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#A Lost Fool's Paradise

mable-stitchpunk · 26 days

Note

Anymore adventures planned for Lure?

As a matter of fact, yes! 8D I'm working on a third book now- A Lost Fool's Paradise- its just been slowed down by work. Still getting into it though! Thank you for asking. ^_^

#A Fool's Endeavor #A Fool's Golden Cage #A Lost Fool's Paradise #fantasy novel #Jester Lure #original work

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jmunneytumbler · 1 year

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Entertainment To-Do List: Week of 5/12/23

Hear them now, believe their podcast later. (CREDIT: NBC/Screenshot) Every week, I list all the upcoming (or recently released) movies, TV shows, albums, podcasts, etc. that I believe are worth checking out. Movies –Fool’s Paradise (Theaters) – Charlie Day’s directorial debut. –It Ain’t Over (Theaters) – Yogi Berra documentary. –Hypnotic (Theaters) –Knights of the Zodiac (Theaters) – Based on a…

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#Alison Goldfrapp #Fool&039;s Paradise #Hypnotic #It Ain&039;t Over #Knights of the Zodiac #Lacrosse #PGA Championship #Podcasts #RuPaul&039;s Drag Race All Stars #The Lost Hans & Franz Movie #The Love Invention

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animusrox · 3 months

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TOP 10

Past Lives

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

How to Blow Up a Pipeline

Poor Things

Oppenheimer

Barbie

BlackBerry

The Holdovers

The Iron Claw

Killers of the Flower Moon

MY LETTERBOXD Grade A 11. The Killer 12. Beau Is Afraid 13. Dream Scenario 14. �� Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 15. Godzilla Minus One 16. American Fiction 17. They Cloned Tyrone 18. Evil Dead Rise 19. Eileen 20. The Artifice Girl 21. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem 22. Talk to Me 23. Reality 24. Leave the World Behind 25. A Thousand and One 26. Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One 27. Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. 28. Theater Camp 29. Carmen 30. Merry Little Batman 31. Priscilla 32. Society of the Snow 33. Infinity Pool 34. Enys Men 35. Sanctuary 36. Rye Lane 37. Skinamarink 38. Monster 39. Anatomy of a Fall 40. Landscape with Invisible Hand 41. Reptile 42. Sisu 43. Pinball: The Man Who Saved the Game 44. No One Will Save You 45. Tetris 46. May December 47. The Zone of Interest 48. V/H/S/85 49. Dumb Money 50. El Conde 51. Arnold 52. Maestro 53. Napoleon 54. 20 Days in Mariupol 55. Influencer 56. The Creator 57. Origin 58. Thanksgiving 59. Next Goal Wins 60. The Boy and the Heron 61. Bottoms 62. Wonka

[Press Keep Reading For The Full Graded List]

Grade B

63. God Is a Bullet 64. No Hard Feelings 65. Joy Ride 66. Fair Play 67. Cocaine Bear 68. NYAD 69. Asteroid City 70. Nowhere 71. The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster 72. Divinity 73. The Equalizer 3 74. The Last Voyage of the Demeter 75. Venus 76. Butcher’s Crossing 77. Somewhere in Queens 78. The Persian Version 79. Boston Strangler 80. Polite Society 81. Miguel Wants to Fight 82. The Color Purple 83. The Royal Hotel 84. Saw X 85. All of Us Strangers 86. Fallen Leaves 87. Ferrari 88. Elemental 89. Peter Pan & Wendy 90. Renfield 91. Cat Person 92. Scream VI 93. The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes 94. BS High 95. Blue Beetle 96. Huesera: The Bone Woman 97. When Evil Lurks 98. Dark Harvest 99. A Good Person 100. Final Cut 101. Knock at the Cabin 102. Quiz Lady 103. Leo 104. Air 105. The Super Mario Bros. Movie 106. Batman: The Doom That Came to Gotham 107. John Wick: Chapter 4 108. Beaten to Death 109. The Wrath of Becky 110. Passages 111. Transformers: Rise of the Beasts 112. Gran Turismo 113. 65 114. Sick 115. Sister Death 116. The Blackening 117. Please Don’t Destroy: The Treasure of Foggy Mountain 118. Flamin’ Hot 119. Nimona 120. Cobweb 121. Totally Killer 122. What’s Love Got to Do with It? 123. Sharper 124. Unseen 125. Dunki 126. Bird Box Barcelona 127. The Marvels 128. Shazam! Fury of the Gods

Grade C

129. Wildflower 130. Freelance 131. M3GAN 132. Strays 133. Sympathy for the Devil 134. Creed III 135. Chevalier 136. The Marsh King’s Daughter 137. A Haunting in Venice 138. The Little Mermaid 139. Silent Night 140. Master Gardener 141. The Flash 142. Fast X 143. The Pope’s Exorcist 144. Saltburn 145. Kandahar 146. Stand 147. Plane 148. Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny 149. Fingernails 150. Quicksand 151. Fool’s Paradise 152. Migration 153. Rustin 154. The Covenant 155. Good Burger 2 156. The Pod Generation 157. Alice, Darling 158. Insidious: The Red Door 159. Missing 160. Shotgun Wedding 161. You Hurt My Feelings 162. The Boogeyman 163. Showing Up 164. Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom 165. Champions 166. Consecration 167. The Nun II 168. Biosphere 169. House Party 170. The Exorcist: Believer 171. Big George Foreman 172. Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves 173. Children of the Corn 174. The Beanie Bubble 175. Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania

Grade F

176. Anyone But You 177. Marlowe 178. Paint 179. Extraction 2 180. It Lives Inside 181. Deliver Us 182. Trolls Band Together 183. Finestkind 184. Corner Office 185. Wish 186. Prisoner’s Daughter 187. Pain Hustlers 188. Foe 189. The Mother 190. Old Dads 191. Ghosted 192. Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken 193. Haunted Mansion 194. Mafia Mamma 195. Five Nights at Freddy’s 196. The Machine 197. Justice League: Warworld 198. We Have a Ghost 199. What Comes Around 200. Legion of Super-Heroes 201. The Boys in the Boat 202. Attachment 203. Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre 204. About My Father 205. You People 206. Meg 2: The Trench 207. Pathaan 208. Rebel Moon - Part One: A Child of Fire 209. Assassin 210. Dalíland 211. Vacation Friends 2

Bottom 10

212. Sound of Freedom 213. Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey 214. When You Finish Saving The World 215. Heart of Stone 216. Family Switch 217. Expend4bles 218. Sweetwater 219. Hypnotic 220. 80 for Brady 221. Spinning Gold

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suguann · 3 months

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OH, DARLING—ASTARION

✎. he’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky, and you have the sneaking suspicion he's upset with you. | wc. 1.3K+

tags. fem!reader, established relationship, jealousy, slight dirty talk, pet names [18+ only]

masterlist

Eighteen days. That’s how long it takes between the Shadowlands and reaching Wyrm’s Crossing. Longer still since you’ve interacted with anyone other than bandits, lost refugees, cult-crazed lunatics, and your merry band of weirdos (Gale’s words, not yours).

For once, you’re not picking berries off bushes to offset hunger until you make camp or plucking bramble from your pants when the occasional trail turns out to be safer than the King’s Road. You can finally sit at a bartop and order wine instead of choking down the contents of an ancient bottle of Ithbank you snatched from a cellar in some decrepit village.

That was at least the most tolerable thing you experienced outside the gates, as far as roughing it in the wilds goes.

And it might be your newfound appreciation for city life, of finding an escape from what’s become your current normal—sneaking past goblin-infested camps, waterlogged boots, and haystacks for beds (an upgrade from sleeping on the cold, hard dirt, you suppose)—that lures the Drow twins over to your party walking down from the top floor of the Sharess’ Caress.

“You must be curious after keeping such…” Nym glances over Astarion, Shadowheart, and Karlach, hovering behind you, threatening with blood stains on their clothes and out of place in an establishment full of nobles and wealthy ministers. “Interesting company.”

It’s safe to say you’re uninterested in the twins, but that doesn’t stop your curiosity from piquing when Nym demonstrates her talents with a peach she snatches from a fruit bowl off the nearest table. By the end of it—an obscene display that catches the eye of a few patrons walking by and sends your imagination reeling—you wonder how often she does this to gain clientele. If it’s always so…hands-on.

“So what do you think?”

You don’t know what to think, oddly confused like that first time Astarion had to spell out for you that he wanted to have sex—you’re going to be so fun to break, pet—a girl who’s every bit the product and trappings of a sheltered fool.

“Are you interested?”

The mutilated peach in Nym’s hand drips clear fruit juice down her wrist in thin rivulets, collecting at her elbow. You start to shake your head—

Astarion scoffs. “She already has her hands full without your sticky fingers and whatever the hells you’re doing to that innocent peach.”

Nym’s mouth curls up into a coy smile before her gaze sweeps over to Astarion. “Her lover, I presume?”

“As in, I already tasted said peach while you’re still trying to get your mouth on it; well then, yes. Very much so.”

You slap his chest, your face somehow getting hotter. “Astarion!”

“Darling, we’re in a whorehouse. I assure you they’ve heard worse.”

Nym makes a wordless, amused sound. “Well, if you ever find yourself curious or—” she gives Astarion one last scrutinizing once over and looks at you again “—unsatisfied, you know where to find me and my brother.”

Before you can politely decline, Astarion chips in on your behalf, “Trust me, she’s not.”

He steers you toward the door—I’m never going to look at a silly piece of fruit the same after this—and you don’t miss how he sends the twins a withering stare right before he joins you on the street.

He’s in a perpetually strange mood for the rest of the day, quieter than usual and more sulky.

You stare at the back of his head as he walks in front of you, bulky pack slung over his shoulder with the books and scrolls you bought earlier, deciding whether you should join him or leave him to his thoughts.

Karlach nudges your shoulder. “Trouble in paradise, soldier?”

“Not really.” You bite your lip. “Should there be?”

Her gaze follows yours to Astarion, and she hums in understanding.

“If you stare at his back any longer, you might burn a hole through it." Heat crawls up your neck, and you try to give her a shove when Astarion looks at both of you over his shoulder, but she doesn't move an inch and laughs instead. "He’s probably upset over finding another pebble in his boot again. Don’t sweat it.”

An unreasonable suggestion, for you know it’s more than another pebble.

He doesn’t say anything once you all reach camp, nor does he give you even the slightest acknowledgment when you walk by his tent on your way to bed or look up from his book—no hello, my sweet readily waiting on his tongue—when you slip a little note under his nose.

It’s starting to give you the sneaking suspicion he’s upset with you—though you hardly have the faintest idea why.

You’re pulled awake by the quiet, careful shifting of your blanket as someone slips into your bedroll behind you. You stare blearily at the barn's wall, trying to blink away the disorienting feeling still clinging to you like dew on a humid summer day.

It’s the first brush of sharp incisors against your throat that erases the last vestiges of sleep altogether.

Ah, so he read your note.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you whisper, aware enough to remember the other two people sleeping in the barn with you.

“Have I?”

“You know what I mean.” You tighten your grip on your blanket. “You’re upset, aren’t you?”

He kisses the tender spot below your ear. “I wouldn’t phrase it like that.”

“But you’re unhappy.”

Your breath hitches when his tongue flicks out to taste your skin.

“Yes, I’m unhappy.”

“Was it because of what that drow said?”

“Hm, be more specific.”

“When she—with the peach.” You squirm a little, a mouse blessedly caught by the tail. “You know.”

His chuckle is soft, faintly mocking.

“Oh, darling. You think I’m jealous?” He runs a thumb over the fluttering pulse in your neck. “How cute.”

And right before he applies the smallest amount of pressure—

“Well, you would be correct.”

When Astarion works at the laces of your pants, loosening them just enough to slip his hand underneath, you jump at the first cool brush of his fingers tracing across your heated skin. Your muscles jump, jump, jump under his touch, goosebumps prickling along your arms when his hand fits suddenly between your legs. Two soft pats that make you gasp.

“Drippy,” he murmurs. You don’t think your face can get any hotter.

Then he’s hooking two—fuck, three—fingers into you, splitting you open, curling up toward your belly; you can’t bite back the moan that breaks free.

“Hush, pet.”

Nipping at your neck, he scissors his fingers, smiling at your choked, stuttered gasp.

“Do you think I’d let anyone see how you fall apart with a few quick strokes of the fingers? How you sound? How you taste?”

The questions are followed by his thumb pressing into the achy spot at the apex between your legs, and you don’t mention that he’s doing this with two other people sleeping soundly on the other side of the room.

“This—” his fingers curl inside you, pressing until he finds soft flesh that makes your legs jerk. “This is all for me—mine—wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod slowly, hand clamped over your mouth to trap the sounds that keep escaping.

“Good, so we understand each other then.”

Your thighs tremble around his wrist. His fangs drag across the thin, breakable column throat, almost like a warning, catching at two identical scars that haven’t fully healed since you’ve let a feral, lost little vampire into your camp before he gives in and bites.

Digging in—messy—you imagine the dribble of red down his pale chin, how he sometimes leaves it there to savor later.

You’re limp and floating in a matter of seconds, your mind blissfully quiet for the first time in days.

“Remember that, darling, the next time someone starts giving you ideas.” After a moment, he whispers: "But I'm also happy you said no."

And he slips out of your bedroll without so much of a creak in the floorboards and out of the barn as if he was never there.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 smut #baldur's gate x reader #astarion x you #.things i write

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natalieironside · 3 months

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For the longest time I didn't understand the overdone meta-joke about comedians "always" mocking airline food. I didn't know there was airline food. I have Learned.

Back in October I took a little trip to Seattle to see my girlfriend, and I got to fly first class cuz the stars had briefly aligned and they had a bit of windfall. Never done that before. If I'm ever called upon to do it again, I'll have to spend some time preparing my mental and physical fortitude.

So at first everything is going swell, I'm living it up in my big-ass seat like some sort of child emperor, and then about half an hour into the whole song and dance a flight attendant comes by and tries to hand me a menu. Bemused, I sez, ". . . No, thanks?" and I could tell by the look on his face I had failed to keep the tremor of fear out of my voice.

He goes to the front of the cabin and opens up this, like, reliquary, and the entire airplane instantly reeks like rotten dog farts. This state of affairs will remain unchanged for the next 6 consecutive hours. The reliquary contains trays of what appears to be embalmed hospital food of some sort, and the trays are distributed out to those fools who asked for them, one of whom was sitting next to me. The smell of dog farts is overpowering, now accompanied by the cacophonous racket of Chewing.

I buried my face in my tits, shut my eyes, and tried to pay attention to my book on tape. I'd been working my way through Paradise Lost and there in my own little Pandemonium I decided this Satan dude makes some damn compelling arguments and y'know maybe if I'd chosen hard liberty over the easy yoke of pampered servitude maybe things woulda been different

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httpswstef · 4 months

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《 if you go i'll stay you come back i'll be right here. 》

warning : none 🥺 fluff, u might cry a little bit, pure love between rafael and reader ♡

synopsis : rafayel promised to love you forever and he always keep his primises.

words count : 1555.

characters : rafayel.

stefie : hi hello my babies ! ! this my first fic for rafael, sorry if i have any mistakes.

Rafayel had never thought that there would be such a peaceful moment in his life, where he would be able to let go of everything and just breathe the pure air, enjoying the beauty of the world reflected in his flawless eyes. It all seemed like a pipe dream that he had at a very young age, when he first met you and felt your whole soul, it was as if he saw your life together and what you would experience with him: all the hardships, happiness, love and tears. Rafayel may be the ultimate fool, but he is your fool and he doesn't need anyone else. You made his world the brightest colors and gave him a happiness he never dreamed of.

You looked at him only with eyes of love, so pure and kind, it seemed to Rafayel as if you were an angel, a real angel! As if you had a nimbus on your head, and you were a fragile vase that he could break in seconds if he touched you with his delicate fingertips, so he only looked at you, only watched and studied you, found only good and wonderful things that made him fall in love more and more, with every breath wanting to love only you in this life: to tie this life to you and only you, to listen to the beating of your heart every day and how tenderly you call him "Raf", it really fascinated him more than anything else. He wanted to hold only your palms, look only into your eyes and thank the universe for you, Rafayel... wanted to kiss only your lips, putting everything he had left into the kiss. He must have been so selfish to other people, but he didn't care, as long as you were around, he would be anything.

You were his dawn after nightmares, the May air after rain, the song he cried his throat out to and his soul mate, holding Rafayel's heart in your hands as if you were controlling his breath and life all at once, is that so... perfect?

Yeah, it's really perfect.

