#but that’s not what I intend for everyone to think she looks like??

[ride-thedragon]

My blood and cheese thoughts.

I want to get it out of the way and say I didn't hate the adaptation. I think it was a bit underwhelming in terms of the atrocities committed and positioned in the books, but for the changes the show made, I think it's a really good adaptation of one of the worst aspects of the dance.

To go in further though a pros and cons list because I didn't entirely love it.

Pros:

1. PHIA SABAN. She's was just excellent. I saw a lot of people early on hating on the delivery, but to me, it worked extremely well. That's Helaena experiencing this disaster without anyone at her side. That's show Helaena, its amazing that she understands the character so well. Her immediate reaction is her discomfort at someone being so close yet still being terrified. The necklace handed over because she didn't know better, she's never had to know better. The way she reacted to Alicent and Criston, running through the castle muttering things to herself. It was all so excellent and she really sold it. "The boy is dead" sounded like a part of the prophecy she couldn't face when she was afraid of the rats and the way she's trembling as they believe her, that she sacrificed her son. It was incredible acting so early on, and it was excellent.

2. The trade-off. It was set up so well to me. Aegon confuses Jaehaera from behind in their first scene. Helaena is the one who can tell which child is which. The mother knows, is haunting, and the fact that she was checking on her kids that late in the night was so saddening. Then she, the only one so far who we see keeping track of who is who willingly is just beyond heartbreaking. The fact that they had thr killer look her in the eye and admit to the other that she wasn't lying when she pointed to her son was just insane.

3. It was Aemond. In the books, they say Daemon, Mysaria, and Rhaenyra purposefully tried to kill Jaehaerys and traumatise everyone involved as payment for Luke. The fact that it was Aemond in the show made a lot more sense .

Cons.

1. World Building.

Helaena is the Queen of Westeros. Her children are the heirs to the throne. WHERE ARE THE GUARDS?!. Where are the at least 2 guards that should be obligated to be at their side. The handmaid's that would go with her to the kids' room in case they wake up, her maids who'd prepare her for bed after?. It makes absolutely no sense for them to be alone in that moment. It's not Criston’s responsibility. He's Alicent's guard. Helaena and her children should have guards.

2. Cruelty.

The cruelty of the killers was lost in the adaptation for the worse. Obviously, they don't have a personal stake, and the way it's set up, Cheese finds Helaena, and blood is trying to work it out, but I do think they should've been worse. There was just a menacing quality missing from the killers, especially when we followed them around. I think having it from Helaena’s perspective isn't the best, but it would've been better to have it interchange. To build up to the suspense.

3. Brutality.

No, I did not need to see a child murdered on screen, but I think the brutality of the situation was lost as well. Helaena is terrified because she's a princess left alone with criminals doing something unknown. Why not make it clearer. Have some bashed in heads of fallen guards, have a murdered handmaid, and the kids left sleeping. Decorate the place with the cruelty of what hey intend to do, have it resonate what her choice means, and when we see her run and hear the noise, it's past what they've already done. This also means blood is more a part of it and it isn't a split decision. This leads to more last issue.

4. LET DAEMON BE ACCOUNTABLE.

Why is he not? Why is it left ambiguous? It's so strange. When Aemond killed Luke, you could tell it was him overestimating the situation, its a mistake only to the extent that Aemond was playing a cat and mouse game with a war shipment because he didn't think of the consequence. It makes jo sense to do that with Daemon. This man wants to burn and kill and go to war the entire episode only to not have him say any prince would do. He schemes and plots, risks himself in King's Landing only to not have the final call? Let him be extreme. Now I'm going to have to sit through Daemon and rhaenyra again, misunderstanding each other and Daemon being sad because no one trusts him because he's a horrible person to be loved by and I'm sure by the end it'll be rectified. But I wanted that call from him, on screen for his anger towards what happened, towards the delay in action, when Rhaenyra gave him an inch by saying she wanted Aemond, I needed him to take a mile because that's who he is.

Overall,

I think it was a good adaptation for the show. I don't want to watch the episode back because the sounds of Jaehaerys' death made me sick. I don't think they could've done it better off-screen or more responsibly for the current events of the world. It was simply effective. I just had my expectations as a book viewer and as someone who was excited to see where the writers are taking the world they created because either like a lot of their choices.

[gingerlee-holds]

Letting Off Steam

this is a bday fic for @littleleesblog!! my first steps into the hazbin writing community heehee! idk if people like this one, ill write sequels about him getting charlie (me), angel, idk we'll see

btw yada yada this is a tword fic- Ler!Alastor Lee!Lucifer

Word Count: Reading Time: Warnings: Idk, swearing? Alastor bein a lil shit? barely any editing?

If you prefer a quieter living space, perhaps the Hazbin Hotel isn’t for you. Loud arguments and the commonplace occurrence of walls being blown in could make for a very harsh experience on the ears - not to mention the frequent singing. There were, however, a few locations at the hotel where it’s quiet, such as Charlie’s room, the library, and, shocking nobody, Alastor’s radio station, located on the far northern side of the hotel on the very top floor. Whenever Alastor got the chance, he stayed in that room for as long as possible during the day - usually to avoid being roped into the shenanigans of the other hotel residents. 

On one particular day, however, it seemed like the radio demon couldn’t catch a damn break.

Charlie had called him to the lobby at 7 AM to settle a disagreement between Vaggie and Angel regarding “Breakfast Booze” at the bar. Then, not an hour later, Lucifer was badly practicing the accordion in the lounge. This was followed shortly after that by the TV demon, Vox, interrupting Cherri’s favorite show to deliver a laughably defamatory news segment on Alastor’s performance in his fight with Adam, accompanied by such phrases as ‘pussied out’ and ‘spineless.’ It should come as no surprise that he was already stressed when Charlie cheerfully gathered everybody in the lobby. His entire face hurt with the exertion required to keep a smile.

“Okay, everyone,” Charlie began. I was thinking, what better way to celebrate the grand opening of the newly refurbished hotel than by playing hide-and-seek?” She did a little twirl as she finished, trying vainly to excite her friends. 

Angel Dust raised his hand and, not waiting to be called on, asked, “How the hell does that follow?”

Undeterred, Charlie continued. “Hide and seek is a game that requires exploration! We put a lot of work into rebuilding this place, so we should try to enjoy it! Now, who would like to seek first…?”

