basically adopts a feral horse that trauma bonds to him and him alone #he saves a dog from the village when they want to bury it alive in the dyke bc of superstition (the dyke needs 'something alive' to stay up #also him being smart and saving the dog and adopting a spooky ghost horse and being a liiittle blasphemous sometimes #obviously means he's the devil right #so everyone starts hating him and he starts hating everyone in return except his family #but like he still tries and he helps that old woman and tries to listen to criticism #and really - apart from a bit of pride and anger issues - he's not that horrible tbh #he's a surprisingly good husband and an absolutely amazing dad to his mentally disabled daughter #seriously. + he never once laments her disability even when his wife does + even gives her a peptalk like 'just love her as she is' like #they both love her so much. I mean they should bc that's their kid and also Wienke is sunshine personified and absolutely adorable #but still considering the times this is shockingly good parenting #like how did I only ever remember him as the guy who kills a cat?? #oh right bc my 8th grade German teacher threw a book from 1888 at us and expected us 14 year old dipshits to just read and fully understand #it without any help or guidance #i heart the german school system (sarcasm)

[aza-trash-can]

Good Omens has also now overtaken me

#aza's trash #not in a hyperfixation way shockingly #ngl it's kinda nice to just be casually into something for once #it's like a nice tea break in the middle of my genshin craze #look at good omens for an hour or two and gush about the husbands then get back on my bullshit with the sad dragon man

[funemployed-fangirl]

Bridgerton proposals rated by level of chaos

Anthony - While courting her sister, Anthony panics when Kate is stung by a bee, proceeds to attempt to suck out the poison from her clavicle, and is caught by their mothers and Lady Featherington. Lady F says they'll have to marry and Anthony announces they'll be married next week. No proposal, Kate is never consulted. Anthony then ravishes her in the gazebo. 10/10. Complete Chaos.

Benedict - After repeatedly propositioning Sophie to be his live-in mistress, Benedict finds out she has been arrested for theft, shows up at the jail, punches the warden, and demands to know why his fiancé is being held prisoner. No proposal. Lady B almost punches Sophie's evil stepmother. 12/10. Utter Chaos.

Colin - Like a day after realizing that he finds Penelope incredibly attractive, Colin chases her through London, discovers she's Lady Whistledown, throws her in his carriage, lectures her, ravishes her, then they arrive back at her house and he hops out of the carriage and says, "well are you going to marry me or not?" Technically a proposal. 7/10. Chaos compounded by Lady F somehow thinking he's proposing to Pen's little sister.

Daphne - Daphne disrupts a duel for her honor, punches Simon in the eye, and insists he marry her because their garden makeout session was seen. Simon say he cannot have children, omitting that it's a personal choice and not a medical condition, and Daphne says good to know not a problem we're doing this. No real proposal. No one's happy with the outcome. Pistols and bickering big brothers in attendance for added chaos. 8/10

Eloise - Phillip proposes in a letter before they ever meet, failing to mention he has two children. Eloise packs a bag and leaves for his house without telling anyone. Phillip is shocked to discover her on his doorstep. The brothers are forced to ride after to her to defend her honor. Eloise doesn't understand why everyone's making such a fuss. Colin grumbles he's meant to be on his honeymoon. Beautiful Eloise-brand chaos abounds. 7/10

Francesca - Michael pines for a decade. He proposes. Franny says no. They have sex. He proposes. She says maybe. They have more sex. He nearly dies of malaria. Eventually they get married. By any other family's standards, it would be legendary chaos, but we're talking about the Bridgertons. 5/10

Gregory - HOO BOY. Gregory proposes/propositions Lucy despite her being engaged to someone else. She agrees but then is threatened by her treasonous uncle and goes through with the original marriage. Gregory interrupts the wedding. Lucy turns him down in front of the whole Ton. At the reception Gregory kidnaps her, then gets into a shootout with her uncle. Her now-husband agrees to annul the marriage. Absolute freaking chaos. No notes. 27/10

Hyacinth - Despite midnight rendezvous, breaking and entering, and a treasure hunt, Hyancinth's proposal is shockingly normal. Gareth formally asks Anthony's permission, then gets down on one knee and proposes properly. 2/10. Mildly disappointing, considering H's chaotic personality.

#Bridgerton #bridgerton siblings #bridgerton family #bridgerton books #romance #kanthony #polin #benophie

[fanficimagery]

Girl in the Painting

After taking a closer look at Xavier's paintings, Wednesday realizes he wasn't having dreams of her at all. But she does know the girl in the paintings and she's decided that this one good deed shouldn't kill her.

Words: 6.6K Author's Note: Wednesday AU. I'm well aware Xavier never had dreams of Wednesday; he just painted her because he'd seen her and "instantly fell in love". For this, however, I'm saying he's dreamt of her, possibly even before she showed up to Nevermore, and she realizes later on she was never actually the center of his dreams. Also, TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of past attempted sexual assault. It's brief.

As the students of Nevermore are packing up and readying themselves for their trips home, a group of girls are sitting around the charred fountain in the courtyard.

"So what are your plans for summer?" Bianca asks, fingers skimming the water. The dark skinned siren smiles when Enid blushes prettily, her gaze immediately darting to the ever stoic Wednesday. She's been wondering, as of late, if Enid's feelings towards Wednesday were leaning towards romantic rather than platonic.

"Going to Wednesday's home," Enid finally says. "Gonna spend a couple of weeks with the Addams' family."

"Yeah? I didn't think our resident living dead girl was into slumber parties."

"It's going to be a blast," Wednesday deadpans. Yoko chuckles, sipping on whatever concoction she's mixed up that satiates her bloodlust. "You two are more than welcome. Apparently the more, the merrier."

"Sorry," Yoko muses, "but the coven's gonna travel all summer. I'm quite looking forward to it."

"Mmm. And as much as I'm loving the new attitude, I got some things to take care of before we come back to Nevermore," Bianca says, her silver eyes glowing just the faintest. She really couldn't wait until she finished this favor for her mother and her new creep of a husband. "Besides, I can't be seen painting the nails of the girl responsible for my break-up with Xavier so soon. I at least gotta make it seem like I've made you sweat."

Wednesday just blinks at Bianca's reasoning, but Enid frowns. "Wait, what? I thought you broke up because Xavier was being his emo artistic self?"

Yoko grins around the straw of her drink. "She wishes."

"I actually found a sketch of Wednesday in his journal before I even knew who Wednesday was," Bianca confesses. "Here. Look." She takes her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her pictures. "I snapped a pic to see what I could find out online, but shockingly nothing was solved until Wednesday showed up here."

"I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation."

"Yep. Sounds like you," Bianca says. "Look. See? He drew this before you even stepped foot behind Nevermore's gates."

Wednesday takes the phone and Enid leans closer to take a look. Both girls scrutinize the sketch, both equally baffled to see who everyone has assumed was Wednesday herself smiling. But just as Wednesday is about to hand the phone back, something catches her eye and she brings the phone closer to her face to scrutinize it.

"I can see why you thought this was me," Wednesday says, "but I assure you, it is not me who's apparently caught Xavier's fancy."

"No?" Bianca huffs. "Sure as hell looks like you."

Yoko nods. "Could have fooled me."

"I thought it was me as well, but this sketch proves me wrong. Look here." Wednesday zooms in on the picture, focusing on the right eyebrow. "You see that scar? I don't have it."

Bianca stares before rolling her eyes and reclaiming her phone. "So Xavier gives you a flaw and you immediately don't think it's you?"

"It is not a flaw. It's a sign of strength." Bianca, and the ever-smiling Enid and Yoko frown at the tone Wednesday has now taken on and the steely glint in her eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"A couple of years ago, me and my siblings decided to walk into town after a tiring day at school. A group of older teenage boys cornered us down an alley, and they held me and Pugsley back while making us watch as they tore at the clothes on my sister's back. They mocked her tears and promised that whatever they did to her, no one would believe her since even our sheriff hated outcasts like us. They wanted to break her because we were different. But in a bout of bravery that I will forever be proud of her for, she took the small blade our uncle Fester gifted her and stabbed one of her attackers. In return, they hit her in the face with half a brick and fled with their friend."

"Shit." Bianca blinks in surprise. "Is your sister okay?"

"She's fine. They only left her with a scar and a fear of normies. She used to have the social personality that Enid possesses, but now she haunts the halls of our home rather than leaving it. I tried to get her to attend Nevermore, but even I failed in doing so. Xavier's sketch though, it shows her smiling. That tells me she will be okay."

"So… Xavier only thinks he's infatuated with you?" Yoko wonders.

"It appears so. But if I can manage to get him to my home, maybe he'll see for himself it wasn't me he was having dreams of."

Bianca huffs a laugh. "Sounds fun. Now I'm really glad I can't make it to your slumber party. The breakup is still too fresh to see him fawning over someone else. Maybe the time away will do me some good."

"This sounds like my kind of drama." Yoko sighs wistfully. "Too bad I'll have to miss it."

"Yes, well, Xavier did gift me this phone." Wednesday pulls out a sleek iPhone. "Perhaps if I had your number, I could text you updates. Or death threats."

"Done and done. Gimme." Yoko happily takes Wednesday's phone, typing her information into it. Then taking a selfie, she hands the phone to Bianca who does the same, but makes sure Wednesday understands that she doesn't want any updates.

"We're going to have so much fun!" Enid happily bounces in place, accepting Wednesday's phone to type in her own information. "I can't wait to meet your family."

At 001 Cemetery Lane, a gothic looking manor stands tall and proud behind a sentient gate.

With your fingers running through the dust along the wall, you quietly walk down the hallway as your sister's friend can be heard babbling on and on. Enid Sinclair had shown up only a couple of days ago, her bubbly personality breathing life into your usually dark home. You'd have kept your distance had you not learned she was from Nevermore, but upon learning she was a werewolf, you found yourself leaving your room while there was a guest in your home.

Halfway down the staircase, the doorbell ominously tolls and Lurch appears from the next room over to answer it. You freeze, wondering who would dare walk up to your house.

Lurch opens the door and your breathing ceases for a moment at the sight of a teenage boy standing there. He's around six feet tall, give or take a couple of inches, and he sheepishly runs a hand through his chin length hair.

"Hey, uh, is Wednesday home?" He's staring up at Lurch who's towering over him, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his coat which seem to be torn on one arm. Lurch turns and looks up at you, and you startle when the boy's gaze lands on you. His brow furrows before he smiles. "Hi. I, uh, I think your gate tried to eat me."

Your lips faintly twitch and your heart rate starts to slow. If he knows Wednesday and isn't freaking out too much about Gate, there's a good chance he's from Nevermore as well. "He's temperamental. You need to be quick to avoid his swing." Then without waiting for a response, you turn around and call out, "Wednesday! There's a boy at the door for you."

A small weight lands on your shoulder and you grin at the sight of Thing. He trembles excitedly, tapping and pointing and making gestures as you giggle at his enthusiasm.

"Oh, hey Thing! Long time no see." When you glance back at the door, the boy is now inside your home with the door shut behind him and Lurch nowhere to be found. Thing scrambles off your shoulder and rushes towards the boy, and it's not until the boy squats down to fist bump Thing that you catch yourself admiring how cute the boy is. Immediately you shut that thought down and wipe any form of amusement from your expression. Then when the boy glances back at you, he stands tall and smiles yet again. "I'm Xavier Thorpe," he then introduces himself.

"YN," you deadpan. You hear Wednesday's nearly silent footfalls behind you and nod at him before you take a step back up the staircase. "Enjoy your stay here. Don't touch Mother's plants. They bite."

As you turn around, you're unsurprised to find Wednesday looking right at you. Her eyebrow twitches, your eyes narrow, and you clasp your hands behind your back before marching back up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase, Enid is practically beaming at you. "He's cute. Right?"

"Ask my sister. He's her guest."

"What? They're not-"

But you pay her no mind and trace your steps back to your room.

At the bottom of the staircase, Xavier watches as Wednesday's sister disappears. "How long have you known?" He asks.

"That it was my sister you've been having dreams of and not me?" He gives her a deadpan stare and Wednesday nearly smiles. "Only since our last day at Nevermore. Bianca showed me the first picture you ever drew and the scar in her eyebrow tipped me off. You're welcome."

Enid skips down the stairs, sighing as she approaches her friends. "Well you're going to have your work cut out for you, Xavier. She thinks you're here for Wednesday."

"Technically, I am." He shrugs.

"And now you're here for her," Wednesday says. "Protect her heart. You so much as bruise it and I'll dissect yours."

Xavier blinks in shock and Enid giggles, skipping to his side and hooking her arm with his. "Let the wooing begin."

Over the past couple of days, you keep your distance from Wednesday's friends. You've heard them around the house, sure, but only managed to really be in the same room as them when you all had dinner as a family. You always sat between Wednesday and Pugsley, across from Enid and Xavier, but your eyes never strayed too far from your plate.

One morning, you have the urge to visit what used to be your favorite part of the manor.

The sunroom towards the back of the manor used to be your space- filled with vibrant flowers, plants, and vines and even a small fountain in the corner. But ever since the incident, you've tried to find solace in the one place you loved, only to have everything you touch wilt right before your very eyes. And now- now the sunroom is filled with black and gray and brown plants.

Finding what used to be a rose, your mother's favorite flower, you pick it up and gently cradle it in the palms of your hands. One of its petals crumbles beneath the pad of your thumb and it takes everything in you to not cry.

"I was wondering where you've been sneaking off to." The voice startles you and you turn to see Xavier standing under the archway of the entrance. His hair is pulled back into a small knot at the back of his head, a few strands left loose, and you quickly squash down the thought that he looks really cute like this. "Sorry," he then apologizes. "I thought you would have heard my footsteps."

"...no worries."

You turn back around, gently laying the dead flower back down. Exhaling softly, you then move towards the door leading outside, unsurprised when you hear footsteps following you. "So this place is… awesome."

You huff a laugh, stopping just inside the door and only peering outside towards the family cemetery. "Believe it or not, it wasn't always like this. I used to be able to breathe life into this room."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Now everything I touch seems to die."

"Oh I wouldn't say that."

"Really? Take a look around, Mr. Thorpe. I did this." Xavier takes a look around, frowning and trying to understand you. Exhaling softly again, you paste on a friendly grin and turn to face him. "If you're looking for my sister, she and Enid have Uncle Fester in the electric chair up in the attic."

He barks out a surprised laugh. "What?"

"He loves it." You shrug. Then as you're walking away, you say, "Fair warning; if Uncle Fester tells you to pull his finger, don't."

"Why? Because his farts are killer?"

"No. Because he'll electrocute you."

You leave Xavier chuckling in your wake, finding it a little easier to be in your sister's friends presence.

Then two days later, it's your turn to find Xavier in the sunroom. His hair is back in the little knot that you couldn't stop staring at, dressed in paint splattered clothes as he stands in front of an easel.

When he catches sight of you, he offers you a smile before he focuses on his canvas once more. You continue walking closer and when he doesn't say anything, you walk around to see what he was inspired to paint. Surprisingly, it's a black and white portrait of your sister sitting behind her cello mid-stroke.

"Oh wow," you breathe in awe. "Xavier, this is amazing."

"You think so?"

When you chance a glance at him and notice the faint pink surrounding his cheek bones, you smile genuinely at him. "Of course. You're really talented."

"Glad you think so." Xavier steps back, looking at his work as he stands side by side with you. "Wednesday, uh, she played the cello one night and it was amazing. No one thought her capable of it."

"Why? Because she's death incarnate?"

Xavier chuckles, bashfully averting his gaze. "Something like that." Then looking at the painting once more, he says, "Your mother saw one of my pieces at Nevermore and asked if I could recreate it so she could hang it here."

You nod in understanding, unable to tear your eyes away from the way Xavier has captured your sister. Then right before your eyes, the painting slowly comes to life- Wednesday's bangs blowing in the wind, one hand pushing and drawing the bow across the cello strings as the other holds down certain strings in a muted song.