To find someone like you and to receive your love, all of it, without a single remnant, to receive your care on the hardest days and your support when there was no strength left to live, but you were there to help him, to help him start living again and to see the good in the world, to show him again the beauty of nature and what was hidden deep, beyond the human eyes that could spoil it. You reached out your hand to him and stayed by his side, even when Rafayel didn't deserve it, when he was lost in himself and silent all the time, not saying what happened and why he was hurting so much, and he didn't know it himself, but he was afraid that you would go away and leave him here, in this empty room that squeezed his throat and cut off his oxygen, killed everything alive inside and any hope in you.

But you stayed — you were with him, even in such a moment, you covered all the monsters and all the worries with your bright light, holding Rafael's hand tightly and not allowing him to fall off the cliff of sadness on which he so suddenly found himself, afraid that he might lose forever, it was tearing him apart completely, but all he wanted for you was happiness, even if he wasn't, even if it was someone else — the main thing was that you were happy and had finally found your paradise.

But he was so wrong. So very wrong. Didn't know much and was lost: he missed your warmth, and he wanted so much.

Rafayel was the best man for you, he was your soulmate, as if you were one and the stars were always bringing you together so that you would not lose your connection, so that you would love each other as much and fight for each other with the same strength, protecting each other from all possible adversities, opening your skeletons in the closet and revealing the worst secrets hidden somewhere at the end of the world, where there is no one, where there is only you and your intertwined fingers, as you once intertwined your heart together, creating your house of love, where there is absolute peace, where Rafayel is no longer afraid, where Rafayel is sure of your love.

Rafayel fell in love with you at first sight and never wanted to lose you again, he would sacrifice his life to see you live and breathe, he would do anything, even give up painting if you asked him to, he is so in love and it is impossible to get rid of it, he wants to keep you close to him all the time, to be charged with your warmth and listen to your honeyed voice, to which he falls asleep and has the most vivid dreams with you: where you are happy.

The first time you met Rafayel in kindergarten, he was so playful, loud and he was everywhere, getting to know everyone and making friends in seconds, he was a kind of sunshine among the frowning clouds: he was your sunshine. From the moment he accidentally bumped into you and caused you to fall, and it was just like in the most romantic movies: a broken knee, a little blood, your upset face because of a little pain and Raf's promise that he would do anything for your forgiveness, but were you angry with him? Probably not. After all, he had been so gentle with you and careful, even though he was a little kid who spoiled himself all the time, but even so he knew he had to save his jokes for another time.

And it was at that moment that Rafayel realized that you were the best person in all the years of his life, he was so young and not so smart enough, he was only a child, but he already wanted to be yours and vowed that for the rest of his days he would hold only your palms and love only you.

For starters, he gave you a ring made of the most common grass and made one for himself to show everyone that you were together now. He shared food with you and always brought you his best toys and even asked his mom to buy you something to see you smile. And his passion for art came from you, because Rafayel wanted to capture you in his paintings, to show the world how lucky he was to have you and that you were the right person for him. For the others, it was just a joke, a childish crush that would end in a few days, and if you knew how much it pissed Rafayel off, how could they say that about his feelings for you? When his love was so sincere, so sincere that no one had ever seen or felt it before. And it pissed me off more than anything that no one saw the seriousness of that love. No one. Except you.

But now Rafayel waits patiently for you to walk down the aisle and let him bind you finally, but with every second he loses any patience he once had, he can't wait to see you now and fall in love again, like in kindergarten. But now you're in a white dress with a veil on your head, and in your hands the most beautiful bouquet of flowers that he himself picked out for you and wouldn't let anyone else do it.

He waits and waits, but the moment he sees your silhouette Rafayel stops breathing and his heart no longer beats, and the others have ceased to have any meaning for him and only you exist, his crystal eyes are filled with love for you and the warmth with which he watches you as you come closer to him and tears begin to slip from his eyes, making his gaze even more puppyish and sweet, the one you first met and the one you remembered for the rest of your life.

Rafayel gently takes your hand and pulls you to stand across from him, listening clearly to his vows, holding the candle in his other hand.

" I once said that I would love you forever, that no one could separate us, but remember their reaction? They laughed, thought it was a joke and just a normal childhood crush, but it wasn't. It's much more than a crush. I want to be with you, I want to be with you. I want to be with you so much and I will be with you. Always, no matter what happens, I won't let us lose each other. Your name will stay with me forever and if that's what it takes, it will be the only name I will ever want to say. I looked into those faces and I couldn't forgive them for not being you and not having your soul. They were strangers and I looked for you in them, time after time hoping to meet your face and I did, and I would give anything for it. It is so beautiful to be loved by you, a man who accepts me with all my faults and loves every bit of my soul. With my hands I will dispel your sorrow and sadness, your cup will never be empty if you let me be your wine, my one and only. "

And the next moment the candle is in your delicate hands, lifting your eyes to Rafael and gazing into his marvelous eyes.

"Rafayel, there are a million reasons why I love you. You make me laugh and smile, you take care of me absolutely always, no matter how bad you feel yourself. You're sweet and so caring. You named all your paintings after me and have an exhibition you named after me too, and it makes me cry more every time. You make me feel protected and loved. But the biggest reason why I love you is because you're the best friend I've ever had."

Rafayel restrains himself with the last of his strength not to flood everything with his tears, you are the only reason he can be so emotional and crying. Your vows made his heart stop for those moments and he could only hear you, only your beautiful voice. Raf takes your hands in his, removing the candle and gently approaches you, leaning down to your face.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes. Always yes, my only love."

#— [ stefie ] 💘🫧🔮#love and deepspace x you #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel #love and deep space #fluff #angst #love and deepspace fanfic #fanfic

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itz-amani · 6 months

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Sukuna as your boyfriend Imagines [Part 2]

Thank you for 62 followers ❤😭 Please send me more request I love yall sm. Here some Soft Sukuna for your day.

-He is the type thinking everyone in this world should die.Except you and him.He rather destroy the whole world for you. ''Anything for you my Queen''

-Jealousy?Hah even curses get jealous what about the King of Curses? He gets jealous over small things . Plushies.But that's not all.. Even animals like cats , dogs and others . You are walking with him in the streets , You saw a cat sleeping beside a trash can It looks so adorable You could not help yourself ditching Sukuna for a while to play with a cat. He taught he lost you He starting to get frustrated ended up seeing you playing with..a cat.

-''You like the cat more than me?`How could you'' You giggled at his ''possesived act'' . ''I didn't know the King of Curses gets jealous over a cat.''

-Movie nights are ON TOP. You like to make him watch cheesy and awkward romantic movies like Twilight . He even complains about the characters ''Bella is such a fool compared to you Y/n you are perfect''. If he's bored about the movie he will braid your hair making different hairstyles ,kissing your neck , him being the big spoon.

-Couple outfits like bad boy x good girl vibes or depends what you wanted to wear. He doesnt judge what style you like. ''Wear something that makes you feel pretty Paradise''

-Shares his evil plans with you . Like rather destroy a whole field just to find a four - leafed clover for you.

-Likes to show off with everyone around him about you even Yuuji ''How come Sukuna got a girlfriend? '' ''Maybe You if you weren't such a fool '' come one Sukuna please stop bullying teens

-Takes serious if You need help

-He can barely sense if you are injured .He gets so mad if you hurt yourself because you tripped on something . Him being a nurse Patching you up,kissing the spot where you are hurt. ''Don't get yourself hurt again..Brat''

-The type that throws you on the bed and throws himself on top of you

-He is addict with your neck . Gives you love bites and kiss it

-The type that jumps on the bed giving you jumpscares to wake you up if you are still sleeping so be prepared for it. Sometimes you found him beside you his eyes wide open , smirking horrifically just to scare you.He does that many times and his punishment is sleep on the couch.He sometimes regrets it but somehow enjoys it deeply

[End part 2] do yall want part 3

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creativepromptsforwriting · 1 year

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Fic Titles: Song Edition

Part I

Softly we tremble tonight - Cat and Mouse, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

We're so happy (we could die) - Blood & Glitter, Lord of the Lost

There′s no remedy for memory - Dark Paradise, Lana del Rey

Love is the warmest colour - Nara, alt-J

We gotta stop pretending who we are - Don't speak, No Doubt

A force more powerful than gravity - Satellite, Lena Meyer-Landrut

They turned to dust (all that I adored) - Things we lost in the fire, Bastille

Lose all sense of time - Coastline, Hollow Caves

Sometimes quiet is violent - Car Radio, Twenty One Pilots

I′ll show you mine (if you show me yours first) - Swing Life Away, Rise Against

So beautiful and wild - Tonight, Reamonn

See your face lit by starlight - Colorado Sunrise, 3OH!3

Misunderstandings and words unspoken - Don't waste my time, Victor Lundberg

When we stole the night - Another heart calls, The All-American Rejects

The way that we love (like it's forever) - Happy Ending, Mika

But it's home to me - Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Green Day

Like memories of dying days - Savior, Rise Against

Electricity between both of us - Landfill, Daughter

I slept in last night's clothes and tomorrow′s dreams - Uma Thurman, Fall Out Boy

There'll be a riot (cause I know you) - Robbers, The 1975

All of your flaws and all of my flaws - Flaws, Bastille

Crossing all the lines - Girls Like Girls, Hayley Kiyoko

Misery's your master - She's the blade, Sugarcult

But we go where we want to - Lane Boy, Twenty One Pilots

Between the lines of fear and blame - How to save a life, The Fray

There's a heavy cloud inside my head - Lemon Tree, Fool's Garden

A very common crisis - Fluorescent Adolescent, Arctic Monkeys

Turn the light out, say goodnight - Fake Empire, The National

Let′s write a song that we can dance to - Jersey, Mayday Parade

There′s strangers everywhere - This isn't everything you are, Snow Patrol

More titles!

#fic titles #writing ideas #writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #fanfic #fanfiction #May 2023

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mable-stitchpunk · 2 years

Note

Hi, I loved your books A Fool’s Endeavour and A Fool’s Golden Cage. Do you have any plans to write more in this series? I think Lure is a brilliant character and hope you’ll revisit him. Thanks 🙂

Really? That's fantastic! 8D I absolutely do! In fact, the goal is to write nine or ten of them, but I don't expect to reach that goal anytime soon, heh.

While I haven't started writing on the third book yet, A Lost Fool's Paradise (temp title), I've been drafting on it and almost have a completed outline. ^_^ I've been working on a separate book in the meantime, but with any luck I'll start on the next Lure book soon.

And thank you again! I think he's pretty neat. 83 It would be a shame not to drag him on, oh, seven or eight more adventures. XD Or maybe more! It's all a matter of time.

#Jester Lure #A Fool's Fables #A Fool's Endeavor #A Fool's Golden Cage #A Lost Fool's Paradise

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bloompompom · 6 months

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Trending Now! Beloved, international pop sensation was spotted getting hot and heavy with the lead vocalist of Devil's Paradise, Eren Jaeger, at an after-party, sparking rumors of a secret fling. The unlikely couple has yet to comment publicly on the status of their relationship, but their scandal-worthy PDA alone implies they must know each other very well.

Ha! That couldn’t be any further from the truth.

♡ pairings: rockstar!eren jaeger x popstar!female reader, eren jaeger x historia reiss ♡ content: ~11.6k word count. enemies-to-lovers, jealousy, mentions of infidelity, alcohol, slut shaming, cyberbullying, brief oral sex (m!receiving), PIV sex, explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised. ♡ previous chapter | next chapter coming soon | series masterlist

★ Chapter Five ★

Eren has a lot of making up to do if he hopes to get out of this relationship unscathed, but it seems he's already in too deep for such wishful thinking.

Believe it or not, it was Historia who approached Eren at the party that night. She found it just as strange, considering she never had to do that before. It felt degrading, scampering after him like a lost puppy, but she was tired of waiting on him to make the first move.

She was also the one to suggest they go back to Eren’s place. She offered up the idea after Jean bothered them one too many times, doing everything short of yanking her off Eren’s lap. By that point in the night, she was sick of hearing your name on everyone’s lips, as if once wasn’t more than enough. Where did this sudden interest in you come from?

Historia knew about you and Eren. At least, she knew as much as the general population did. Eren couldn’t tell her about the fake relationship. NDA, remember? If any information leaked, who knew what would happen to him—to you? But he didn’t need to tell her anything beyond that for her to accept her role as the ‘other woman.’ She brought that up on her own. She liked the excitement of it, the thrill of being wanted over you, Miss Most Eligible. He wished he could say it shocked him, but that was just the type of person she was.

And yes, Eren could have said no. He could have said no at any time, from the moment Historia came onto him to when she dragged him out of the party. He could have said no to fooling around during the car ride or when she pounced on him in his foyer before he shut the front door. But he didn’t. He didn’t know what he was thinking—if he even was at all.

Historia laid her back against the wall, beaming up at him with her doll-like eyes. She took him by the collar of his shirt and brought him close. Giggly as she went, she unbuttoned it for him, slipping it off his shoulders, then tossed it aside for you to find later, intentionally or not. She threw herself into his arms, ready to be taken to bed. Things escalated from there until she was straddling Eren, wearing nothing but her lace bra as she had her way with him.

Her hips began to slow as she leaned in to kiss him, deep, with an open mouth to let her tongue meet his. She soon pulled back, tilting her head as she looked down at him, like she pitied him. She ran one of her delicate hands down the side of his face.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. She kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw.

Eren only muttered back, “Mhm,” but it didn’t carry the confidence it should. “Why?”

“You’re—” She cut herself off with a demure smile. She was trying to be tactful, as kind as she could be, if it were possible. “Going soft.”

As if he didn’t know already.

It would normally bother him, but for whatever reason, it didn’t tonight.

“Sorry. I probably drank too much.” He started to sit up on his elbows, but she pushed him back down with a hand against his chest.

“That’s never stopped you before,” Historia said with a faux pout that was meant to be cute.

She perched higher on her knees, shimmying down the length of his body. She took him in her hand, giving him a few pumps before starting to jerk him off. She kept her gaze on his face as she brought her lips to his cock, purring happily.

While everything else around him felt turbulent, her mouth was soft and warm. His head went heavy against the pillow, eyes shutting out the rest of the world as if he could find solace in the back of her throat.

He didn’t watch her as she bobbed up and down because suddenly, you were there. Right in front of him, always popping up at the worst times, it felt like.

In Eren’s mind, you looked just as you did sitting in the limo. He could vividly see your hand, nails painted white, inches away from his leg; the split in your skirt that had been catching his eye all night, creeping higher and higher, exposing more of your thigh as you leaned into him. With champagne on your breath, Eren could hear your voice as you said, ‘Kiss me.’

“That’s better,” Historia giggled, sounding pleased with herself. She straddled his lap again, picking up where she had left off.

It confused him, but he didn’t stop thinking about it—about you. It wasn’t that he couldn’t stop himself, he just didn’t want to, even as Historia began bouncing on his cock. He only wanted to keep his eyes shut and think about how you’d look on top of him. He tried to imagine your tits, how they’d look in his face, but he could only see you in that tight top, still in the back of that limo.

Kiss me, Kiss me, Kiss me.

Eren placed his hands on Historia’s hips, pretending they were yours. He held you in place as he started to buck his hips deeper.

He should feel guilty over this, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Not right now, at least. No one had to know; he was safe in the sanctity of his mind. Nothing would ever come from his harmless fantasizing, so it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

Historia started porno moaning, making it difficult for Eren to focus on you. And when he squeezed her thighs, he only felt her. He was losing you, and Historia was losing her patience with him.

She came to a complete stop, another one of her fake gasps getting cut off mid-breath, and glared down at him. Her hands were no longer against his chest but folded across her own.

“Are you going to come or what?”

So that was how it was going to be. Eren figured as much.

Part of him wanted her off him. But the other half wanted her to stay for no other reason than he was unwilling to risk letting go of the only way he could have you.

Eren relaxed into the bed with a heavy breath. He ran a tired hand through his hair as he honestly said, “Don’t think so.”

As if the snip in her tone wasn’t enough already, she became visibly upset. It was like she was running through the stages of grief all at once. Denial, bargaining, anger—then she just stayed in anger.

Her perfectly plucked eyebrows knitted together. She gave this pathetic ‘hmmph’ and crawled off of him, then the bed entirely. She nearly tripped as she stepped into her underwear. As she started to collect the rest of her clothing, she snapped, “I don’t get what’s wrong with you tonight.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m exhausted and drank too much.” And you’ve been pissing me off.

Eren had been with Historia long enough to know where this was going. He knew his blatant disinterest, unintended or not, would get under her skin. After all, she liked to be the most important thing in the world.

“It’s like you’re not even into me anymore.”

There it was, just as he predicted. And she was probably right—even Eren couldn’t say for sure. But if he did have any feelings for her left, he was sure he would have tried talking her back into bed rather than arguing, “You’re the one that dumped me, remember?”

It was easy to fall back into old bickering habits; they had been there and done that countless times during the year they spent together.

