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hhnguyen · 1 year

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aren’t you just precious

Everything medical related was a google search, so those in the medical field please don’t come for me - I was a literature major for a reason 😭

♢ Pairing: Parents!Jake & Neytiri x Oldest daughter!Reader

♢ Word count: 2k

♢ Genre: suspense, action, angst, slight humor - Warnings: explicit description of injuries, blood, cursing, reader is a lil crazy

⌲ Description: Your iknimaya goes a little south. Aka introducing the ‘demon ikran.’

M A S T E R L I S T

Jake Sully, a marine veteran at the age of twenty-two had gone through absolute hell on earth before ever setting his disabled ass on Pandora.

He thought he had seen the worse - comrades shot down right in front of his eyes, the blood covering their skin, blank dead eyes staring into his soul. Sometimes there were those who were actually blown to bits by bombs and grenades, screaming not even five feet away from him as they clutched their missing limbs, begging a nonexistent God for mercy.

Then there was his own injury. The pain he hardly remembered, because he had gotten to the point of delusion when they finally managed to drag him out of the war zone, half dead, and to the VA hospital.

The incoherent words he had heard after waking up from his surgery despite his hazy vision and buzzing hearing at that time, yet the truth coming out of the doctor’s mouth had still hit him in the face like the largest ‘fuck you and your life’ to exist.

“...ave severe spinal injury...fixable...expensive, marine.”

A severe spinal injury that was fixable but too expensive for a marine like him to afford.

For an active man as he had been in the past, the thought of being paralyzed from the waist had been his worst nightmare to the point of being ready to waste away his life.

Though even after all that shit, Jake Sully felt like he wanted to throw up as he stared at his oldest baby girl at the fresh age of fourteen laying there in front of him; delirious as he had once been in the same position, bleeding and bruised.

He could only thank Eywa that your heart was still beating and your body intact.

Well, mostly.

The almost nauseous angle of your left wrist certainly did not look natural. And their bones were fortified, stronger than anything else to human knowledge. Yet it had managed to snap as easily as that.

Neytiri - his beautiful, poor mate. She was distraught, one would say more so than him. Sitting only inches away from your fevering form in one of Hell’s Gate treating rooms for avatars, muttering prayers with dried tears upon her face.

Your injuries had been so severe that not even the abilities of your grandmother, the Tsahik, could heal you solely through the spiritual power of Eywa. These kinds of injuries needed the advanced surgery of human technology.

His other children were barred from coming inside, having been firmly ordered to remain in their village as he and Neytiri made sure that you would be okay. None of them wanted to keep them away, but neither did they want them to be traumatized by seeing your bloodied and broken form.

A stark contrast from the smiling and proud sister that they knew.

And yet, you had still managed to complete your iknimaya.

Jake watched with a bated breath from the air upon Bob, his own faithful ikran through the years, as he saw the slight encouraging push Neytiri had given you on the edge of the nesting place. Your, oh so small form, looked firm and stubborn as you steadily stalked forward in a crouched form, the band for the beak held in your grasp with determination.

He watched as one ikran flew away. Then another. And another. A third one. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth.

He had lost count after the eleventh.

You were getting frustrated, he could see that. Neytiri was still there, calling out for you to calm down. To be patient as he moved Bob a little bit closer, but not too much to distract you if you were to see him hovering.

And there he was.

Jake had seen it before you did. The vicious screech even reached him high up in the clouds and echoed above all the other ikrans.

He felt his blood run cold as the midnight blue beast, nearly black in color with its yellow and green detailing jumped down from the highest point of the rocks and landed behind you as you whirled around with snarl of your own.

But then as fleeting as it had been, you had grinned, taking in the magnificent animal despite its bloodthirsty aggressiveness.

“Aren’t you just precious?” Neytiri had told him of your words in the aftermath.

His mate hollered in encouragement, and he could hardly stop the prideful tug of his own lips.

Rather than you leaping on the beast, Jake straightened up as he saw the ikran run at you as well. Both were only inches away from crashing, as you last minute decided to slide beneath its belly - slight enough to fit as you rolled away on the other side and then slung the catcher around its mouth swiftly before throwing yourself on its back.

His expectations had been hopeful from that moment. Positive. But wrong, oh so wrong.

Rather than trying to snap at you by turning, he watched in horror as the ikran seemed to have a human mind as it slammed against a stone wall, you hitting it first.

Neytiri had screamed, already half leaping forward but stopping herself as she saw you still clinging to the beast.

Both had thought that had been the worst of it until the ikran tried it again. This time deliberately falling backward to land on its back with a rumble, where you were hung on.

“LET GO MA ‘ITE! LET GO!” Neytiri was yelling. Or begging. He couldn’t be sure in his own fear.

But both of them underestimate you, as a growl mixed with what Jake had assumed to be a painful yell from yourself erupted. Legs manage to wrap around the animal’s neck despite being crushed underneath its weight.

He saw belatedly you were only holding on to the banshee catcher with one hand as you pulled at its head hard enough to make the animal let out another vicious muted screech.

And then you truly proved you were his daughter.

“C’MON YOU MOTHERFUCKER. GRANDPA BOB WAS BETTER THAN THIS!”

The ikran had gotten angrier, trashing before suddenly rolling like a fucking bowling pin on the stone-covered ground.

Towards the edge of the cliff.

Neytiri ran, and Jake dove, both reaching out and screaming your name as you and the ikran fell off the edge.

As his mate leaned almost desperately over the edge, Jake forced himself to draw Bob back up, only for a few seconds - not to interfere with the rite. But it was in those few seconds he felt like his heart had stopped beating.

There was that familiar screech again.