You quietly gasp, eyes widening in surprise. You watch in awe before turning towards your companion, only to find him holding his hand out towards the painting with his eyes closed. "Oh." You utter in realization. "You're gifted and then you're literally gifted."

Xavier's eyes open and he nods, eyes sparkling. "I have the gift of animation."

"Marvelous."

You continue staring at the painting, finding the foundation of your walls quaking and feeling a bit more comfortable in the presence of the boy who has decided to share his power with you.

You're so used to sitting between your siblings at dinner that you're thrown for a loop when you find Enid in your usual place. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, but Enid and Pugsley merely smile while Wednesday arches an eyebrow at you.

Xavier fidgets nervously in his chair, smiling sheepishly at you. "Come on. I don't bite," he muses as he gestures to the empty seat.

Against your will, you blush.

"Pity," Wednesday drawls. "I think my sister would have quite liked that."

"Wednesday!" Your mortification makes Enid giggle. You nervously take your seat before your father takes your mother's hand, pressing kisses to the back of her hand and all the way up her arm where he then proceeds to mockingly bite her. "Oh my god. You're all so embarrassing."

"They're cute." Enid beams at your parents' affectionate behavior.

"Someone drown me," you mumble.

"Only after dinner," your mother says.

Xavier snorts and you briefly flash him a grin before fiddling with your utensils.

Lurch brings the food out, everyone having a pasta dish with the exception of Enid who'd been brought out a medium-rare steak. You quietly dig in, gaze darting from person to person as the conversation flows around you.

Eventually, when the dessert is brought out, Enid addresses the younger crowd.

"So the cinema is playing a werewolf movie and I really want to go see it and make fun of it. Is anyone else interested in going?"

"Sure." Xavier shrugs. "Sounds fun."

Wednesday sighs. "If I must."

"I have plans with Thing," Pugsley says, smiling apologetically at Enid.

All eyes turn towards you and you fight the urge to shrink in your seat. You gulp, but before you can come up with an excuse to not have to leave your house, your mother is urging you to go. "It sounds like fun, sweetheart. Surely you'd love to go with your sister and friends."

"I-"

It's been years, darling," your father says. "I think it's time to get back out there. You're not that naive little girl anymore, mija."

You let your mouth close, everyone ignoring Xavier's, "Am I missing something?"

Wednesday's giving you her usual deadpan stare whereas Enid is smiling and nodding, encouraging you to go. Both your parents are smiling, anticipating your answer, but what makes you cave is the fact that a part of you actually wants to go. You want to be somewhat of a normal teenager, being out and about with your sister, Enid, and a cute boy.

Reluctantly, your shoulders sag and you give a nod. "Fine. I'll make an attempt."

"I'll take it!" Enid blurts.

Wednesday looks pleased with your answer and you finish the rest of dinner without uttering another word.

Then the next evening, you're being picky about what outfit you should wear. You'd taken to wearing different shades of black and gray, but tonight you want to look good. All your dresses and skirts are out of the question, and eventually you settle on a pair of burgundy plaid leggings and a black sweater crop top. You fix your hair to your liking and then slip your feet into a pair of black combat boots before lacing them up tightly. Then deeming yourself ready, you shove your phone, cash, and ID into a miniature backpack that is adorned with skulls and crossbones.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you finally make your way downstairs.

Wednesday, Enid, and Xavier are waiting for you, and when Wednesday sees you… a smile slowly blossoms as she takes you in.

"What are you-" Enid turns around and her jaw drops. Then she beams and practically hops in place in her excitement. "You're wearing something other than black!"

Xavier turns, his gulp very obvious. "Wow." You think he must've wanted to keep that to himself because he blushes and nervously runs a hand through his loose hair. "You, uh, you look nice."

You arch an eyebrow at him, grinning. "Thanks."

Walking past them, you walk outside to where Lurch is waiting by the car to drive you into town. He hums when he sees you and you wrinkle your nose at him as he opens the back door for you. You climb in to sit on the bench seat directly behind the driver's seat, holding in your surprise when Wednesday and Enid shove Xavier in right behind you. He practically falls into his seat, righting himself as smoothly as he can, and Wednesday and Enid take their seats across from you.

Enid and Xavier keep the conversation flowing with you and Wednesday occasionally humming in response.

After several long minutes of driving, Wednesday is instructing Lurch where to drop you all off. It's a couple blocks away from the cinema, but your sister apparently wants to go for a brief walk. Though the second your feet are on the pavement and Lurch drives away, you freeze.

"Hey. You okay?" Xavier asks.

Your hands are gripping the straps to your backpack and you gulp, subconsciously stepping closer to him when he gently touches your elbow. "Y-Yeah."

"Come on. Wednesday will leave us behind if we linger."

"Mhm."

Gently pulling on your arm, you stiffly follow Xavier. Your eyes are peeled for anyone staring, hands tightening on the straps of your bag. The only time you feel yourself exhaling with relief is when Xavier puts himself between you and the street, letting you take the part of the sidewalk that's closest to the buildings.

Enid and Wednesday are walking in front of you, elbows linked, and occasionally Enid giggles over her shoulder when she glances back at you. But you're too paranoid to pay her any mind and try to focus on the silent strength that Xavier is unknowingly offering up.

At the cinema, Enid asks for four tickets to the latest werewolf thriller, and she happily claps when Xavier pays for everyone. At the snack counter it takes everything in you to not bolt or hide out in the bathroom, but you shakily manage to retrieve your own cash to pay for some nachos and a drink.

So far no one's stared or shouted and you find yourself relaxing, especially when you take a seat in the movie room and everyone is paying attention to their people that they showed up with.

Sitting between Xavier and Wednesday, you find yourself breathing a little easier.

Enid has several hot dogs balancing on her lap, Wednesday is chewing on black licorice, and you and Xavier had the same idea to get nachos. He, however, also nabbed several boxes of candy and a bucket of popcorn.

"I hope you choke on a kernel," Wednesday says as she watches him stuff handful after handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You giggle, licking the cheesy goodness from your fingertips and sipping on your drink.

And halfway through the movie, you hear Xavier actually choke. A laugh slips out of your sister before her lips are pressed closed once more, and you offer Xavier your drink. Sharing a straw doesn't bother you, so you nod in reassurance as he stares at it.

For the rest of the movie, you and Xavier share your drink. And when you run out, he quickly leaves the darkness of the room to get you a refill.

After the movie, you're standing outside in front of the cinema as Enid talks about the horrible cosmetics they used to portray a werewolf. Wednesday is tapping away on her phone before she puts it away, cutting Enid off mid rant and giving her a nod. She squeals and happily claps her hand, and you stare at them in confusion.

"There's a fair going on," Wednesday says. "Enid wants to go."

You slowly tense up. "Oh."

The bubbly werewolf's smile falls. "But if that's too much for you, we don't-"

"No. It's fine," you assure her. Your hands are back to gripping the straps of your backpack. "We can- we can go."

Enid is back to happily clapping, but Wednesday curiously studies your demeanor. And when she sees you're not about to have a meltdown, she turns and follows after her friend.

"We can always hang out front of the fair if you really don't want to go in," Xavier says. You startle, somehow having forgotten he was there. "I don't mind waiting with you."

"It's okay. Really." Your smile is shaky as you look up at him. "Just, uh, maybe don't leave me alone in there?"

"Stick by your side. Got it." Xavier grins as he offers you his elbow and you're quick to latch on. "I'll even win you the ugliest prize we can find if you're up for it."

You chuckle and let him lead the way, occasionally glancing up at him. "Christ, I forget how tall you are sometimes."

"I'm not tall, you're just really small."

"Ha. Ha."

When you eventually make it to the fair, Xavier hesitates with you as you warily glance around. Then taking a deep breath, you press on and practically make yourself flush against his side. You walk around for a bit, smiling when you see Wednesday and Enid pass you by, Enid already holding tightly to a stuffed unicorn.

As you're walking around, your eyes are drawn back to a green and black dragon that's about half your size. Xavier must notice because he decides to try his hand at basketball in order to win the prize and it takes him four tries to win it.

You don't know what it is about Xavier that makes your guard start to drop, but you find yourself smiling and laughing a bit more easier. He tries winning a panda next, but in between his dart throwing, he notices as you keep your back to the game and are staring from side to side.

You're too distracted to notice he's watching you, your arms wrapped around your dragon as you nervously chew on the bottom corner of your lip. He sighs a little dejectedly, turning around so he can see where you're staring off to. "So who's the lucky guy… or girl?"

"Excuse me?" You look up at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

"You keep glancing around." He faintly grins. "Are you waiting for someone?"

You study his features, eyes subtly widening when you notice something. Was that- was that jealousy clouding his expression? "Wednesday didn't tell you," you then mumble in awe. You for sure thought he knew why you never left your home. After all, Enid did.

"Tell me what?"

You gulp, glancing at the carnie listening in to your conversation. "Let's go for a walk. I'll fill you in." Shakily exhaling, you gesture for Xavier to follow. Side by side, he walks with you with his hands tucked away in the pockets of his coat. "A few years ago, Wednesday, Pugsley, and I were attacked by a group of normies. It… wasn't a pleasant experience for me and it's actually how I got this," you say while gesturing to the scar on your eyebrow. "They were ripping- uh, they were ripping off my clothes, so I stabbed one of them." Your breath hitches and when you chance a glance up at Xavier, you find that his jaw is clenched. "I stopped them from doing that to me, but they managed to hit me with a brick before they ran away."

You make it a few more steps before you're being tugged to a stop and then Xavier is walking to stand in front of you. Gently cupping one side of your face, you manage to hold back a flinch when his thumb brushes over your scar. "You're safe with me. You know that right?"

"I'm starting to realize that."

"That was a shit thing those normies did and I'll be damned if they do anything on my watch." When you meet his gaze, he offers you a small smile. "Now let's go win Wednesday the brightest stuffed animal we can find and make her take a picture with it."

Slowly smiling, you chuckle. "Okay."

And by the end of the night, you and Xavier have won the most terribly bright and fluffy stuffed animals, shoved them near Wednesday's face, and had Enid hurriedly snap a picture of your glaring sister.

You're smiling and skipping alongside Enid towards a waiting Lurch, laughing with all the stuffed animals crammed between your arms and bodies before crawling into the idling car.

For once, in a very long time, you've had fun and didn't worry about any normies looking in your direction.

Xavier's just got off the phone with his father when a familiar song being played on the cello draws him towards Wednesday's room. The door is open, the room is empty, but there's another door that leads out to a balcony.

Following the music, he's not surprised to find Wednesday playing Paint It Black while Thing turns the sheet music for her. Gomez, Morticia, Pugsley, and Enid are also on the balcony, staring at something down below.

"What's going on?" He asks, stepping closer to the railing.

Enid glances at him, beaming. "Take a look for yourself."

Xavier glances down, gaze falling to the gazebo that's been strung up with white fairy lights. But what draws his attention is the twirling figure inside the gazebo, adorned in a black leotard and a multicolored tutu. His jaw subtly drops. "She dances?"

"She dances." He looks over at Morticia Addams, tears glistening in her eyes. "It's been years since she's put on her slippers though."

"This week and a half with you and Enid have brought our daughter back," Gomez says. "Thank you."

Paint It Black fades into Nothing Else Matters and a majority of the white lights darken into purple. Xavier is entranced by the way you twirl on the tips of your toes, the stretch of your neck whenever your head is thrown back, and the long stretch of your leg when you twirl on the tips of your toes only on one foot.

As the music fades out, Enid breaks out into applause.

Your head snaps up at the sound of clapping, chest heaving, and your face burns when you see everyone watching you. Your little brother whistles as he claps too, but it's your parents' beaming and tearful expressions that keeps you from fleeing. Well them and Xavier who looks more than a little awed.

So before you do take your leave, you give them a little bow and then rush back inside the house.

Sitting on the floor in the middle of the sunroom, you're staring at the lockscreen on your phone. You never saw when the picture was taken, but apparently Enid had been keeping tabs on you and Xavier when you were at the fair, and now it was one of your favorite pictures.

In the picture, you and Xavier are walking side by side, one of your arms wrapped around your stuffed dragon with the other arm looped through his. You're looking up at him and he down at you, both of you smiling. But what made you grin at the picture the most was the height difference between you and Xavier. Enid was spot on when she described you two as tall and smol.

Hearing approaching footsteps, you block out your screen and climb to your feet… and speak of the devil.

Xavier walks in, smiling. "Knew I'd find you here."

"Did you now?" Walking over to a bench seat, you gesture to the space beside you. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to see if you were up to going into town. The cinema is showing this new cheesy horror flick and I thought you might be interested in going before my time here is up."

"Oh. Uh, yeah." Your heart starts to hammer in your rib cage. Could this be a- "Just us or are Enid and Wednesday waiting for us out front?"

"Just us?" His answer is more of a question, his cheeks tinting pink the longer you stare.

Eventually you grace him with a bashful smile. "Sure. I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You laugh. "Are- are we leaving now?"

"Yeah. We can, uh, window shop and all that fun stuff before the movie."

Warmth surges through you, at the thought that Xavier wants to spend time with just you. You're not sure if this is actually a date, but you're looking forward to one on one time without a family member lurking around the corner. "Alright. Let me just go get a bag." As you stand up to leave the room, a vine falls over the entrance. But not just any vine- a vibrant green vine that hadn't been there moments before.

"Huh." Xavier huffs. "That's the first colorful plant life I've seen in this room."

Your eyes widen and you glance all around the room, taking notice how the dead plant life isn't looking quite so dull anymore. "No way," you breathe in awe. Turning towards where the fountain sits, you rush over and pick up one of the dead water lilies. Cradling it in the palms of your hand, you notice a couple of changes in the once dead flower. Feeling Xavier walk up beside you, you ask, "Remember how I said I used to be able to breathe life into this place?"

"Yeah."

"Watch." Bringing the water lily closer to your face, you let your eyes fall shut as you inhale deeply. Then slightly pursing your lips, you blow out slowly and you can feel the water lily coming back to life right there in the palm of your hands.

"Wow." Your eyes open upon Xavier's exclamation. "And here I was thinking you had a green thumb or something. Not that you actually breathe life into them."

Huffing a laugh, you blink your tears away and gently lay the water lily back in the fountain. "I haven't been able to do this for years. I guess I had a mental block and then you- you and Enid show up and I feel more at peace than I have in a while." You step up on the side of the fountain then, turning towards Xavier as you smile. "Thank you." Then leaning in, you press a kiss to his cheek.

He suddenly turns bashful, angling his face downward so his hair shields his blushing cheeks. "I never realized how small you were."

"Shut up. You're just freakishly tall."

As Xavier glances at you through his curtain of hair, you wrinkle your nose at him and then hop off the fountain siding less you do something to ruin the moment.

Like kiss him on the lips rather than the cheek.

Spending the day with Xavier alone goes so much better than you had expected, so much so that you find yourself incredibly sad the day he is set to leave. It was clear to your entire family that something had shifted between the two of you when you'd come back home, hand in hand with a never-ending blush staining both your cheeks.

Enid was more than ecstatic and Wednesday took to sharpening her short swords whenever possible.

You're in the sunroom, clipping roses with your mother when Xavier walks in. In hand, he has a covered canvas.

"I have something for you," he tells you. "But I'm sure your mom is going to take ownership of it after she sees what it is."

You smirk at him, setting down your clippers and walking over to him. Your mother isn't far behind. "Did you paint me something?"

"I did." His hands dig into his pockets after his hands are free when you take the gift from him. You stare at the covered canvas, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. "You inspired me the other night and I just had to capture the moment."

You glance up at him, eyes narrowing though you continue to smile, and pull the cover off your painting. Your mother's delighted gasp is what makes you glance down and you're struck speechless.

The painting… is of you.

Specifically you dancing in the gazebo with the only color in the painting being that of your tutu.

"Xavier, this is…" You trail off, staring in awe. A moment passes and he brings the painting to life. Your mother starts to clap, even more delighted now as the miniature version of you dances away. "This is amazing. Thank you."