“And you’re the one that wanted to get back together, remember? ” Historia had fully dressed now. Her shirt was on backward, but Eren didn’t feel like mentioning it. “But I’m not going to keep pretending to be interested in some limp-dick loser who doesn’t know what he wants.”

She called him a few other names, ‘limp-dick loser’ being the most benign of the bunch. All the while, Eren sat there, blanket tossed over his lap, and took every dig without a single word until she left with nothing more than a slam of the door; he could hear its resounding sound even from his bedroom.

Maybe if this happened a few months ago, he would have been embarrassed over it. But right now, he was just relieved she was gone.

Those buried feelings of resentment reared themselves again, washing over his body much like the shower he wanted to take, ridding himself of her, but he couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed.

Sure, Historia wasn’t all that pleasant to be around, but at least she was there. She was a warm body, someone to hold, to talk to, even if she didn’t always listen. But Eren started to feel lonelier when he was with her than he would if he were alone. He’d forgotten how it felt, like he’d repressed the bleakness that plagued the last month of their relationship, just for the sake of feeling something.

But there was more to it than that. It was complicated and messy and Eren didn’t want to deal with it—as if he wasn’t dealing with it already. His feelings were obvious enough, weren’t they? When minutes ago, he couldn’t even fuck someone without thinking about you.

Months ago, back when this ordeal began, Eren decided there were two ways to handle this if he wanted to come out on the other side of this ‘relationship’ alive. The first: he could get back into your good graces, which was much easier said than done.

Despite wanting his thirty-minute break that day, he couldn’t say no to bringing lunch to your apartment when you called. He was curious; what would you be like without Petra, without Pieck—without all the fucking cameras? He wanted to see if you had any lingering feelings from that fateful after-party. It was for selfish reasons, if he had to admit it now. He thought he could play into it, use your emotions to his advantage in hopes you’d keep him around without complaint.

That option was quickly crumpled and thrown into the trash, considering you were already dreaming of your eventual ‘breakup.’ So he went with option two, that it would be easiest for everyone involved if you continued hating him. It wasn’t hard; you already had this bitter competition going, always pushing each other’s buttons and seeing who was the best at it.

This way, after this fake relationship blew over, you could move on with your separate lives—he could move on.

Eren had narrowly escaped the trenches of a shitty breakup; how much of a dumbass would he be to jump back in? There was no chance he could let himself get close to you—or vice-versa—because fake dating was one thing, but developing real feelings? Then it would be inevitable that one of you would hurt in the end, and Eren wasn’t willing for it to be him again.

So that was his plan: he’d go on hating you, and you, him. It was simple, practically fault-proof. Up until Eren realized that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to move on from this. And that really freaked him out.

Perhaps it was all in his head—no, he was sure it was all in his head, but that didn’t make the little, nagging feeling any less real. A voice so small that it was nothing more than a whisper, coaxing and caressing him, telling him honeyed words. That, deep down, you didn’t despise him as much as you led on.

But what wasn’t in his head, what was very much real, was the way you’d look at him on the rare occasion, like there was a faint glimmer behind your eyes. Just these fleeting instances, gone before Eren could even think to try and capture them, offered him glimpses inside. Like at the Alternative Music Awards, right after the announcement that Devil’s Paradise had won, he saw it then. He wrapped you in his arms, desperate to keep it, whatever it was, for himself. That was when he knew he was in deep—that this wasn’t just harmless lust.

What better way to sabotage it all than going back to his ex and fucking her like she could fill the void?

Eren woke up that morning with someone at his front door: you. His breath warmed the pillow as he blindly slapped his hand around the bed, searching for his phone to stop that damned ringing. His eyes blinked and adjusted to his phone screen, and when he checked who was on the other side of the camera, he saw you, nose nearly pressed up against it like you’d never seen one before.

He held his breath, thinking he was about to get chewed out for last night, wondering who had already told you—or worse: you’d seen everything from another shitty tabloid. But when he finally clicked the speaker button, saw you shove his jacket in front of the camera, the dreadful pit in his stomach—a horrendous mix with his hangover—faded.

And when he sat beside you, contentedly strumming away at one of his guitars—one he wasn’t sure he’d let anyone else touch before—Eren realized he no longer wanted to play this stupid game he created for himself. He didn’t want any part of it. The only thing running rampant in his mind was how he would manage to get the words out—any words, really. They felt stuck in his throat, as dry as if he had to cough them up or wash them down with a drink of water. He didn’t have to say anything profound, he knew that. It could have been as easy as apologizing, asking if the past could remain in the past. If you could try again.

But it was terrifying, and he was a coward. Once Eren spoke the words into existence, he knew he wouldn’t be able to take them back. They’d become this thing you’d have to deal with—something he’d plop right into your hands, hoping you’d hold onto instead of throwing it back in his face. But the chances of that were slim, which was why you absolutely couldn’t know about Historia and the mistake he made the night before.

Eren wished he had never told you to check your phone. He wished he had acted then—said something, did something. He didn’t know what, and it probably would have been the wrong choice, but at least he could say he tried.

Or he could have acted even sooner, kissing you in the back of the limo when you asked him to. As was already very well established, he developed a habit of replaying that moment, that thoughtless request of yours, over and over again. Sometimes he’d think about it before falling asleep. Other times, it was when he was fucking Historia, which was new.

If Eren kissed you then, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but it’d be his point of no return.

The same went for if he had tried while you were on his couch, playing the guitar with that damn smile of yours, now engraved in his brain. He thought of how easy it felt in that moment, with you, even if just for a blink. Yes, there was a chance he could have ruined it, but that happened all on its own, didn’t it? Eren had already gotten the ball rolling, and there was no way he could go back in time to stop it.

Oh, well. At least you truly hated him now. It made the inevitable easier. Mission accomplished.

Eren didn’t know what to think, what to feel, after you stormed out. It had been days now, and he still hadn’t tried to talk to you yet. He didn’t know if he even wanted to or not.

He didn’t feel sorry for himself. That’d be pathetic—a new low, even for him—considering he only had himself to blame. It was a position he was used to, being the hated one. It never concerned him much.

Listen, Eren wasn’t stupid (well, not that stupid). He knew what he did would hurt you, but it’d also keep you at arm’s length. It would give him one night where he didn’t think about you. At least, that was what he was hoping for.

It was selfish, yes, but the thing was, he didn’t care. Or, what he should say was he didn’t expect to care. After realizing how upset you were—seeing that hard look on your face finally crack—he regretted everything. So much.

Eren wanted to put it all on Mikasa, like he could pass this heavy burden onto her. He’d rather you have heard the truth from his mouth… eventually. If it came down to that.

No, he knew himself better than that; he would have hoarded the secret forever if it meant he could go on as if it never happened.

Mikasa shut his blame game down fast. ‘It was the right thing to do, and you know it.’ Both Jean and her were acting all high and mighty about it. She was right, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give her the cold shoulder for a day or two.

She effortlessly shut that down, too, when she finally called Eren after he had ignored her texts. She asked if he’d talked to you recently. Eren was suspicious of her tone, but he tried not to let it get to his head when he replied, “No. Why?”

“It’s just that.” She had to mull over her word choice. “I haven’t heard from her since…”

Mikasa didn’t finish the sentence; she didn’t need to. Eren didn’t outrightly tell her the gritty details, but it didn’t take a genius to conclude that Historia caused a rift between you. She just didn’t know the extent of it—that you were at Eren’s house, sitting right beside him, when she told you.

“I’m a little worried, that’s all,’ Mikasa said. “You know, with everything going on.”

She was shuffling around the obvious, like always. Eren pinched the phone between his jaw and shoulder and turned his attention back to his laptop. Offhandedly, he said, “Yeah, sure. She just needs a few days to cool—”

Apparently, that was the wrong answer. Mikasa’s attitude completely flipped, then she completely flipped. “You knew? And you haven’t done anything? They're your fans.”

Eren grabbed his phone again. “Wait, wait. What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eren blew off. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t even know where to—”

“Mikasa.”

“The article!” she blurred out. Before Eren could ask her to be more specific, she began rambling. “There’s this article from the other day. It’s everywhere. I think you should read it for yourself. It caused some backlash—a lot of backlash.”

“What kind of backlash?”

“The usual stuff,” she dodged. Eren imagined how her cheeks flushed red as she spoke; it always happened when she was bashful. “I don’t want to repeat it.”

He didn’t have time for this. “Tell me.”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? Like I said, all the usual stuff. Everything that you’re already imagining. They’re calling her untalented, stupid. That she should go crawling back to her dad. She’s a bitch, a slut. That she broke up you and Historia. That—”

“All right, I get it!” Eren interrupted.

“You asked!”

Eren had gotten up from his seat. He’d been pacing around for the last minute or so now, entirely unsure of what to say.

“So,” Mikasa pressed. “Are you going to do something?”

“I’m thinking!” he snapped.

“That’s new,” she deadpanned. “You should talk to her before you do anything.”

“She’s pissed at me.”

“I think she’ll be more pissed if you don’t talk to her.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Eren said, despite having no idea how to figure this out. He didn’t even know where to start. He should probably check out that article, shouldn’t he?

“Don’t do anything stupid—”

Eren ended the call.

Frustration pulsed hotly through his veins, his entire body tense, like he needed to throw his phone or punch a wall or something. He was furious at everything. The fans, the fight—that there was even a fake relationship in the first place. Most of all, he was infuriated that he even cared about this, that he cared about you.

There was a twinge of protectiveness in him; he felt it in the center of his chest. He could try to ignore it, that strange, engulfing feeling, but it was only a matter of time—perhaps seconds—before his final thread of restraint snapped.

God, when did such a nuisance become so important to him?

♡ ♡ ♡

You called Pieck the second you returned from Eren’s. You gave yourself the drive home to try and collect yourself—not that you cried that hard, you didn’t think. But after being best friends for so long, she’d hear it in your voice right away, and you didn’t feel like answering any questions.

She answered the phone as if she was already in savior mode. At your rescue, bucket and mop in hand, like she was ready to clean up this mess. In times like these, you were grateful for her overbearing, motherly self—grateful for her.

She summarized the situation as if she had been rehearsing it, preparing which parts to include and which to skim over, even if you wanted to hear every detail.

According to Pieck, an article was published just this afternoon. Based on the time stamp, you could guess it was during your drive to Eren’s house. The headline read, ‘Girlfriend from Hell,’ which, in your opinion, was a bit of an exaggeration even if it were true. But what really sold it was the picture they used of you—of you and Eren together—leaving some restaurant. Looking back, you couldn’t even recall the day, but neither of you looked happy. You were practically scowling while walking hand-in-hand.

Admittedly, it wasn’t the best photo of you optic-wise, but it had nothing to do with you being the so-called girlfriend from hell. If anything, it was the relationship from hell. But unfortunately for you, the world could never know the real reason behind your expression, comparable to if you had smelt sewage, while being toted around by Eren.

For your benefit, as Pieck put it, she only provided cliff notes on how this situation started. In not so many words, it was your loud mouth that got you in trouble. Not just that, but that twerpy intern you didn’t want to hire in the first place.

By the sound of it, she ditched set and sprinted straight to the press, spouting off everything she heard that morning, along with some tidbits she either exaggerated or outrightly fabricated. This ‘exclusive inside source’ told the tale of your ‘rampage,’ recounting how you threw your phone across the room, shattering it, when Eren texted you, even though it was currently at your ear and in perfect condition.

Sure, you whined a little when Levi texted you, but no one wanted to hear your boring side of the story.

It was exactly as you said about Eren and Historia at that party: you’d be surprised at how fast someone would compromise their morals when a fat wad of cash was the reward—especially if you were a broke college student working an underpaid internship. But you could admit, her turnaround time was impressive, and it explained why Pieck couldn’t find her at the end of the shoot.

The more Pieck went on, the more it sounded like she and the rest of your team knew about the article from the second it dropped. You, on the other hand…

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you questioned.

Pieck was at your penthouse now, sitting in the corner of your sofa, hands folded anxiously in her lap. You sprung from your chair and began walking around. Then you leaned against the table, waiting for her answer. Then began circling the room some more. It felt impossible to stay still.

Her eyes kept up, following every one of your steps as she spoke. “Because it wouldn’t have made a difference.” Your pacing didn’t let up. She watched as you poured yourself some water. “The hashtags, the comments—they don’t matter. It’s all coming from a bunch of kids, anyway. Hormonal teenage girls. The same ones that have hated you from the start.”

“From the start?” you repeated on a gasp. You set down your water and marched toward her. “What do you mean ‘from the start?’”

“Well, you know,” she started to say slowly, her voice hushed, tinted with guilt. “It happens with every celebrity couple: the fans get jealous, as if they believed they had a shot with Eren. The only difference is now it’s a lot of people.”

Like that’s any better, you couldn’t help but think.

You flopped to your rug with a big, dramatic sigh, your arms and legs spread like you were about to make a snow angel. You stared blankly, hopelessly, at the ceiling until Pieck piped up again.

“You know none of it’s true. You haven’t dated in the public eye until now. I bet everyone saying those things are way bigger sluts than you are.”

You turned to look at her. “So are they kids, or are they sluts?”

She blinked on her pause, realizing there wasn’t a right answer to that. “Never mind. You know what I’m trying to say.”

You dug your elbows into the plush rug to sit up. “This was all a mistake. That’s what I’m trying to tell you—what I’ve been saying since day one.”

“It wasn’t me that made you ‘date’ Eren.” She used finger quotes around that word; she knew you’d correct her otherwise. “I tried to talk your dad out of it, remember?”

“Maybe now he’ll finally see the disaster he created.”

A disaster in more ways than one. Your head felt like a hurricane or a tornado—no, an earthquake. The creeping fault line had finally burst open, shaking your entire world, because while all this was happening, you couldn’t help that spidering around in the back of your mind were thoughts of Eren. It was like he was spinning his sick little web for you to get caught in.

You were mad at him. You were mad at your stupid kiss, mad at his stupid attitude, and his stupid face. You were mad that he was stupid enough to cozy up to Historia at a party, even stupider for thinking he could get away with it, too.

You were mad that you were stupid enough to believe he cared, even in the slightest.

You hadn’t told Pieck about the fight with Eren; you couldn’t bring yourself to. You didn’t want her to know you went any further than his doorstep. You wouldn’t be able to handle whatever joke she’d get out of the way before consoling you—another comment about the two of you being an old married couple, probably.

A few days went by, all of which you spent stowed away in your apartment. You knew the minute you stepped outside, you’d be swarmed by paparazzi. They were like vultures out there, circling and waiting to prey on your weakness—the moment you’d finally collapse and they could dive in for a taste.

They’d shout your name, shove their cameras in your face. They’d blind you with every snap, hoping you’d slip up and give them some fodder for the ever-growing fire. Then they could waltz home, proudly wipe their hands together, and pat themselves on the back like they did some sort of public service.

You could imagine every question they’d sling your way, none of which you could bear to hear. Not now, not this soon.

‘Tell us, why are you and Eren Jaeger fighting?’

‘Are you and Eren Jaeger broken up?’

‘Why are you such a raging psycho bitch?’

Though appreciated, your only human contact came from Pieck. She’d come by and check in on you periodically, just to ensure you hadn’t lost your sanity. You told her it hadn’t even been a week. If anything, you were losing your sanity before this, when you couldn’t even get a day to yourself.

After stewing on it for so long, weighing out the what ifs and what could have beens, you broke down and told Pieck about the WWE smackdown with Eren. In your defense, your guard was down. The two of you were curled up on your couch, dressed in the matching pajamas she brought, like you were kids again. Maybe that was why you fell right back into your old habits of gossiping about boys and feelings and all that junk.

You told her everything—about Mikasa’s text, about Historia and the fight, how Eren didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. You told her every word you spat and every hair-pulling-worthy thing he said in return, even putting on your best impression of his annoying voice. You even told her about Good Guy Jean, as Sasha would say, whom you had reached out to the very next day to thank, by the way.

You only excluded the part where Eren let you play one of his guitars. You decided to keep that to yourself.

“What did you expect? That he’d actually keep it in his pants?” She posed the question as if you were thick in the skull.

“No, of course I didn’t,” you hastened to say. “I just didn’t expect—”

“For it to hurt?” she guessed. She was right, but you couldn’t admit to that aloud. “It’s okay if it bothered you. You’re allowed to care. I’m sure there are some weird emotions there. Hatred, jealousy—”

“I’m not jealous!” you corrected. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Your conversation about Eren ended there. You didn’t want to talk about him any longer. You wanted to pretend he and the rest of this situation didn’t exist. Just for tonight. Pieck agreed, though you picked up on the hesitation in her voice. While you wanted to wait for this to become yesterday’s news, you knew she’d eventually ask you to comment publicly.

Little did she know, someone else would put out a statement before you—for you.