Then you were soaring.

Up in a straight line, past Neytiri and him. Tsaheylu clearly made as the ikran listened to your orders.

There was a blinding grin on your face as you soared, clearly looking for him and letting out a whoop.

The moment your eyes caught his, Jake felt his grin slip.

Your eyes, open just moments before suddenly rolled back. Your whole body went slack as you fell over the side, your newly bonded ikran screeching at the sudden weightless feeling as the bond broke and your body went straight down.

Jake hadn’t heard his desperate yell, this time diving down without stopping.

He thought you were dead when he managed to catch you and flew back up, only to have Neytiri meet him in the air on her own mount, an expression so clearly in distress. Without a word, they both made haste back to the village, your newly bonded ikran following closely behind.

“How is she?” His voice sounded like it had gone over fifty years of smoking with no water. It felt like his whole body was weighed down with stones.

“She’s alive,” that’s all that Max could offer with a grim expression. “She will need surgery. The momentum of her slamming repeatedly against stones with the ikran’s weight on top has managed to collapse a lung.”

Jake had never wanted to sob like a newborn baby until now. But he needed to remain calm, or at least sane. For Neytiri’s sake, and your siblings.

“Usually surgeries like these lead to long-term conditions in life, but we’re certain that with the Na’vi biology she will heal just fine without complications. But it’s the healing that will take time.”

He was nodding along, but it felt like he was far away. Only hearing a slight inconsistent sound in his ears as he watched through the see-through glass into the room where you were all connected up to tubes and an oxygen mask.

It was so human, the whole situation of you being in a hospital bed for avatars - Jake wanted to laugh. Not in humor, but maybe in slight delusion at the situation.

“Okay, okay…” he swallowed. “Anything else?”

His human friend was taking pity on him, Jake knew.

Max has been there since the beginning. Seeing Jake growing his own family and now being placed in this position. “Besides the broken wrist and strained ankle, it’s mostly cuts and bruises. So she will have to wear a brace as well as remain seated for the next week or so. And check-ups every three days.“

“Yeah, we can do that,” Jake croaked. “When’s the surgery?”

“As soon as possible.”

Another nod. “Thanks, man.”

“Of course.”

He had to nearly pry Netytiri away from you as she snarled protectively. But he had to explain that she couldn’t join in on the surgery due to contamination concerns. The whole room had to be fixed to match that of a Na’vi body, the surgeons wearing oxygen masks as the space was filled with Pandora’s toxic air for your sake.

It was an open lung surgery, Jake had been told. A risky procedure even on earth. It had taken four hours. Four hours full of anxiety and fear.

But you had pulled through, Max said, Norm closely behind with a relieved teary smile himself. The man was like another uncle to the kids despite his avatar form. He had watched their ceremonies, rites and connections to Eywa. So to Norm, this was just like a family member to him.

You had slept for a full day and a half after the surgery, still confined to the avatar hospital room before your eyes had fluttered open with difficulty. A cough erupted followed by your painful whine at the action.

Netytiri had hushed you gently, crouching down and stroking your hair back. Fresh tears fell at seeing you conscious again after so long, sobs breaking out as you flashed a sleepy smile at her.

Neytiri had felt like Eywa had pulled the entirety of Pandora away from underneath her feet during the hours of your examination and surgery. Clutching Jake to her and never wanting to let go as her oldest baby was at the mercy of nature and your own will to live through.

But she knew.

You were strong. You always had been. And you had fought.

Neytiri had never imagined a day when one of her biggest nightmares nearly came to pass.

To lose one of her children.

She would rather throw herself off the highest point on Ayram alusìng than lose one of her precious babies before their time. She believed in Eywa with her whole heart and soul and knew their beings were only borrowed and one day had to be returned.

But Eywa would not take her children away from her until Neytiri herself agreed.

Until that time, she would do anything to protect them. But to have it happen during one of their most treasured rites in life had prevented her from doing many things.

Interfering for once. Because you had said so before as if knowing how horribly wrong it could go.

“Do not stop me, mama. I can do this on my own.”

Of course, you could. And you did.

Despite having to brush the doors to Eywa’s home yourself to succeed.

And as your parents carefully helped you back home to the village after five days of observation at Hell’s Gate after your surgery, you couldn’t help but snicker despite the stabs of pain.

Your mom had admonished you gently to not aggravate your wounds. Whereas your dad held back the roll of his eyes with amusement tickling the sides of his mouth.

“Why are you laughing, flower?”

Your grin was shit-eating as you looked up at him.

“My iknimaya was so much cooler than Toruk Makto’s.”

“You little skxawng.”

I feel like I lowkey pulled this one out of my ass, but oh well.

taglist: @nao-cchi @eywas-heir @ssc7514 @spicycloudsalad @calums-betch @httpjiikook @ricecakeslove @fanboyluvr @iwaslikeblah @the-wandering-pan-ace @avatarloversblog @eternallyvenus @enchantinggoateefox @arianapntn @heydemonsitsme @slyvixen1029 @promiseofeywa @love13tter @directioner5life @bambisposts-blogs @melllinaa @sugarmummystuff6 @lovekeeho @hai-kbai

#avatar #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water #sully family #sully family x reader #jake sully x reader #dad jake sully #jake sully imagine #jake sully x daughter #mom neytiri #neytiri x you #neytiri x daughter!reader #sully reader #sully daughter

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ozzgin · 4 months

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Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (III)

On your travels with the two demon companions, you stumble upon a fortified village plagued by monster attacks. It would be quite unlucky if the grand finale happened just as you step foot inside, right? Worry not, you're saved by a third mysterious yokai that you immediately recognize. The harem grows!