"I must show your father. This is just splendid." Your mother takes the painting, but not before gently grazing her nails along Xavier's jaw and smiling at him. "Thank you, young Mr. Thorpe."

"Y-You're welcome, Mrs. Addams."

Your mother sighs wistfully before glancing at the painting and then leaves the two of you alone. As soon as she's out of your sight, your hands are reaching for the lapels of Xavier's coat, his hands are clinging to your waist, and he's leaning down to meet you in a kiss.

You giggle when his hair falls forward to tickle your face and it makes Xavier smile.

"We really should have started this sooner," he says as he hesitantly straightens himself out. "I'm gonna miss you while I'm at Nevermore."

"What if… what if you didn't have to miss me?" You ask, your hands smoothing down the wrinkles you'd made on his coat.

"What?"

"What if I came to Nevermore?" He's quiet a little too long for your liking and you start to feel like maybe you read too much into whatever you two were. "Or not. I just thought-"

"Are you kidding me?" You barely manage to hold back a wince and Xavier's sudden laugh has you wanting to crawl into a hole. But when you chance a glance up at him, his expression is not what you were expecting. He's actually excited! "You're going to Nevermore?!"

You shrug, grinning sheepishly. "Mom's been talking to Principal Weems. I have a meeting with her in a couple of days to see whether or not I'll be a good fit."

"Hell yes." His smile is boyish and you can't help but giggle. "You'll make it in. I know it."

"I hope so. I love my parents, but they're not the greatest of teachers."

"You're gonna love it. I can introduce you to my friends and show you all the cool hang out spots. We can-"

"Xavier. Xavier!" You laugh, trying to talk over his excitement. "We don't even know if I'll get in."

"I'm telling you, you will. And if Principal Weems denies you, I'm pretty sure Wednesday will bug her until she grants you a place at the school."

"Oh. I forgot what going to school with a sibling was like." This time, you do wince. "People are going to dread another Addams roaming the halls, aren't they?"

"Some will." He grins. "But once they get to know you, they'll grow to like you."

You sigh but end up shaking your head in amusement. "If I do get in, how shocked do you think everyone will be if Wednesday's sister shows up dressed like Enid?"

"You'll confuse the hell out of everyone. Do it."

"I will. Now come on. We got away with one kiss. I have a feeling if another happens, a dagger will whiz by out of thin air."

"Xavier." The boy in question flinches as your sister pops up out of nowhere. "Your ride's here. Stop sucking my sister's face and go home. You'll see her soon enough."

He rolls his eyes, even as you laugh in the face of your sister's glare. "Always a pleasant encounter, Wednesday."

"Not really."

He huffs and glances back down at you, his gaze falling to your lips. But before he can get carried away, Wednesday's grunting and dragging him away. "Okay. Okay!" He laughs.

"You're gross. I never should have introduced you two."

You follow after them, trailing behind until you're standing under the archway of your front door. Wednesday pushes him down the steps and he walks to the car that Lurch is putting his suitcases in. He offers you one last look, one last smile, and one last wave before climbing into the vehicle his father had sent for him.

Once the car drives out of the gate, Wednesday turns towards you. "Are you happy?"

"Uh, yes?"

She quietly groans. "And here I was preparing Enid to hide a body in the family cemetery. She'll be let down that all that studying was for naught."

You bark out a laugh. "Stop corrupting Enid, Wednesday."

"Never." Her lips twitch in amusement. "Now come on. Let's go visit Principal Weems."

"But my interview is still a couple days away."

"So? She needs to be kept on her toes. She'll have to grow used to having two Addams' in her school."

"If you say so."

"I do."

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe fanfiction #wednesday imagine #wednesday fanfiction #xavier thorpe #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday #wednesday on netflix

[wordstome]

kingdom come - i

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting, magic exists but it's the creepy kind ordinary people don't fuck with

3.5k words

tw: swearing and König gets a boner. what's new

[NEXT]

GUESS WHO'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT HAHAAA IT'S MEEE STARTING A NEW SERIES/AU AGAINNNnnnnn. Don't fret, I'm still working on university au! I just started watching The Great (the tv show) and I was like hmm. I should get back to that one idea I had.

p.s. When I mention a "mask" on König, imagine a sort of phantom of the opera, Brahms kinda thing. He isn't always wearing the hood.

Outside, the bells are tolling. Back home, you’ve only ever heard church bells ringing to rally the troops. But here, in these foreign lands, they ring for a royal wedding.

You're wearing a truly massive dress shaped like a pastry. It's a work of art, to be sure, but it leaves you feeling restrained and vulnerable. You should be wearing armor into war—hard boiled leather and curtains of steel rings, not delicate lace and silken ribbons. You're walking into a battle: you would have liked to be able to bend forward further than thirty degrees.

You're at least glad you don't have to wear a veil—it would have been borderline unbearable if you had your vision restricted on top of everything else. It does mean, however, that you can see him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you.

A gigantic man with a soldier's physique, wearing a mask that covers more than half his face. Just the sight of him sends a a chill down your spine.

The officiant’s voice booms out over the assembly, but you don’t hear any of it. The sound washes over you, distant and echoing, as if your head is underwater. Your whole being is on alert as you tilt your face upwards to look at the only part of your soon-to-be-husband that you can see properly: his eyes.

They bore into you as if they're looking straight into your soul. As if they're revealing all of your secrets. For a moment, you feel disarmed, even though you can still feel the calming, solid presence of your trusty dagger against your thigh.

As the officiant finishes the wedding vows, he offers his hand to you, his touch shockingly gentle.

You steel your resolve and stare resolutely back at him as you place your hand in his, and the officials begin to bind them together with velvet cords. You remind yourself who you are, where you are, and what you must do.

You remind yourself that you have to kill him as they tie the final knot.

The woods are foreboding, home to a darkness that seems infinite and all-consuming. The heavy old trees that surround the palace grounds shut out most sunlight and all moonlight, and sometimes it feels as if the forest itself is a living, conscious thing brimming with a dangerous unknown. It's proven to be an effective line of defense in the past: citizens don’t dare to trespass on the royal grounds as it is, but an extra deterrent never hurt anybody.

Except perhaps enemy soldiers. But they learn their lesson quickly.

To you, however, the woods are comforting. You’ve spent many lonely nights amongst these trees, training until your body was sore all over. These trunks have withstood many a misplaced blow, these exposed roots have been your downfall many a time, and this mossy undergrowth has cushioned your bruises during many a tumble and fall.

Tonight, however, there is no training. No combat, no groans of pain, no thuds against wood or flesh. You are blanketed in quiet, something sorely needed as you contemplate the days to come.

This is it. The task you’ve trained for all your life is here. Every sore joint and pulled muscle, every tear-soaked pillowcase, every scolding in Father’s office has led to this. Sometimes it seemed as if the day would never come, as if years of reading, shooting, riding and sparring would be for naught. Though your breath rattles the leaves around you, you feel as if you’ve been holding your breath ever since Father broke the news. This is happening.

You leave in a few hours, as soon as the sun comes over the horizon. Your maids have already packed your luggage—you had to enlist their help after it became too difficult to pick what to bring and what not to bring. If all went well, you’d be back in this room in a few weeks. But what could you afford to bring? What did you need for your sanity? What minute details of an object could compromise your position?

Luckily, Calliope, your most trusted lady-in-waiting, was able to step in when she found you sitting on your rug, clutching your set of cloth dolls—the only toys you’d ever owned as a child that weren’t made with murder in mind—and suggest you take a breath of fresh air. You don’t know where you’d be without her, honestly. You may be your father’s pride and joy of a perfectly well-rounded monarch and killing machine, but you would never have gotten here without her by your side.

You sigh and lean your head against the thick limb you’re lying on. If you didn’t already know you’d wake up with a complaining spine that would then have to spend days riding a horse, you’d go to sleep right here, right now. The woods are your home, these trees your solace. You’ll miss it terribly, as the only place you can truly avoid all servants, generals, teachers, and parents.

Well. Parent.

But as with all things—Father’s rare good mood, your training days, peacetime—the sweet, silent embrace of the forest can’t last forever.

Reluctantly, you give the tree one last pat and climb down, making the trudge back to your room so you can at least attempt to catch a few winks of sleep.

It takes quite a few days of travel to get to your destination. You arrive in the empire next door's capital city saddle-sore and on edge. This was the snakes’ nest, the heart of the beast.

And yet…people are happy.

The mood in your hometown is far quieter and more grim—your country has been at war with this one for as long as you can remember, and yet the contrast could not be more vast. Back home, people walk directly from place to place, and don’t make eye contact with each other. Here, children play unsupervised, outdoor markets overflow with people, and windows are thrown wide open as neighbors chat.

You don’t know how to feel. The previous king here was a ruthless conqueror, building an empire by invading neighboring countries and forcing their monarchs to yield—or killing them when they were defiant. Your own land had only escaped being absorbed into the empire by employing rigorous military discipline and strict wartime measures. Yet here, in the heart of the empire, you would never be able to tell it was a nation at war.

And now you’re marrying the king’s son. The current king. The one they call König. So little is known about him that his entire existence is shrouded in rumor: that the hood he wears conceals a monstrous, disfigured face, that he plotted his father’s demise, that his first wife died not of childbirth, but was assassinated in quiet due to being unable to provide an heir.

You don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out if the rumors are true.

To your surprise, your reception by the people feels more curious than hostile. You’d expected a bit of resistance, or at least a few dirty looks, considering you're the princess of the country they've been at war with for years. But whatever König has told them has been far more charitable than you anticipated.

Your arrival at the palace is greeted by a flurry of activity. Your entourage scatters to put affairs in order, but Calliope and a small contingent of guards follows you into the main hall. Not that you need them—but you need to keep up appearances. No one outside your family’s most tight-knit circle knows you can throw a punch, much less have an assassin’s training.

You don’t feel in the least bit prepared to meet your fiancé—and target—face to face fresh off a days-long journey, but you’re ushered into the main hall anyway. It seems your task has already begun whether you like it or not.

“Ah, princess. Welcome to my humble home.” You hear him before you see him, his voice heavy with an accent. There’s something a bit charming about it, you think—before the sight of him shakes some sense back into you.

He’s huge. He towers over even his own palace guard, broad with muscle, and moves with a deadly raw power even in this nonthreatening setting.

When his father still ruled, before the current peacetime, stories of the empire’s prodigal heir on the frontlines served as frightening bedtime story and a terrifying cautionary tale for the nation’s soldiers. A beast in a hood who fought with the strength of ten men.

You stand your ground as he approaches you. The hood, then, is real—although the stories were so consistent about it that it was never really in question, was it? What the stories had left out were his eyes—striking and green, piercing into your soul as he bends to kiss the back of your hand. It’s an odd sensation that sends shivers racing up your spine.

“The pleasure is mine, your majesty,” you respond, a hint of apprehension in your tone. Of course you had been expecting some form of courtly courtesy, but for some reason you hadn’t expected him to be such a…gentleman. A part of you had been expecting some feral animal, needing to be put down.

"I'm sure you must be exhausted from your journey," he says. "I hope you will find your rooms to your liking." Something about his demeanor is almost...bored? As if greeting his future wife is just another task he's obligated to complete.

He doesn't join you for dinner that night, which is odd. The servants inform you that he's taking care of some urgent business. You hope that your dejection is taken as disappointment that you won't have an opportunity to get to know your fiancé. You are, but not the way people may think.

After all, getting to know your target is half the battle.

You're left to your own devices the next day. König, you're informed, won't be available. That urgent business from last night appears to be an ongoing situation.

Fine by you. You could use some time to prepare.

You spend the day wandering the palace, familiarizing yourself with the grounds and plotting an escape route. You're halted on your brisk survey when you stumble upon a...garden?

Unlike the perfectly manicured hedges outside the palace, or the groomed efficiency of the kitchen gardens, this place is small. Quiet. A little overgrown, but clearly taken care of. The grass is long and soft, dappled in sunshine. Flowers burst forward, crowded around trellises spiraling with vines.

Part of you feels like a trespasser in this private little sanctum, but another part of you is set at ease by the idle tranquility of this place. You pause, feeling a pang of homesickness. It reminds you of the forest: wild in its own way, but gentle and welcoming at the same time.

Something at the corner of your vision catches your eye. A bush bursting forward with round, dark little berries.

Nightshade. Deadly nightshade, in fact. What is this doing in this peaceful little garden? You move forward to examine them closer.

"You shouldn't be here."

You whirl around to find König standing behind you. You had been so absorbed by the garden that you hadn't detected his approach.

Your cheeks burn. You've only been here a day, and already you're letting your guard down. This won't do.

"My apologies, your majesty. I got....lost."

You hold your breath as he draws near. His expression is unreadable—not that you can see most of it, anyway. But when you meet his gaze, you can tell he's sizing you up.

"This is quite a long way to wander."

Shit, is he suspicious? Thinking fast, your brain supplies the best answer you can muster.

"Should a future queen not know the palace she is to live in?"

"Mmm. You make a fair point."

Before you can say or do anything further, he's standing right in front of you. "That's nightshade, you know." You can feel him watching you, assessing your reaction. "Not many can recognize it."

"I..." You can't very well tell him that you know what nightshade looks like because you're an expert in deadly poisons. "I had been wondering what they were."

"I see." He leans forward and plucks a berry off the bush, rolling it between his fingers. "Have you ever tasted one?"

Does he know? Is that a threat? You can't read his expression behind that goddamned mask of his. You stare at him, hoping you look dumbfounded instead of panicked.

"No? They're quite sweet, you know." He holds it out to you. "Care to try one?"

"Your Majesty, I—"

"Don't look so nervous." If you had ever thought he looked frightening before, there's something uncanny about the half-smile that he gives you now. "I didn't expect you to say yes." Before you can say or do anything, he pops the berry in his mouth.

You're too stunned to do anything but watch as he chews for a moment and swallows. One berry won't kill him, but you're more concerned about why he's doing this. Is he trying to intimidate you?

"This was my mother's garden." He gestures to the general surroundings. "I spent a lot of time here as a child. Peaceful, isn't it?"

You let out a tiny sigh of relief now that the conversation appears to be moving on. "Yes. Quite."

"It's always been a place to get away. The first time I ate a nightshade berry was right here, when I was six. I was violently sick for weeks." His tone is a little too light for someone describing being poisoned as a child, and it's unnerving.

"That's when I learned to be careful of things that are too sweet. A good lesson to learn, don't you think?" He walks towards you, and you brace yourself for anything.

He stops next to you, you facing one way and him the other. "Take care then, princess. I will see you tomorrow."

You stare resolutely ahead. "Yes."

And hopefully you won't see him for much longer after that.

Fuck. You forgot about this part.

You had been prepared for this, of course, but you only realize now that you hadn't been mentally prepared. It wasn't until Calliope was helping you undress that you remembered what usually happens between a man and a woman the night of the wedding.

You pace the room, stewing and plotting, getting increasingly antsy before the door swings open and the man himself comes strutting into the bedroom.

"You look like a cornered deer." You hear König shut the door behind him, but you don't turn around.

"I've never done this before." Mentally, you curse yourself for the quaver in your voice.

"Well. Tonight won't be your first."

"What?" You do turn at that, watching him carelessly shed layers all across the room between swigs of his drink.

"I have no interest in bedding you. We do have to sleep in the same room for appearances, though." He plucks a grape from a cluster sitting on a side table and throws it up in the air, catching it with his mouth.

You haven't been in his presence much in the past few days, but each time you have, something about your encounters with him have shaken you up and set you on edge. Somehow, he's kept you on your toes even with a limited presence. Your meeting in the garden was dizzying and confusing, the ceremony set you on high alert. And now, he's thrown you another curveball.

It feels almost too easy. He's just going to go to sleep in the same room as you? No fanfare? "You don't want to...consummate the marriage?"

"You sound upset." He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Were you hoping to?"

"No!" Your face feels hot as he gives you that lopsided half-smile again, more like a smirk this time.

"That's a shame. I prefer fucking willing participants, you see." He drapes himself over the elaborate chaise lounge opposite the bed.