A hunt. Oh, what luck that on such a poor day as that, Alastor could finally stretch his legs a little and do what he did best: scare the living daylights out of people! His smile widened, and his eyes squinted like a shark when blood was in the water. He stepped forward with perfect posture as always, resting his hand on his cane. “I would be delighted to!”

“No-” Both Lucifer and Husker had begun to protest, but Charlie clapped her hands with glee. Everyone knew she was just happy to have someone invested in her activities. 

“Perfect! Count to sixty, and then come look for us!”

“Oh, splendid.” The radio demon casually walked over to the wall, closing his eyes as if it mattered. Hands resting on his cane, he chuckled softly to himself. “One.” He heard silence behind him. “Two.” Again, he heard nobody move. 

‘They must not be taking this seriously,’ he thought. Gradually, the sound of radio static began to hum through the lobby as Alastor’s antlers grew larger. 

“Three.” Still nothing.

‘I won’t let them ruin this for me, not after today. Drastic measures, then,’ Alastor thought. He cleared his throat innocently. Then a deer call echoed around the room as he turned his head all the way around on his neck, eyes the shape of bright red dials and smile of sharp teeth impossibly wide.

“FOUR.” 

It had its intended effect. All of the hotel’s residents yelped various exclamations and expletives and took off in every direction, unsure if they were now hiding for their victory in the game or their lives. 

Alastor chuckled softly and turned back towards the wall, appearing normal again. He continued counting, interspacing the numbers with tunes he remembered from a past life, patting his cane to the rhythm. ‘I really should sing more often. It’s a shame I don’t often get the chance,’ he mumbled. Alastor knew he would find each hider eventually - after all, he had a lot of practice with hunting overlords - but Charlie had not mentioned a time limit, meaning he would take his sweet time to savor the silence and the hunt. When he finished counting, he decided to be a bit theatrical and sent a shockwave through the ground at the tap of his cane, instantly turning off every light in the hotel. He turned, smiled eagerly, and sank into the ground as a shadow, moving through the darkness like a cloud of smoke. ‘Now… who to look for first?’

-

Lucifer Morningstar, king of hell, didn’t realize how fast he was flying until about a minute after Alastor’s little scare. It upset him a little to discover how easily startled he had been, especially since he had easily beaten Adam, who had easily beaten Alastor. He sighed in annoyance as the lights above him went out, and to keep from flying into a wall, he flew to a stop, landing gracefully on the ground. With a subtle flap, his wings glowed softly, surrounding his hallway with a gentle golden light. He walked forward, not looking for a hiding spot. He had a feeling that that didn’t matter.

He suddenly felt a chill on his back. Lucifer whirled around, staring closely into the dark hallway behind him. Sensing no movement, he huffed and walked backward a bit, turning back around only to walk into the chest of the radio demon, letting out an indignant squawk.

“Ah, your highness! It seems you were the first to be found! You’re not very good at this, you know~!” Alastor said in that smug tone. 

“Well, Mr. What’s-His-Name,” Lucifer replied as he wiped off the front of his suit before confidently resting both hands on his apple cane. “I’ll have you know I’m only doing this to make my daughter happy. I don’t fear you, busboy.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed in determination. There was no way he was letting any of the other hotel residents come out on the other side of this activity willing to mess with him. That meant attitude-correcting. “You know I mean no disrespect, your highness!” he said, twirling his cane in one hand while adjusting his tie. “I simply had higher expectations of you!”

“As did I for you! I cannot believe my Charlie put her faith in you of all demons to keep her safe. You had one job, and you-” Lucifer stopped when Alastor sank into the shadows again, disappearing. “Typical.” The king began walking forward again, doing all that he could to give off the impression that he wasn’t scared, but all the effort in the universe couldn’t have held back the squeak that came to his lips when he felt a poke to his side. 

“Oh, my~! Someone’s a little on edge~!” came a delighted voice from the darkness. Lucifer growled in frustration and extended his wings to make the hallway as bright as daylight. Unfortunately, this is what Alastor intended, which Lucifer soon discovered when he felt claws scribbling in the pits of his wings, right on the sensitive area where they connected to his back. “Now, what an unfortunate weakness for royalty to possess~!”

Lucifer squealed, buckling over and landing on his knees on the floor. Alastor had suspected that the fallen angel was ticklish since Charlie was a walking tickle spot, but verifying it like this was nothing short of delicious for him. 

“Youhuhu- youhuhuhu lihihihittle-! Cuhuhut ihihit ouhuhut!” Lucifer’s strength had left him for some reason, and he found himself powerless to defend himself from the radio demon’s attack. Giggling like a child, he tried in vain to reach around behind him to swat away the attack, but this only opened him up more. Alastor’s claws zipped around and wriggled into his ribs, causing the king to let out an outrageously embarrassing squeal. He swung around to free himself, extending his wing to fling back the demon. It made no contact as he landed with a thump on his back, his hat tossed aside. 

“Ah, ah, ah~! I have to make sure you play the game better next time! After all, it’s only fair that there should be consequences for losing, especially being the first to lose!” From beneath him, hands grew from the floor to scribble into Lucifer’s wing pits again, making the fallen angel arch his back in surprise. 

“DahAhahahamn yoUhUhuhUuHU!” he laughed, kicking his feet a little. He reached back again to defend himself, only to be met by his apple cane, quickly used to pin his elbows to the floor with a yelp. 

“Fell for it again~! Tsk, tsk, your highness! We all must learn from our mistakes here at the Hazbin Hotel~!” Alastor suddenly materialized in front of him, leaning casually against his cane as he smugly observed the plight of the king of hell. 

“Yeah, well, you’re a-” Lucifer’s taunt was cut off by his shriek when shadowy hands grew from the ground to wriggle their fingers against his ribs. Alastor’s cooing was absolutely not helping, and it took everything in him not to whine when he felt the hands undo his coat and vest, leaving him in his plain undershirt. 

“There we are, now to teach you a lesson!” Alastor watched as his shadow hands continued their evil work, relishing every second of the king’s humiliation. He had ghostly digits wiggling against the ribs, scribbling in the wing pits, and he had just summoned two more hands to squeeze experimentally on the thighs, making Lucifer squeal like Angel’s pig. The fallen angel’s wings flapped on the floor, but his arms were pinned, keeping him firmly grounded. 