Content: female reader, monsters, violence

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]

“Alright, how’s this?”

You do a clumsy pirouette before the two yokai men.

“That’s...are you sure?” Kiritsubo eyes you, mildly confused. “It’s usually what men wear.”

Of course, you already know. After weeks of walking through feudal Japan, you’ve reached the conclusion that modern clothing isn’t the most practical choice. Not to mention the strange looks you always get from other people upon your arrival in any village. You needed something to blend in, and the typical fashion for your gender might not be compatible with your training. You’d rather not swing a sword while covered in multiple layers of kimono.

Thus, you opted for the hakama pants typically worn by men. With your hair tied up and in this baggy attire, one could think you’re a young samurai. If they squint enough. You chuckle at the thought.

“She’ll wear whatever allows her to not be a burden.” Murasaki concludes with crossed arms.

One way to put it, you tell yourself.

“If you’re done discussing fashion, we can leave.” The dark-haired man continues with indifference, standing up and adjusting the swords in the folds of his sash.

Both you and Kiritsubo hurry and follow behind obediently.

“Where are we going this time?” You ask sheepishly.

“South-west. An old residence of his, although we will have to pass through a fortified settlement first. We should reach it before sunset.”

It’s hard to imagine you’re the supposed savior in this equation. Murasaki has been leading you by the hand each step, carefully considering every detail on the map, and extensively planning your travels every evening. All this on top of your daily training. You’ve now mastered the basics with the katana he’s provided you, as well as some common prayers for exorcising small-class demons.

You glance at the daisho pair of swords under his belt. A long, thin blade, and a shorter backup version, both in elaborate matching scabbards meant to showcase the status and wealth of the samurai wearing them. In this case, meant to express his rank as the advisor and right hand of the famed onmyōji. You certainly don’t doubt Nakamaro’s decision to rely on Murasaki.

In comparison, Kiritsubo carries a nagamaki at his waist. A comically long blade in your opinion, used mostly to bring down horses during battle. Any regular sword would’ve been too small for him. Despite his imposing appearance, you’ve learned rather quickly just how different Kiritsubo is from the other yokai. He’s quite clumsy in combat, often anxious about making mistakes, terribly apologetic, and overall has a heart too kind for his own good. If there’s hesitation coming from his side, Murasaki immediately follows with his ruthless, ending blows. As a matter of fact, even you’ve had to do the occasional killing to spare the man of such choices.

The silver-haired demon notices your eyes on him and smiles, excited. He reminds you of a large dog. A horned, fanged dog of monstrous strength, nonetheless the innocence is there. And he does make a great travel companion.

“How much longer?” You grunt, looking up.

“Are you tired? I can carry you for the rest of the way-” Kiritsubo instantly offers but is interrupted by Murasaki’s barked orders.

“She can walk. Don’t spoil her.” He glares at you, then nods ahead. “We’re almost there, so quit your whining.”

True to his word, you can finally discern the outline of a wall at the top of the hill. A few more steps, and you can even spot two guards standing beside the great gate.

“Stop there!”

The soldiers lift their spears threateningly. Before you can react, Murasaki steps in front of you with a hand placed on his sword.

“We’re just passing through.” He states factually.

“We’re no longer allowing visitors.” One of the guards exclaims. “The village has been raided by monsters recently and our Lord has closed all gates until the matter is solved.”

“That means no filthy demons go in.” The other adds in a mocking tone, his gaze lingering on the horns of your companions. His mouth curls in disgust.

You can tell Murasaki is angered by the disrespectful approach. He is not one to let such insults slide and you’d rather avoid him claiming unnecessary victims; therefore, you push past his arm and plant yourself ahead with a polite greeting bow.

“These yokai are with me. I vouch for their good behavior, so please consider letting us through. Perhaps we can even help you with these monsters.”

“You? How would you…”

The man stops abruptly, switching between you and the yokai. Eventually he inspects your scabbard, and he gasps, confusion twisting his features.

“Could it be? No…He’d be dead by now.”

“What are you talking about?” His partner inquires impatiently.

“That’s the family seal belonging to Abe no Nakamaro.” He explains, pointing to the golden finish at the end of your katana handle. “I’ve heard about him from my grandparents. But it’s been decades!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re saying this kid is a legendary onmyōji?”

“Who else would show up with demons as servants? Everything matches. Perhaps his powers have finally reached immortality”, he concludes solemnly.

The men continue their argument, and you clear your throat, embarrassed. What the hell? You can’t possibly look that manly. Sure, you’ve been skipping the makeup, and the clothes aren’t exactly curve shaping, but to be mistaken for an old man is like a slap to the face.

You’re about to deny their claims, but Murasaki swiftly pinches the back of your neck, and you wince. He lowers himself to your ear and whispers:

“This will be to our advantage. Just go along with it.” “Fine!” You mumble angrily. Then you turn back to the guards.

“V-very well, I see I haven’t been forgotten.” You admit, theatrically. “Lead me to your Lord and we shall discuss the details of your monster attack.”

Thus, you sip on your tea, kneeling at the luxurious table and awaiting the arrival of the feudal Lord. The servants are exchanging words, gossiping fervently next to the wall. “I wonder if he can cure my daughter!” one woman mumbles, visibly emotional.

“Do you think we can finally be saved? He’ll truly exorcise the beasts tormenting our village?” another whispers.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare at Murasaki. You had no idea he’d given you Nakamaro’s old sword. Now you’re stuck pretending to be a pompous, long-dead asshat.

“What if they catch us?” You hiss between your teeth. “I don’t know shit about onmyōdō.”