"Are you usually this vulgar?" you retort.

"I see no reason for pretense. We're married, after all." Curiously, he hasn't taken his mask off. Does he sleep in it? Or is he only keeping it on because you're here?

You feel silly now, dressed in a flimsy little silken thing, wrapped up like a present for a brute who won't even touch you. Considerate of him, you suppose. Not that it will matter for very long.

"Sleep well then, hmm? You should be well rested for your first day as queen tomorrow." There's a dangerous gleam in his eye, but it disappears so quickly you wonder if you had imagined it.

"Yes," you say, sitting on the bed while not taking your eyes off of him. "Sleep well."

You give it a few hours, just to be safe. A few hours of laying awake staring at the ceiling. A few hours of watching as moonlight bathes the room in silver light. A few hours of watching him.

The deepening darkness casts sharp shadows across his face, making him seem even more inhuman. What do bloodthirsty emperors dream of? Dominating the weak? Slaughtering the innocent? Conquering women? You shudder. Best not to know.

It's well past midnight when you slowly, quietly get up and pull your dagger from its hidden holster. One downwards thrust, and you're going home. One quick motion, and all of this is over.

It's a little anticlimactic, you think. But this is for the best. For you. For your people. For your family.

Light as a feather, you straddle him, hovering over him just enough so that your weight doesn't wake him. You try not to think about how intimate this position is, and remind yourself that this is the best way to prevent him from getting up or struggling, should your first strike not end him immediately. Which it will, of course.

You take a deep breath as you position the blade right over his heart, calming the fluttering anxiety in your mind. The beginning of a new chapter of your life begins now.

You plunge the dagger downwards.

In an instant, König's eyes fly open. Before you can react at all, his hand has seized your wrist in an iron grip, the tip of your dagger a hair's length from his chest.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He purrs. "A little assassin?"

You grit your teeth and attempt to overpower him: you're so, so close. But his strength is so overwhelming that you can't even get the tip of the dagger to make contact. Panic starts to set in. This isn't good. This is disastrous, actually. He was supposed to be asleep!

You attempt to pull away, to get away, to do anything, but it's no use. "You don't seem surprised," you spit.

"It's not every day your most bitter enemy offers you his daughter's hand in marriage as a truce," he replies, clear amusement in his voice. Is he enjoying this? "Of course I smelled a rat. You must think me a fool."

"No." Yeah, you kind of had.

"Lying ill suits you, princess." You cry out as he jams his fingers into the tendons in your wrist, forcing you to release the dagger. You watch, helplessly, as he picks it up with his other hand and turns it over, studying it in the moonlight.

"What a delicate little knife," he muses. In your hand, it's a sizeable weapon. But held in his fingers it looks small, harmless. To your dismay, he then proceeds to chuck it at the opposite wall, the blade sticking itself solidly in between two panels.

"You knew?" you ask, a tremor in your traitorous voice.

"Oh, I suspected. You had me disappointed for a while—I thought you would have made an attempt well before this." He lets out a deep chuckle that sends terror through you. "For a moment I even thought that you were as you presented: just some poor little lamb, a peace offering given up to the slaughter." His eyes narrow behind the mask. "I am glad to see that you have proven to be much more interesting than that."

"Interesting?" Out of all the reactions you would have expected him to have, this is not one of them. Fear, anger, even immediate violence. Not...interest.

"You have no idea," he says. Your eyes widen as he you feel his hand run up your thigh.

That's not the only thing you feel, though. He shifts a bit underneath you, and it's then that the earlier flush to your cheeks returns in full force. Is he...hard?!

"If you're going to kill me, then get on with it," you ground out through your teeth.

"Little one, if I had wanted you dead immediately, I would have already pinned you down and snapped your neck. No, you've given me a gift: a gift I intend to cherish." You shiver as he slides a hand up your thigh. "A challenge."

"Is this a game to you?" You're not sure if your breath is running ragged from fear or anger, now.

"I could end this at any time, you know." You gasp involuntarily as a hand closes around your throat. "But that would be no fun, now would it?"

"You are a fool, then." You stare at him defiantly, even as his grip constricts your breathing. "Because I will kill you."

His eyes dance with some mad glee. "That's what I like to hear."

Hiiiiiiiii besties. I've been chewing on the idea of a medieval royalty sort of au since before Shrike, and I came up with this premise like. At least a year or two ago, before I was even in the COD fandom. So I'm glad to finally be making some real headway on it! I have no idea how many parts this is going to have. I have a lot of plot planned for it, so we're just gonna have to see where the vibes take us!

I'd like to thank @danibee33 my angel as always. I bounced a lot of royal/medieval/king König ideas off of her, some of which I still may use, but I changed the plot drastically when I had an epiphany a week or two ago. Hope you like this one babe <3 Also, thank you @kneelingshadowsalome and @gremlingottoosilly for their historical/time period aus. Your fics gave me a real kick in the ass to finish this.

Also shoutout to Pedro Pascal fans? I stumbled upon some breathtakingly kinky fanfiction on this beloved hellsite featuring the Mandalorian, and thought: you know what? If people can proudly write and publish the nastiest, most shameless smut I've ever read, then I can push through whatever impostor syndrome, perfectionist embarrassment I have with my work and get it done.

As usual, please let me know your feedback! I'm trying out a bit of a different characterization for König (not that much different, he's still our beloved violent horny maniac), and I want to know what people think.

I'm also going to be using my taglist again. If you were tagged here and don't want to be tagged anymore, please let me know! And if you would like to be added to the taglist, drop a reply <3

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr

#alright lads place your bets now what do you think happened to his first wife #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #König x reader #konig x you #König x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #fic: kingdom come

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Is there any chance we could have a round up of the Circus? I am so lost on how the dominoes fell over the last 40 days

Okay this is not comprehensive, because (a) my husband the politics nerd is currently on his way to a gig in west Wales somewhere and so cannot chime in and also (b) all our political journalist friends are understandably quite busy right now doing political journaling, but I seem to have an influx of new followers who are also very confused and don't understand what's going on, so I shall try.

Alright so what we're seeing here is the Second Clownfall of 2022, the hotly anticipated sequel to the Adventures of Big Dog the Clown. However it revolves around the character of Liz Truss, and will use some terminology, so

Previous Reading

Important Terminology - Required Reading

What is a Whip?

How do Whips work?

Shadow Cabinet

Front Benchers, Back Benchers and the Cabinet

What do we need to call an early General Election?

The Adventures of Big Dog the Clown - Suggested Reading

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Elanor's Guide to Liz Truss - Suggested Reading

Character-based prequel

...okay I think that's everything. On with the show!

The Premiership of Liz Truss (2022-2022)

Week One

We begin our tale on September 5th, 2022. Coincidentally, that was also the date that I personally started my new job. Let's see which of us does better!

The Daily Mail is delighted, and runs a headline proclaiming "Cometh the hour, cometh the woman". Tory rag in a frock coat the Financial Times runs an op-ed:

So the results ARE IN! She will definitely fuck us up! But that's a good thing for vague reasons! Blitz spirit everyone. Tally ho, pip pip, shoot a servant and have sex with a wall, hey what. Good old Blighty.

(That's my best impression of Tories I'm good at their accents I hope you like it)

Truss does an interview with Laura Kuenssberg, and fellow guest and comedian Joe Lycett wildly and effusively applauds her every word. Even Liz realises no one would sincerely applaud her. Bafflingly, the entire right wing press and every member of the Tory party freak out about this, because they don't understand the function of a satirist and don't know how to defend against it. It is extremely funny. Joe Lycett announces he's a right-wing comedian now, and begins a new extended career bit effusively and sarcastically praising right wing politicians. They all cry extensively and call him mean.

SO, it's been a long hard leadership campaign! But she made it. For years, Tories have been blighted by the curse of the PM/Chancellor relationship, backstabbing and cheating and lying about each other to try and get power. But not our Liz, oh no; her Chancellor is Maths Mate and BFF Kwasi Kwarteng, an insipid and poisonous gnome known for three (3) things:

He once wrote a stupid book with Liz Truss about his stupid opinions on how he thinks economics work and everyone laughed at him and stuffed him in a locker

On the night of the Brexit vote he was overheard by a journalist gleefully saying “Who cares if sterling crashes? It will come back up again“ which are of course the words of a man who knows all about economics and how they work

This fucking bullshit back in July:

But hey IT'S OKAY! Everything is fine! Because Liz and Kwasi are BFFs who certainly never had an affair and are marching in lockstep and have each other's backs and both love maths more than their own children if they had any! Maths Friends!

Multiple resignations immediately follow.

Among them is Ben Elliot, the Tory Party chair, which is a pretty big deal from a man who just lived through the Johnson years; also, shockingly, Priti Patel, the deportation-happy Home Secretary, decides that even as an animatronic goblin she cannot support this nonsense.

It's not a resignation per se, but at ten to seven in the evening it's announced that Andrew Bridgen, the Troy MP for Leicestershire North West, has been evicted from his home and ordered to pay £800,000 in legal costs, and a possible £244,000 in rent arrears. Also described as "dishonest" by a judge.

This is not directly relevant to Liz Truss but look, it was a staggeringly weird day and this was basically the topper.

Anyway.

Liz goes to the Palace and is duly sworn in by the Queen, who promptly keels over and dies the very next day. Parliament is instantly shut down for mandatory mourning. As omens go, this one was not subtle.

This triggers the circulation of some very awkward footage of Young Truss talking about how she thinks the Monarchy should be abolished for being a gross relic of horrifying social stratification. However you must understand that it's not awkward because anyone thinks she murdered the Queen. It's because Liz Truss's attempts at public speaking are like sitting through a children's Christmas play when you're the only person in the audience and they can all see your face so you have to look encouraging for four hours when inside you are shrivelling into something approximating an apricot pit travelling to the core of Jupiter.

Take a look at her acceptance speech and wither.

Anyway we're now several MPs and a queen down so she's got to get on replacing those so she can focus on her real love: the much-anticipated mini-budget that she is preparing with Kwasi to save the UK from the harrowing quagmire of crippling poverty that Big Dog managed to drive us into (all while pretending it wasn't Big Dog who did it.)

Fortunately, she does not need to replace the queen! Monarchies take care of themselves, which many people would argue is very much the problem, of course. They had a proper reunion with Meghan From Suits and Meghan From Suits' husband, both of whom were banned from visiting Balmoral, and also the Nonce flew in, who was allowed to visit Balmoral. Such heartwarming scenes.

But the Cabinet, that's another matter. That's something Liz DOES have to do, and it's important she gets it right, Tumblrs, because you see, every time a Cabinet minister is replaced it's expensive and a hassle and it weakens a government by making them look all crumbly, like a packet of biscuits that's been rammed against a wall and now someone is opening it and everyone is bracing for Crumbs.

So, step forward to the Cabinet soulless ghoul Suella Braverman, the new Home Secretary. She immediately distinguishes herself by trying to legalise torture.

And then, naturally,

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT IT'S TICK TOCK TERF O'CLOCK also FUCK the sovereignty of the Scottish Parliament amirite ladies lol Girl Power uwu

Not that she can actually do anything at this point, of course. As I say: Enforced Mourning is in process, which means Parliament is shut down for ten days. No work, no speeches, no appearances, no announcements, just taxpayer's money going on legal fees to see if she can interfere with another nation's elected government in order to strip away the human rights of queer people.

However, while we all weep over the corpse of Queen Lizzie Two and beat our breasts in grief, the already-beleaguered pound is slowly bleeding out through this inaction. And this, to the Maths Mates, is unacceptable.

Two things get quietly slid into the news cycle.

Thing the First:

BIG YIKES LADS

Thing the Second:

Fracking ban in England lifted in bid to boost UK gas supply - BBC News

For those who don't know, fracking is an energy extraction process. Water, gas and dust are pumped at high pressure into shale bedrock to crack it open, releasing pockets of natural gas that can then be harvested for fuel. It's environmentally disastrous for multiple reasons, both direct (earthquakes, groundwater pollution, social impacts) and indirect (IT'S STILL A FOSSIL FUEL YOU STUPID CUNTS ARE YOUR SKULLS FUCKING EMPTY). The Welsh and Scottish governments have both banned it outright, a straight-up "Foot down no, petal". England, though, is the Tory paradise, so the ban was less complete.

However, this is still a Huge Deal - the 2019 Tory manifesto was very clear that fracking would only be unbanned IF "the science shows categorically that it can be done safely". In fact, most Tories don't like it either. Their constituents REALLY don't. Also in March Kwasi Kwarteng literally went on record and said it wouldn't lower European gas prices anyway; but not anymore! Now he thinks it's a zippy idea. Just spiffing. Top hole, pip pip (I'm so good at their accents :))

Scientists who have been studying the environmental impacts of fracking produce their report -

And it is quietly buried, so as not to offend the corpse of Lizzie Two.

Here ends the first four days of the Reign of Liz Truss.

Second Week

Anyway, royalists have gone insane and started a REALLY BIG queue to see a box that supposedly contains the rotting cadaver of the old queen. Multiple people have to be hospitalised because they join the Queue and don't take food, water, warm clothes, or essential daily medications with them, even though the Queue is literally days long. Some die. Many take the ashes of their own loved ones so they can wave them at the box for the thirty seconds they get to be in front of it, like a sort of play date for ashes.

Prince Charles, now King Prince Charles, starts swanning about as King, demanding everyone be sad for him and clap him to cheer him up. Someone holds up a sign saying 'Not my King' and gets arrested. This triggers a whole wave of protests and arrests as free speech slides out the window, until the Met Police chief has to step in and explain to the police like they're five-year-olds that they can't do that, actually, and need to cut that shit out.

But we can't wholly blame the police, because the main pressure to clamp down on protestors actually came from...

The government.

Meanwhile the country goes bat shit fucking insane. In order not to offend the fragile sensibilities of royalists, now so brittle they need to be treated with the same delicate touch normally reserved for unstable nitroglycerin, the UK sees supermarkets lowering the volume of self-serve checkout desks, people's funerals cancelled, vital operations and other medical interventions postponed, Centre Parcs cancelling holidays, FOOD BANKS CLOSING, Nintendo Direct cancelling its live stream in Britain (but not cancelling the release of the recording onto You Tube an hour later because as we all know Queen Elizabeth II was a MASSIVE livestream fan and would have been DEVASTATED to miss it but she was very 'meh' about YouTube), cycle racks being closed, and this unhinged shrieking harridan:

Very normal, lads. Very normal.

Oh and also they cancelled Owain Glyndwr Day so as a Welsh person I am now legally allowed to forcibly ram a daffodil into the urethras of the landed English gentry.

However, the protests grow as the suppression wanes. By the time King Prince Charles comes to Wales, he is met with silent protests, this guy who learned a sentence in Welsh specially for the occasion, and a petition to abolish the Prince of Wales title.

Except government is still shut down, so the petitions are all suspended.

But not to worry! That gives the Maths Mates more time to work on their special mini-budget.

Week Three

More of the same at first, really, but she finally addresses the nation to announce that the Queen was the "rock" on which "modern Britain was built".

Also someone finally spots that the necklace she always wears is a day collar, so that was fun.

BUT THEN

The moment we have all been waiting for, with baited breath.

On the 23rd September, 2022, the mini-budget finally arrives. The golden egg of Kwasi and Liz, their beloved, beautiful child, the crowning glory, the culmination of their economic beliefs and values. They are so proud of it, so sure of it, that they do not even submit it for the approval of the Office for Budget Responsibility. Why should they? This is the moment Kwarteng can finally show the world that he was right; that this is the way to do economics after all; that he alone in his brilliance and genius has reinvented the field and will lead the country to a new era of riches and prosperity.

And the pound does this:

Yikes.

Truss goes into hiding for a day and a half, during which time her aids claim all her relatives have died so she won't have to speak to the press, which is obviously a simply fantastic quality in a Prime Minister. Finally, she resurfaces by doing a series of radio interviews for regional stations around the UK, hoping they'll be easier on her, starting with Radio Leeds. The good journalists of Yorkshire eviscerate her and strew her corpse through Adel Woods. It's downhill from there.