It was maybe an hour later, maybe more. Closer to one o’clock in the morning than midnight. You were already tucked into bed with Pieck beside you, but both of you were still awake, pretending to watch the muted TV. The only light in the room came from it and your phone screens.

You were facing away from her when the bed startled rustling, your body gently bouncing along with it as she crawled to you.

“Hey, I know you don’t want to talk about Eren, but—”

“Ah!” you interrupted. You threw the duvet over your head as though you could hide from her—and your thoughts of Eren, for that matter. “You’re right: I don’t want to talk about him.”

She tore the blanket back, down past your shoulders, exposing you like a little nocturnal animal, ready to hiss. You reacted similarly, too, when she shoved her phone in your face, the screen nearly blinding you. She was going to destroy her eyes if she kept it this bright.

“Look,” she urged.

“I’m trying.” Even if you could see past the harsh light, her phone was too close to read. Whatever she was trying to show you was a complete blur. You snatched the phone from her hand and examined it.

It was a rare sight: Eren had posted on his Instagram story, just a minute ago. You supposed it made sense for Pieck to have her notifications on for him, it was ‘literally her job,’ after all.

Even more surprising, it was about you. You read it over and over again.

You hate her? Really? Do you know her? Take that negative bullshit somewhere else. You don't even know the person you're talking about. If you want to talk shit, talk shit about me. Leave her out of it.

Then you read it some more, your stomach clenching all the while. You stared longer than you should have. Long enough for Pieck to notice you were having some sort of reaction to it, one you couldn’t even figure out yourself.

That was… nice. Out of character. You’d say it was Petra who did it, but outside of the fact that she wouldn’t have said ‘shit’ that many times, she wouldn’t have access to Eren’s phone in the middle of the night.

You thought about Eren, thinking about you right now, and then you really didn’t know what to think.

You handed the phone back to Pieck in silence.

“So.” Her voice dawdled on the syllable. “Are you going to say anything to him?”

You stared and stared at her. “I—” Another pause. “I’m just going to go to bed, I think.”

In the morning, Pieck was out of bed before you were. The blankets on her side were neatly tucked back into place as if you had slept alone. You would have thought she left if not for the smell of fresh coffee wafting through your cracked bedroom door. You could hear the milk frother going as her slippers shuffled around the kitchen floor.

She was in a cheery mood, even for her. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, she greeted you with this dorky smile.

“Hey, Miss Popular,” she sang as she slid a steaming mug of coffee across the counter. You couldn’t tell if she was being ironic or not.

You sat at the corner stool and took the mug between your hands. You tapped your fingertips against the ceramic, focusing on the heat of it rather than the suspicion creeping through you. “What happened now?”

She pressed her elbows into the counter and leaned into you. You didn’t like the smile on her face. “Seems like your boyfriend saved the day.” She wagged her eyebrows at you while she took a sip of coffee. “Or, at the very least, he made my job much easier.”

Pieck ran through her morning update more or less like a news anchor. Yes, she had exaggerated the ‘Miss Popular’ quip; it would never be that simple, reality wasn’t like a light switch. And no, the court of public opinion didn’t ubiquitously rule in your favor overnight, but at least they no longer were preparing to burn you at the stake.

Now, instead of the entire fan base attacking you, it was more like half, according to Pieck. There were even some keyboard knights coming to defend your honor. Well, they were defending Eren’s girlfriend; they’d defend anyone in your position, so long as Eren gave the command. The latest rhetoric was that only ‘fake fans’ couldn’t be happy for him.

Oh, if only they knew what they were defending, how it was all a sham. You couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Only a teensy bit, because you had to admit this was the best news you’d received in a long time.

On that note, Pieck left you to enjoy the rest of your day ‘to celebrate.’ But as always, the universe had another surprise for you merely hours later. The powers that be really had it out for you, didn’t they?

It was probably naive of him, but Eren expected it to be like the movies. Where you’d open the door, and your face would look all puffy from crying. You’d be in your sleep-stale pajamas with a carton of chocolate ice cream in one hand and tissues in the other.

But you looked fine. No bedhead, no pajamas. You looked like you had just wrapped up a gym session.

When he decided to show up at your apartment, he wasn’t thinking that far ahead, clearly. He’d forgotten it was Friday—that used to be your scheduled workout day together until you gave up on it. He was relieved he hadn’t missed you.

“Eren?”

You looked about as taken aback as he expected.

He didn’t know how to do this, he wasn’t good at emotions. He skipped right past the greeting, saying, “Mikasa was worried about you,” as he held up an oversized brown bag.

“So you brought me lunch?” you asked. Eren pressed his lips together into one of those tight-lipped smiles. “I was just about to leave for my yoga class.”

Shit. He never did get your schedule right.

“I just—I think we should talk,” he said.

Eren watched you weigh out your decision. You sucked in a breath, clenched your jaw, and your eyes flitted between him and the floor. You conceded by releasing your jaw and that breath, then stepped aside for him to come in. You kicked off your shoes, and it looked like you would be skipping out on yoga today.

See? You couldn’t hate him that much.

Like the first time—which felt strange to say, considering you thought the last time was a fluke—Eren followed you into your kitchen and set the bag down in the same spot on the counter. He opened it, popping the staples as he said, “I don’t know what you like, but you ate all of yours last time and tried to eat mine, so I figured this would do.”

Perched on a stool, you reached for your share as he handed it to you. “Sushi’s good.”

“Then that’s one thing we can agree on.”

You pointed to the receipt. “And the fact that you look like a Dylan.”

“Just because I used it doesn’t mean I agree with it,” Eren said as he retrieved your chopsticks from the correct drawer. He remembered.

That’s exactly what it means. You laughed half-heartedly at his denial but left it at that.

Eren didn’t know where to start, but he knew it didn’t start with him diving into his lunch first. The longer it sat in front of him, the less hungry he felt. His stomach was so knotted he wasn’t sure he could even swallow.

Those knots began twisting and tying right when you opened the door. Honest to God, he didn’t believe he’d even get that far, expecting you to slam it in his face. Of course he’d thought over what he wanted to say, at lengths, but he didn’t know how to get there exactly. Was this the time for pleasantries, or should he dive head first into the apology?

The silence lingered. Before Eren could decide, or talk himself into another hole, you finally spoke up.

“Thank you for standing up for me.”

Then he understood.

You cracked open your to-go container. “How’d you manage to get away with it?”

“I changed my password so Petra couldn’t delete it.” The post was still up, actually. He’d gone the day with Petra’s and Levi’s notifications muted. “I think Levi almost had a heart attack.”

You aimlessly poked at your food with your chopsticks. Then you gave another cursory chuckle, followed by the cursory response, “You didn’t have to do that.”

There was more to it than that. There had to be. So much was left unsaid just in that innocuous sentence. Eren struggled to read between the lines, struggled to read you; you weren’t letting him.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let that slide?” he joked, just to test the waters.

“You should be thankful it was me. Could have just as easily been you, the cheater, across the headlines.”

There it was.

Eren’s shoulders drooped. He had hoped he’d be the one to bring it up first, not you.

“About the other day—”

“Let’s just forget it happened.”

“But—”

“I said,” You pointed a not-so-threatening chopstick at him, “forget it.”

What was it with everyone in your life always wanting to talk things out? Couldn’t you just repress your emotions in peace? You didn’t want to talk about it, not now. You could only imagine one outcome and one outcome only: another fight.

“For the record, I am sorry,” Eren said, which was unexpected. You didn’t process it before he added, “And if you want the apology I prepared, feel free to change your mind.”

A small smile played at your lips, even if you didn’t want it to. “Let’s raincheck it. Add it to your outstanding tab of apologies you owe me.”

Eren didn’t question what the ‘outstanding tab’ you were referring to. He simply matched your smile and nodded once.

Both of you finally had your appetites back, slowly making work of each of your meals. After a minute or two passed, Eren asked you, “So, did you really throw your phone?”

You made a face. “Did you really text me that morning?”

Touché.

Eren had another bite, chewed it slowly, and after he swallowed, he said, “Just know they’re only saying that shit because they’re jealous of you.”

As the words left him, he only thought of Historia. She was a shining example of it, jealous of everything you were. Your success, your looks—hell, she was probably jealous of the way you breathed.

If you asked Eren, she was right to be jealous. You were the antithesis of her; you had a heart.

“That sounds like your roundabout way of telling me I should be lucky I’m with you,” you laughed.

That wasn’t how he intended it, but you weren’t a mind reader. He played along anyway, fearful of delving any deeper than surface conversation. “You said it, not me.”

“In your dreams.”

Yeah, you were right about that.

♡ ♡ ♡

It’d been a week since then, and surprisingly, Eren’s laundry list of apologies hadn’t grown. You were grateful for it, and your strange lets-try-and-get-along lunch, because it at least meant you put on a happy face for the birthday party you were to attend together. You couldn’t imagine how the night would turn out otherwise, but it’d probably result in another nasty article. You could see it already: one of you dumping expensive champagne on the other to the absolute horror of the partygoers. You wondered what asinine headline they’d concoct then.

The party was for one of Eren’s friends. By now, you had learned he had many, but you couldn’t explain why for the life of you. Her name was Hitch Dreyse. Her birthday appeared to be a big affair every year—everyone who’s anyone was invited—even if you hadn’t heard her name until a few weeks ago. And you would have continued on just fine never knowing her name if not for Eren, who you were bound to tonight, playing the role of plus-one again. Apparently, Hitch was over the moon about your attendance, giddy over the potential for it since the news broke that you and Eren were ‘dating.’

It would be your first appearance together since that dumpster fire of an article went viral. You, both of you, had to be on your very best behavior, and that was you saying it this time, not Pieck. There was no chance you’d let anything, or anyone, get in the way of selling the illusion that you were the most loyal, loving, picturesque girlfriend, even yourself. You’d bite your own tongue off before letting that happen again.

The event was far enough away that you had to get a hotel for the night. Well, technically, Pieck did. She had to scramble to find one with a vacancy, too.

To make the trip even remotely bearable, you pretended it was a little retreat. A well-deserved getaway after hiding out in your apartment for nearly two weeks.

It was refreshing to be somewhere else. And you specifically requested to come alone—none of your styling teams, no Pieck, no one at all. The only thing they sent you off with was your outfit, of course. It reminded you of an elevated nightgown, off-white with lace lining the top, flowing down to your ankles with a bit of rushing at your hip. You had it hanging behind you in the bathroom, admiring it through the reflection as you finished your makeup.

You could fantasize about alone time as much as you wanted, but as the hands of the clock crept closer and closer to party time, you knew there was one person you’d inevitably have to spend your night with.

Best behavior, best behavior.

You hadn’t seen Eren yet today. Having known about this party well in advance, months before he’d even met you, he already had his arrangements in order. You had no idea where he was staying, or when you were supposed to see him, or how you were even supposed to see him.

Perhaps having a team—a Pieck—on hand would have been night right about now.

All this was to say, you were rightfully shocked to see Eren at your door. Petra, maybe, but not him. It seemed he’d stolen a page from your book and developed a habit of showing up unannounced. You swung the door open and whatever face you wore must have made him feel he needed to explain himself.

“I have the car running out front.” He looked you once over with concern. You were clearly in no state to leave; you were still in your bathrobe.

“You could have given me a heads–up, you know.” You meant it, but you kept your voice lighthearted all the same.

Best behavior.

Eren didn’t say anything, just gave a tiny shrug.

You poked your head around him from side to side. “Where’s Petra?”

“Not here.”

“Huh.” You held the door open for him to come inside. You turned to him with hands on your hips. “Someone put on their big boy pants and thinks they can handle themselves.”

“Where’s Pieck?”

You frowned; he had you there.

“I’m obviously running behind,” you said as you went toward the bathroom. “I just need to get dressed and put on my shoes, then I’ll be ready.”

You waited for him to say something, but again, he was silent. An ‘okay’ or an ‘all right’—even a ‘hurry up’—would have been appreciated. Instead, he was more like a zombie than a human—a zombie that cleaned up well, at least. He had on a fitted, black suit jacket that he left unbuttoned. Underneath was a white button-down, no tie.

What caught your eye the most was his hair. You hadn’t seen him tie it back since he was Jeff, though it looked neater this time. He’d styled it in a way that you could finally see all of his face, his sharp, clean-shaven jawline. You only realized what you were doing after you watched it tense under your stare. You didn’t say another word and hid in the bathroom to get dressed.

You slipped into your dress quickly. It had the tiniest zipper, right in the middle of your back, to help you slide it over your hips. Not the most practical placement, in your opinion. You could only tickle it with the tips of your fingers. You nearly started to break a sweat trying to close it. After a few strenuous minutes, you finally accepted defeat.

You peered out from the bathroom door and tried not to be weird about it when you asked Eren, “Do you mind zipping me up? I can’t reach it.”

He answered by rising from his seat on the chair and walking over. You gave him your back, and it only took a second, the quick sound of the zipper sharp in your ears, but it felt like the longest second of your life.

His hands dropped from you. “There.”

“Thank you,” you said without turning around. You felt squirmy and didn’t want to look at him yet. You went to put on your shoes.

And you nearly fell when you did, with the first shoe’s heel wobbling under your weight as you put on the second. You smacked your hand against the wall to catch yourself. It seemed Eren wasn’t the only one needing to pull himself together tonight.

Your face ran hot when he asked, “You good?”

You finally let yourself meet his eye. He was closer now, most likely reacting to your near fall, but not close enough to catch you if it actually happened. He stayed there.

“Yes,” you answered quietly. “Just clumsy.”

He didn’t even make fun of you for it. He didn’t complain about his date having two left feet or crack any jokes about you hitting the bottle before the party. He just gave you this apathetic smile, tight and toothless.

Feeling flighty, you flipped the question on him. “Are you good?”

“Yeah. I just don’t feel like going to this party.” Eren reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Don’t want to wear this dumb mask, either.”

Had you mentioned it was a masquerade party? Not a masquerade ball but a party, meaning there was no looming threat of dancing. A masquerade-murder mystery type deal. Like you said before, Hitch liked to go all out.

You only caught a glimpse of Eren’s mask before he shoved it back into his pocket. It was black, the opposite of yours, the yin to your yang, but shared the same gold intricacies, tying the two together.

“Does anyone?” you playfully quipped back. The straps of your shoes were fastened, and your purse slung over your shoulder. You straightened out your dress, then asked, “Does that mean we can bail early?”

“As early as we can,” he affirmed. For once, you were on the same wavelength.

It was almost impressive the extent to which the car ride felt more tense than the stint in your hotel room. Neither of you was talking. You couldn’t even look at each other. Eren’s eyes were fixed ahead, on the road, while you stared out the window and watched the cityscape slowly disappear.

You rapped your fingers against the leather interior anxiously, letting your mind wander just to pass the time. You wondered how long you’d have to sit in quietly and if the car was a rental or belonged to him. It had this classic sort of vibe but still smelt vaguely new. That was the most you could say about it; you were far from a car expert. You could have asked Eren, but the silence was thick. So thick that it’d make your words feel like a plastic knife, snapping before you could even make a dent.

It was clear that Eren wasn’t feeling chatty. You speculated if something went wrong—if you did something wrong, but you hadn’t even had the chance to screw up yet. You had thought you were cool-ish with one another, but now you had no clue what to think. You should have known better than to expect anything else from the moody bastard.

Time was limited. You had to say something before you arrived. Otherwise, the night was bound to be a disaster.

Just before you pulled up to the valet, you tried your best to disarm him, turning so your entire body faced him, knees in his direction and everything.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

It took him a beat to respond. You almost thought he wouldn’t, but then he said, “I haven’t seen Hitch in a while, that’s all.”

“Do you two have history?”

The way he answered, “Something like that,” had you mentally preparing to meet one of his exes. All you could do was sigh, frustrated with his ever-cryptic attitude toward everything.

It’d been a gloomy day that dampened into an even gloomier night. You walked to the venue side-by-side along cobbled paths, weaving through gardens filled with flowers that managed to survive the season. You could smell the drizzly rain from earlier, the scent sticking to limp grass. Despite how the cold had stolen its life, the dreary night murking the world’s color together like the leftover water from paints, you could appreciate the macabre beauty in it.

Past the fountain, with wilted leaves decorating the still, unrippled water, stood the center of it all: this mansion you could only describe as Victorian Gothic. The only thing missing from the sight was a crack of lightning in the distance. While the interior was just as lovely as the exterior, you could see why Hitch picked the venue; it looked—no, felt as though it could be haunted, like some sinister hundred-year-old murder took place right on that grand staircase, adorned with ornate carpeting as red as blood.

Before you and Eren ventured a step further, you heard someone calling his name to your far right. She was a vision in crushed velvet, the emerald color looking a bit Christmas-y compared to the rest of the manor. Her ash-blonde hair bounced almost as much as she did as she skipped to his side. She took his arm between both of her hands, swinging around him like a light post as she leaned past him.