Alastor smirked and stepped forward, leaning down to wiggle a claw against the king’s belly. “You’re far too precious to act all tough, Your Highness! Don’t worry, I’ll let the others know about this discovery of mine~!” With that, he stood tall, straightened his suit, and turned to walk away, fading into the hallway’s darkness. 

“D-dohoHohn’t youhu fu-fuhuhuhCKING-!!” Lucifer couldn’t even get the words out as one final hand scribbled along his collarbone. He could do nothing but lie there on the hallway floor and laugh, hoping that Alastor would eventually have mercy. It might be a while before then since he was the first one found. Maybe he would have to put more effort into hiding next time… 

[moonselune]

Best intending fools

Teacher!Minthara x Obsessed!Student AU

Modern AU

Set a bit further on in the relationship, can be read as a part 3 to these parts: part one , part two

CW: Teeny weeny bit of angst hehe

The conference room was bathed in the harsh glow of fluorescent lights, casting a clinical brightness over the assembled staff. Minthara sat near the end of the table, a pencil in hand, tapping it rhythmically against her notepad. She was mentally reviewing the next phase of her research project, barely paying attention to the mundane discussions around her.

Gale, the head of staff, stood at the front, his presence commanding the room. He cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Before we conclude today's meeting, I have an important announcement regarding our faculty for the upcoming semester."

Minthara barely glanced up, her mind still elsewhere.

"We are pleased to welcome a new professor who will be teaching anatomy," Gale continued. "Dr. Orin Dered."

The name hit Minthara like a physical blow. The pencil in her hand snapped with a sharp crack, the sound startling those around her. Her eyes narrowed, and she shot a piercing glare at Gale.

"This is unacceptable," she said, her voice low and filled with barely contained fury.

Gale sighed, clearly anticipating her reaction. "Minthara, I understand your concerns, but Dr. Dered is one of the leading experts in anatomy. Our students deserve the best education we can provide."

The rest of the staff exchanged uneasy glances. They were well aware of the tumultuous history between Minthara and Orin. Once close-knit research partners, now intense rivals.

Minthara stood, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You don't understand," she hissed. "Orin is a manipulative, self-serving—"

"Enough, Minthara," Gale interrupted, his tone firm. "This decision is final. Orin's expertise will greatly benefit our students, and we are fortunate to have her."

The tension in the room was palpable. Minthara's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her knuckles white. She stared Gale down, her eyes blazing with anger. "You have no idea what you're doing," she spat. "Orin's presence here will be a disaster."

Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her with a resounding bang. The remaining staff sat in stunned silence, the atmosphere thick with unease.

Alfira, always the empathetic one, started to rise from her seat. "Maybe I should go after her…"

Rolan, sitting beside her, grabbed her arm and yanked her back down. "Are you out of your mind?" he whispered urgently. "Do you have a death wish? Let her cool off."

Alfira looked torn but reluctantly nodded, staying in her seat. The meeting resumed, but the energy in the room had shifted, a heavy sense of foreboding hanging over the staff.

Meanwhile, Minthara strode down the hallway, her mind racing. She needed to calm down, to think. But the mere thought of Orin being back in her life, even professionally, was enough to send her into a tailspin. She headed towards her office, desperate for the solitude and sanctuary it provided, her mind already strategizing how to handle this unexpected and unwelcome development.

A few days later you had been wandering the hallways, a lightness in your step, excited about the news you had heard. Orin Dered, the renowned expert in anatomy, was joining the faculty for a semester. The whispers about her expertise and groundbreaking research had always intrigued you, and now you had the chance to learn from her directly.

You made your way to Minthara's office, eager to share your excitement. Her door was slightly ajar, and you could see her sitting at her desk, a stormy expression on her face. You knocked softly and entered, a smile on your lips.

"Minthara, did you hear? Orin Dered is going to be teaching here next semester!" you exclaimed, not noticing the dark cloud that seemed to hang over her.

Minthara's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto yours. "I heard," she said coldly, her tone sending a shiver down your spine.

You paused, confused by her reaction. "I thought you'd be happy for me. I mean, you and Orin worked closely together before, right? This is such a great opportunity for me to learn from one of the best."

Minthara stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You will not take her class," she snapped, her voice icy.

You blinked, taken aback by her sudden outburst. "What? Why not? This is a huge chance for my education. I can't pass it up just because there's some bad blood between you two."

Minthara's eyes flashed with anger, and she took a step towards you. "I'm forbidding it. If you take Orin's class, then this—us—is over."

Her words hit you like a physical blow. You stood there, stunned, your heart aching with confusion and hurt. You knew they were rivals but you thought Minthara cared for you more than some petty rivalry. "Minthara, that's not fair. You can't just control my education like this. I know there's history between you and Orin, but this is my future we're talking about."

Minthara's expression hardened, her jaw clenched tightly. "I said no. If you enroll in her class, consider our relationship finished."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away from her, unable to comprehend why she was being so irrational. "I can't believe you're doing this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I thought you cared about me."

With that, you walked out of her office, the door closing behind you with a finality that echoed through your heart. You could feel the weight of her gaze on your back, but you didn't look back. The hurt and confusion swirling inside you were too much to bear.

Minthara slumped back into her chair, her head in her hands. She had never wanted to hurt you, but the thought of Orin manipulating and hurting you the way she had been hurt was unbearable. She couldn't explain it to you without revealing too much, and now she was left with the pain of knowing she had pushed you away.

The next few days were a blur of mixed emotions. You spent most of your time sulking in your dorm room, replaying the argument with Minthara in your mind. Her words had cut deep, and you were struggling to understand why she would react so harshly. Despite your frustration, you couldn’t bring yourself to enroll in Orin's class. The fear of losing Minthara, of severing the bond you had with her, was too great. You loved her, adored her.

One afternoon, as you were leaving Professor Dekarios' lecture, he approached you. "Hey, can I have a word?" he asked, his tone gentle.

You nodded, feeling a twinge of curiosity. Professor Dekarios was always perceptive, and it seemed he had noticed your recent change in demeanor.

"I couldn't help but notice that you're not enrolled in Dr. Dered's anatomy class," he began, his eyes searching your face. "I thought it would be a perfect fit for you, given your interests and potential."