Week Four

One poll puts Labour 33 points ahead of the Tories.

It can be a little difficult to translate polls, because the electoral system is complex, so I asked my journalist friends. They cheerfully informed me that, if translated into a General Election, the Tories would have just 3 seats left.

Except! Of course, naturally, that is me reporting naught but the most extreme result, Tumblrs, dancing upon the bones of my enemies as I chant the rites to make the Tory party die faster. If I were to be fair about this - and I am, of course, a journalist of Integrity and Morals - I would actually give the average poll result. And I am wise and fair to all, ancient rites aside, so I shall.

The average poll result is still 19 points ahead.

Tony Blair's landslide Labour victory in 1999 was 12 points.

Rounding off the day, Labour declare that they are backing a change to a proportional representation voting system in place of the UK’s archaic first past the post system. Funny that.

Anyway, that mini-budget is going poorly. Realising unlimited borrowing rather than tax cuts for the rich is maybe Bad Actually, the Maths Mates decide to get the money for their bail-outs some other way. Can you guess, Tumblrs? Can you guess where they decide to get the money from?

Naturally.

Week Five

In a fascinating little twist, the papers claim Liz banned King Prince Charles from going to the Climate Summit in Egypt. This is interesting for about a billion reasons, not least of which is that the papers seem very angry about this and yet also that it's an unsubstantiated rumour - the phrase "it's understood that _" gets a hell of a workout.

She then does not go herself. Makes sense. They'll probably be mean to her about the fracking.

She then loses the support of the Daily Mail, a paper that five weeks before were ecstatic about her rise to power :( so sad. But why? What made them change their minds?

Well. What else from Truss, but a massive and catastrophic u-turn on the economy?

And she does! The absolute nutter!

Plans to cut the 45p tax rate for those earning upwards of £150,000 were abandoned, as were:

abolishing the planned rise in corporation tax

cutting the basic rate of income tax

the two-year energy bill support plan

scrapping the planned dividend tax hike

VAT-free shopping for international tourists

freezing alcohol duty

easing of IR25 rules for the self-employed

ALL GONE! All gone. The mini-budget is not working so lol jk we'll think of something else, that's how government works, right? The pound promptly implodes further. Of all people, Nadine Dorries is the one to criticise

WE ARE IN A TOPSY TURVEY UPSIDE DOWN WORLD

The Daily Mail still finds a way to say it's all Michael Gove's fault, though.

Anyway, the 5th October dawns bright and beautiful and YouGov polls rural voters:

THIS IS HUUUUUUUUUGE, because farmers just will not fucking stop voting Tory, AND YET. Wowsers. Not just popularity. Voting intention. She might as well have personally infected every farm in the South Downs with foot and mouth disease.

Truss realises her popularity is plummeting and she needs a new audience. She tries to appear down with the kids and declares that she's the only PM to have gone to a comprehensive school.

This is not true. Gordon Brown and Theresa May both did. However, it's certainly true that all three of them became PM by ousting a sitting PM, so there's that I guess.

Week Six

At this point I can start putting in PRECISE DATEs just call ME Robert Peston.

13th October

News reporters start speculating that she'll be done by the end of the month as the first rumoured letter of no confidence reaches us. People realise that her competition for shortest serving PM was a guy who died in office of TB at about the four month mark RIP king sorry about your lungs.

(A reminder - normally, if MPs want to oust a party leader, they must send in 54 letters of no confidence. This makes the 1922 Committee - a bunch of back benchers who preside over this shit - hold a vote of no confidence. A leader who loses gives way - this is very rare. A leader who wins is then immune to another such vote for 12 months, but they almost always crumble within a month or two anyway - this is much more common.)

This is extremely funny, because a newly-elected leader of the party has a 12 month immunity to votes of no confidence, same as people who've won such a vote. Likes charge reblogs cast apparently. MPs are getting desperate.

Pressure mounts. Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng announces that he is "Not going anywhere."

14th October

Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng is sacked and blamed for the entire economic mess.

Incredibly, Liz does this without first planning a replacement, so it's several hours before Jeremy Cunt suddenly reappears like the spectre at the fucking feast.

Meanwhile here's Ed Milliband on Twitter

Seven and a half years he waited to retweet that. Seven and a half long years, look, to have the last laugh.

In the end, he still went too soon.

15th October

Deputy PM and also Health Minister Therese Coffey (side note - have they always doubled up in roles like that? Or are there just not enough of them anymore?) announces that she loves antibiotic resistance and dead kids and also breaking laws:

16th October

The Sunday Times calls for Extremely Corrupt Former Grand Vizier Rishi Sunak to take over, and then a General Election so that Labour can take the reins.

The SUNDAY TIMES

Calling for LABOUR

The Sunday Mail tries to stir up support for Ben Wallace taking over, because no one has heard of Ben Wallace so he needs the boost, but then accidentally publish their front page with a different man

In another YouGov poll for the Times, not a single political group, age group, area of the country, gender, or other demographic said that Liz Truss was the right choice for PM

This is the new predicted election graph:

Yikes

17th October

The projected election results are a Labour victory so complete the opposition would be the SNP. Legend suggests Nicola Sturgeon's cackle on finding out was so powerful she accidentally resurrected a witchfinder.

18th October

Meanwhile in the Senedd, Welsh Tory leader Andrew RT Davies, a sort of humanoid boil dressed in ham, tries to accuse placid and gentle First Minister for Wales Mark Drakeford's Labour of being responsible for long ambulance waiting times.

T'was a mistake.

19th October

Oh boy.

Well, first of all, Suella Braverman sends an official email from her private email address, and then promptly leaves the Cabinet at cannonball speeds as though she's seen a brown child about to be given citizenship. Was she quietly fired by Jeremy Cunt? Did she do it deliberately to resign? On her way out, she blames the true source of our problems - the Guardian-reading, tofu-eating Wokerati.

Nigella Lawson spends the day tweeting tofu recipes.

Meanwhile, Graham Brady, the Chair of the 1922 Committee, comes to Liz Truss to inform her that he has in fact now received 54 letters of no confidence. Normally, of course, that would be considered enough to trigger a vote in her leadership; but not now.

However, these are unprecedented times. So he changes the threshold - if half of the Tories send him letters, her immunity will be revoked.

But the thing is, Tumblrs, the thing is...

It is all about to kick off in the most spectacular and catastrophic fireworks since Guy Fawkes had a dream.

Because Ed Milliband, once accused of leading the country to chaos and now riding high on the joy of his well-timed Twitter jab of Some Days Ago, wakes this morning and chooses violence.

He has spotted, of course, that no one likes fracking; even the Tories are against it.

He has also spotted that Liz Truss is very stupid.

So he goes into the House of Commons, and he digs a big pit and covers it over with twigs and leaves so it can't be seen, and he bakes a big cake and he places it in the middle of the twigs, and he sets up a net to fall as well and a big stick of ACME dynamite, and he hammers in little signs everywhere saying CAUTION - TRAP, by which I am of course being metaphorical because what he actually does is table a motion to extend the moratorium on fracking. The signs aren't necessary, really. This trap is easy to avoid.

All Liz Truss has to do, you see, is not use a three-line whip on this vote.

The three-line whip, as you'll all recall, is the highest level of coercion. MPs cannot defy a three-line whip. MPs cannot even abstain on a three-line whip. MPs have two choices on a three-line whip: to vote as they're told, or to be removed from the party. You obey or resign. That's all.

For this reason, it's sometimes called a 'confidence vote', as it is effectively a stand-in for one. The vote is not about the issue at hand - this is now a vote of confidence in your leader.

(He's also laid lesser traps. Years back when fracking was first being heavily discussed, Ed was Labour leader and one of the main figures in those discussions. During today, before it all Kicks The Fuck Off, a Tory stands and challenges him on previous statements about fracking, trying to accuse him of hypocrisy.

He was fucking ready for it.)

Graham Brady pops his head back around the door. He's changed his mind - a third of the party is all that's needed now to trigger a vote of no confidence in Liz Truss. And legend says he's only 17 off.

This is presumably the reason for what comes next.

Liz panics. Liz sees she's desperately unpopular. Liz sees that she has to do something to shore up support; and she sees that her important fracking rule, which her party hates her for, is now being challenged by a former Labour leader, and if he wins (which he will) she'll lose all credibility and maybe they'll take her nice office away and tell her she was a Bad Girl.

And so, with the inevitability of gravity on the now-leaden pound sterling, she makes it a three-line whip, and a confidence vote in her government.

INSTANT CHAOS.

There is uproar! There is rage! There is blinding fury! Tory MPs are standing up in the Commons and snarling and pissing and moaning! No one likes fracking except Jacob Rees Mogg! For TWO HOURS they shriek and scream and gnash their teeth, yelling at Liz Truss, demanding to know why this is happening.

(Legend has it chaos-deity Ed Milliband simply leaned back, put his feet up on the chair in front, and made Christian Wakeford hand-feed him grapes and fan him with a palm leaf, but this is unsubstantiated.)

And then, at 6.55, FIVE MINUTES before voting is ready to begin, the Tory Minister for Climate Graham Stewart stands up and declares that everyone should vote how they want because it's not a confidence vote.

Did I say there was chaos before?

Lol. Lmao, even. Rofl, in fact.

Now Tories leap to their feet and basically all scream one long, unending breath of WHAT-DO-YOU-MEAN-IT'S-NOT-A-CONFIDENCE-VOTE-WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-HAPPENING-IS-IT-OR-IS-IT-NOT-A-CONFIDENCE-VOTE and so Stewart gets up again and says, right to everyone's faces, "It's not for me to say whether it's a confidence vote or not," which is an even faster and more spectacular u-turn than Truss herself could pull off given that he literally just said it wasn't and did so while being a minister.

And then the voting starts. MPs are now milling about like chickens who've sighted the hawk, clamouring to know if they're going to lose their jobs unless they vote for Satan. The Whips - specifically Chief Whip Wendy Morton and Deputy Chief Whip Craig Whittaker - descend upon them like fucking wargs on the hunt. They don't just spit vitriol and blackmail into MPs ears. They fucking bodily drag people into the right voting lobby. MPs are legitimately screaming. Grown men are crying literal tears. Labour's Chris Bryant reports holding multiple Tory MPs as they sob into his shoulder. Multiple MPs report similar scenes.

And Tories still don't know if this is even a damn confidence vote, or if they should just knock the Chief Whip's teeth out.

And then the Whips, filled with bloodlust and frenzy, suddenly realise that NO ONE IS LISTENING TO US, YOU'RE ALL SUPPOSED TO LISTEN TO US SO WE FEEL POWERFUL -

Cue sudden meeting in a locked room with Liz Truss. For over HALF AN HOUR.

So is it a confidence vote? No one is sure. Deputy PM Therese Coffey thinks so, so in the absence of the Whips she decides physical assault is her job now and is seen by David Linden MP (SNP) physically carrying someone into the voting lobby. Jacob Rees Mogg thinks not and starts yelling "It's not a confidence vote!", to which his colleagues reply, "Fuck off." Meanwhile the Whips have possibly resigned, no one is sure. It is still uncertain if this was a confidence vote.

And Ed Milliband basks in the chaos, playing the fiddle while it all burns around him.

Finally, voting concludes. The Whips reappear to lurk.

The votes are in - the government wins, and fracking will go ahead. But.

32 MPs abstained.

And one of those is Liz Truss.

Which is WILD??!? What possible benefit could she get from that??? No one knows. Everything is uproar again. Guess who else abstained? Well, riveted reader, here's a list with important names highlighted:

Nigel Adams, Gareth Bacon, Siobhan Baillie, Greg Clark, Sir Geoffrey Cox, Tracey Crouch, David Davis, Dame Caroline Dinenage, Nadine Dorries, Philip Dunne, Mark Fletcher, Vicky Ford, Paul Holmes, Alister Jack, Boris Johnson, Gillian Keegan, Kwasi Kwarteng, Robert Largan, Pauline Latham, Mark Logan, Theresa May, Priti Patel, Mark Pawsey, Angela Richardson, Andrew Rosindell, Bob Seely, Alok Sharma, Chris Skidmore, Henry Smith, Ben Wallace, Sir John Whittingdale, and William Wragg.

Kwasi still smarting about that p45, I see.

In any case it then turns out that Liz DID vote, but incompetently, because her voting card didn't read properly, which is actually fair given that she was being screamed at by angry Whips waving Graham Stewart's severed dick and balls around while they demanded power and authority. While she's clearing that up, the press are understandably waiting open-mouthed for comment, but don't worry Liz! Your old pal Jacob Rees Mogg is here to fill in for you!

And thus it is that JRM willingly chooses to go on the live news and calmly confirm to the nation that no one knows if it was a confidence vote or not.

Chaos. Chaos again. Unbridled chaos. The Whips are furious. Everyone is furious. The rebels are now in limbo, unsure if they're now out of a job. Tories are weeping, trying to work out if Rees Mogg WANTS to sink the party. Back bencher Charles Walker MP delivers a frank interview to the press absolutely SHIVERING with rage, like the drummer in a Fleetwood Mac concert. Ex-Lib Dem leader Tim Farron, a bland man known only for the time he himself willingly chose to go on the news and calmly explain that he's a homophobe without provocation, tweets that Liz Truss is a Lib Dem sleeper agent they sent in to destroy the Tories, sparking what is likely to be a whole slew of conspiracy theories by next week. No one knows what is going on. They all decide to sleep on it.

The good folks at Wikipedia ultimately decide to make three separate pages for the UK 2022 government crisis, and to label them with the month "to leave room for another by the end of the year."

Ed Milliband skips all the way home, and treats himself to a bacon sandwich.

20th October

Okay, Liz thinks, the morning after. Okay. Last night was bad. But today will be better.

So first... the vote.

Because there's bad news for Tories who like money and good news for people who like liveable planets - there are problems with the vote. For one, the vote counts are being called into question. Are the results reliable?

For another, the Speaker of the House of Commons calls for an investigation into the reports of, um, assault. So will the result stand?

It's so unclear! And so is that ongoing issue of whether or not the damn thing was a confidence vote. Angry whips say YES, JRM says NO, Downing Street refuses to pick up the phone to the BBC, but does send ITV's Robert Peston a text at 1am to say it was definitely a confidence vote and, unrelatedly, the Whips aren't resigning :)

I think we have found the price paid to keep the Whips.

Meanwhile. Let's see what this has done for Liz's leadership stability!

13 letters of no confidence are confirmed submitted by Sky, 5 of which came in overnight. The 1922 Committee reconvenes the coven to discuss matters. Simultaneously, the One Nation Conservatives reconvene their coven to discuss the same. Presumably there is much "Girl what are YOU doing at the Devil's Sacrament?"-ing and "Same cloak, how embarrassing"-ing. MPs are CLAMOURING for her head. It is VICIOUS. It's like cartoon piranhas in a supervillain's lair; which is highly appropriate, because that's exactly what Tory MPs are.

Graham Brady, head jester of the 1922 Committee, demands to see Liz Truss.

He walks into a room with her, and the doors are closed. Half an hour later, he walks back out of the room.

Ten minutes later, she calls a press conference.

45 days after being appointed, Liz Truss breaks the record, and becomes the shortest-serving British Prime Minister.

#politik #the second clownfall of 2022

[writingsofwesteros]

Daemon mistress he had while he was married to his second wife fucks Daemon when Rhaenyra walks in they just keep going at it. Not caring that shes there.

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

“We shouldn’t…” You whimpered out; your head falling back onto the pillows as you looked up. Tears of pleasure falling down your cheeks. You had already squirted around his cock once this evening. Your body was shaking as his hands roughly palmed at your arse, spreading your cheeks.

“Hmmm, you were not saying this moments ago.” Daemon purred into your ear before he began to softly mouth at your neck. Your legs wrapped around his middle; bringing him impossibly closer. Your fingers moving into his locks as the pleasure was beginning to rise inside you once more.