“You have to properly introduce me to your girlfriend.”

She intended it for Eren but spoke it at you, no different than if he were nothing more than a light post.

The conversation between the three of you flowed easily. From your limited perspective, it didn’t seem like they had a history lurking over them. Eren’s demeanor quickly melted back into his usual self, the self he put on for the cameras, dazzling smile and all. And one thing was certain: he was right about Hitch being over the moon to meet you. Any word you could fit in was only a reaction—another ooh or aah—to what she was saying, raving on and on about her party to ensure you understood just how wonderful it was.

Really, it seemed like Eren had been freaking out over nothing.

Hitch waved over one of her ‘headless’ butlers wandering about—you’d seen three already, astonishingly not running into one another. She requested him to give you and Eren your escort cards with a quick snap of her fingers. Then she finally waved you away to find your table.

What would have been the ballroom was now filled to the brim with tables, each draped in a black tablecloth and decorated with porcelain plates. More of those headless butlers served hors d'oeuvres and did a wonderful job at stressing you out as you watched them amble about. After dinner, but before you could get a drink stronger than wine at the bar, Hitch announced the rules for the main event: solving the murder mystery. Eren leaned into you then, whispering that he already told her the two of you wouldn’t be participating; you were just here to celebrate her and enjoy the party. Thank God.

Once Hitch’s never-ending spiel was over, she released the guests to start playing detective. For you, that meant a bathroom break. You had been holding off long enough. More than that, you needed a breather from all the… excitement.

But, lo and behold, the excitement wasn’t going anywhere. Why would it? It was you we were talking about, after all. You were practically a magnet for unfortunate events.

And a magnet for other guests as well, apparently. You almost collided with a woman in the narrow hall leading to the bathroom. Before you could even apologize, you heard her titter of a laugh, soft and metallic as a bell.

“Whoops.” It wasn’t quite a gasp; it was more intentional than that. She held her drink back, steadying her hand as the wine swirled in her glass. “Wouldn’t want to get any on that pretty white dress of yours.”

The word ‘white’ was on her tongue like a hiss. It was a venom-laced threat from a woman you didn’t know, or at least, you couldn’t recognize with her face obscured by a mask resembling a black doile.

“Yeah,” you warily replied. “Thanks.”

You tried to sidestep her, but she pushed her mask high like a headband and smiled at you. You didn’t know her, not personally. But she didn’t need to introduce herself for you to know it was Historia Reiss.

Fuck me.

You didn’t realize she would be here. You didn’t think it was even within the realm of possibilities for tonight until, all at once, it was. You wondered how long she had been keeping an eye on you. She had to be; how else would she have recognized you under the mask? From the moment you walked in with Eren, this loon had been following you, you just knew it.

You didn’t extend her the same courtesy of removing your mask the same way she didn’t extend the courtesy of hiding her blatant staring, big blue eyes piercing you like icicles.

“If you have something to say, then just say it,” you flatly said. What was she waiting for? For you to clutch your pearls at her villainous reveal? As if.

“So temperamental,” she tsked. Your nails dug into the meat of your palms. “I just wanted to say how happy I am for you—for Eren. I’m just glad he has someone to help him move on.” She did this strange pouty thing, jutting out her pink bottom lip. “He took the breakup really hard.”

She didn’t know that you knew they’d been fucking. Either that, or she didn’t care. You weren’t sure what reaction she was hoping to weasel out of you, but whatever it was, you didn’t plan to give her the satisfaction of it.

“Ah, well, he seems fine to me,” you brushed off. Your voice was this perfect, sinister mix of unfazed, uninterested, and unbothered. You wanted to play dumb to her provoking pokes and prods. “But that’s very sweet of you. I’ll be sure to pass along your well wishes.”

That was enough Historia for one night—better yet, the rest of your life. Still very much needing to pee, you decidedly walked by her, regardless of whether she wanted to block your way or not.

When you were feet away, you heard her call out, “Actually, do you know where I can find him?” You peered over your shoulder; she was smiling. “I’d like to tell him myself.”

Best behavior be damned.

You pulled a sharp breath, one that had your lungs pressed against your ribcage. You didn’t turn to look at her, though; she wasn’t worth the extra step it’d take.

“You’d probably know where he’s been better than I would.”

You laid it on thick with that little comment, but Historia wouldn’t go down without a fight. That'd be too easy, too uncomplicated. And if you had learned anything by now, it was that with Eren, nothing was easy or uncomplicated, and it would be idiotic of you to think otherwise.

“Sounds like you should be keeping a better eye on him. Wouldn’t want him wandering into someone else’s bed, now would you?” Historia puffed a laugh through her nose. “But I guess I would, too, if I was tied down to the—what was it again? Bitch from hell?”

You were seething, but you couldn’t let on such. You didn’t have anything to say to her after that. At least, you didn’t have anything polite to say—something that wouldn’t get you thrown out of this party. But even if you did, you wouldn’t have been able to; she had already twirled around and pranced off in the opposite direction.

You had to find Eren before she could. There was no other option. If anyone saw them together, especially after the article—ugh! You didn’t even want to think of the possibilities. What was she plotting?

You flitted between finding Eren and going to the bathroom first but ultimately chose to hold your bladder. You hurried around, trying your best to be casual about it, as you searched for him. He wasn’t at the table where you had left him. And when you thought to check the bar, where all the mopey souls typically congregated, he wasn’t there either.

You craned your neck around, peering into every nook and cranny of what felt like the entire first floor. Everything started to look the same. You had achieved nothing but wasted time.

When you paused, partially to catch your breath, you finally gave it some thought. If you were in a shit mood—if you were Eren—where would you disappear to?

Then you saw it: these gigantic, overelaborate doors. On either side of them, floor-length windows dampened with fog obscuring your view. You weren’t sure if anyone was on the other side, but what you could see was that the doors led to a balcony. Had Eren gone out for some fresh air?

By some stroke of luck—thank you, karma—you were right. There was barely enough light to see him, only the milky light of the sconces, decorated with fluttering moths. He was the only one out there, leaned against the wrought-iron gate overlooking more gardens.

The door closed behind you with a resounding thud. The rest of the party was blocked out from that point. The laughing, the crooning piano—it all went mute, absorbed by the night. You could only hear the drips of residual rain, crickets, and the sound of your voice tearing through both.

“Eren!”

He only turned to look at you then. You didn’t know what expression he wore—soured, surprised—because of his mask. He started to say your name, but you interrupted him.

“Historia’s here, but I think you know that already,” you said, still briskly headed toward him. You ditched your mask, flinging it off somewhere. “So you know Hitch through Historia, am I right?”

“Not exactly,” Eren said. You watched his hold on the gate tighten. “More like an unfortunate mutual friend.”

“She’s looking for you,” you rushed to say. “Historia, I mean.”

He had that look on his face like he was internally cursing himself. The same ‘fuck me’ face you likely wore when she found you.

She would be out here any minute, too, by the sound of it. While you were on the hunt, she did just the same, with her heels click-clacking behind you like the killer in a horror movie.

You had to think fast. You were buzzing, eyes flickering between Eren and the doors. What was the best ‘fuck right off’ move you could come up with? Something to get her off your back, at least for tonight.

You looked up at Eren, chewing your lip before you announced, “I know I said I wouldn’t get involved in your jealousy game with Historia, but it turns out she’s the worst, so I’ve changed my mind.”

Before you could think on it any longer, you tore off his mask like you did yours and kissed him without any hesitation. You kissed him the way you would kiss a lover, taking his face between your hands, every part of it cold beneath your palms except for the very crests of his cheeks. Your fingers curved around his head, toying with whatever hair you could reach. You didn’t focus on anything but how to make this the most amorous, borderline pornographic, kiss you could. And you especially didn’t focus on the heat it brought out in you, sparking something within your core that you really didn’t want to name.

It was a strictly business kiss. The ultimate win-win for you both: Historia would leave you the hell alone, and her jealousy would drive her right back into Eren’s arms, just like it did the first time.

The first time.

Thinking about it now made you feel weird. Dizzy, almost. The realization that this was the first time you’d had Eren’s lips on yours for longer than a camera flash, your tongue tasting his, hit you more or less like a freight train.

No, this wasn’t like the first time. You reminded yourself of it again. You were doing this to help yourself—to help him. Eren publicly defended you when you needed it most. This was the least you could do, right?

You only ended it when you heard Historia, the fed-up screech she gave. Her silky blonde hair whipped around before she left, letting the heavy doors slam shut behind her.

“Ha! I think it worked,” you said, trying to sound proud, but you were a bit breathless. You cleared your throat. “She’s totally jealous.”

When Eren didn’t say anything, you turned to find he was still staring at you, lips slightly parted, with this moony gloss over his eyes.

“What are you doing?” you questioned. “Go after her!”

He blinked a few times but followed your command without complaint. You stayed put, eyes fixed on his back as he headed inside. Before he reached the door, you shouted, “Just—” He turned to look at you. It caught you off guard. “Just don’t make a scene.”

“Okay.”

Then he disappeared.

Eren went back inside knowing damn well he had nothing to say to Historia. It was over between them. They had stomped and snuffed out whatever pathetic flame was left. He wiped what remained of your lips off his mouth and tried not to think too hard about it. That kiss meant nothing to you, and he had to remember that. He already felt foolish for thinking you were about to stop him back there.

Historia hadn’t made it far; she was still within range to hear Eren trailing behind her. He didn’t get a word in before she set the tone of their conversation.

“Give it up already, Eren!” she spat. Surprisingly, she kept her voice low. She must have been humiliated. Eren couldn’t care less. “I don’t want this, you don’t want this, so why are we even pretending?”

He opened his mouth, but only Historia’s voice raged on.

“We both know this is over. It’s been over. We only ever fought. There was never anything between us, and we both know it.”

He thought that line would sting more than it did. There was a time when he desperately wanted her back, to get back to what they had. Which, according to her, was nothing.

Eren didn’t say anything. He didn’t even want to follow her in the first place.

“You didn’t even try the last time I was over. Were you looking to shove your new relationship in my face? Was that it?” She waited for an answer she knew she wasn’t going to get. “I don’t know what sick hope you had—to get me back, to piss me off, to fuck me, but it doesn’t matter. You need to figure out what you want, Eren. It’s time to grow up.”

It wasn’t that Eren didn’t know what he wanted. He knew exactly what—who he wanted. He just couldn’t have her.

Neither of them noticed you had snuck back inside, standing off to the side, trying to decipher what was happening. Historia was livid, her eyes wide, lips coiled into a snarl. You couldn’t what was being said because they were doing that whisper-yelling thing, hissing at each other like cats—well, at least she was; you could only see the back of Eren.

“So how about you go crawling back to your cunt of a girlfriend,” Historia snapped. “Maybe she’ll be the one to finally knock some sense into you.”

Out of everything she hurled his way, every cruel jab or callously warped perception of the past—out of everything she hoped would twist her knife deeper into him, that was the one thing that got him.

“I think I already got rid of her,” Eren said. His voice was quiet at first, contemplative. Then, he decided he didn’t give a fuck about making a scene. “So she can go back to sucking off her guitarist in her free time now.”

You heard that comment. Hell, the entire party might have. You slapped a hand over your mouth, covering the way your jaw dropped much like Historia’s before she skittered away.

It clicked then for Eren. That final puzzle piece that completed the picture. He could take a step back and see it then: he wanted to make you jealous, not Historia. As much as he didn’t want to face it, he did need to grow up. He had been punishing you for his own insecurities, his fears of winding up hurt again. And every fucked up thing he did along the way only ended up hurting him even worse in the end. Hurting you, too.

He was done with this fucking birthday party.

You stood frozen, only observing from afar as Eren walked not toward you but further into the party. The sight made your heart ache.

You figured he needed a minute to collect himself after what appeared to be a harsh rejection, but after ten had passed, he still wasn’t back at the table. You had already gone scouring for him once, only to conclude this place was ginormous. Besides that, your gut was telling you he had already left.

You tried to forget about it, tried to kick the lingering guilt. You knew you didn’t do anything wrong, but could you really sit there and go on as if that hadn’t happened?

After ping-ponging the idea around in your head, you finally decided to go after him. You sprung from your table and went out the way you came. Cars were already lining the loop out front, ready to escort every piss-drunk partygoer back home. Before you waved one down, you called Levi to figure out what hotel he was at.

He was suspicious but gave it to you anyway. “Just be care—”

You hung up and gave the address to the driver.

♡ a/n: i promise i don't have a problem with historia, i just needed someone for the role

♡ taglist: @daisynik7 @bejewelledd @lifesuckssomuchtbh @vanessani @intimacywithceline @6sakusa @softjaegerhours @sundazedm1 @okaystopwhore @rinshoe @lem-hhn @brooks-lin @writing2live @ichijager13 @littlemochi @sveetnn @elliesbabygirl @sugurunicorn @utahimeow @batafuraikisu @arendizzle @blushblossomsblog @conniesbbymama @drugzforyou @tonysttank @butterfly-skinnylegend @heartstealer-law @mima0127 @shartnart1 @iwaizumiee @violetmatcha @luna4mnoon @squidalapobre @wonupuppy @pompompurjin @erenspersonalwh0re @bomjug @0bruise @bingbongbingbongsblog @josukesss please let me know if i missed you or you'd like to be added/removed! also if you got 8000 tags from me, i'm so sorry, i was having problems posting this </3

#eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader

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yandere-wishes · 1 year

Text

★ɴᴇᴏɴ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇꜱ★

Synopsis: It's late and you're tired. Trapped within a dreamlike trance trying to figure out if you're sick or just in love. Although to Blade you're just confused and need a little more persuading of how much he loves you.

Author's note: I don't know how or even when regular people go to sleep. So forgive me for any errors. I typically just stare at my phone until I pass out.

Warnings: Violence, blood, injury, murder attempt, delusions, Blade being Blade, Yandere themes.

Inspired by @aluraveil post

🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️

Neon lights bleed into the room, all proton purple and electric blue. They cast shadows across Blade's face, painting him as something surreal, something sweet, anything but a monster, anything but a killer. Just another blazing star, lost in an endless sky.

You don't let the lights fool you, as you hover above his unconscious form. Knife clutched tight between unsteady fingers. You know your lover's true colors better than you know your own name. In reality, he's a murderer with a schoolboy crush. Proud and prudent with a sword that's snuffed out one too many lives.

He plucked you from your home planet, all those moons ago. A land of sands and trees. Oases and blood moons. where the wind would carry tunes of joy and laughter. It had been a perfect paradise. One you have every intention of returning to. Just as soon as you break these shackles. Freeing yourself from this dreaded man.

Blade is a monster. You know this as you trace the side of his face, mapping out scares that have healed too quickly. He's the embodiment of every horror harvested out of a children's readable. From eyes that echo the cosmos' insanity to a body that can withstand any calamity.

He's scary.

But even scary things have their weaknesses.

Or so you hope.

You learned that the hard way when he would drag you off to his room. Laying you on his bed as he'd settled beside you. He'd dose off after a few kisses and affectionate threats. Whilst you stayed awake counting every boogyman that crawled around his room. You've come to mature since then. Having befriended every terror that crawls around the accursed chamber. Vivid spiral-faced ghouls, all paying homage to both Blade's crimes and agony. You use to wave to them each night before falling asleep. But now they've all merged into the terrifying beast that you lay next to in the dead of night.

He's beautiful you think as the colors dance across his face. Eyes sewn tight in his first blissful slumber in days. You could almost call him charming, if not for a recently patched-up would throbbing on your upper leg. He's a monster, but a rogue memory forces you to wonder if monsters can love too. If killers ever yarn for a lover's touch as they delve their blades into beating hearts.

There's a stray moment when something begins to tug at your beaten heartstrings. your heart begins to beat to an unsteady tune, your lips begin to pulse as you recall every forceful kiss he's ever gifted you with.

You wonder if you love him as you imagine splitting his skull open. with a Xianzhou Alliance paperweight, he keeps on the nightstand.

It's sicking you think as you dream of the cartoonishly large crack along his head. Blood sweeping out and leaking from the corners of his face. It's even worst when you imagine yourself pushing down on his shoulder as you kiss him with every desire you've kept under lock and chain, staining your pristine nightgown with his red essence.

A grand goodbye

A childish dream.

Still, you're sure that even the unkillable Blade has a weakness. Hidden under unbreakable bones and scarless flesh. You plan to dig deeper. Split him open and reach the one organ that no lifeforce may live without. His heart, his heart must be his only weakness. Granted he even has one in the first place. You're not sure such a terrible creature can even be labeled as a human, let alone possess any humanly needed organ. Still, you intend to find out.