You sighed, glancing away. "It's complicated," you mumbled.

He nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. "I know Minthara has been mentoring you closely, and I can imagine that might be influencing your decision. She can be quite... intense."

You let out a bitter laugh. "That's one way to put it."

Professor Dekarios leaned against the desk, his demeanor casual yet concerned. "Listen, I don’t know all the details of your relationship with her, but I do know that this is an important opportunity for you. If you’re worried about Minthara's reaction, I could arrange a private meeting between you and Dr. Dered. It would be off the record, and Minthara wouldn't need to know."

Your heart raced at the suggestion. A private meeting with Orin could be a way to explore your interest without openly defying Minthara. "You really think that could work?" you asked, hope creeping into your voice.

He smiled reassuringly. "Absolutely. Orin is here to teach and share her knowledge. I doubt she'd pass up the chance to mentor a promising student like you. And if we keep it discreet, Minthara won't have to know."

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks. But the prospect of learning from Orin was too enticing to ignore. "Okay," you agreed. "Let's do it. A meeting can't hurt."

Professor Dekarios nodded, satisfied. "I'll set it up. Just trust me, this could be a great opportunity for you."

You sat nervously outside of Dr Dered's office, you knew that it was wrong, what you were doing. But if Minthara had thought her harsh words had deterred you it had only spurred you on. You wanted to experience Orin yourself, learn from her yourself. You loved Minthara, you would kiss the ground she walked on if she asked you to, you would kill for her, you would die for her. But your education was paramount, and you understood what Minthara was asking of you, you couldn't understand why. That was what mattered, because you knew why you worshipped Minthara, you didn't know why Minthara didn't want you to be taught by Orin. Not knowing was dangerous, because not knowing meant that you needed to find out.

"Y/N L/N?" Orin called out as she opened her new office door, it was thankfully on the other side of the complex so you had no chance of Minthara walking past. Plus Professor Dekarios had promised that he would be in a meeting with her at this time. Orin was a pale woman, and had long blonde hair that was messily put away in a plait. She wore a striking blood red pantsuit, accompanied with a pair of sandals - it was like she wasn't wearing any shoes at all. Minthara would never have been caught dead in shoes like that but you assumed that due to her work she preferred to remain grounded, if you examined and pulled apart bodies all day you would want to stay grounded too.

You stood up and gave an awkward wave before walking into Orin's office, it was surrounded in packed up boxes but she had a realistic anatomically correct human body hung up, with removable organs included.

"Thank you so much for seeing me, Dr Dered," You nervously said, fidgeting with your hands.

"Oh my little fleshing, call me Orin, with what I deal with I prefer to deal with my students on a more intimate level." Orin told you giving you a wicked smile. You tried not to panic at the endearment she had addressed you with, she was known for her eclecticism. "Professor Dekarios tells me you are a student excelling in your classes, so I cannot help but wonder why not mine?"

"Oh um, my schedule just didn't allow it, which is why Professor Dekarios so kindly-'

"-Professor Dekarios did say that but I checked for myself and your schedule fully allows you to take my class." Orin interrupted you and leaned across her desk towards you. "So I cannot help but wonder if this has anything to do with Dr Baenre."

"D-Dr Baenre?" You repeated, heat rising to your cheeks from the embarrassment of being immediately caught out in your lie. "Why would Dr Baenre have anything to do with it?"

"It is clear she had laid her claim on your academic prowess and does not plan on letting you go." Orin smirked at you as she propped her feet up on the desk. "Looking at the work you have submitted and your academic record I can understand why, you are an extremely talented young woman Y/N."

"I-uh- thank you, I uh don't actually hear that a lot.." You murmured and it was true, Minthara knew of your brilliance so didn't feel the need to comment on it.

"And what a pitiful shame that is." Orin pouted, sitting up in her chair and clasping her hands together. "But you have made-"

Before Orin could finish her sentence her office door swung open, and a fuming Minthara stood in her doorway. You felt yourself shrink into yourself as you were victim to her wrathful glare .

"L/N. Out. Now. Dr Dered and I have some urgent matters to discuss." Minthara seethed and you quickly gathered your things, unable to meet her eye. Though before you walked past her you took a deep breath in, you did this for you, for your benefit. You were not to be ashamed of that. So as you walked past her, you met her eye, proudly, defiantly.

The door slammed behind you and you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You walked past a very apologetic looking Professor Dekarios who's plans had clearly backfired. Then you had a decision, you could go back to your dorm or back to Minthara's office. Your head told you to go back to your dorm room, yet your heart urged you to go to Minthara's office. You had let your head dictate your actions that day, it was time for the heart to take control.

“What exactly do you think you are doing, Orin?!” Minthara snapped, her voice trembling with barely controlled anger. “Not only here, but with my top student?”

Orin leaned casually against the desk, her expression a mixture of amusement and condescension. “Oh, Minthara, my love, I missed you too...” she cooed, stepping forward with her arms outstretched, as if expecting a warm embrace.

Minthara scoffed and took a step back, glaring at Orin with disdain. “Don’t come any closer,” she hissed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

Orin’s arms dropped, but she maintained her cool smile. “Still as cold as ever, my dear,” she remarked, her tone dripping with false sweetness.

Minthara’s patience was wearing thin. “What do you want, Orin?” she spat, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Ignoring the question, Orin turned her attention to the papers on Minthara’s desk, idly flipping through them. “I can see why you like her,” she said, her voice taking on a contemplative tone. “She’s got a brilliant mind.”

Minthara tensed at the mention of you, her jaw clenching in anger. She hated that Orin even knew your name, let alone took an interest in you. “What I would do to crack it open and slice it bit by bit for examination,” Orin continued, her voice low and almost wistful. “To feel her brain on my fingertips.”

“You are disgusting, you know that, don’t you?” Minthara scoffed, rolling her eyes in a vain attempt to hide her unease.

Orin chuckled softly. “And you’ve become sentimental,” she countered, her gaze flicking back to Minthara. “Though, as toys go, you have managed to acquire yourself such a beautiful one. I can’t wait until you inevitably throw her out of your pram.”

That was the final straw. Minthara surged forward, grabbing Orin by the lapels of her blazer and yanking her close. “Y/N is not a toy. Do you understand that?” she snarled, her face inches from Orin’s. “She is more humane than you will ever be. Speak to her again, and I will rip your tongue out.”