His dark chuckle echoed around the room as he began to hotly mouth at your soft neck; his tongue moving up to your face and over your cheek. His passion was driving him wild now. For a short moment, you wondered if he was like this with her. Somehow, you thought not even if you were naive.

His hands greedily began to grope your body; his hands palming your soft, ample breasts. He pinched your nipples that had you gasping out; much to his enjoyment. “Hmm, still so sensitive.” Daemon purred. Goosebumps moved over your soft skin with ease as you fluttered your lashes to him.

He touched your body as if you have never been apart. Nobody gave you this much pleasure, you thought to yourself. “Please…” You whined so prettily into his ear; for what, you were unsure of. You just wanted more of him. You clinged to his body as you arched into his body whilst matching his thrusts.

His hand moved down your body now; brushing against your stomach as his cock bulged against it. Your hands reach for the beautiful, rich silk sheets around you and tighten your grip. Gods, you were so close now. “Daem—.” The voice of the Queen herself began to fall into the room.

Your eyes widened at the sound of her voice; your sweet, sensitive pussy tightening around his cock. Daemon’s eyes locked onto his wife as she stopped completely at the door that still stayed open if only an inch. “Rhaenyra…” Daemon whispered up to her; his thrusts continuing inside you.

A blush quickly came over you as you whimpered up to him. Those bright eyes of his turned to you. His fingers moved the locks of hair from your face as he leaned in. shockingly, Daemon captured your soft lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue dancing with your own in front of his wife.

His hips snapped and he impaled you on his thick cock as he pushed deeper. You were lost to the pleasure now. “Is there something you need?” Daemon finally turned towards Rhaenyra as his hands moved to the headboard. Your body was half covered by him but the Queen still watched.

“Corlys has returned.” Rhaenyra finally found her voice as she watched her husband take another woman. Daemon only grunted as he looked back down at you. Your own stomach tightening in pleasure. Fuck, you felt so good he thought as he watched your eyes begin to roll back.

“Dae…” You whimpered out; forgetting for a moment about the audience just beside you as the pleasure only intensified. His fingers brushed over your cheek for a moment before he leaned in once more. His fat cock pushed deeper inside you; hitting your spongy spot with ease like only he could.

“Was there anything else?” Daemon finally spoke once more as your head fell back. Your nails moving down his bare back; leaving marks as if you were claiming him. All unintentionally as the pleasure seemingly controlled you. His thrusts were fast paced now; harsh and deep as you nearly moved up the bed with each thrust.

“No…are you coming for dinner with the family?” Rhaenyra finally asked as your moans of pleasure nearly drowned her out. “Of course…” Daemon grunted. His body is moving against yours. Your legs tightened their grip on him as you began to thrash around underneath him. It was adorable. 

“I will be there soon.” Daemon dismissed his wife as his attention completely returned to you. His fingers threaded through your locks and tugged them; causing you to gasp out and soon his lips were on your own once more. You moaned as your face prettily began to screw up in pleasure. 

Soon, it was just the two of you again. His lips lovingly captured your own as his tongue played with yours. “There we go.” Daemon purred, brushing your noses together as you whimpered prettily up at him. His thrusts had you moving up the bed as he hit your spongy spot again and again.

Your legs shook as you grabbed onto his locks some more. Your eyes rolling back whilst your climax ripped through you. His chuckles echoed into your ear as you moaned out his name loudly. Daemon only fucked you harder; his hand moving to the headboard to pick up his pace as you took it.

“Fuck, that’s it…you take me so well.” He whispered his praises as your eyes began to roll back once more. Your wetness leaked from you some more; coating his length as his thrusts soon turned sloppy. You moaned as you fell back onto the sheets. His cum flooding your weeping pussy began.

“Oh..oh my…” You whimpered out breathlessly; your eyes widening as you clutched at the sheets surrounding you. “Daemon…” You whimpered out as he pushed his cock deeper. Those bright eyes of his locked onto your own whilst his smirk stayed in place. “Good girl.” He purred before leaning in and passionately capturing your soft lips.

You moaned against them as you looped your arms around his neck. Your fingers threaded through his locks as the kiss only became more passionate. His tongue danced with your own as you moaned out. The feel of him still inside you had your soaked pussy fluttering around his throbbing cock.

“Hmm, you should go to her now.” You purred into his ear. Your hands moving up and down his bare back as he rested against you. Daemon only hummed; not in the mood to move an inch when you felt so good around him. So warm, he thought and burrowed into your neck some more.

TAGLIST

@aerangi

@casualheartadorable 

@hotdreads

@janelongxox 

@severewobblerlightdragon 

@lettherebrelight 

@i-killed-ramsey

@kittycatcait219 @lilyviolets

@writerslove2403 

@opheliax98

@bshelley322 

@casualheartadorable 

@heartysworld

@multifndom @7minutes-tomidnight

@savage-aespa 

@kid-from-new-zealand @mypatrochilles @ladystardvsts

@thekayarlene 

@sandronebabyy 

@ivanna6026 

@bubblebuttwade

@rosesinmars

@believeinthefireflies95

@vivalarevolution @my-dark-prince

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen smut #request

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - One Shot #4

One Shot #4: The Artist Formerly Known As Joel Miller

Plot: Joel gets another little piece of himself back in the form of music.

Word Count: 700+

Warnings: none (for once lol)

A/N: A little bit of well deserved fluff. I feel like I haven’t written anything for TYL that isn’t tainted with sadness but this is a rare dose of pure serotonin for y’all. Hope you like it!

—————

It was a truth long denied; Joel Miller needed music.

His long held dream of singing and strumming for a living was put to rest when Sarah was a blip on an ultrasound. There was no way to support a family on bar gigs. He hadn’t minded all that much, knowing the million to one odds he’d make it. Still, Joel wasn’t 100% Joel without a song.

In the three months that he’d been settled in Jackson, there’d been shockingly little rest. First there was fixing up the house. Nothing major, adjusting the furniture to his and Y/n’s liking and general cleaning. Then there were the emotional adjustments. Ellie and Y/n took a long while to ease out of the fear Silver Lake had left them with. Not to mention the new life the three of them had been given and how wildly different it was from the one they were used to. Joel and Y/n got set up with the work rotation of the town and Ellie started to (with great hesitation) socialize with the other kids.

It wasn’t until three months in that Joel allowed himself to think about the little things.

He’d been in conversation with a neighbor on patrol one day. An older guy who’d miraculously managed to live into his 70s in a post-Cordyceps world. They were talking about something and somehow it came up that Joel used to play guitar. The man mentioned that there was an old Taylor sitting in his spare bedroom. He’d never been any good and was too old to get any better so it was up for grabs.

Joel immediately accepted.

He beamed as he strode back home with the instrument clutched in one hand. Sailing through the front door, he let go of it only long enough to leave his snow coated boots at the door and remove his gloves.

“Rose,” he called out.

“Kitchen,” his wife called back. He could hear the sink running.

Joel moved through the house to where Y/n stood at the counter doing dishes. Sensing his presence before she even heard him, she looked over her shoulder and her face lit up. First upon seeing her husband, then at what he was carrying.

“Oh my gosh.”

Joel didn’t even try to temper his joy. “I know,” he smiled.

Y/n flicked the faucet off, her attention fully focused somewhere else. “Where?”

“Bud down the street,” Joel nodded in the general direction of their neighbor, “Said I could have it since no one was using it.”

There were only two things Y/n wanted for their patch-worked family: happiness and health. Music was directly correlated to a percentage of Joel’s happiness, making the guitar a gift from God himself.

She threw her hands out expectantly, “Well?”

Joel left the doorway and headed towards the living room, Y/n grabbing a towel to dry her hands and following suit. They perched themselves on opposite ends of the couch.

Joel adjusted the guitar on his knee before pausing, “It’s been so long.”

“It’s musical bike riding,” Y/n washed away his hesitation, “Play me something, cowboy.”

He chuckled under his breath, waiting just another few seconds before pressing down on the strings and forming a cord. The callouses needed weren’t a problem due to years of manual labor. Y/n and him both grimaced in anticipation of what twenty year old strings might sound like. Surprisingly, they were decent as Joel strummed once.

“Not bad,” he commented, “Little out of tune.”

But Y/n didn’t hear the imperfection. Nothing touched her. She was too struck by the sight in front of her. Joel, back in his element, plucking the strings. The way his hunched frame hanging over the guitar’s body was relaxed as ever. How his fingers found their way as naturally across the fretboard as if they’d touched the wood every day since Texas.

Joel was transported with each note. Back to some spiritual space where he had no fears and no worries. Nothing could break through his front door and destroy his life. No one could hurt him. The world didn’t cease to exist, it reframed itself. For every strum, every pick, every change of chord, the world held itself together without his help. He could just be.

However many minutes passed, neither one of them were sure. Y/n pulled herself back to reality enough to remember she had to finish cleaning before grabbing dinner from the mess hall. She swiped the tears beginning to form and got off the couch. Joel didn’t move, still transfixed.

Smiling, she leaned over her husband and kissed the top of his head. The guitar’s song sang sweetly for the rest of their evening.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @themultifandomofmadness @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #twenty years later

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

Filmmakers are really sleeping on the potential of portraying Caesar and Cleopatra's affair as a black comedy:

14-year-old King Ptolemy accidentally makes 52-year-old Julius Caesar cry by handing him a severed head as a "Welcome to Egypt!" present

Caesar is now in the incredibly awkward position of trying to get a teenage king to kiss and make up with his sister/wife instead of warring against her

Oh yeah Caesar you just walked into a civil war and now you're surrounded by 500,000+ Egyptians who want you dead WHOOPS

Said sister/wife pops out of laundry bag and immediately wins Caesar's favor by being A) a responsible adult, b) literally Cleopatra, and C) the only person in this country that isn't trying to kill him or hand him severed heads

She's still trying to murder her brother-husband though let's not get too wild lol

Anyway Caesar and Cleopatra sleep together and her 14-year-old brother-husband finds out the next morning and hits the fucking roof

Congratulations Caesar you found the one way to make this situation so much worse

I don't want to know how many complexes that poor child must have

Ptolemy sics his army on the Romans but claims to know nothing about it. Caesar is not fooled but humors him because 1) the kid is 14 and 2) Caesar is still trying to get Ptolemy and Cleopatra to be a normal non-murdery couple. Even though he's still sleeping with Cleo. Yeah.

Cleo and Ptolemy react about as well as you would if you were told to marry your sibling

Ptolemy sends his army after Caesar and now the 4,000 Romans have to hold out against the entire Egyptian army and 500,000+ furious Alexandrians

Did I mention Caesar is also asking Cleo's family for money

Yeah he needs it to pay for the other civil war he's procrastinating on

His enemies still have an army. Caesar's just ignoring them.

Caesar is still trying not to strangle a small child, and won't let Ptolemy or Cleo kill each other in front of him, so the three of them just. Live together for a while. Along with Cleo's 15-year-old sister Arsinoe, who is also trying to kill Caesar and Cleopatra, and her other brother Ptolemy, who's 11 and just trying not to die.

Dinner that night is so horribly awkward that Arsinoe and her tutor yeet outta there and take over the Egyptian army

Caesar now has to Go To Work™️(War) every day and try not to get killed by a teenage girl and a schoolteacher

Said teenage girl is shockingly good at fighting and in one battle Caesar gets beat so bad he has to jump off a boat and swim to shore and loses his Favorite Red Cape

Caesar comes home that night looking like a wet rat and has to explain why the Library of Alexandria is on fire and stop Cleopatra and Ptolemy from trying to shank each other again

Forget the movie. I want a whole sitcom dedicated to the sheer absurdity of this situation.

Various bullcrap ensues, Caesar gets rescued by the son of Mithridates (THAT Mithridates) of all people, Cleo's brother-husband turns up dead and Arsinoe is captured, and Caesar takes a much-needed vacation with Cleo. For several months. Then strolls back into Italy to discover Rome is on fire, people thought he was dead, and oh yeah there's still a ROMAN CIVIL WAR going on

Oops

#this is why i love history #absolute Most Caesar Moment of all time #cleopatra is the only person who comes out of this looking even slightly good #don't worry she still kills arsinoe and ptolemy number two later tho <3 #cleopatra #julius caesar #ancient rome #roman history #siege of alexandria #just roman memes #jlrrt speaks #jlrrt essays

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM SHREK 2 *  assorted dialogue from the 2004 film, adjust as necessary

it's so good to be home!

aren't you two a sight for sore eyes!

look at the time. i guess you'd better be going.

don't you want to tell me about your trip?

we need a little time, you know, to be together. just with each other.

you don't have to worry about a thing.

i will always be here to make sure nobody bothers you.

i'll see you sunday for a barbecue or something.

royal ball? can i come?

don't you think they might be a bit shocked to see you like this?

stop it. they're not like that.

you could at least give them a chance.

who says i want to be a part of this family?

so that's it. you won't come?

we are not going. and that's final.

are we there yet?

that's not funny. that's really immature.

this is taking forever. there's no in-flight movie or nothing!

so... you still think this was a good idea?

happy now? we came. we saw them. now let's go.

quick! while they're not looking, we can make a run for it.

i'd like you to meet my husband.

what do you mean, "not on the list?" don't tell me you don't know who i am.

thanks for waiting. i had the hardest time getting into this place.

i suppose that would be a fine place to raise the children.

it's a bit early to be thinking about that, isn't it?

i only did that because i love her.

i'm here to make it all better.

i don't want to leave. when did you decide this?

do you think it might be nice if somebody asked me what i wanted?

i've made changes for you, [name]. think about that.

i knew this would happen.

i think you're taking this a little too personally.

you act as if love is totally predictable.

is that you? my gosh! it's been years.

you've forced me to do something i really don't want to do.

my diet is ruined!

use your imagination.

i need to have someone taken care of.

who dares speak to me?

for this, i charge a great deal of money.

i was hoping you'd let me apologize for my despicable behavior earlier.

i don't know what came over me. do you suppose we could pretend it never happened and start over?

we passed that three times already!

don't get huffy! i'm only trying to help!

almost everybody that meets you wants to kill you.

i do believe we can make this work to our advantage.

i would think you'd be happy for me.

i'm just thinking about what's best for you. maybe you should do the same.

pick me! i'll be your true love!

for you, baby... i could be.

if you really love her... you'll let her go.

just leave the bottle.

it was all just a stupid mistake.

i hate mondays.

i can't believe you'd walk away from the best thing that happened to you.

he's gorgeous! he has a face that looks like it was carved by angels.

you know, shockingly, this isn't make me feel any better.

you better have a good reason for dragging us down here.

perhaps it's best if we just call the whole thing off?

you can't force someone to fall in love.

you're supposed to say i have the right to remain silent. nobody said i have the right to remain silent!

i am wearing ladies underwear.

we're going to need flour. lots and lots of flour.

i'm just playing the part.

is that glitter on your lips?

will you honor me with a dance?

let's crash this party!

you were supposed to give her the potion!

i'd hoped you'd never see me like this.

i just wish i could be the man you deserve.

if you kiss me now... we can stay like this.

whatever happens, i must not cry.

#movie prompts #rp prompt #rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #rp inbox meme #roleplay inbox prompts #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starters #sentence starter #shrek #shrek 2 #one of the best films ever made

[lambtotheslaughterr]

When The Bough Breaks : Part Nine

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.5k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART EIGHT | MASTERLIST | FINALE

            It made your skin crawl having Ward Cameron sit across from you at your dining room table, in your home. Like his son, you knew well enough that he was no good & anywhere he went he only wreaked havoc. Now there they both sat at your table; Rafe on your right & Ward across from you. You felt like your lungs would collapse any second.

            “I’ve known about your trysts for some time now.” He started out. You swallowed.

            “When you have a son like I do, you learn to anticipate his actions.” Ward gave Rafe a discontented look, “And he’s not so subtle, anyway.”

            You took a look at Rafe, expecting to see him looking shameful, but there was no such suggestion on his face. He appeared completely at ease with what his father was saying.

            “But I can only let him act a fool for so long before it becomes problematic. So, I took protective measures. That’s where you come in, Mrs. MacFarlane.”