“Then I’ll just kill them all. Simple as that.” The crimson-eyed man retorts, unconcerned. “Have a little fun, won’t you?”

“W-we’ll help you come up with answers, (Y/N). Don’t worry.” Kiritsubo chimes in, trying to reassure you.

You sigh in frustration and look out the window. The sun must’ve set a long time ago and has since been replaced by a pitch-black sky. What’s keeping the Lord? Surely, he can’t be having important business meetings late at night.

Almost as if your thoughts were read, the door slides open and a servant wobbles in. The rest of the household workers are silent, expecting the entrance of their master, but no one is following behind. You observe the bizarre limp of the woman. Suddenly, she collapses to the floor, revealing her bloodied back torn by deep wounds, caused by some sort of claw. Her body is stiff.

Panic settles in right away, and the servants topple over each other to get away from the fresh cadaver. You struggle to get up among the terrified crowd, but thankfully Murasaki grabs your wrist and pulls you out into a quieter hallway.

“What the hell?” is all you manage to say.

“Rotten.” Kiritsubo furrows his brows, sniffing the air. “Someone in here must be possessed. Could be more of them.”

Murasaki surveys the surroundings and gestures towards his partner.

“We have to see if the Lord is still alive. You go that way. I’ll take the front. Kill everyone suspicious.”

“What about me?” You demand, holding your breath.

“Get out and wait for us. You know how to draw a protection circle, don’t you? I won’t take long.” The dark-haired yokai answers before vanishing.

Judging by the screams and wails coming from all directions, you suspect Kiritsubo is right about multiple attackers. You sprint across the hall, looking for an opening. The self-defense lessons didn’t cover cursed humans with demonic powers. You’ll stay out of this one.

What an absolute mess. You have encountered some demons in your weeks spent here, but nothing to this degree. When the guards mentioned a monster attack, you imagined a ghost with a grudge, or some small fry yokai scaring the workers at night, not a mass curse that ends in a massacre. Of course, it had to happen the moment you arrived at the main house.

You find a room with a door leading to the inner courtyard. Seems isolated enough and it should provide a bit of shelter while you wait for the pair to finish the business. As you rush past the dead bodies, you notice a woman hiding behind a screen divider.

“Ah! It’s you!” she yells, aware of your presence.

From the shadow of her secret spot emerges the small frame of a child. The woman pushes the little human towards you, blocking your path.

“Don’t worry, he’ll protect us.” she gives her child another nudge. “Go on, hold onto him. You’ll be safe.”

What? No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. You’re getting out.

“Ma’am, sorry to break it to you under such circumstances, but I’m not-”

You’re interrupted by a loud growl. One of the possessed creatures must’ve followed your scent, and it’s now sliding into the room on all fours with the bones of the limbs twisting and creaking in unnatural pounces. You purse your lips in a frightened grimace. One advantage of the wide hakama pants – useful to know – is that no one can see your knees shaking cowardly.

Theoretically, you could use the brat as bait and run for your life. It’d make a decent obstacle. Unfortunately for your life span, you’ve been gifted with an idiotic sense of duty instead of survival instincts.

“Keep your distance. If I can’t kill it, get out and don’t look back” you advise, positioning yourself in the learned stance and sliding the sword out of its sheath.

Damn it! Then again, it should be like fighting a zombie, right? Given the pathetic way it drags itself around, it can’t be too difficult to hit. Aim for the head, you repeat in your mind. Your fingers grip around the handle.

The ghoulish beast lowers itself, like a spring about to recoil, and leaps across the room with an ease you did not anticipate. Despite your iron hold, it slaps the blade out of your hands with enormous force. The impact breaks your skin, and you wince. There’s no time to weep, within seconds it could go for your vitals next. While Murasaki hasn’t gotten around to teaching you much hand-to-hand combat, you’ve read your fair share of shounen manga. The first idea that comes to mind is to put the beast in a sumo lock. You bend your knees smoothly and wrap your arms around the monster, feeling for something to hold onto. You grit your teeth and attempt to lift the creature.

A thundering laugh resonates within the walls, and you jolt, startled.

“I never thought I’d see the mighty Abe no Nakamaro wrestling with ankle biters like this. What are you going to do, throw it out of the ring?”

The voice is deep, loud, and unfamiliar. You can’t afford to look back to see the source, but it’s not hard to figure out the possibilities. So far, you’ve only been called by that cursed name by the yokai accomplices. Although now is not the best time to seek revenge.

“Shut up, I panicked”, you snap in frustration. “If you can’t help, keep that trap closed!”

The sudden burst of anger seems to have triggered something within your body, a power you don’t recognize. You watch as your arms effortlessly pick up the monster and swing it across the room, its body demolishing the opposing wall and causing thick clouds of dust to rise and spread everywhere.

The impact must’ve alerted the nearby ghouls, as you can now hear the agitated trample and screeching rapidly approaching. You’re not confident you can pull the same lucky move a second time.

You turn to search for your sword, but it’s already being handed to you by the mysterious yokai who’s been observing your little fight. You have to step aside and tilt your head all the way back in order to fully view the gigantic frame of the man.

Ah, you recognize the features immediately. The same kind of fear you felt when you stumbled upon that old shrine statue is now tugging at your chest.

“You’re Suma, right?”

A proud, wide grin forms on his face, revealing a pair of glistening fangs. His expression is unexpectedly soft and friendly.

“We’re halfway through our introductions then, eh?” You pick up the sword and his fingers stretch out for a handshake. “What is your given name? I’m guessing you don’t willingly go by that…title.”

“I very much prefer (Y/N), yes.” You marvel at the significant difference in size, placing your small hand in his. “Was that your power I just used?”