Orin’s eyes glittered with a perverse delight. “Ooh, Minthara, you’ve grown soft—”

Minthara released her grip and shoved Orin back, the force of the push causing Orin to stumble slightly. “I don’t even know why I waste my time with you,” Minthara said, her voice cold and final.

Orin straightened her blazer, her cool smile never faltering. “Because, my dear Minthara, deep down, you know you’ll always be drawn back to me.”

Minthara didn’t dignify that with a response. She turned on her heel and walked out of the office, her heart pounding with a mixture of rage and protectiveness. Orin might be back in her life, but Minthara was determined to shield you from her at any cost.

Mwhahahahaha I simply could not resist, Orin was right there begging to be included in this AU. Gale only wants the best for his students yet fucks it up every time. What are your thoughts? Why do we think Orin is really here? - Seluney xoxo

[theartistisme43]

Chapter Two: The Smell of Copper and Disinfectant

HOSPITAL, BLOOD, PANIC ATTACK, AND GUN MENTION TW:

There was a dense ringing in SMG4’s ears as he floated in a void of numbness, he could hear a distant beep every now and then, and muffled, discombobulated talking…

4 didn’t know where he was, or what was happening… Every time he tried to figure it out, something pulled him into a deeper rest, but he could feel himself getting closer to a light every time he attempted to gather his thoughts.

All he remembered was creating tomato soop, and then… Nothing.

4 tried to get out of whatever state he was in, but he felt trapped and unable to move, as if he was being weighed down by something, almost like…

Sleep paralysis?…

Was he asleep?

The more he thought of it, the more he could hear, the more he could feel, the more he could think.

Just like a knife, memory cut into him.

“I’m sorry, I have to do this…”

BANG!

With a gasp, SMG4 shot up in bed, making Mario almost fall back with a gasp of his own.

4’s eyes refocused as his mind began to process where he was, as they tiredly scanned the area around him.

All of his friends were here, scattered around in his hospital room.

Just as 4 intended to speak, a sharp, horrible pain made him hiss in reaction. He looked down, seeing a gauze pad that was secured by tight bandages wrapped around his chest and back to hold it in place. 4 could feel how tender his skin was under the medical wraps.

“…wh…” He found his voice as he winced hard.

A gloved hand took his, as Mario looked at him with love in his eyes… And an air of sorrow to them too.

“Miei cari Quattro... ero così preoccupata!” The red plumber embraced him, avoiding his wound.

SMG4 enjoyed the hug for a moment, but wondered what all the fuss was about, he couldn’t remember what happened for some reason… Did he have a kitchen accident or something?

“SMG4!” Meggy exclaimed, coming to hug him too. “You’re awake!”

4 attempted to use his right arm to pat her back, but it hurt far too much for him to move it, so he used his left to do it instead.

“What happened?” 4’s question made almost everyone in the room uncomfortable, as a few of his friends avoided looking at him.

Meggy sighed, willing herself to say… Something bad from what 4 could gather from her face.

“SMG4… Do you… Not remember?” She asked softly.

“No, please tell me..” 4 said. “I can handle it, whatever it is..”

“SMG4.” Meggy began, brows furrowing. “SMG3 shot you…”

4 paled, the ringing in his ears returned as his heart began pounding.

Like a train, feelings of grief, betrayal, and heartbreak came hurtling into him.

Now he could remember.

SMG3’s eyes were cold and empty, the way his face looked was like something straight out of a horror movie.

SMG4 tried to brush it off by mentioning his newest meme, but 3 didn’t care, merely raising his gun with the intention of killing 4.

And he shot him.

Watching him bleed out as he lost consciousness…

SMG4 was hyperventilating as he clutched himself, suffering through a panic attack as the previous day’s events became clear.

The very person he had come to trust, come to love, stabbed him in the back. And why? Because he got bored of being good? Because being evil was much easier for him?

“SMG4, it’s going to be okay…” Meggy tried to vocally help him through his attack, but all of the emotions he felt were relentless.

SMG4’s brain couldn’t register anything as a monsoon of thoughts and questions rendered all of his senses useless.

His fingers were practically digging into his skin as his chest heaved, eyes staring into nothing.

All 4 could see in his mind was SMG3’s terrifying expression as he watched him lay there helpless, his own blood pooling around him.

But suddenly… He was encased in warmth, a safe feeling he had felt many times.

Mario held SMG4 close, letting him clutch at his shirt as to not damage himself anymore, like the other times he helped him through past panic attacks.

The meme guardian rode the aftermath of his attack, coming back to reality with heavy yet softer breaths.

“There we are…” Mario muttered. “I got you.”

4 had pushed his body too hard, his ribs hurt slightly from his rapid sharp breaths, and this didn’t help with his still tender injury.

Mario saw something in 4’s eyes fade.. He didn’t know if it was exhaustion, or… Hope leaving him.

As 4 returned to sleep, Mario still held his hand, his heart breaking as he watched someone who was so full of life feel so defeated…

“Gli farò pagare la pena per averti ferito, Quattro, te lo prometto. Non avrò pace finché non lo troveranno..”

Mario had tried to whisper only loud enough for 4 to hear, but his quiet promise was understood by his green brother.

Luigi looked on in concern, as he watched his twin brother begin a tread down a darker path... Grief considered, he wanted 3 to pay for this too, but this just wasn't right... This wasn't Mario.

"Come on guys." Meggy whispered. "Let's let SMG4 rest."

Their friend group had quietly, one by one, left the room, but Luigi stayed put. He joined his brother's side, placing a kind and comforting hand onto Mario's own.

Hurt, angry, tired eyes glanced down, and then up to Luigi's face.

Luigi looked back with a soft and concerned look in his, as Mario silently brought his hand down to his side, away from Luigi's hand.

It would be a fight to get Mario back, but Luigi was willing to do whatever it took to save his brother from his own rage.

"Sono qui anche per te, Mario. Non dimenticarlo mai..."

[evansbby]

guys would it be okay if I posted my poyt fanart?