            “We’re not together.” You rushed out, uncaring of where Ward was going with his self-righteous speech.

            “Sure you aren’t. Now—”

            “No!” You exclaimed, rising from your seat, “I am not with your son. I cut it off a couple weeks ago. He knows that. But he insists on coming back here & harassing me… doing horrible things.”

            Suddenly, you felt hot, like being center stage under an overwhelmingly bright light.

            You wished you had the mental capability to take pride in the brief look of shock consuming Ward’s face as he stared at his son in disbelief. But it was short lived anyhow. Ward cleared his throat.

            “And I will take care of that.” Ward said firmly, & shockingly, you believed him. “But I need to take care of you first. So, sit down. Now. We have business to discuss.”

            You felt your brows quivering, much like the rest of your body. This was your home! You needed to stand your ground against these volatile, invasive men.

            “How dare you come into my home & demand anything of me.” You spit through gritted teeth, “I want you & your son out of my home in the next sixty seconds or I will call the cops & have you both thrown in jail. I don’t give a fuck what happens to me or my marriage because of it. I’ll be damned if you think I’m going to let another Cameron come in here & do as he pleases.”

            You kicked your chair out from behind you, prepared to go to the landline in the kitchen since Rafe still carried your phone, when a sudden vicelike grip wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back. Your feet tripped over each other, causing you to fall towards the table. Fortunately you caught yourself, but not before tossing a death stare at Rafe, who matched it.

            “You can call the cops if you want, I won’t stop you.” Ward started, “But before you do, I want you to know that if you do, you’d only be ruining your husband’s life.”

            Any fight you had had been nearly stamped out with those words. You parted your lips, but no words came out.

            Ward gestured to your seat, “Sit down, Mrs. MacFarlane. You’re going to want to listen to what I have to say.”

            Reluctantly, you lowered yourself, ripping your arm out of Rafe’s hand & rubbing the skin there. Ward glanced unimpressively between the two of you before continuing.

            “You recently had a break-in.” Ward started. You didn’t bother confirming; it was well-known.

            Ward then reached into the pocket of his blazer, pulling out a paper bag. Overturning the bag, a plethora of colored & various sized pills spilled out. After Ward emptied the bag, he tossed the bag to the side, “I believe these are your husband’s.”

            Your eyes flew to his.

            “Your husband, as good a man as he is, isn’t the brightest. These are from the pharmacy he keeps in his office.”

            “…why?”

            “Because I’ll send your husband to prison for illegal distribution of unreleased drugs before I ever let my son have his mugshot taken. Now, I’ll admit, I initially came here to ensure that you wouldn’t open your mouth about your affair with my son. But seeing now that the relationship isn’t entirely consensual, he faces greater risk.”

            You couldn’t help that your jaw dropped, “You’d put a good, honest man in jail to protect your rapist son?”

            Ward closed his eyes at the word ‘rapist’, his lips pressed firmly. He appeared to be struggling himself with the reality of the situation, but when his eyes opened & met yours, you could see that Rafe had to of gotten his insanity gene from someone.

            “I will do anything to protect my son. I’m sure you’d understand that if you still had one.”

            The shot to your heart forced hot, angry tears to your eyes.

            “Dad.” Rafe warned.

            “You—” Ward pointed toward Rafe, “shut your mouth. We’re in this shit because of you.”

            A wave of nausea returned. But you pushed it down, staring heatedly & hatefully at the man across from you.

            “You’re a monster.” You forced out.

            Ward smiled knowingly, “A necessary one.”

            Rafe placed a hand on your upper back, but you shoved yourself away from him, throwing him the same hateful look. You wished you had never moved to Kildare.

            “So, if I get even an inkling, a gut feeling that you’re up to no good Mrs. MacFarlane, expect your husband in handcuffs within the next 24 hours. Do I make myself clear?”

            You said nothing as rushed breaths flooded your lungs. This wasn’t happening. Your throat was scratchy & dry, your pits damp with sweat. Your head throbbed from the influx of adrenaline coursing through your body.

            “That won’t be necessary.” It was Rafe. You couldn’t move to face him. You could barely make out his words as he spoke to his father. But you did feel his hand grip your thigh. “Because we’ll get married.”

            “What?” You & Ward responded in unison, though you sounded more fearful than he of course.

            “_____ & I will get married. She’ll divorce her husband,” Rafe caught your eyes then, giving you a pointed look, “to protect him, & she’ll marry me. Then there’s nothing she or anyone else can say or do.”

            “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’d ever marry you.” You hissed, struggling to get out from under his firm hand but he kept you in place, his nails digging through the fabric to nick your skin.

            “What other choice do you have?” Rafe countered, his head cocked as he challenged you to think of something better. But nothing was better. Absolutely nothing. You were completely ensnared in their fucked up web.

            When you said nothing, unable to think of anything to argue with, Rafe nodded, “There you have it. A contract solves everything, dad, you taught me that.”

            Ward eyed his son suspiciously but did not dismiss his proposal. Then Ward looked at you, “Well, Mrs. MacFarlane, for once my son thinks effectively & efficiently. So, do we have an agreement?”

            You scoffed, bile rising in your throat. You shook your head, finding the whole situation unbelievable. But what could you do? Honestly, what could you do? You had to think about Moses, about protecting him. You had already betrayed him by breaking your vows. Would you let your stupid fucking mistakes cost him his well-being? Picturing him in handcuffs, his face on the news, his reputation ruined, his career destroyed, his wife…to blame for all of it. Tears bounced down your cheeks. No, no. You couldn’t let anything happen to him.

            Not trusting yourself to hold in your sickness if you opened your mouth, you simply nodded once.

            Ward smirked proudly, “Great. Well then.” Ward rose from his seat then extended his hand as if he was closing out a typical business deal.

            You eyed his hand as if it was made of poison, but forced yourself to rise just enough to give him yours. His hand was warm & cold at the same time. Goosebumps raided your skin, making your spine tingle uncomfortably.

            “You have until Monday to break the news to your husband. If you know what’s good for him, you won’t disappoint.”

            With that, Ward & Rafe left you at the table. You vaguely listened as they talked to one another down by the front door, but you didn’t care to make anything out. Blood was rushing to your ears, you felt like vomiting, all you wanted to do was to crawl back into bed & go to sleep, hopefully never waking up.

            But your nightmare returned as he climbed back up the stairs, a proud smile on his face as he sat back down next to you. Your muscles tensed as he brought you close to kiss you on your temple, his breath fanning your hair.

            “Now we have nothing to worry about.”

            Fuck, he was delusional. Tears of anger & frustration continued to spill down your cheeks, but you felt numb in the face as your stared at your lap.

            “Once you tell Moses that you want a divorce, we’ll get married & you’ll be happier with me.” He sounded so elated. You felt like your life was ending.

            “Why don’t you lay down on the couch, I’ll heat up some leftovers.”

            Like a mindless zombie, you rose from you seat & dragged your feet to the couch. You didn’t bother kicking off your heels or slipping out of the skirt that hugged your waist too tightly. You just wanted to sink into the couch until you disappeared, never to be found again.

            As Rafe clambered around in your kitchen, you thought back to your life before you met him. You were mixing your medication with alcohol, drinking day & night, spending all your time alone bitter & angry at the world. You were completely helpless, or so you thought.

Lying there on the couch though, trapped in your own home, having no will or way to protect yourself or your husband, you only then realized this is what helpless was, this is what rock bottom looked like.

And there was no way back up.

A pounding on your front door stirred you awake. Your house was dark as you looked bleary eyed around your living room. The kitchen was quiet & Rafe was nowhere in sight. You sat up, thinking it must’ve been a dream when the pounding came again, this time even louder. You shot forward, ready to make a dash for the door while Rafe was MIA, but just as you stood up he appeared at the mouth of the hallway.

He was peering curiously down at the door over the railing. Then he sighed, annoyed.

“What is it?” You asked, rounding the couch toward the stairs. He stopped you abruptly though.

“I’ll handle it.”

You hated how much control he had, how perfectly together he seemed, all the while you were losing your fucking marbles.

Rafe ambled down the stairs, unlocking the door then swung it open.

“Oh, my god. He wasn’t kidding.” It was Sarah’s voice.

You practically jumped down the stairs, relieved that someone who you felt to be reasonable & trustworthy had appeared.

When you stepped up next to Rafe though, her furious brown eyes landed on you.

“So, it’s true. You guys have been hooking up & now you’re getting married.”

You began to shake your head, desperate for her to know the truth, but Rafe gently pushed you backwards out of sight, though his hand remained firm on your shoulder, a warning grip.

“What’s your problem, Sarah? You like her, dad likes her, I like her. I thought you’d be happy.”

“Bullshit.” You heard her seethe, “_____ hates your fucking guts, what the hell is going on?!”

“Fine.” Rafe stepped back, leaving space between him & the door, “If you don’t believe me, she’ll tell you herself.”

Then, while Sarah couldn’t see you, Rafe stared at you. Hard. The same look he had when he cornered you in the bathroom at his house.

It’d be so easy to tell Sarah the truth. Just step out, tell her what exactly was going on, how Ward threatened Moses, everything. If she knew, then you had someone who would be on your side. But then you remembered her & Rafe shared the same dad. Ward would shut her up too, you were sure of it. The chances were too low for a risk so great.

Swallowing down a dry lump, you readied yourself to lie to what might be your last hope.

When you stepped into view, Sarah had her lips pursed. You could tell that she was concerned. She didn’t know what to think. And it made you want to vomit yourself to death before feeding her lies. But you had to. For Moses.

“It’s true, Sarah.” Your voice cracked, so you cleared your throat, “We’re getting married.”

She guffawed, eyes flashing between you & your offender, “But you hate him…”

“…I don’t. I… only said that to keep up appearances, make it easier for us to see one another.” Tears threatened to fall but you blinked them away.

“Wow.” Sarah laughed in disbelief, “I really thought you were different.”

I am. You wanted to scream it out, reach for her & beg her to get you help. But you said nothing as she shook her head.

“Well, don’t expect to see me at the wedding.” With that, she spun on her heel, her hair whipping behind her as she stomped down your outdoor stairs.

Your heart shattered as she disappeared from sight, Rafe closing the door on your one chance at escape. He locked the doors before throwing an arm over your shoulder, “She’ll come around. Once she sees how amazing we are together, she’ll understand.”

But you knew she wouldn’t. And you hoped she wouldn’t. You hoped she escaped the Cameron’s as much as you both wanted to. At least one of you needed to survive this family.

Rafe woke you up early Friday morning. He had your coffee, medication, & a plate of breakfast ready for you. It was a little past six in the morning. Moses would be home in a couple hours. You wished you could be excited about it.

“Don’t forget the plan.” Rafe said as he took your plate away. You knew you’d be throwing up those eggs & toast in the next twenty minutes. You hadn’t stopped puking since Rafe appeared some days ago. Your body couldn’t handle the stress without alcohol. But you couldn’t go back to it now. You needed to stay sober.

Rafe then led you back to your bathroom. You stripped out of your pajamas’ as he turned the shower on. You hated him. You fucking hated him. Never ever in your life had you felt so helpless. He was always hovering, always doing things for you, coddling you like a goddam baby. You knew it was because he didn’t trust you, & he was right not to, but you just needed five minutes alone, five minutes to fucking breathe.

As you stepped into the shower, you were horrified to see him begin to undress as well. He hadn’t touched you since the night before last. For that you were thankful. But it seemed his lust for you was short-lived, his erection apparent as he stepped in behind you.

Words died on your tongue as he pressed you into the porcelain wall, his lips caressing your neck & shoulder. The water was warm, exceedingly so, but Rafe’s touch left chills.

He turned your face towards him, his mouth catching yours. You struggled to not fight back.

Rafe’s hands grazed your back as he pressed his front to yours. You loathed how your body responded to him naturally. That a slickness appeared between your thighs. How you bit your lip to keep the moans from slipping out. It sickened you.

“Open up.” Rafe breathed hotly against your mouth. You parted your lips in the slightest. His tongue massaged yours as one of his hands dipped below, his fingers finding your sensitive nub.

A gasp escaped you at the sudden touch. Rafe smiled into the kiss, pulling back to watch your face as it contorted itself with pleasure.

He started with a single first, just teasing your entrance, collecting the wetness there all the while the heel of his hand kept a circulating pressure against your clit.

“Your body needs me.” Rafe gently grasped the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your head back so he could stare down at you, “As much as I need you.”

Then a second finger entered you, though this time deeper. You could feel your walls clenching around him, almost painfully. You battled with your bodily response, not wanting to submit to your wonton needs.

Rafe began to pump his fingers, his lips grazing your jawline as you desperately grasped for anything to hold onto as he fucked you with his hand.

“Please.” You choked out, unsure if you were begging him to stop or to keep going.

He then pulled his fingers out, much to your relief, but it was short-lived as he only switched to focusing entirely on your clit. A squealed yelp left your lips, forcing your body to jump as he used the pads of his four fingers to rub you vigorously. Your orgasm was building fast, the impeding crash fast coming. You opened your mouth but only a silent wail came out as you felt your body crash.

Cum dripped from between your thighs. You could barely hold yourself help. Rafe pressed his face into the side of your neck, laughing proudly to himself, “That’s my girl. You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

You said nothing, leaning on him entirely as you gained your footing. But Rafe was impatient. He pushed your head back against the wall, looking you deeply in the eyes, his own hooded with unbridled carnal want.

“Tell me. Say it.”

You licked your lips, still catching your breath. Nodding, you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you said it, “I’m your girl, Rafe.”

A wicked smile appeared on his regretfully handsome face.

Not giving you a chance to recover from your first orgasm, Rafe suddenly spun you around, pressing your front to the glass door. You didn’t have a chance to comprehend what was happening before he slid into you with one thrust.

Rafe groaned loudly, his hands harshly gripping your upper arms as he used you to balance himself.

“This pussy is mine.” He growled behind you. You grunted, your walls clinging to his girth as he sunk deeper & deeper.

“Say it.” The digging of his nails into your skin made you wince.

“My pussy is yours.” You cried out, “Only yours.”

“Yes, it is.” He breathed out as he began to thrust.

Your tits were crushed uncomfortably against the glass, but the slickness of the water helped to add pleasure to the discomfort. Your nipples hard & begging for attention as the friction of the movement made you wetter by the second.

As if he could read your thoughts, Rafe brought his arm to your front, forcing your back to arch as he brought your head to his shoulder. His hands grabbed a handful of each tit, molding them to his grasp. His fingers tweaked & rubbing at your nipples. One of your hands gripped his thigh, hanging onto him as his thick cock & expert fingers crafted yet another orgasm from you.

“Ah, fuck!” You bit your lip, grinding your ass into Rafe’s hips, bouncing yourself off his dick. God, you couldn’t believe how he made you come undone over & over again, even when you didn’t want to.

“I can’t wait to fuck you every day. In our home.” His words were faded, sounding far away as you came down, but they still affected you. As quickly as your orgasm came, the pleasure from it evaporated just as fast.

Rafe continued fucking you, releasing you to prop yourself up onto the glass as he chased his own release. You pressed your forehead into the glass, staring into the foggy nothingness of ahead of you.

You were thankful for the water to disguise your tears.

Moses knew something was wrong the second he walked through the door. You didn’t see the point in hiding it, faking any sort of feeling from him.

He found you in one of the guest bedrooms. You had the sheets from your actual bed in the washer, not wanting to return to the bed Rafe fucked you on multiple times without them being cleaned.

You were curled in on yourself, unaware that he was even home as you lied there, numb to everything.

“_____?” Moses sat beside you on the bed, immediately bringing you into his arms, “What the hell is going on?”

But you said nothing, you couldn’t trust yourself to say anything. Not yet anyways. Rafe only left less than an hour ago. After he finished filling you with his cum, he let you shower properly. But no matter how deep you scrubbed your skin you couldn’t wash him off of you.

“Darling, talk to me.” Moses’ voice used to soothe you, used to bring you great peace, but now, it felt like a distant lullaby, one that you knew would stop singing to you.