“Mhhm. You sure surprised me there! It’s not something I did intentionally, but I s’ppose we just resonate that well, huh?”

He laughs again, completely unbothered by the impending danger.

“Alright, you can leave the rest to me. Take the lady outside, it will get a little messy.”

And with that, he casually walks towards the gathering of ghouls. You guide the family to the courtyard and wait for the battle to end.

“Do you think she’ll be fine by herself?” Kiritsubo is resting against the fence, keeping you under a watchful gaze.

“Let the humans sort it out among themselves.” Murasaki responds, somewhat bored.

The morning after the attack, you offered to deal with the survivors: ask them how everything started, if they’d noticed anything suspicious days prior to the event, and if the route to Nakamaro’s old residence was still open. The yokai men had found the feudal Lord in the jaws of a possessed creature and he quickly succumbed to his wounds. Consequently, only the remaining servants could provide them with clues.

A village being targeted like this is highly unusual, and Murasaki can’t shake the feeling it could be related to their master.

“Oh, where are you heading after this?” The silver-haired yokai glances at Suma, sitting lazily next to them.

“Where? After you just told me the whole story? I’m way too invested in this modern reincarnation that just popped out of nowhere, so I’m tagging along!” He announces with a chuckle.

Murasaki frowns.

“We don’t need your help.”

“Don’t be like that.” The giant man pouts dramatically. “Are you upset I saved (Y/N) before you?”

“W-we were on our way!” Kiritsubo retorts, visibly bothered.

“It’s a done deal!” Suma rests his hands under his head and yawns. “Besides, the little human already said he doesn’t mind.”

“He? (Y/N) is a woman.”

The redhead abruptly sits up and gasps.

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t get funny ideas, man”, the silver-haired demon warns.

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hartleysbaldursgateblog · 4 months

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yknow thinking about it. In the intro cinematic for bg3 it was clearly daytime when the nautoloid came to baldur’s gate, which makes me wonder—how exactly did they get Astarion? the szarr palace is pretty heavily fortified and the spawn rooms or kennels where he would be have a lot of building between them and the outer walls, and astarion would have had to be inside right? Cazador notes Astarion never returned from his hunt, implying he disappeared at night, but the nautoloid struck during the day so like. Did the nautoloid just randomly punch a tentacle straight through the palace wall and happened to get Astarion completely by chance and Cazador just. didn’t believe the spawn when they told him about it. were they like “master a giant tentacle shot through the wall and teleported astarion away somewhere” and he went “oh yeah yeah we had ‘giant tentacles shooting through the wall and teleporting us away somewhere’ when I was a spawn too. lying ass.”

edit: I understand now that this was yartar, a different city, but I love how in the tags all of yall collectively decided that this is the funnier interpretation

#astarion #bg3

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tylermileslockett · 7 months

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Mount Olympus: Home of the Olympians

The real-world Mount Olympus is the highest peak in Greece and is located between the borders of Thessaly and Macedonia. The kingdom of the gods sits high upon the mountain as a majestic, bronze Acropolis (fortified hill top citadel). In Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey we get our earliest references, where the peaks of Olympus are described as “rugged’ or “cloud-dark” and the acropolis described as “bronze-founded” and “under golden clouds.” (Lattimore). The fortress sits below the great sky dome, within in a specific position upon the mountain, in the light, blue upper air of Aether. Below that was the middle air Khaos which enveloped mortals, and finally the lower, dark subterranean mists of Erebos.

Guarding the gates were the goddesses of Seasons, constellations, and time; the Horai. Within the fortress complex was Zeus’ grand palace, along with the lesser palaces of other Olympians, and a divine stable for many of the different gods’ immortal chariot horses. In the golden court, the Olympians held councils to decide mortals’ fates, and feast-hall style banquets; drinking sweet, magical Nectar from golden goblets and eating restorative Ambrosia to maintain immortality by sustaining the fluid within the gods veins; Ichor. Twenty golden tripod Automotons (programmed machines), ingeniously invented by the smith god Hephaestus, autonomously wheeled food and drink amongst the deities.

Did I miss any fascinating info about Olympus? Please let me know below! And if you can share this image with your followers I'll be happy to send you over an automaton with a goblet of ambrosia to keep your ichor running clear!😁🤟❤️

Support my book kickstarter "Lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in early 2024.

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ghcstify · 24 days

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✦ . ⁺ BITTER GIFT

carl grimes x fem reader

¡! warnings: enemies to lovers, death, weapon mentions, blood, injuries, angst & traumatic events

¡! a/n: this is a looooong one (specifically 3.6k words, um..) and it doesn’t really have to do with carl that much until the middle, sorry about that :c

the day you lost your parents is one you'll never forget. the sudden screams and gunshots continue to echo in your mind. you had a strong sense that you were one of the few who managed to escape the overrun camp where you and your family had stayed from the very beginning. despite being dehydrated and exhausted, you somehow managed to survive on your own for a while. then one day, you suddenly found you weren't alone anymore.

hearing footsteps behind you, you swiftly drew your knife from your hip and held it out in front of you. you found yourself at a doorway, realizing you needed to act swiftly to eliminate what you believed to be a walker. as you quickly moved past the door frame, you were met with a crossbow aimed directly at your face by a middle-aged man.

“daryl?” you heard another man speak, and with that, your anxiety intensified. you heard another pair of footsteps come up behind the guy who had his crossbow pointed at you. “put it down, she’s just a child,” the blue-eyed man spoke, and as the other man listened intently, he slowly lowered the crossbow from your face.