Curiosity, Curiosity, Curiosity

It's almost romantic you think, as the neon signs outside change to floating hearts in shades of plastic pink and cherry red. It's almost like falling in love with very literal analogies.

You're lost somewhere on the border of reality and fantasy. A life-like dream that encompasses the room in a surreal glow. It's hard to tell if you're even awake. Nothing feels the way it should, as if someone mixed the pages from a horror story and a love tale. Miss-matched patches crack along your eyes. Blade's face morphos, beautiful and deadly. Desirable and detestest. Loved and hated. The knife feels unbearably heavy in your hand.

You love him, you love him, you love him...

So maybe that's why you must kill him.

You prep the knife. Clutching its steel handle with both hands and lifting it above your head. The digital hearts outside pop one by one. A countdown bestowed upon you by the universe itself.

4...3...2...1....

There's a grotesque sound that would make even the Aeon of Destruction flinch in disgust. The knife enters his heart just as the last digital heart pops. Blade's body is jerked forward as his eyes abruptly open. He gasps as if awakening from a nightmare. Eyes unfocused as he evaluates the room. You lean to the side, prepared to run. until his icy hand clutched your shoulder and pulls you back, throwing you to your side of the bed.

"what the hell are you doing!"

He's angry you realise. All so angry. Wrath spirals off of him like spider lily petals in the wind. Oh, how you wish to kiss him. Your fingers reach for his face, pulled like magnets. He grips your wrist, crushing it between his fingers as he snarls. A throaty growl warning you of moving again.

"Kiss me" You beg

Blade smirks, cruel and charming. Bits of his anger melting off live flakes of ice. He bites the side of your neck, causing droplets of crimson to leak out.

"You stupid, stupid idiot" he chastises

Neon lights flood the room, all lightning purple and mourning blue. They paint you like a shooting star, far from home and lost to time. Blade's weight holds you down, mesmerized by the colors that form a spiraling galaxy upon your body.

"It's almost like you don't love me...if you did, you'd know a little knife like that isn't going to do anything to someone like me" his voice is a symphony of patronizing taunts.

Blade straightens his back, peering down at you as if you're nothing more than a pesky insect that awakens him from his slumber. Blood mares his shirt, dripping down onto the velvet sheets.

"Maybe I should remind you who you belong to." His tone is nothing short of a death threat, one that makes you blush.

He grabs an elastic from the nightstand, right next to the paperweight you'd used as a murder weapon in a dream-like reality. Blade pulls his hair back, teeth subconsciously chewing on the elastic band. His nimble fingers pluck the band from his mouth, tying his hair into a tight pony tale. Majestic and menacing as always.

He's ready to punish you, you realize as his blood-red eyes focus on you. Funny how you didn't notice the dark bags forming under his eyelids until now. They make him look tired, exhausted, almost, almost human.

He leans down slowly, lifting your hand up and entwining his fingers with yours. His index finger doesn't follow the dance, instead, it pushes down on your own forefinger, at first a nudge and then...

crack!

the bone breaks and Blade's attention snaps to your middle finger. Repeating the same torture, again and again, and again.

Somewhere along the line midnight bleeds into six am and Blade thinks he's maybe forgotten how to tell time. Or maybe he's forgotten in general, it's hard to remember when there's a knife lodged into your heart. he used to kill his assassins. Not leave petty punishment and loving kisses across their skin. He use to bathe in blood, not ravish in the mere sound of breaking bone. He wonders if you love him as much as he loves you. You're confused he's sure. What he wouldn't give to hear you say that adoring phrase. But the words keep slipping from your mind and your tongue can only muster screams of pain and agony. And oh Aeons you're so beautiful, utterly perfect.

Unterrly his...

By the time the sun rises and the neon lights die down, Blade has already dragged you to the Medical room. Settling you in his lap as Kafka tends to your destroyed fingers.

She smiles, patronizing and sweet. Looking at the two of you as if she's seen two stars collide.

"Now this was uncalled for" she chides, as she wraps bandages around each finger.

"We all tend to fabricate monsters for ourselves in the dead of night, I'm sure you know this better than anyone Bladie. Little (y/n) was probably just confused, that's all. No need to hold any grudges now. Especially towards someone you love so much"

Kafka is his voice of reason.

You're wholly grateful for how she keeps Blade on a leash.

"hmph, confused" Silver Wolf mutters from her place behind a large glowing screen.

Blade's head tilts down, lips brushing over yours, eyes barring into your soul. A sinister smile chipped across his pretty face.

"Well (y/n) what do you say? I think you've finally learned your lesson this time."

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pedrithink · 1 year

Text

ੈ✩ masterlist ੈ✩

last updated: july 12th, 2023

social media fics

opposites attract - kylian mbappé

where there is golden retriever! kylian and his black cat girlfriend.

it girl - kylian mbappé

kylian is dating the gen’s it girl and can't help but be a simp for her.

unknown - kylian mbappé

kylian dates a person outside the media and fans find out about her.

love to hate me - kylian mbappé

kylian dates messi's eldest daughter and the media always talks that messi doesn't like him, they really don’t know the truth.

liverpool fan - jude bellingham

jude bellingham got a liverpool fan girlfriend and fans go crazy.

couple goals - kylian mbappé

you and kylian being the best celebrity couple ever.

break up - kylian mbappé

the media spreads that you and kylian broke up.

the sister of my best friend - jude bellingham

request: can you do an instagram au where the reader is trent's sister and soft launches her relationship with jude?

celebrity - pedri gonzález

request: hey, love your works a lot❣️ could you maybe do a social media fic where news report that pedri is dating this very famous celebrity and everyone is like :00 how?? but also WOW!! ;;; tyyy <;33

traitor - kylian mbappé

your boyfriend cheated on you, but you know someone much better.

secret - pedri gonzález

everyone thinks you and gavi are dating, but you have eyes for someone else.

mother’s day - kylian mbappé

celebrating your first mother's day.

my home - jude bellingham

jude and his low profile girlfriend.

london boy - jude bellingham

david beckham! daughter

you and i - jude bellingham

request: maybe you could do Jude and his girlfriend through different stages of their relationship

we find love - jude bellingham

request: can i request a jude x reader smau where the reader was jude's childhood bst, but they lost contact when they were younger (maybe around 10/11) bcos the reader had to move countries? then in one of jude's recent interviews, he talks about her and how he used to support him a lot but he doesn't know where she is and his fans find her for him

friends into strangers - jude bellingham

friends into strangers.

the other woman - mason mount

you will be always the other woman to some fans, but for mason you are the only one.

lost in paradise - jude bellingham

everyone thinks that you and jude have broken up.

surprise - jude bellingham

request: hi can you do where jude's camera pictures get leaked and everyone knows who his gf is.

private - jude bellingham

jude being a fool for you and you not giving a “damn” about him. reader! trent’s best friend.

no pics - jude bellingham

fans notice that you don't post many pictures showing your face.

birthday - jude bellingham

posts for jude’s birthday through the years.

changes - mason mount

mason joined manchester united and with all this hate, fans think that you should break up with him.

hate to love me - jude bellingham

request: gf that gets hated on for being jude’s gf and he defends her

one shots

i don’t feel alright - kylian mbappé

you went for the first time with kylian to a party, but you didn’t expect to see his ex-girlfriend.

“no makeup makeup” test - kylian mbappé

you do the "no makeup makeup" test with kylian and get an unexpected reaction.

icks - pedri gonzález

you do the "icks about eachother" trend with pedri.

thirst tweets - kylian mbappé

kylian and you sit down to read the thirstiest tweets.

forgetfulness - pedri gonzález

pedri forgot your birthday.

10 times - kylian mbappé

the ten times kylian realized he loves you.

marry you - kylian mbappé

kylian proposes to you, he won the world cup and you in the same night.

pain - kylian mbappé

kylian feels insecure with everything people say about him and you remind him of who he really is.

understand - jude bellingham

you and jude have had a disagreement during vacation, but you always know how to solve your problems in the best possible way.

mini series

love is not easy - kylian mbappé

everything seems more difficult when you are the shadow of your older sister and Kylian and her are in love with each other. part 2 / part 3

prenuptial - kylian mbappé

you and kylian are getting married and the subject of the prenuptial agreement comes into play, but kylian is not so sure about this. part 2

#kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x you #football one shot #football x reader #football fanfic #football instagram au #kylian x reader #kylian imagines #football imagine #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi #jude bellingham

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 2 months

Note

Female or GN Wonka!Reader x Buddha, Loki, Jack, Tesla, Hercules and platonic Zerofuku (Based off the newest Wonka movie, if you hadn’t seen it you can ignore this!)

She’s quirky, eccentric, and described by everyone who met her as a chocolate making genius who relishes in nonsense, creating unique, flavorful and exotic chocolates that can give people a boost in confidence, grow hair, multiple alcoholic drinks in one, dancing, flying in the air and helping people see the bright side if they’re having a bad/rainy day

She’s famous throughout Valhalla for her chocolates, and her magical tricks to give others joys and all at the lowest price so everyone can enjoy and buy her chocolate, but after entering the afterlife she didn’t really see why money was important so she basically gives her chocolates away for free

(Love) had to stop her from doing that since everyone is crazy over her chocolates (He does think the low prices are fine since she wants everyone to be happy)

She rightfully earned her place in Valhalla not as a warrior, but from all the people she helped on earth, to saving and helping romantic relationships bloom, helping her friends get their freedom, uncover and reveal criminal activity and helping everyone in direct or indirect ways with her chocolates

Buddha is basically in TRUE paradise when he entered her chocolate factory and saw the chocolate landscape (So was Zerofuku, as he has stars in his eyes seeing all the chocolates)

Though everyone did a double take when she explained to them her ‘Nemesis’ who steals her chocolates at the dead of night (The Oompa Loompa) until they actually met him, because they didn’t think he was real

I haven’t seen the new movie, but I will use the original movie and the book for inspiration for this!

-You remember when they would call you mad, calling you a dreamer and a fool for your inventions, until one day they weren’t, then you were a genius, a magician, a wonder on earth for your creations.

-Your chocolates and creations took the world by storm, bringing joy to all around you, their smiles were your smiles…until you lost your smile when competitors tried to steal your ideas, wanting your fame and glory for their own.

-That’s why you hid away, locking yourself in your factory, making your creations carefully, so none could ever recreate them, and you watched their smiles from the safety of your factory, of your home.

-When you passed, arriving in your youth, in your prime as you were later told, arriving in Valhalla, you had been rather confused as to why you came to a place where heroes, warriors, and gods called home.

-You were regarded as a warrior in your own right, as you fought for the happiness of others, working hard and training, just so you could make the world so happy.

-Valhalla was different for you, you didn’t have to hide yourself away in your factory, you got to go out, meet new people, new friends, introducing those who had never had the pleasure of tasting chocolate, to chocolate!

-You creations were whimsical and awe inspiring, even to the gods who had never seen delicacies like yours before, all while tasting like a dream at the same time.

-Seeing the smiles on the faces of those who tried your treats brought you so much joy and happiness, it was like all those years ago, where you shared smiles with others.

-When you decided to start providing factory tours, you had no idea that so many wanted to come! It was almost overwhelming, but heartwarming at the same time to see so many wanting to visit your factory.

-So, to handle the large crowds, you handed out so many tickets per day, with the dates and times that they were to return so your factory wouldn’t be overrun.

-That’s what led you to your newest group of the day, Buddha, Loki, Jack, Nikola, Hercules, and Zerofuku, who were the lucky ticket holders for today!

-You met them all outside the factory, a bright and warm smile on your face as you removed your hat, “Gentlemen! A pleasure to see you all again! Come, lots to see and lots to taste!”

-Zerofuku cheered, running to catch up with you, taking your free hand which made you smile as they all entered the main lobby, which had display cases of all the different types of treats you had made over the years, back on Earth, showcasing your history.

-Hercules was smiling, looking at an Everlasting Gobstopper, “I’ve never seen a candy like this before. It’s so unique!”

-You just grinned warmly, letting them look around at the cases, “That’s one that I don’t make any longer. Back on earth, so many tried to steal it and replicate it, so it’s a little bittersweet to admit that I stopped making them.”

-Jack was surprised, hearing about the attempted thefts, “Did you ever go to the authorities?” you sent him a grin, turning on him this time, as you walked backwards, showing your quirky personality, “I did, but after being told too many times that ‘we don’t got time to worry about stolen candy’, I made my recipes impossible to recreate, and like the Everlasting Gobstopper, I just stopped making them.” Your voice had gone up in pitch, making fun of the police who had done nothing to help you.

-Once they were all ready to move on, you had them all wash their hands at the provided sinks before a massive door that had your logo on it, “Gentlemen, what you will see behind these doors…well… enjoy~”

-As the doors opened, revealing your massive room that looked like everything was made out of sweets and chocolate, eyes went wide and their mouths fell open, they had never anticipated anything like this!!

-You led the group in before twirling to face them with a big smile, “Everything in this room is edible my friends, so enjoy!”

-Buddha and Zerofuku fell to their knees, openly crying, completely stunned by the heaven they had just entered, which did make you and the others all laugh, seeing their shock as Loki took a picture, grinning brightly.

-Nikola had immediately ran out, not to try any of the sweets, but he wanted to know the science behind your creations, immediately going into research mode.

-Jack and Hercules took their time going down, both feeling a little intimidated by what they were seeing, it was like walking into a dream, but it was real, everything was created by you!

-Loki, Buddha, and Zerofuku, after getting over their shock, were like little kids, rushing into the room, looking around and trying things.

-You couldn’t help but laugh, seeing Buddha gnawing on a chocolate tree like he was a beaver, chocolate shavings flying out from all sides. Zerofuku hadn’t been paying attention and tripped, falling on top of a giant mushroom, but upon closer inspection, it was a giant marshmallow.

-Loki was just flying around, tasting a little bit of everything, no two things tasted the same, sending his taste buds on a journey as he joined Buddha and Zerofuku in getting a sugar rush.

-You wandered around, seeing their bright smiles, Jack was enjoying a cup of hot tea out of cups that were made of blown sugar, as he had taken a bite out of it once he finished the tea, “It’s not as sweet as I was expecting it to be. And I’ve never seen blown sugar like this, it’s exquisite!”

-Hercules was enjoying himself, walking around, eating a chocolate branch he had pulled off a nearby tree, wanting to see more of the room, “This is amazing Y/N! how do you come up with this stuff?” you just beamed, giving him a friendly wink, “Let your imagination run wild and don’t let anyone try to limit you!”

-You had been walking by before Nikola ran out, his eyes wide, as if he had gotten into your espresso chocolate flowers and put his hands on your shoulders and just started rambling off question after question, not blinking, looking so elated to see something so new! He wanted to get his other scientist friends and bring them here so they could see all this too!!

-They were amazed by your factory as you herded them to the next area, showing them where all the chocolate in your factory starts, the different machines that help streamline the candy making process, as well as testing areas where you were testing new products.

-Loki volunteered to try a new line of adult only chocolates, with booze, and he only had one and was instantly smashed, being carried by Hercules as the others were all laughing as you wrote that down, “Too strong, I need to adjust that. Here Loki!”

-He smiled down at you, seeing you holding up another piece of candy to him, “Y/N you’re so nice~~ I loves you~ all three of yous!” You laughed warmly as he took the candy, a reversal chocolate that helped with his intoxication, almost immediately returning to normal, just looking a bit woozy, asking what had happened.

-Your factory and your imagination were both so beautiful, it was amazing, and you were willing to share that with all of them as well as the others in Valhalla. After all, their smiles were your smiles.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror loki #ror buddha #ror heracles #ror jack the ripper #ror nikola tesla #ror zerofuku

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separatist-apologist · 25 days

Text

Fuck Me Up, Florida

Summary: Elain has some regrets- she'll bury them in Florida.

Read on AO3

Before:

Elain stood on the edge of her cottage, arms crossed over her chest. Maybe they’d taken things too far this time but there wasn’t room for this interloper, this stranger from an even stranger land. She and Lucien had lived in the swamplands for centuries—they would outlast the so-called witch seeking to take their territory.

But Lucien’s face…oh. He knelt beside her, head bowed as blood crusted over his golden skin. “You should go—��

“I’ll kill her,” Elain replied calmly, drawing forth the magic pulsating against her fingertips. She might lack Lucien’s ability to shift himself at will, to take on the terrifying form of the alligators that guarded the waters, nor could she rip out a throat with her teeth.

Elain could merely gaze into the future and reshape it to her will.

The witch—Amarantha, they called her—was from another place with crueler, colder rules. Her magic was just as old, but twisted and dark and wholly out of place in the warm, sunlit paradise. Elain had seen how it ended, saw the witch crumble to dust, though when she tried to see how, the future shifted wildly into a kaleidoscope of color.

The witch could be defeated. She would be defeated, if only for what she’d done to Lucien.