Other than your catatonic state though, Moses could find nothing wrong. He eventually left you but not for long. He returned with one of your favorite fuzzy blankets, a mug of tea, & a lavender scented candle. As you felt him moving around the room, you begged yourself to cry, to wake up, to respond to him, talk to him.

Tell him, tell him, tell him. You repeated to yourself over & over again. But you couldn’t. One voice rang louder, & it belonged to Ward Cameron.

You slept in the guest bedroom all night, relieved that sleep eventually came for you. When you did wake up, your muscles & joints ached as you finally moved, stretching your limbs. It was then that you saw Moses on the floor. His back was resting against the bed & he was sleeping soundlessly. A book was in his hand & his reading glasses were barely hanging onto his face.

He didn’t deserve to be ruined because of your actions. Had you known that everything you had done in your life would lead to him getting either his heartbroken or his life ruined, you never would’ve gone on that date with him.

But then you also would’ve never had Jesse.

Jesse’s face flashed through your mind then. You covered your mouth as rampant cries suddenly threatened to break loose. You pulled your knees to your chest, stifling your cries as you teared up.

Everything was your fault, everything bad in your life was your fault. Even Jesse…

“_____.” Moses was beside you all of a sudden, wrapping his arms around you, “You’re scaring me, what is going on?”

You raised your head, wanting to stare at the only man in your life who truly loved you. But as you looked at him you saw Jesse’s eyes.

In a flash, you thrusted yourself out of Moses’ arms, falling to the floor. Moses was shocked, watching as your rushed to your feet, backing away from him.

“Don’t.” You held up your hand, staring hard at him through your tears.

“_____---”

“No, Moses. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

“What are you… what are you talking about?” He made to stand but you shook your head, backing further away. Moses stopped moving but remained sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes full of fear as he stared at you.

“We need to stop avoiding talking about what happened. We both need to stop giving me a break.”

Moses hung his head, immediately knowing what you were referring to.

“We have to say it for what it is, Moses. Because it’s killing me, it’s been killing me.” You could feel yourself on the edge of a panic attack.

Moses raised his head, his eyes red & tired, “Should we call someone?”

“No!” You shouted, “No, no. No one else. Me & you. Like it always should’ve been.”

“_____, I think you should sit down.”

“Quit fucking coddling me, Moses!” You yelled, feeling the last shred of your self-worth snapping. “Jesse is dead! Because of me…”

Moses’ eyes began to swell with tears, but he pressed his lips together as he looked at you.

“Because of me, Moses.”

“That’s not true. You know that. It was an accident.”

“No.” You wailed, recalling the tragic day, “If I hadn’t fallen asleep…”

“It wasn’t your fault. And if it was your fault then it was my fault, too.”

“Moses, don’t. You were at work.”

“Exactly!” He stood to his full height, throwing his arms out, “I should’ve been home with you both. You were so tired. Jesse was a handful, he was so full of energy, always on the go. Neither one of us could keep up with him on our own. I should’ve been there. You fell asleep because you were so busy keeping up with him, _____. Jesse loved you. He’d pick you again.”

Moses’ words forced you to fall to your knees, sobbing, crying for Jesse, wishing you could hold him in your arms once more.

“Our son is dead.” You gasped on your choked breaths. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Moses.”

You needed him to know before you broke his heart. You needed him to know that you were sorry for everything.

Moses joined you on the floor, holding you as you cried into his chest. You could feel his own tears falling onto your scalp.

“I’m sorry, too.” He whispered.

He held you for some time, letting you cry, letting himself cry. You two remained there for what felt like ages, finally allowing yourselves to grieve, to feel the pain of Jesse’s death. A huge weight had been lifted from your shoulders, though your heart remained forever heavy.

After a while, you had stopped crying, your cheeks crusted with dry tears. Your lips were chapped & you licked them lazily. Moses was gently rubbing your back.

You wanted nothing more than to stay there with him forever, with the love of your life, your selfless husband, the most beautiful father to your child. You wanted to stay there & never leave.

But you couldn’t drag him down with you, not anymore.

“Moses.” Your voice was hoarse from the wailing.

Moses leaned back, still holding you softly as he pulled back enough to face you.

“Yes, my love?” Your heart shattered. My love, my love, my love. You’d never hear those words again. But you couldn’t cling to them, you needed to rip off the Band-Aid.

You couldn’t look Moses in the eyes as you said the words, lowering your own.

This would be the cruelest thing you’d ever do. The end of everything good in your life. This was the end.

“I want a divorce.”

fuuuuuck me. i can't believe this series is one chapter & epilogue away from being finished. i think thus far, this is my absolute proudest work on my blog. i really really hope you guys have enjoyed this journey with me as much as i had writing it.

as always, please share your thoughts with me by commenting, reblogging with reviews, or talking to me in the ask box (which is looking a little lonely>.<)

regardless, thank you for all the love & support. it means everything.

thank you for reading!

beau<3

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark!fic #dark!fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #non con fic #dark!outer banks #wtbb part nine

[softpeachydarling]

Non stereotypical Yuri recs:

Her Tale of Shim Chong - probably my favorite modern GL, a fairly dark take on a Korean folktale

Sadistic Beauty Side Story A - shockingly good spin off of a het femdom series. Romantic comedy between two college students with strong personalities. Great balance between smut and romance. Includes BDSM but nothing particularly intense

Renai Idenshi XX - set in a magic academy in an omega-verse like world where men are extinct. All the main characters wear suits iirc and it's arguably butchxbutch which is nice to see.

Your Scent is a Little Sweet - actual lesbian omegaverse, only 20-ish chapters translated so far but it looks promising

Run Away With Me Girl - a woman reconnects with her highschool girlfriend 10 years later and finds out she's engaged to a man, angsty but with a touching payoff at the end

My Princess Charming - very cliche fake dating to real romance story but with lesbians, pretty cute

Best Served Cold - a lonely housewife develops a crush on her hot new neighbor, but is unaware that every move the neighbor makes is part of a careful plan to ruin her and her husband's lives. Toxic, dramatic and soapy.

On a Leash - toxic relationship between two military officers that transform into animals.

Kill Me Now - a girl becomes attracted to the assassin that killed her parents that is also her foster mother

Yuki and the Authoress - cute romance in 1920s Japan, really pretty art

What Does the Fox Say - dramatic love triangle between three women, modern setting, smut with great art

Love Thy Neighbor - modern psychological drama. One of the leads is in her 20s and the other is a much older butch.

Goodbye My Rose garden - bittersweet historical romance between a lady and her maid, set in Victorian England

Black and White (Sal Jiang) - office comedy, enemies to enemies that have sex

I may add more to this list later, this is just whatever stood out to me based on what I've read in the last few years. I tried to pick stories with very different vibes and tropes from each other, and all of these are about adult women except for Renai Idenshi. Thanks to @magnetictapedatastorage for inspiring me to type this up!

#yuri manga #yuri #girls love

[tswwwit]

do bill and dipper ever talk about their problems or have serious conversations? We don’t see much of them in the fics— talking about the past, trauma, or insecurities, etc

Getting to that point took them quite a while, but yeah!

Dipper will occasionally talk over or bitch about his life with Bill. Opening up about his feelings. His thoughts. Get a little vulnerable, even, around his husband. It takes a bit before he can do it and get Bill to take it seriously, but that's not a fuckup Bill makes twice.

Mind you, he's still Bill about the listening. Which means about 80% of his 'advice' to Dipper is 'you should totally kill that guy', and 15% is basic commiseration couched in teasing terms. The last 5% is such shockingly insightful advice that Dipper has to do a doubletake to make sure he's still talking to the same guy. One of the perks of knowing the human mind as well as Bil does.

Bill sharing his problems, though? Whoof.

There's a guy who could spend all day whining because the last party wasn't fun enough. Bitch about other people! His day! But getting Bill to admit he has deeper feelings is a billion times worse than pulling teeth. With a crowbar.

If Dipper wants insight into Bill's deeper psyche, he's got to augur the subtle signs of it. Puzzle it out, in fact. He's gotten pretty good at guessing what's going on behind that front - but holy hell does his husband not make it easy.

#answers #These two guys are both allergic to deeper Feelings Talks so it's a pretty rare circumstance #Shit's gotta be getting Real for them to be straightforward #I imagine one of the things Dipper HAS gotten deeper into with Bill at this point is the Parent situation #Not that he was intending to; Bill just asked what was up with that and before he knew it he was spilling a LOT of feelings everywhere #Bill's advice was still 'you should kill those guys' but a little more seriously than his usual. Dipper's not sure how much he really meant #As for deeper Bill feelings I imagine Dipper has some solid intuition about how Bill will respond to certain things #But basically zero idea of his past. You know. THAT past. #It's gonna be a LONG time before that comes to light. A VERY long time.

[musings-of-a-rose]

I'm having a Sparks and Benny thought here. Based on this pic. Both of them arrive at home from a Xmas party at Will's. Things got hot really quick.

Note this was supposed to be in your ask box. I messaged ya this thought. My bad! Holiday brain!

The Party

Pairing: Benny Miller x “Sparks” f!reader

Word Count: 1300+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I miss the HELL out of these 2 so please continue to send in anything! Also I’m changing this up to a New Year’s Party because I couldn’t finish it in time for Christmas. And then I was even more late! Thank you for being so patient and waiting!! (This was not beta read)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Light Me Up Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“Did we really have to dress all fancy?” Benny whines, rolling his shoulders to shift the suit jacket a little. 

“It’s Will and Makayla’s first New Year’s living together and they wanted to be fancy,” I explain as I knock on the door to Will and Makayla’s place.

“I guess.”

“Plus, it’s my first as Mrs. Miller and I wanted to look pretty.”

Benny’s eyes soften as he looks me, the edges of his gaze darkening. “You’re always gorgeous, Mrs. Miller.” He grips my hips and pulls me to him, releasing one hand to tip my chin up, kissing me softly, the heat slowly warming.

“Get your own porch, asshole.” Will had opened the door and was standing there smirking. 

“You’re right. I’ll just take my wife home then,” Benny pulls me in the direction of his jeep. 

“Nice try. Makayla would kill me if you guys didn’t show up. Come on in.” He opens the door wide and motions for us to enter, fist bumping Benny as he walks past. 

Makayla had gone all out, everything sparkling in silver, gold, and black, like a modern day Gatsby party. People had already arrived and Benny steers me towards Frankie and Monica, Santi off in the corner making out with a girl, whom I shockingly recognize. 

“Is Santi with the same girl he brought to the bar a month ago?” I whisper to Frankie and Monica. 

She nods. “Yeah! I think this one is sticking around, surprisingly enough.”

We chat with them for a bit, Makayla flitting over for a few minutes before being whisked away on a champagne emergency. The music is going, some people getting up to dance. Will recruits Benny to help him with something in the kitchen, so I pull Monica onto the dance floor, whispering to her that we’re going to be menaces to our respective husbands. 

We start dancing to the upbeat song, hands on each others hips as we sway and move to the song, her spinning me around so my back is flush with her front. And that’s when I see him, Benny, emerging from the kitchen and freezing, his eyes on me as I dance. Judging by the light chuckle in my ear from Monica, I’m guessing she caught Frankie’s eye too.

“Wanna torture them some more, Sparks?” She says close to my ear.

“Hell yeah.”

I follow her lead, moving my body as she guides me, our hips moving in tandem as she pulls me closer to her. For good measure, I lift my arm, wrapping it around the back of her head, trying not to giggle when she squeezes just a little too much on my inner hips. And then the song ends, Monica and I laughing as she hugs me.

“That was way too much fun, Sparks.”

“Yeah it was. Did you see their-”

Suddenly, Monica was ripped from my grasp, Frankie’s hand firmly clamped around her upper arm, a smirk and a wink tossed my way from her as he steers her away through the group of people. 

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Benny had snuck up behind me, his hands now on my hips, his nose nuzzling in my hair as he speaks low in my ear. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was dancing, good sir.”

He chuckles and it makes goosebumps pop up down my arm. “Yeah. Dancing. Sure.” He  makes to pull me away, to find some secluded spot but then Will clanks a spoon on a glass and everyone turns, Benny groaning a little too loud so I elbow him softly in the ribs. 

Will puts his arm around Makayla next to him before speaking. “I just want to thank everyone for coming. We’re so excited to share our first New Year’s Eve with everyone we love and we’ve been working hard- ok. Makayla has been working hard. I just do what she says,” laughing flits around the group as Makayla playfully slaps his chest, leaving her hand on his toned pec. “But seriously. Thank you guys. Here’s to another great year!”

—----

The toast was had, the ball was dropped, the midnight kiss was a little too risque between you and Benny, Will not so covertly throwing an empty Solo cup at Benny’s head. 

“Ugh I’ve been dying to take these shoes off all night!” I groan, kicking my heels off and plopping down in one of our comfy chairs. 

“You looked hot though.”

“That’s the price of fashion. Pain.”

He chuckles as he removes his jacket, revealing that he wore a simple, plain black shirt underneath it, the fabric stretching and pulling as he tosses the jacket on the back of the couch and sits with a sigh. I look over at him, feeling warm watching his movements.

“Did..did you really wear a black t-shirt under your dress jacket?”

Benny looks down at his shirt, his eyebrows pulled together. “Should I not have?”

“No, no. I think it works.”

He brushes his chest and I almost come unglued. “Good.”

“Wanna see what’s under mine?”

His big blue eyes snap to mine. “Fuck yeah I do.”

I get up, standing in front of him as I pull my dress over my head, hearing his sharp intake of breath as I reveal his favorite lingerie set on me, complete with black garter belts.

“You…you had this on the whole time?”

I nod, moving to straddle him. He grips my hips, sliding his hands up to my ribs as he kisses my chest, his mustache tickling my skin causing me to chuckle. But then he grips me tight, standing abruptly and sets me in the chair, draping each of my legs over the arms of the chair. He kneels, his eyes dark and all-consuming as he stares between my legs. 

“Can you buy new underwear?”

“I think so.”

I barely get my reply out before he grips my panties, ripping the part that covers me, tucking the ripped ends up. His large hands squeeze my inner thighs and before I can say anything, his mouth is on me, warm and lapping, my legs trying to squeeze around him. He holds me open, his fingers digging deeper into my skin as I moan his name, electric sparks rolling over me as his tongue changes patterns. One of my hands grips the chair and the other moves to his hair, tugging hard and whining when his growl vibrates me. 

“Oh fuck! Ben, I -” The sounds he pulls from me are loud and grateful, Benny leaving his mouth on me to work me down. But I don’t have time to relax as he stands, pulling me up only to spin me, pushing my upper back down, the sound of a zipper loud in the quiet apartment. He drags himself through the wetness between my thighs before pushing and I slap the chair, trying to find something, anything to grip.

“Can’t believe you were wearing this the whole night and didn’t tell me,” Benny pants behind me, setting a rougher pace just hear the panted whines tumble from my lips. 

My hands scramble, still trying to find purchase as he presses harder, faster, but then he folds himself over me, engulfing me from behind, his large hands sliding down my arms, his fingers lacing with mine, holding my hands as he continues to push in further. I turn my head to the side, feeling myself hurtle towards the edge again as he brushes against that spot at the back of me. 

“Oh fuck, Benny! Please..please!” I come, tightening around him, his breaths panting out across my neck as he buries his face, turning his head slightly to bite my shoulder as he comes, his hips pushing in a few more times as he releases. His bite turns to kisses, nuzzling into my hair before he whispers.

“I love you, Sparks.”

I manage to finally catch my breath. “Don’t you mean Mrs. Miller?”

“Fuck!” He pulls out but stands, picking me up to throw me over his shoulder with a squeal as he stomps down the hallway, spending the next few hours showing me exactly what being called Mrs. Miller does to him.

—----

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#benny miller #ben miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #benny miller x f!reader #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #benjamin miller #benjamin benny miller #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund x you #garrett hedlund characters #garrett hedlund character fanfic #garrett hedlund character ff #garrett hedlund character fanfiction