“i’m rick, this is daryl. what’s yours?” the man with blue eyes spoke. for some reason, you found yourself unable to even say your name to these strangers. you couldn’t determine if they were dangerous or if they had others around them waiting to harm you. you just weren’t sure. after a while, you finally spoke up. “y/n, i’m y/n,” you responded, lowering your knife to signal that you intended no harm. silence filled the air for what seemed like an eternity before rick finally spoke, “how many walkers have you killed?”

“what?”

“how many walkers have you killed?”

with the sudden question to which you had no answer to, your nervousness intensified. “i… i don’t know, i lost track,” you responded, hoping that not having an answer wouldn't cause any trouble. “how many people have you killed?” he posed yet another unusual question. with that question remaining unanswered, you took a deep breath before replying, “two.”

“why?”

why? what did he mean by “why”? given that your response to the “why” question might be hurtful, you took a moment to collect yourself before addressing yet another question. “my mom and a stranger because they asked me to,” you answered. rick gave daryl a sidelong glance, which left you confused. you still couldn't decide whether they were good people or not.

“we’re part of a larger community, you look like you could use it,” rick mentioned. you had observed daryl's silence, suggesting that he was likely a very reserved individual. at first, you were unsure of what to say, realizing how big of an opportunity this was in such a world. searching for the right words, all you could express was, “really? i would love to.”

before you realized it, you found yourself in an actual car with rick at the wheel and daryl in the passenger seat, heading towards what he described as a “large community.” the journey was marked by an unsettling silence, which only added to your discomfort. however, if they were telling the truth, it would be worth it.

upon finally arriving at the community, you looked out the window to see actual houses still standing, walls fortifying the area, and a sign that read, “welcome to the alexandria safe zone, mercy for the lost, vengeance for the plunderers.” observing this sign and noting all the pre-apocalyptic details, you genuinely felt a sense of safety and assurance that nothing bad would happen here.

rick had opened the car door for you, allowing you to step out and walk through the gates of your future. this gesture made you reconsider your initial impression, thinking that perhaps these people were not as bad as you had thought. taking everything in, rick began to speak, “if you don’t mind, my son’ll show you around. is that okay with you?” quickly nodding in response, daryl spoke up and instructed a middle-aged, brown-haired woman to open the gate. as the gates closed behind you, she approached and began to examine you. “i’m rosita,” she extended her hand towards you, signaling for a handshake. putting your hand in hers and shaking each others hand, you replied, “i’m y/n.”

after sharing your painful past with rosita for a moment, you hear footsteps approaching. turning around, you see a boy wearing a cowboy hat with long hair and a bandage over his left eye. “my dad wanted me to show you around,” he spoke, his voice carrying a subtle hint of annoyance. after parting ways with rosita, you found yourself walking in silence alongside the boy. “you never told me your name,” you finally break the unbearable silence by speaking up. “uh, it’s carl,” he replies, his voice still carrying that slight hint of annoyance. realizing that he didn't really want to be there, you remain silent. it becomes clear that carl isn't much of a people person, or perhaps you haven't been around him long enough for him to warm up to you.

an hour or two passed with carl still giving you a tour, yet you still felt as if he didn't like you. perhaps your gut feeling was right — maybe he really did want you gone. however, all you wanted was to make friends. after the lengthy tour was over, you found yourself sitting on your bed. unsure of what to do next, you layed down and drifted off to sleep.

months had passed, and you had developed many friendships, including with rosita, glenn, michonne, rick, and maggie; unfortunately, carl was not among them. in all honesty, you found that you didn't mind. you were beginning to feel similarly, not particularly liking him, though you couldn't quite discern the reason why. upon hearing the gossip, you learned that rick and carl had encountered someone in a gas station parking lot. you felt a pang of guilt, knowing that you were in that situation at once and you realized that you needed to take action. you decided to approach rick to discuss the situation and possibly work something out with him.

“if you decide to do what you’re going to do, i’d feel better with carl by your side,” rick spoke as you stood at the doorway of the house he shared with michonne and carl. “rick, you know he doesn’t like me,” you replied, feeling a sense of anxiety about having to work with someone who seemingly didn't even like you. “then i don’t know what to tell you,” he responded, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. as he conveyed this information, you started to carefully contemplate your course of action. silence filled the house before you finally spoke, “okay, do you think you could talk to him?” before replying, he gave you a reassuring nod,

“of course.”

and with that, you retreated to your room to figure out what your plan was going to be. about an hour later, a knock sounded at your bedroom door. for some reason, you believed it was carl, and you took a deep breath before saying, “come in.” the door opened swiftly to reveal rosita.

“i heard what you’re doing,” she said as she stood at your doorway, the worry evident in her brown eyes. “i kind of have to do this, rose,” you replied as you began to contemplate where you would be right now if it weren’t for rick and daryl. she sighed before approaching you and taking a seat beside you. “i get that,” she remarked before continuing on, “but you really don’t have to.” you shook your head from side to side, indicating your disagreement with her. “i somehow got saved, so why not save someone else in return?”

“y/n….”

she spoke in a tone that conveyed her concern for you. giving her a smile, she embraced you before expressing her feelings in more profound words, “just be careful, please.”

“i will, i promise.”

after rosita had left, your door creaked open to reveal rick, who acknowledged you with a nod, indicating that he had successfully convinced carl to work with you. the next morning, you waited at the gate for carl to arrive, eager to get this over with. despite your efforts to convince yourself that carl wasn't such a bad person, you still couldn't find yourself caring for him. lost in thought, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. turning around, you saw carl finally making his way towards you. you turned back around to head out of the gate, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself for the discomfort that was about to ensue.

rick had previously informed you both that this individual followed specific routes each day. since today was one of the days he would pass through the forest, you and carl waited for him at that location. breaking the silence, carl finally initiated the conversation, “how long were you out there?” not fully believing that he was actually addressing you, you turned to look at him before replying, “about 3 to 4 months, i kind of lost track after a while.” he nodded in response and once again, he spoke up, “where are your parents?” with carl posing all these questions, you started to think that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “dead,” you responded, maintaining your composure by looking at the ground.