So Elain waited, dagger hidden beneath the cool material of her skirt, while Lucien continued to kneel beside her. He wanted to leave while they were still intact, but Elain refused. This was their home. She’d give it up over her dead body.

“Is that so?” Amarantha purred, stepping from seemingly thin air. Everything about her set Elain’s on edge. She was bone pale, with eyes so black they seemed to bleed against the whites of her eyes. Her hair was the same shade of freshly spilt blood and around one long, spindly finger she wore a ring made from a real, moving eye.

Her dress slithered against the mud, silencing the once lively world. “You’ll leave over your dead body?”

Lucien’s head snapped up, tasting the iron tang of magic mere seconds before Elain did. Amarantha pointed at Elain, eyes burning with deathly amusement.

“No—!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Amarantha purred. Elain was frozen, trapped in a swirling mass of air. “She’ll be back.”

“Don’t,” Lucien pleaded. “I’ll do anything—”

“I want nothing from you. Only her and her meddling sisters. Let’s play a game…just to make it fair. I won’t kill her, little demon. She’ll be reborn and given one mortal lifespan. Bring him an offering of flesh as a sign of our bargain…and in return, if you can convince her to tell you she loves you, I’ll return her memories.”

Elain wanted to scream at Lucien not to take the deal. It was a fools errand—to rob her of her memories, to make her think she was mortal and then present her with a male who looked so inhuman no human would ever stand to be in his presence.

Say no, she tried to plead with her eyes. Feyre and Nesta would avenge her. Lucien looked up at her, face still freshly scarred, and shook his head. He knew it was impossible—a fools bargain. And still.

“It’s a deal.”

Elain took a breath.

And then she was gone.

Now:

She didn’t know how it happened.

One minute Elain Archeron had been listening to Graysen go on yet another tirade and the next…the next her hands her bloodied and Graysen was laying there lifeless, eyes glassy and tilted toward the vaulted ceiling. If she wanted to be honest with both herself and God, Elain would have admitted that she’d simply lost her temper.

He wasn’t yelling at her. Not this time, anyway. Instead, Graysen yelled about immigrants, he yelled about his politics, he yelled until his face was red and he realized that the only person left to yell at was her. And Elain was simply tired of apologizing.

She’d wanted him to just stop. To give her a moment to think, to settle her galloping heart. Even when she slept it was never peaceful, never deep. She tiptoed through her own life, making herself small and sweet so as not to draw his ire.

She’d always been that way.

What had been different, she wondered?

But she knew the answer to that, too. Two years of marriage—and two years of infidelity. She’d discovered it the week before when his phone lit up at three am, just in time for Elain to get up and use the bathroom. She couldn’t say what was different about that night, too. Maybe it had been the Georgia heat. Or maybe her body knew something her brain did not. Elain had spent the night scrolling through hundreds of love sick messages, and a hundred more that painted her out to be a frigid, standoffish wife who didn’t care about her husband's needs.

Any woman dumb enough to believe the tired story of the neglected married man deserved whatever she got. Which, in Elain’s estimation, was a man who yelled about everything all the time. He didn’t yell at that other woman, though.

He called her beautiful.

Elain could still remember when Graysen had talked to her like that, too.

So when he started yelling, Elain’s patience was already shredded thin. There was simply no more good will left. She’d picked up a heavy crystal face and smashed it over the back of his head. Graysen had pitched forward, forehead slamming against the sharp edge of their coffee table, rendering him dead before he ever connected with their hardwood.

She’d intended to turn herself in. That was the reasonable thing to do. Nesta was a lawyer, Feyre was married to old money—she figured she could spend a decade or so behind bars, even if orange did wash her out.

The world worked in mysterious ways. As Elain was picking up her phone, 911 already dialed, her phone dinged a warning.

Hurricane Elaine scheduled to make landfall on…

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Elain burst out laughing. Hurricane Elaine? Really? Surely it was some cosmic joke and yet…

“Hello?”

“Sorry,” Elain said, still laughing like a lunatic. “My daughter, she…sorry.”

The annoyed operator on the other end huffed out a sigh, assured Elain it happened all the time, and ended the call.

Hurricane Elaine.

Elain was on the Florida-Georgia line, just far enough from the worst of the coming storm. It was a six hour drive to Destin, risky considering Elain had moved her husband's dead body to the back of his truck. If anyone noticed or stopped her, it was all over.

But if they didn’t…

Oh. But if they didn’t.

Graysen had a timeshare in Destin. It wasn’t much, though he was proud of it all the same. She’d never liked it, truth be told but in that moment, standing beneath a starry Georgia sky, Elain used their points and booked a week. It was the kind of thing Gray would do. He never wanted to evacuate, never took these kinds of threats seriously. Elain would dump his body in a swamp and then say the water simply swept Graysen away.

Maybe it would take her, too.

Elain didn’t have a preference one way or the other, truth be told. She merely thought getting away with his murder was another outcome she could live with right alongside being swept away by the sea. She thought about all of it as she drove in the dead of night, amazed by the traffic trying to leave Florida as Elain tried to enter.

Every couple songs on the radio warned about the impending storm. She didn’t care. Eain was giddy by the time she pulled into the resort, careful to hide Graysen’s body beneath a tarp. It couldn’t stay in her car for long without risking being caught, not with the Florida humidity. She simply needed to check in to make her story believable, and hope no one bothered checking the security cameras.

“You’re brave, checking in,” the cheerful woman at the front desk told her.

“Or stupid,” Elain replied with an easy smile. “My husband thought we’d have the pool all to ourselves.”

“Ocean, too,” the receptionist said before handing Elain the keys. “We aren’t required to evacuate but if things get any worse, you should.”

“I will,” she swore like a liar. All she needed was that key and a plausible alibi, after all. She’d been here, not committing any murders. Was it a crime to be stupid? No, especially not in Florida.

They could suspect her all they like, Elain didn’t care. She was free of Graysen without the mess of a divorce.

Would she feel grief once the dust had settled? When Graysen was nothing more than a few picked over bones at the bottom of a swamp would it all hit her? Would relief turn to misery? Would she lie awake in bed missing the warmth of his body?

Climbing back into her car, already warmed from the Florida heat, Elain decided she couldn’t let herself care. Not right then, anyway. Besides, if Elain was honest with herself, she was having a disturbing amount of fun.

Rolling down her window, Elain let the wind ruffle her hair like an affectionate parent as she grinned, cheeks pink from the humidity. If a hurricane was on its way, the world gave no sign of it. Though, Elain had turned from Destin to make her way toward a swamp that would become Graysen’s final resting place.

Good riddance, she thought. This was where she’d bury all her regrets, her mistakes, her ghosts. Maybe herself, too, though it was too early to make that determination. Maybe once Graysen had been dumped and Elain was alone in the resort, hurricane winds pounding against the roof.

Maybe.

Truth be told, Elain didn’t want to mourn or miss him. Her whole marriage felt like she’d been grieving a man who’d died the day she met him at the altar. He’d once been kind and sweet, had looked at her like she was the sun and he was merely a frigid planet begging for warmth. He’d been the one who’d changed, who’d embraced cold so brutal no light could penetrate his rotted heart.

Killing him had been an extreme course correction and yet…and yet Elain couldn’t find the empathy people had always praised her for. Couldn’t find anything but the knob of the radio and then her voice singing along, loud enough to be heard over the rush of the road. Nevermind that there was a dead body in the back of her stolen truck—the songs were all bops as palm trees became cypress and mangrove.

The air was thicker somehow, as if charged with magic. It was tempting to think that was just Florida itself and not her own delirious joy seeping out of her. She was nearly finished with the whole debacle. Her heart pounded as she pulled off the main road, tires betraying her in the mud as she crept deeper into territories unknown.

This was the hard part. As Elain cut the ignition, she considered for a moment the absurdity of her plan. If it worked, it would be sheer luck and nothing else. There was blood in her apartment, tire treads in the mud, and a hurricane on the horizon. She ought to go back to her original plan and call her older sister for help. Nesta would know what to do, would be able to get her out of serious trouble.

Elain knew if she dumped this body, there would be nothing Nesta could do to soften that blow. There would be no painting Elain as a victim but the aggressor, the abuser—everything Graysen had been before she took his life and made him part of the Florida ecosystem.

Elain took a breath before deciding fuck it. She’d come this far, hadn’t she? Might as well see it all the way through. Elain hopped from the cab, flats sucked into the mud so deeply she thought she might need to abandon them altogether. Managing to get her feet out of the mud, Elain pulled the tarp she’d half wrapped Graysen in from the back of the truck until his body slid to the ground.

The Florida heat was getting to her. Or, maybe it wasn’t the heat that was making her feel a little manic but the humidity—whatever it was, Elain let out a soft laugh before grabbing Graysen by his limp arms. She tried hard not to look too closely at his gray skin, eyes trained on the path ahead. Just get him the water, she told herself.

Television hadn’t prepared Elain for how heavy a dead body was. Graysen didn’t look like such a solid man but right then, Elain wanted to scream as she inched him forward, sweat dripping from her nose.

She was leaving DNA everywhere—if she didn’t get caught it was simply law enforcement refusing to do their job entirely. As she dragged him toward the murky water, Elain considered that she was merely digging her own grave, too. She ought to climb in after Graysen and let the alligators have her, too.

In the end, Elain kicked Graysen into the water with a heaving breath of air. He plopped into the green tinted water with a heavy splash that silenced the insects, if only for a moment. Shoulders aching, she braced herself against the sticky bark of a leaning tree, eyes closed.

It was done. She’d done it. There was no going back now. She could have turned back anytime before Graysen sank to the bottom of the swamp but now…now there was no way in hell Elain was getting in that water to try and drag him out.

She needed to leave. Spend the week in the timeshare at the pool until the hurricane hit and then…she didn’t know. She had no plan, no idea how to go about things and she was terrified to google any of it.

Elain opened her eyes, surprised to find she wasn’t alone. A man was coming toward her as he pulled thick, auburn hair up off his face in a messy bun.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes gleaming. Three long, vicious scars cut down one strange, gold eye that didn’t match the brown of the other.

Elain nodded her head, heart pounding in her throat. What had he seen? Mouth dry, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, Elain could do nothing but wait as he came toward her. He wore light clothing that looked far more comfortable than her own, the white cotton of his shirt sticking against the muscular contours of his chest.

“What are you doing so far out here?” he pressed, eyes sliding from her to the water just beneath her. There was no evidence of what she’d done if he ignored the path she’d carved through mud and vegetation dragging Graysen’s body. And if he walked just half a mile toward the gravel road, she’d find Graysen’s truck parked, the doors flung open and likely filled with mosquitoes.

“I like nature,” she told him. It wasn’t even a lie—Elain worked for the botanical garden back home and maintained her own in the backyard she’d once shared with Graysen. “I’ve always wanted to see a swamp.”

“Could have taken a tour,” he said, eyes twinkling. “The alligators are real aggressive out here.”

“They can’t be that bad if you’re out here,” she shot back, unsure why she was being so combative with this man.

Something green glimmered beneath the collar of his shirt, inked against his skin. What kind of tattoo was it, she wondered?

“I practically live here,” he replied as he came closer, hands jammed in his pockets.

“You work in a swamp?”

He only shrugged. “It’s a living, right?”

“Well, if you’re not afraid of gators, neither am I.”

He came closer still. “There’s worse things in gators out in the swamps.”

Elain froze. There she was, in the middle of nowhere talking to a stranger who had appeared seemingly out of thin air. Her hair curled in the humidity, her face slick with sweat and yet he seemed serene. Unbothered by the heat, the heavy air, or their surroundings. Elain took a step backward.

“Right. Well I uh…should be going.” He didn’t try and stop her, seemingly amused as she made her way back up the path. “Watch yourself, Elain. There’s a hurricane coming, you know.”

She only nodded, turning her back on him to rush back to the car. She was too stressed to deal with the stranger in the swamp. Elain didn’t let herself think about him until she was back in the room at the resort standing beneath cool shower water.

Watch yourself, Elain.

Had she told him her name? Elain genuinely couldn’t remember. The stress of everything was getting to her—maybe she had. In that southern kind of way, a greeting that included letting him know who she was so he knew she was no threat at all.

Why not tell him what she’d done, too? Hi, I’m Elain Archeron and I murdered my husband.

Make it easier on the police when they went looking for witnesses. She could have given that man the murder weapon had it not been shattered in hundreds of pieces on her living room floor. Still, Elain replayed that parting sentence over and over in her head. Elain, Elain, Elain. Why had she told him her name? Why hadn’t she asked for his?

Should she have done something more? Assured him she was just a normal woman lost in the heart of a swamp she had no business being in? Had he watched her drag that body and merely waited to see what would happen? She was more concerned with getting caught than what she’d actually done, which also worried her.

What kind of person murdered their husband?

She did, apparently. Elain didn’t think she was a bad person—just sad. Mad, too, that things hadn’t worked the way she’d wanted to. Angrier still that she’d loved him the way she had and in the end, it hadn’t even been good enough. She still remembered insisting to Nesta that Gray was her soulmate and their love was the thing of legends. It was love so pure, so perfect, so timeless that one day people would write books about it.

She supposed she hadn’t been wrong about that last one. Some true crime junkie would pick up this story and write about her. Would they call her a Black Widow? No, she decided as she laid there in the dark listening to the wind. She had no intention of remarrying, after all, and certainly wouldn’t kill another man. But they’d come up with some other offensive nickname for her, labeling her without really knowing her heart.

Elain fell asleep easier than she’d expected to, though her dreams were confusing and vivid. She was back in that swamp, wading deeper and deeper into the water as something made its way toward her, gold eyes reflecting the moonlight onto the water. Blood—no, hair—fanned out behind the creature and when he raised his head to smile, teeth sharpened to a point.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, his voice cutting through the still night. Elain couldn’t move, frozen in place as he came further and further out of the water. The green on his neck, she realized, wasn’t a tattoo but scales and behind him, a tail propelled him forward just as surely as his legs did.

She couldn’t scream. Trapped in mud, Elain could only stand as he came closer and closer, water dripping from his bare chest. The opaque water obscured his bottom half which was for the best—she was certain she didn’t want to see it.

He reached out to touch her, golden skin somehow glowing in the moonlight, and—

Elain woke to the sound of thunder, sheets sticking to her sweat soaked skin. The doors to the balcony attached to her bedroom were flung open and though it wasn’t raining yet, puddles of water pooled on the tile floor. Elain sighed loudly, palm pressed right above her breast in an attempt to silence her screaming heart.

It was just a dream. A nightmare, truly, borne of her guilty mind and her fear she was going to be caught. Elain forced herself to get up, grab a towel from the bathroom, and wipe up the water. This time, she made sure she locked the balcony doors so the wind wouldn’t blow them open before she crawled back into bed.

The nightmares were the same, though.

And when she woke, the doors were opened again.

Unwilling to take it lying down, Elain went down to the front desk to ask if she could be moved. Her doors, she explained ruefully—if there was a hurricane, she didn’t want to deal with water flying in. The person at the front desk was far less sympathetic to Elain’s cause and though they didn’t say so, it was clear they thought she and everyone else still at the resort was an idiot.

She tried not to let it bother her.

She needed to just stick to her plan. It was a terrible plan, admittedly, but it was too late to back out, now. Elain spent the day sitting outside by the pool holding a book in her hand, too nervous to read even a page. She kept waiting for the police to descend on her, led by the man haunting her nightmares.

There she is, he’d say with open accusation. There’s the woman who murdered her husband and thought she could get away with it.

They didn’t come. Frantically checking the news every couple of minutes, Elain found more warnings of the tropical storm about to descend on them, found other stories of murder, but nothing about her. No one had called to check in on Gray—not even the woman he was having an affair with. Elain had his phone sitting on her bedside table, monitoring it for anyone who might be worried about him.

No one was.

It was almost too easy.

If it hadn’t been for the nightmares, Elain might have just turned around and gone home. Maybe that would have silenced her nightmares. Elain dreamt of the man again, noting the way the green scales seemed more repetilian than those of a tattoo. This time, as Elain waded into the swampy water, she found her voice again.

“Who are you?” she asked, white nightgown floating around her.

He offered her a truly terrifying smile, those teeth tinged red in the moonlight. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he told her again, his voice a haunting melody.

“Why?”

He was close enough she could smell the earthy scent of him. It was familiar, somehow, though she was certain she’d remember if she’d seen him before.

He merely cocked his head, standing to his full height. Water sluiced off his body and though she knew this was merely a dream from her stressed out and panicked brain, Elain’s eyes dipped between his legs all the same. Now she knew it was a dream because men should only have one appendage…and this man had two. What was wrong with her?

He didn’t seem concerned with her gaze—not amused nor offended. Instead, he stepped forward, reaching for a long curl between two long, strong fingers.