[sallytwo]

Jennifer nearly jumped into the water / and she was tired like no one's ever been tired

[sysig]

Shapes never felt so good (Patreon)

[imminent-danger-came]

Are you ever afraid that you are looking too deep into a show and giving the creators too much credit

Not really, no! Whether or not the writers were specifically thinking about what I look into, I'm still engaging with the text as it is. Honestly, I think it's more likely that writers often just have such a solid grasp of their themeing and goals that the final product ends up being beautiful and on-point, you know.

There are, however, certain things I can guarantee were written with all the care in the world—like 3x10 and 4x08 parallels, or MK and Azure parallels—and I'm more than positive Breen has lovingly crafted shadowpeach's dynamic, and how MK plays into that (presuming you were talking about lmk—most of my asks/anons are from the lmk fandom, so I hazarded a guess!).

Like, shows like this don't just happen on accident. There was real heart put into it by an amazingly talented creative team! Like honestly, most of the time, I think it is just that deep. If you can detect consistent threads in a piece of work, chances are the writers put them there!

[chirpsythismorning]

Thinking about that interview where Millie made a big deal about shipping Max/Dustin instead of Max/Lucas, and the cast sat beside her awkwardly in silence bc they all knew Max/Lucas ended up together at the end of the season (s2). And how Millie just kept the joke going while they tried to change the subject… and how this is oddly familiar…

[emometalhead]

.

[docresa]

Me: *calls home with massive PMS and insecurities (mostly academic) about residency interviews*

My mom: *manages to give me even more insecurities about my physical appearance*

[narutomaki]

I always get self conscious when people talk about the amount of thought the goes/went into their art because there is.

there is no upper processing happening when I'm designing a character or background. my hand starts moving and my brain shuts off. I recognize there was probably a point in my life where this WASN'T the case but. like. it's why my art is like. mostly flat and lifeless. my art is never intended to tell a story because when I intend to I get angry/frustrated to the point of wanting to break shit because it's not going right. and I've tried to tell stories with my art both comics and stand alone pieces and it all feels fake or flat or.

idk.

I've TRIED to start and finish a piece where I've made conscious choices beyond "does this look good/right" and "am I being offensive in ways I'm aware of with anything here" but it just. makes me want to scream.

I learned people told stories with their art and I tried to and I stopped drawing for 5 years despite having. before that point been doing art studies for 8 to 10 hours a day for. 2 years.

I mostly just think it's because I have nothing to. say.

I can't add anymore tags to this post??? homophobia.

any way this post is useless idk I'm just sad because people do this thing so easily and enjoy it when it makes me break down crying. I don't get it. every person I've known regardless of neurodivergency has been able to do this consciously to some degree and enjoy it and meanwhile my stupid ass is asked how/why i chose something and I just. shrug. idk

looked nice?

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

���Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[buggachat]

im gonna be honest i think the "adrien being a sentimonster was randomly thrown in season 4 with no planning on the writers' part" theory is really funny. like the writers of this show are just so bad at their job and so stupid that they tripped and fell in season 1 episode mr pigeon and accidentally spilled "a strange relationship to feathers" all over adrien by accident. they stubbed their toe on the coffee table and accidentally set up a mystery surrounding emilie's relationship to a feathery miraculous in season 1 volpina before we even knew what its powers were. then they spilled coffee all over their favorite shirts and at the same time spilled more white feathers around adrien in season 2 episode gorizilla. while writing the same episode someone had a really nasty sneeze and got boogers all over the script that said "use the imagery of two twin rings intertwined as the opener for the film of adrien's dead mother". they forgot to look both ways before crossing the street while writing the season 2 finale and were struck by a truck labeled "the peacock miraculous gives life" and then by a second truck with the license plate "it does so using white feathers identical to the white feathers that surround adrien in his ads" at the same time. they plummeted down an open manhole and hit the ground with a loud whack that sounded like "sentimonsters like bugette are just as real as any human..... and isn't bugette so...... perfect?" in season 3. on their way to the hospital they slipped on ice that had frozen in such a way to perfectly resemble the sentence "the word 'perfect' is consistently used throughout the series and by the creator ominously to denote how characters like adrien and kagami are 'different from everyone else', ever since season 1 episode simon says". during season 3 someone on the team got food poisoning and when they threw up felix came out instead and started another whacky series of comedic errors. the answer to the mystery of "how and why did emilie die? what life did adrien's loving mother create that she was willing to die for?" was originally gonna be "idk maybe she just exploded or somehting" probably, but then there was a really painful rock in one of the writers' shoes while walking to work that put them in a mood so bad that they forgot their original plan and instead made some bullshit up that somehow ended up being something that made sense with what we knew and put all the puzzle pieces together and actually made the show even more interesting and impactful on a rewatch because it put a lot of shots that at the time seemed random into a new and logical perspective as clear foreshadowing. it's actually impressive how stupid these silly clown writers are that they put strangely specific things so consistently throughout the entire series that resembled foreshadowing while never actually having intended it a single time! like........... really.......... really impressive............... i think..............

[rose-pearls]

The perils of love

Summary: being in love with Luke seemed to be a bad idea as you realise that he doesn't seem to be interested. But as you get ready to move on from love entirely your father decides to appear and two people fall for you.

Main Taglist : @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

Part 2

Luke Castellan, everyone knew him at camp either for his sword skills or just his kind smiles for every camper that walked into the Hermes cabin. You had fallen for him the moment you met him, sweet brown eyes and a kind smile had you into a puddle. 

You had been twelve, wandering around the Hermes cabin, waiting desperately for your parent to claim you but the days went by, and you still were there. The little girls crush however didn’t went by but grew stronger every day you saw the boy who slowly turned into a man that had all the girls going crazy over him.  

He had been kind to you but there was always a look that you couldn’t decipher, until today that was.

“So, where is your number one fan Luke?”, you hear Chris say in a teasing tone and after a moment you hear Chris say your name, as if to make it clear it was you. 

“I don’t know and frankly I don’t have the time to care right now,” Luke says after letting out a sigh, but you felt your chest tighten at the words. Chris snorts at the words and you don’t expect what he says next.

“You know that there is a betting pool as to when the both of you are going to date,” you don’t know how Luke reacts, as you are practically one with the wall, but you hear him snort.

“Please, she is a sweet girl, but I would never date her. I don’t know how to explain it but sometimes she can just be a little-”, he seems to be trying to find his words and as you wait for it you feel tears brimming in your eyes at his previous statement.