“i’m sorry.”

before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by footsteps. you and carl exchanged a nod and with this, you both approached the man, hands raised to signal that you meant no harm. “we’re not going to hurt you,” carl remarked, directing his gaze toward the man who had just finished killing a walker. after carl had spoken, it was your turn. you grabbed the bag of food and water and tossed it to the man. “there’s food and water in there.”

addressing the bag of food and water, the man fell to the floor, grabbing it and opening it. he grasped the bottle of water and chugged it, which reassured you about the decision you had made. “i’m glad i found you,” carl stated, breaking the silence. “you were looking for me?” the man inquired as he rose to his feet. “me and her, we’re in a community,” carl dodges the man’s question with a statement that could positively impact the man’s life. putting your hands down, the two of you slowly approach the man, as you begin to speak, “we’re going to ask you a few questions. we need you to answer honestly, okay?”

“how many walkers have you killed?” carl asked, breaking the silence, his voice carrying a tone of curiosity and anticipation. “i know it’s hard to keep track-“

“237.”

“really?” you asked with a professional tone and a thoughtful demeanor. “give or take a couple,” the man responded as he glanced at the walker he had previously put down. and with that, carl asked the second question, “how many people have you killed?”

“one.”

“why?” you asked, curious to know his answer. “dead tried to kill him, but they didn’t.” he responded while looking down at the ground. both you and carl had nodded at his response.

as you surveyed your surroundings, you observed that the man employed traps to kill the walkers. “you’re making walker traps. is that how you’ve killed so many?” you ask as you draw attention to his method of eliminating walkers. “it’s only part of it…. my mom thought, or hoped that killing them would.. free their souls,” he replied in a genuine and sincere tone, his words carrying a sense of honesty and earnestness that was unmistakable. after he stated this, you and carl exchanged a glance before refocusing your attention on the man. “you know, maybe she was right,” he continued speaking, his tone growing increasingly sincere.

“but doing that, doesn’t it just make things harder for you while you’re trying to survive?” carl asked as he closed the distance between him and the man. “i… i don’t know. but you… you gotta honor your parents, right?” the man spoke once again, his tone genuinely sincere. “if i wasn’t honoring my dad, we wouldn’t be talking right now,” carl replied with a slight smile spread across his face before continuing on, “and i definitely wouldn’t bring you back to our community.”

walking back to alexandria and engaging in conversation, you discovered that the man's name was siddiq. suddenly, you had encountered a few walkers — nothing that you couldn’t take care of…. right? drawing your knife, you noticed that siddiq had fallen to the ground due to a walker, and carl looked at you. “go! help him, i got this,” you shouted as you plunged your knife into the head of one of the walkers. unaware, you found yourself trapped and fell backward onto a deer that the walkers were feeding on. your knife had landed roughly two feet away, and as you layed on the ground, three walkers had fallen on top of you.

as you attempted to reach for your gun, you felt a burning sensation on the side of your torso.

fortunately, you managed to equip your gun and shoot all three walkers. pushing their bodies off of you, you stood up to find carl and siddiq looking at you. "are you okay?" carl asked, worry evident on his face. “we should go,” you avoided his question, pushing past the two who exchanged a glance as you walked by.

the walk back was as dreadful as you had anticipated; no one uttered a word or noise, except for your coughing. to enter alexandria without raising questions about siddiq, the three of you decided to use the sewers. as you climbed in, you noticed that carl kept staring at you. “i’m fine,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t catch on. you could sense carl's suspicion, but he chose to remain silent after replying with an “ok.”

upon finally arriving in alexandria, you went directly to your house without speaking to either carl or siddiq. you hurried upstairs to your bathroom, where you removed your flannel to reveal blood seeping through the right side of your light brown shirt. removing your shirt, you inspected it and discovered a bite mark. looking at your abdomen through the mirror, you realized the dreadful truth: you had been bitten.

“fuck.”

you began to panic, fully aware of what needed to be done. closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and opened them again. to distract yourself, you decided to take a shower to clean up. afterward, you put clothes on, dressed and applied a bandage over the bite mark.

now, you found yourself in your room, writing letters to everyone you cared for, including carl. once you had finished, you sat on your bed and began to cry, feeling as though you had been saved for nothing. beginning to feel tired, you closed your eyes.

finally waking up, you noticed it was pitch black outside. surely, you hadn't slept that long... or perhaps it was just a side effect of the bite. trying not to think about it, you started to hear commotion outside and a sudden knock at your door. believing that an enemy had somehow gotten in, you grabbed an axe that you kept in your room for protection. the door suddenly swung open, revealing carl standing there. “carl? what the hell is happening out there?” you ask, your worry unmistakable in your voice. “the saviors. come on, we gotta go!” he responds as he takes your hand, guiding you both out of your house.

from a distance, you began to hear negan's voice, and an idea formed in your mind. “carl, i need you to follow me,” you said as you turned to look at him. “just trust me, okay?” now, you found carl following you to the watch tower at the front of alexandria where he began to climb up with you. “no. stay here, please,” you stated as he complied with your instructions. climbing up the ladder, negan began to speak again, “okie dokie. you brought this on yourself, rick. you see, i was willing to work with you. all you had to do was follow a few very simple rules. well, now i see that you’ve got to go! scorched earth, you dick.”