“Mate,” he whispered, reaching for her before she could stumble back. It was just a dream, she told herself…and yet it felt real. Elain swore she could feel the sharpened claws against her back just as surely as she could feel the warm water enveloping her.

“What about alligators?” she breathed, earning a soft chuckle from the creature holding her.

“You don’t need to worry about anything harming you,” he said, dipping his head to run his nose along the shell of her ear.

“Because this is a dream,” she said, eyes closed.

Another laugh drew shivers up her spine. “Whatever you say.”

But it was a dream, even if it felt real. She knew she’d wake up and the door would be open because subconsciously she wanted to get caught. “What’s your name?”

“Lucien,” he replied, running a finger over her cheek. How long had it been since someone had touched her like this? Like she was special, cherished—loved?

“Why are you waiting for me?” she questioned, deciding if it really was a dream, maybe it didn’t have to be a nightmare. Maybe she could enjoy herself in the privacy of her strange fantasies. Maybe the scales, which she found softer than she expected them to be, were representative of something.

“You’re my mate,” he murmured. Hadn’t she just read a book about that? The men hadn’t been so strange looking—merely more handsome versions of humans, their ears a little pointed, their teeth a little sharper. Elain relaxed in his arms as she realized she was merely trapped in a strange dream about the men she read in books.

“Of course,” she said, amusement lacing her tone. He cocked his head, wet hair plastered to his bare shoulder.

“You don’t believe me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Elain declared blithely, kicking her feet gently in the water between them. “I think I left a body in here.”

“He’s gone now,” Lucien informed her. Oh, how Elain wished that was true. “Who was he to you?”

“My husband,” she said mirthfully as she inclined her head toward the moon overhead. “He yelled a lot.”

Lucien’s grip around her body tightened. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not in the ways that matter.”

“They matter to me,” he said, and of course they did. Elain loved herself and this man was merely an extension of her own mind. Still, pretend or not, it felt good to have someone care about her.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she told him, turning to look him back in the eyes. It was here she found those scars again and wondered what had caused them. Would her mind fill in the gaps for her? “Who did this to you?”

He chuckled, catching her wrist to press a kiss to her open palm as she tried to run her fingers over the grooves. “Another male was interested in my territory. He tried to take my eye, I took his throat.”

“How very vicious of you,” she teased. “Are you half alligator, then?”

“Simply put, I suppose,” he said, the amusement in his gaze sharpening to something she didn’t recognize. It was almost desperation that stared back, a plea to know something she had only forgotten. Elain felt the strangest rush of deja vu, though it faded into the night before she could grasp it, a balloon whose string was just out of reach.

“What are you? Can I ask that?”

“You can ask me anything you like,” he told her, his voice dropping an octave. Elain felt a rush of want as he waded further into the water, clearly unconcerned with the lurking danger.

“I am…” he trailed off, clearly trying to find the words before he turned to look at her again. Elain was tracing the scales adorning his shoulders and neck like tattoos, trying to remember the last time she’d touched anything reptilian. “Old, I suppose.”

“How old?”

“Old,” he emphasized.

“You don’t look old,” she said, half laughing at how predictable her daydreams were.

“I age slowly,” he informed her solemnly. “You did once, too.” “Oh? Before what?”

Skimming his hand over the top of the opaque water, he said, “You’re my curse, now.”

“How do you break the curse?”

Those strange, reflective eyes found the same glassy water they were floating in. He didn’t say, but Elain knew because this was her dream, her fantasy, her imagination. “It’s love, isn’t it?”

He looked so hopeful as he met her gaze. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.

It was a dream. “You seem like you’d be extremely easy to love.”

Pressing his forehead against her own, Lucien exhaled softly. “Let me show you.”

Lucien brought them to the opposite end of the swamp, unconcerned with his nakedness or the fact that she was openly staring at him. Well, not at him so much as what was slowly rising between his legs—two appendages, one longer than the other by a good inch. Elain didn’t need him to explain how they worked, though she was curious as to the point. Surely, from an evolutionary standpoint, one was enough?

Taking his hand, Elain let him lift her from the water, well aware he was just as fascinated by her form which was no longer hidden given the way her nightdress clung to her body.

“What are you going to show me?”

Lucien didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her, sharp teeth grazing her bottom lip. Elain let him, reflecting that even though this man was a monstrous figment of her imagination, it had been a while since someone kissed her like they meant it. Like they wanted her. Maybe, she thought, this was some kind of weird metaphor. The only man who could ever love her was a monster, after all—just like Graysen.

Or maybe she was the monster.

After all, she was the murderer. Lucien was just a man she’d seen in the swamp that would one day testify at her trial while she remembered how they’d had sex in a dream. Elain kissed him back, surprised to find he tasted warm and sweet—like a warm, summer day. This was the type of dream she liked—the sort where she could feel pleasure without the endless guilt that seemed to fill her.

She could taste blood in her mouth, slipping back into her throat as his tongue chased after it, kissing her with a frenzied hunger that Elain wished was real. The trick was not waking up before she came—Elain had never quite mastered that

She knew it was a dream for sure when he lifted her nightdress, swatting her hand when she tried to touch his bare skin.

“Just you,” he breathed, scales glinting in the moonlight. No man would ever, she decided as Lucien ran his own hands down her now naked form. It was almost like touching herself, forcing an awareness of her body that Elain rarely had. She didn’t pay attention to how it felt when someone's fingers teased her breasts or the way cool skin felt against her own. Or, she hadn’t in so long she’d forgotten what true pleasure could be like and he hadn’t really done anything.

“What do you like?” he asked through a heavy breath of humid air.

“I…” Elain was suddenly too embarrassed to tell him. Everything felt real—Lucien sank to muscular knees, his thick tail curling around the pair of them.

“Do you like this?” he asked in a husky voice as his forked tongue traced shapes against her upper thigh. To keep balance, Elain slid her fingers into his thick, silken hair.

“Yes,” she admitted while he lifted her leg up off the ground, hooking it over his broad shoulder. Little ridges adorned his spine, flexible when her toe brushed up against one. Elain was fascinated with his form—more man than creature, but not human at all. She might have demanded an answer had that tongue of his not licked up the length of her.

Elain nearly toppled over, but Lucien wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her closer while cupping her ass in one of his large, strong hands. He groaned with pleasure, the sound drowning out the screaming, watchful cicadas in the background.

“And this?” he demanded, licking again.

“Yes,” she breathed, head thrown back so she could look up at the stars. If she’s been more articulate, she would have told him that she liked it too much, and Gray had never wanted to do it. It took too long, he’d complained which of course only made it take longer. Elain was so self conscious every time he did go down that she never finished and often just counted to two hundred, faked it, and let him move on.

“I need to taste you,” Lucien informed her, pulling her so close against him she wasn’t convinced he could breathe. She would have told him he was already tasting her if she’d been braver and less afraid that at any moment she was going to wake up and realize the whole thing was just a really weird, yet really good dream.

Because it was her dream, Elain didn’t have to worry she was taking too long. In fact, Elain wanted to drag her pleasure out. His tongue was just rough enough to provide the smallest amount of friction while his mouth was otherwise soft and warm. Perfect, she decided with a sigh.

She wanted to spread herself out. Maybe Lucien knew it, or maybe the ground merely hurt his knees. All she knew for certain was in the span it took to draw breath, Lucien was on his back and she was straddling his face, staring down the length of his rigid, muscular body. She wanted to touch him and so she did, spreading her legs as wide as she could get away with so she could lean against him.

Lucien moaned when she pressed a kiss against his stomach. Distracted, she half forgot what he was doing with his mouth. It was just…well, two cocks were endlessly fascinating to her. Why? What was the point? Elain reached between his legs and took the thicker, larger one in her hand. It was ridged, she realized with wild desperation. What would it feel like? Would her mind even know? Was she imagining this because she’d been shopping for vibrators a month earlier and stumbled upon some truly strange looking dildos?

“Fuck,” Lucien panted, inclining his head away from her swollen pussy to look at her. “You don’t—it’s fine, just…just come here—”

Lucien put his mouth back on her with a vengeance, determined to distract her so thoroughly she couldn’t pleasure him, too. It was a game now, trying to get him off even as waves of pleasure began to build in her chest, threatening to drown her at any moment. Had anything felt better?

Lucien writhed beneath her, prompting Elain to reach around for the second one and grip it, too. He gasped, breath warm against her throbbing cunt, before returning to licking circles around her clit.

They came within seconds of each other—though Elain didn’t get to see any of it. Body throbbing, the sound of thunder crashing pulled her from her dream, body still roiling from her orgasm.

“Christ alive,” Elain swore softly, pushing the blankets from her body to close the balcony doors again. She knew she’d locked them before bed, had pulled the handles to be sure they were firmly locked.

Water was pooled on the floor again, her bare feet splashing in puddles as she made her way back to the ensuite bathroom. All Elain could think about was the man—the stranger she couldn’t stop dreaming about and his strange, inhuman features.

She’d nearly forgotten why she was dreaming about him. It was only after Elain had cleaned everything up did she recall that oh, right. She’d killed her husband and her brain was apparently trying to decode this information in the form of giving a strange swamp man two penises.

Elain was going insane. Seeing things that weren’t there, manifesting her own downfall. Was this what if felt like to be haunted? Only, there were no ghosts—only her own guilt tormenting her while she slept.

Elain shoved a chair against the balcony doors before she went back to bed, forced to lay on the opposite end because the mattress felt wet, too. Sweat, surely.. And the swamp man didn’t return, though when she woke the chair was back in its original place beside the window and the doors were open again. Outside, the world had gone red, the sky tinged with blood. Elain felt as though she’d manifested it herself, though that was pure arrogance to think she had any affect on the weather.

Her phone was screaming at her to get out, pinging emergency instructions from the resort on where to go when the hurricane made landfall. Elain planted herself in her bedroom determined to see this lie through. It was the kind of thing Gray would do, besides—he never too much stock in the hysterics, as he called it.

And she was so pathetic that she would have sat beside him and waited to die. Elain told herself she’d be fine, even as fear skittered up her spine. Sirens blared just outside and when she stepped toward the window, Elain could see the storm on the horizon. She took a breath, intending to go sit back in bed and try and read her book. Elain would have, too, had she not seen him coming out the sea itself, eyes trained on her bedroom window. He was merely a dot, a doll walking so far below her Elain was positive he couldn’t see her.

And yet she knew he could. Wind whipped around him, blowing his hair this way and that though he didn’t seem bothered by it. Elain watched, mouth half open, as a palm tree was shoved violently to the ground as though a giant hand had pushed it there. But the man didn’t budge, kept walking as though it were a perfectly normal day.

Oh god.

Elain rushed to the door, locking it before making her way out of her bedroom. Where was she going to go? She turned, standing in the living area, eyes trained on the beach. The man was gone and for a moment, Elain consoled herself that she was just crazy. He didn’t exist, her mind had merely snapped and when this was all over, she’d check herself into an asylum.

Elain looked away for a moment, turning toward the little kitchenette she hadn’t used. “You’re okay—” The glass shattered, sending Elain flying to the floor, arms thrown over her head to avoid getting hit by debris. Unable to hear her own thoughts over the wind, Elain tried to recall what she should do in the middle of a hurricane.

Cool fingers curled around her upper arm, hoisting her up into the air. Elain turned her head, horrified to find herself cradled against the half naked skin of the strangely scaled man. “You,” she accused, certain all this was his doing.

His smile was grim, eyes wide and round. He looked scared. “Me,” he murmured, his deep voice cutting through the noise. “It’s time to go home.”

“I’m not going—” the wind screamed as water pelted the pair of them, stinging her skin with each new assault. He didn’t seem concerned at all, ignoring the glass crunching underneath them as he walked her toward the bedroom.

“We’re going to die—”

“You’re going to remember,” Lucien interrupted, tail swishing angrily behind him. He looked catlike in the stormy dark, eyes glowing like sunlight cutting through shadow.

“You’re not real,” she breathed as he ripped her night dress in half. He certainly felt real.

“You know me,” he breathed, staring down at her. “You love me.”

“You’re a monster,” she replied.

Lucien grinned, betraying two rows of sharp teeth. “I’ll show you a monster.”

She tried to push him away but Lucien knew better. Knew he could have her if he wanted her—had already touched her, tasted her. Her protests were weak, silenced the moment his mouth was back on hers. He was real—they were real. She almost forgot about the screaming wind rattling the windows and pushing glass around the living area.

“You brought me an offering,” Lucien panted, hitching her leg up around his now bare waist. When had he taken off his pants? “Tell me you love me.”

“What offering—”

“The body. Your husband,” he spat, eyes darkening at the memory. “Tell me you love me.”

“I hate you,” she replied as he wrapped both hands around her bare thighs and wrenched them open.

“Wrong answer,” he replied. Elain kicked at his chest as Lucien lined himself up not just with her pussy, but her ass, too.

Their eyes met. “Does this feel real, now?” he whispered, inching himself forward just enough to punch the lungs from her breath. “You know me.”

“I don’t,” she replied as something metallic lodged itself in her nose. The world was ending in an explosion of air and water and yet a strange bubble seemed to exist around them. Words, just on the tip of her tongue, if only she could remember them, begged to be released. To finish a spell long since cast.

Lucien waited for a heartbeat, his hope etched over his features. When Elain said nothing, Lucien pressed himself closer to her, cocks intruding on her body like an old, familiar friend. Elain swore she’d never felt anything like it and yet her body stretched on instinct to accommodate him. Even when Elain wriggled, trying to create some resistance, her body simply allowed him to slide easily inside.

“Why two?” she panted, gritting her teeth to adjust to the feeling of being stretched to capacity.

“I can’t impregnate my mate if she doesn’t feel pleasure,” he replied breathlessly. His hair fell like a sunlit curtain between them, his eyes bright and earnest.

“Lucien,” she breathed, nails cutting against his biceps. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you—but who are you?

“Yes,” he managed, pulling himself out of the sticky wet that was her body. Spitting in his hand, Lucien lubricated his shaft now halfway buried in her ass before he thrust himself back in and

Elain was forced to admit that it all felt good. Her back arched of its own accord, eyes rolling upward in her skull. The ridges lining his cock made each new thrust sharper, the pleasure brighter.

“Our bond goes beyond marriage,” Lucien told her as colors filled her vision. “What we have is stronger than love.” His fingers stroked between her legs, rubbing tight circles around her clit until Elain was panting and writhing. She was going to come right alongside the hurricane bearing her name and then what? The windows would give way and the world would one day know of the woman who died because she decided fucking was more important than evacuating.

She didn’t care. Elain pulled him closer, running her hand over the flexible spines running the length of his back until she found the tail protruding just above the swell of his ass.

“Please,” she begged, wrapping her legs around his waist. Lucien whined in response, sweat dripping down his forehead as he ran his nose along her own.

“I can’t stop,” he told her, pressing a kiss along the corner of her mouth. “If you don’t say it, we start all over.”

“I love you,” she said, half meaning it. What did hurt, she decided? He was so obviously insane and maybe so was she, because she was still fucking him, wasn’t she? Maybe this was what she deserved.

Lucien’s pace quickened and with each new thrust a new memory came flooding through her awareness. A cottage on the edge of a swap, a cauldron filled with bubbling liquid. A male half hidden in the water, gold tinged eyes looking for predators as his red hair fanned out behind him.

Amarantha.

Her horrible bargain.

Elains vision.

“Lucien,” she said, fisting his hair so he had to look back at him. He recognized her words, the look on her face.

“You’re back,” he whispered, still thrusting into her though his rhythm slipped into wild, animalistic thrusting.

“You feel exactly as I remember,” she told him, dragging her nails down his back. “What took you so long?”

“Let a man wallow for a century or two,” Lucien replied, kissing her again. “Come for me. Now.”

She did, though not because he told her to— because she was already desperate and close and Lucien was pushing every button she had. Elain tightened around him as Lucien babbled unintelligibly about how wet and tight she was. Some things, she supposed, would never change. The world would.

But not them. Never them.

Lucien came loudly, roaring over the wind she’d forgotten about. Was there a hurricane? Had she been afraid of it? That seemed almost laughable to her now. Turning her head as Lucien buried his own in the crook of her neck, Elain stared out the window coated in violet raindrops.

For a moment, the storm was the only sound between them.

“You borrowed my magic,” Elain accused once his breathing steadied. She could feel his come leaking down her leg, slipping between the spaces his cocks occupied.

“You didn’t know how to use it,” Lucien replied with a sheepish grin.

Elain poked him in the ribs. “Is she dead?”

“Not yet,” he told her, gaze darkening. “Feyre drove her out a century before.”

“Let's finish it, then.”

“In time,” Lucien promised, withdrawing himself so he could offer her his hand. “Home, first.”

Elain grinned. “Home, then.”

#happy friday #elucien #vangator time

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