“Clingy? I mean she is practically everywhere you are.”, the words are like a bullet to your heart, particularly when you hear Luke agree.

“I know right, I mean I know that she is still part of the Hermes cabin as she hasn’t been claimed yet but still,” you try to blink the tears away, not willing to cry as you hear the words being said by the man you had always looked up to. 

“Maybe she will never be claimed, I mean after three years,” Chris says, and you can hear the grimace in his voice, he says it with such carelessness as if you haven’t been thinking about the same thing every night for the past three years, wondering what was wrong with you.

“We’ll see what happens I guess, but maybe it would be good for her to be in another cabin,” Luke says, he looks like he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, but Chris adds one last phrase to their conversation.

“Or better for you,” there is a quiet hum of agreement and that is the only thing you need before leaving the cabin quietly, the book that you had come for quickly forgotten.

You knew it was pitiful, the fact that they all seemed to know that you liked the Hermes boy and that they all pitied you for it. Because in the end the boy would never go for you, he had a hundred girls waiting for him and yet here you were hoping for the impossible.

Tears are brimming in your eyes, but you quickly brush them away, not wanting to cry after what had happened, you needed to be strong now. It was time for you to get over that stupid crush and get on with your life, maybe if you trained more your godly parent would finally recognize you and claim you.

“What are you doing here all alone?”, you suddenly hear someone say behind you and you turn around to find Annabeth looking at you with worried eyes.

“Thinking, the lake always seems to sooth me,” you say, the words coming a bit weaker than you intended them too. The girl simply nods at your words before sitting down next to you.

“What about you?”, you quietly ask her, and she lets out a sigh.

“Needed to get out a little bit, I can only strategise so much before going crazy,” she says with a small smile, and you can’t help but smile at her words.

“I’m sure your strategy will be incredible, as always,” you tell her and she simply nods, looking too far into her thoughts.

“Chiron is thinking of splitting up the Hermes cabin,” she suddenly says, and you turn to look at her in surprise.

“Really? How so?”, you can’t help but ask, wondering if this is maybe your chance to get a bit away from a certain Hermes boy.

“He thinks that the unclaimed children and children of minor gods should get the chance to chose in which team they want to be,” she looks conflicted, and you can understand why, this could mean less people for the blue team, her team.

“It seems like a kind gesture,” you can’t help but say and Annabeth nods in agreement.

“It is, although he could’ve said it sooner, now we all need to find a different strategy and we are going crazy with figuring out who will be on our team,” she seems overwhelmed, and you can’t help but put your hand on her shoulder trying to calm her down.

“Hey, calm down it will all be alright,” you tell her, and she takes a deep breath before slowly nodding in agreement.

“I know, I just don’t want to lose,” she says with a pout, and you can finally see the twelve-year-old she really is, that childlike excitement at the thought of capture the flag.

The both of you are deep in thought before her voice breaks the silence, her voice small as she talks.

“Which team are you choosing?”, it was probably a valid question to ask, you were unclaimed so you could technically choose which team to be on, but you just couldn’t get the previous conversation you had heard out of your head.

“The fact that you aren’t saying anything makes me think that you are going to go on the red team,” it seems like she is trying to tease you but there is some sort of hurt woven into her words.

“Don’t take it personally,” you can’t help but say, as much as you would’ve liked staying on the blue team you just couldn’t bear to be that close to Luke after what you had heard. You didn’t know what you would be doing tonight as you were sleeping in the same cabin as always, but he wouldn’t pay attention to you not unless you went to him.

“Did something happened with Luke?”, the carefully asked question makes you look at Annabeth with wide eyes, she had an understanding look in her eyes and you couldn’t help but curse the fact that she was Athena’s daughter.

“Nothing happened, I just realised that maybe I should get to know other people and that maybe it would get me out of my comfort zone,” there are a lot of things unsaid, Annabeth knows it too. Luckily, she doesn’t know of the conversation you had heard, or the fact that the words had cut you deeper than you could’ve ever thought they would. 

“You should probably tell Chiron and the red team, I heard that they were planning a strategy evening to talk about what they were going to do tomorrow,” you try to find anger in Annabeth’s eyes but there is only understanding and a lingering sadness that seems to disappear as you get up.

“Good idea, I will be doing that right now. Good luck on the strategy and don’t drive yourself crazy Annabeth you will do great,” you tell her, and a sweet smile appears on her lips as she nods slowly making you smile at her.

“Don’t be a stranger!”, she yells as you are about to leave, and you turn around to smile at her.

“I won’t!”, she looks reassured at the words before turning back to the water, leaving you to go towards Chiron office. 

--

“A little birdie told me you were on the red team,” you hear someone say and turn around to find Clarisse smirking at you.

“Would that little birdie be Chiron?”, you ask, feeling breathless after trying to stab the dummy about a hundredth time with your sword.

“I don’t reveal my sources princess,” she says with a smirk while you feel your cheeks heat up, you tell yourself it’s because of the work out you just did.

“We have a meeting tonight, after dinner at the Ares cabin,” she says while looking around the rink before picking up a sword.

“I’ll be there,” you tell her, expecting the girl to leave you alone but she just comes closer to you.

“After that there is a movie night and a sleepover, one of the Aphrodite kids managed to convince Chiron to allow it,” the words leave you confused for a moment, how would you even have a movie night with all these people.

“Only a few people are invited for that part,” she clarifies, and you feel breathless at the sight of her warm brown eyes, seemingly forgetting about other brown eyes.

“How come I am invited?”, you can’t help but ask, wondering why the Ares girl suddenly seemed sweet to you when she was practically attacking anyone else. 

“Don’t ask too many questions or you’ll be uninvited princess,” the nickname rolls of her tongue in a way that makes your cheeks go red, once again.

“Fine I’ll stop asking questions and just come with my pajama’s,” you tell her, and a satisfied grin makes his way on her lips.

“Good, now back to serious stuff you were holding your sword the wrong way,” she says like it’s a fact, as if she was pointing out that the sky was blue.

“No, I wasn’t!”, you can’t help but say looking at her with wide eyes.

“Yes, it is, let me help you fix it. I need the best people on my team after all,” you get ready to object but as you feel her get behind you putting her hand over yours on the sword to put your hand correctly you find yourself speechless.

The next hour is spent fighting against each other, but you can’t stop laughing as Clarisse tells you stories of her siblings to try and distract you, which ultimately works as you often end up on your ass. You don’t even seem to notice another pair of brown eyes looking at you, farther away, brows furrowed as he looks at the scene in front of him.

--

“Welcome to the exclusive sleepover,” you hear a soft voice say and you turn around to find Silena smiling kindly at you, two glasses in her hands before giving one to you.

“Thank you, guess they really were exclusive as I had never heard of them before,” you say, feeling a bit nervous as you look around the room only to find Clarisse in a heated discussion with another Aphrodite girl.

“Clarisse only invites people that she trusts or likes, which isn’t many, but she does cares for them,” Silena smiles at the Ares girl in front of you and you can’t help but do the same, Clarisse always seemed to be angry but in that moment, she seemed far more softer.

“I’m glad she trusts me,” you say, somehow missing the look Silena gives you, a look of confusion as you seem to have missed her clue on Clarisse liking you.

Clarisse had always been discrete about it, but Silena had caught her looking at you far too often to not know about it. Her fingers always seemed to itch when you were sword fighting, as if she was itching to get your posture right and to be able to touch you even for just a few seconds. You only had eyes for the Castellan boy, or it seemed that way until yesterday when Chiron told them that you would be on their team. Silena didn’t ask much of her mother but in that moment, she couldn’t help but ask her mother for help to get the both of you together. Clarisse deserved her happy ending and you deserved someone who would love you for who you were.

She gets woken from her thoughts as she hears Clarisse talking to you, there is a nervousness in her gestures as she pushes her hair behind her ear, but you don’t seem to realize it as you recount a story. Silena quietly gets up from her spot, and sends and encouraging look towards Clarisse, who seems a bit more at ease now. 

--

Capture the flag is a mess, more than the last time but you try not to let your mind wander too long. A boy that you think is from the Hephaestus cabin runs towards you and you sigh in annoyance before starting to fight against him, quickly ‘killing’ him and making him surrender. 

You had been tasked with trying to find the blue flag, but it seemed as if Annabeth had found a really good spot this time, and she had put more people in defense. After a while you wondered if you had the wrong hunch until you saw something blue flickering in the reflection of your sword. As you turned to look behind you, you saw the blue flag but weirdly there was no one around it.

“This feels like a trap,” you can’t help but whisper under your breath as you try to hide behind the bushes but a blade against your neck makes you stop in your steps.

“Sorry, but I need to do this,” you hear someone say and you turn around to find a sheepish Percy looking at you.

“Hi Percy,” you say with a kind smile and the boy smiles back, looking reassured that you aren’t mad or swinging your sword at him.

“How are you doing?”, you can’t help but ask, you hadn’t seen him since he had been claimed by Poseidon, but the boy seemed healthy.

“Good, well as good as you can when you learn that your father is one of the big three’s and that your life will be a hellhole,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and you can’t help but snort.

“Still as sarcastic I see,” you can’t help but say while laughing and a sheepish grin forms itself on his lips.

“Can’t help it,” he says while shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s a shame you aren’t on our team,” he says quietly, and you smile softly, the two of you had talked a lot when he had arrived, and you felt close to him.

“Maybe next time,” you tell him and the boy smiles at the answer before asking you a question and the two of you talk for a moment before you hear a battle cry and see the red team suddenly making their way in the clearing, the blue team also appearing.

Percy and you look at each other with wide eyes before you take out your sword.

“If you don’t say anything about this, I won’t say anything,” Percy nods quickly and the both of you break away from the tree you were behind before joining your team as Percy joins his.

An Apollo girl comes running towards you, but you quickly manage to disarm her, others following behind her, but you are in such a haze that you don’t realize how close you are getting to the flag. That is until you are met with a familiar blade, Luke’s. 

The boy is looking at you, slightly out of breath from the fighting just like you.

“You can always abandon now sweetheart,” he says and can’t help but blush slightly at the familiar nickname. 

“No chance Castellan, give me your worst,” this seems to make the boy laugh before he quickly wields his swords, yours clashing against his in familiar movements. You had fought many times against Luke as he had taught you how to fight but you had a new trick up your sleeve that Clarisse had taught you. She had told you that his left leg was his weakness, a bruise that had never really fully recovered. 

So, when the opportunity presents itself, you wield your sword against his left leg, making sure not to hurt him too much. But as you hit the spot Luke winces in pain and his sword leaves his hand. You don’t think at that point and simply continue straight to the flag, whispering a soft ‘sorry’ as you go to the Hermes boy.

You manage to take the flag before seeing Percy coming towards you with his sword, you expect the hit, but he seems transfixed, looking at something above you. There is a loud silence, on a battlefield that was filled with battle cries just a second ago.

Chiron’s voice suddenly comes up, suddenly saying your name.

“Daughter of Zeus, king of the gods,” the rest of his words are lost as you look up, only to see the symbol of Zeus above your head, your father’s symbol.

You didn’t know how to feel, you had been waiting for so long but now that it was happening you just felt lost. Why was he claiming you right now?

“Congratulations! Seems like we are cousins now,” you suddenly hear Percy say, he has a bright smile on his lips, but there is also sadness in his eyes. It takes you a few seconds to understand why, you were now a child of the big three, which meant your life was about to be a hellhole as Percy had said.

“Always though there was something familiar between the two of us,” you try to say in a teasing tone, but it falls flat, Percy nodding in understanding.

As you turn around to look at the rest of the camp you see Luke looking at you with wide brown eyes, as if he was seeing you for the first time. You turn your gaze towards Clarisse who is looking at you with a proud smile and something else that you can’t quite understand.

There was surely a lot of trouble coming but not the one you were expecting, it would be far more complicated than monsters or a father that decided to appear after fifteen years. Matters of the heart were after all the most complicated of all, particularly between a daughter of Zeus, a daughter of Ares and a son of Hermes. 

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [3]

during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!

But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.

Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.

But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.

Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.

he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.

now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.

far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.

“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking” 

“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”

there is a pause …  he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.

“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.

“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”

“oh you simply must come visit!” 

well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?

things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.

their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.

but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.

There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?

Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.

Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t. 

He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.

so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.

It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.

it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere

Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy. 

And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.

Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?

He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.

he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.

Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.

If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions. 

Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.