“he’s not home,” you shout upon reaching the top as the saviors aim their guns at you.

“oh-ho! holy shit! everybody hold your fire, it’s y/n,” negan remarks with a chuckle. “look at you, answering the door like a big girl. i am so proud. rick’s not home, huh? well i guess he’s gonna get back to a big ol’ smokey surprise!”

“there’s families in here,” you interrupt him with a stern voice before continuing on, “kids, carl’s little sister.”

“well that shit just breaks my heart. there’s kids at the sanctuary, you must’ve seen ‘em,” he responds in a measured tone. “even had a little baby at one of the outposts. i wonder what happened to her,” he continued speaking before beginning to walk around.

after a brief moment of silence, negan began to speak again, “none of this shit’s fair, kid. hell, you know that. you had to kill your own mom. that is screwed up. we need someone in charge who’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that shit doesn’t happen. oh-ho, wait! that’s me!”

“bad stuff does happen, but we can figure this out. we can stop this,” you respond with a somewhat convincing tone before negan interrupts.

“oh now you wanna talk? see rick had it that i died, no matter what. he gave my people a choice, not me. so now, we’re gonna need a new understanding: apologies, punish-“

“kill me,” you interrupt with a tone that is both desperate and heartbreaking.

before speaking, negan moves closer to you than he was before, “what did you say?”

“if you have to kill someone, if there has to be punishments, then kill me… i’m serious,” you respond, your voice beginning to slightly crack.

“you wanna die?” negan asks with a slight smirk spread across his face.

“no i don’t,” you reply as you shake your head side to side, “but i will…. it’s gonna happen. if… if me dying could stop this, if it can make things different for us, for you, for all those other kids, it’d be worth it.”

“i mean.. was this the plan?” you ask after a couple seconds of silence, “was it supposed to be this way? is this who you wanted to be?”

with a lot of commotion in the background, negan looks away from you, giving you the chance to get away. just as you're climbing down the ladder, you hear negan’s voice, “son of a bitch, y/n! was that just a play? i thought we were having a moment, you little asshole! bombs away!”

“what the hell was that?” carl asks you as you drop down to the ground. you ignore his question and proceed to take gas bombs out of your bag, handing a couple to him. understanding that this is all part of your plan, carl follows your lead.

after deploying numerous gas bombs, you and carl find your visibility severely impaired. slowly, you both make your way to the sewers. upon climbing into the sewers, your body began to feel weak, which heightened your anxiety. stumbling over your own feet, carl swiftly came to your aid, helping you to regain your balance.

“just put me down here,” you uttered in a weakened voice. “y/n?” carl expresses with concern before assisting you to sit down on the ground. kneeling beside you, carl watches intently as you slowly lift your shirt to reveal the bite mark.

“no no no, what? why didn’t you tell me?” carl asks, his eyes remaining on the bite mark, unable to believe that this is truly happening. despite the pain, you managed to give carl the most reassuring smile you could before replying, “it was bound to happen, carl.”

“bullshit.”

“no, it… it should’ve been me,” he continues speaking as he takes a seat beside you. feeling pain coursing through your body, you begin to grow weaker and weaker. your vision starts to blur, and your breathing turns into wheezing.

clearly concerned for your well-being, carl carefully lifted you and managed to navigate out of the sewers. thankfully, the saviors had ceased their bombing, and despite the surrounding fires, carl successfully brought you to a safe haven — the church. as carl was laying you down, your condition deteriorated rapidly; it felt as though you had been thrown off a cliff and subsequently run over.

“hey…. i just wanted to let you know that i got the wrong impression of you,” you spoke with a weak voice, which shattered carl's heart. “i got the wrong impression of you, too,” he responds, his voice beginning to crack. “if i knew that getting to know you would’ve helped, i would’ve done it a lot sooner,” he continues, and his words provoke a shared chuckle before you start coughing up blood.

“carl, i need you to-“

“stop it,” he interrupts you, his gaze shifting downward. after a moment, he takes a deep breath before slowly drawing his gun. cries begin to fill the church as he slowly raises the gun to your head before he spoke in a soft voice, “i wish we had more time.”

“maybe in another universe. but in this one, it was just a bitter gift.”

and with that, the gunshot echoed through your mind, bringing the pain to a final end.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #writing #angst #the walking dead fanfiction #carl grimes fanfiction

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brother-emperors · 6 months

Text

ANTONY cry 'havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war

earlier in my script (which is not Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar), Antony refers to Dolabella as one of his ‘dogs of war’ when talking to Cassius (which IS a reference to Shakespeare’s JC), and it comes back around after Cicero writes to Cassius and informs him of Trebonius’ fate

While these things were taking place at Rome, Cassius and Brutus were collecting troops and money, and Trebonius, governor of the province of Asia, was fortifying his towns for them. [...] Trebonius, who was captured in bed, told his captors to lead the way to Dolabella, saying that he was willing to follow them. One of the centurions answered him facetiously, "Go where you please, but you must leave your head behind here, for we are ordered to bring your head, not yourself." With these words the centurion immediately cut off his head, and early in the morning Dolabella ordered it to be displayed on the praetor's chair where Trebonius was accustomed to transact public business. Since Trebonius had participated in the murder of Caesar by detaining Antony in conversation at the door of the Senate-house while the others killed him, the soldiers and camp-followers fell upon the rest of his body with fury and treated it with every kind of indignity. They rolled his head from one to another in sport along the city pavements like a ball till it was completely crushed. This was the first of the murderers who received the meed of his crime, and thus vengeance overtook him.

App. Civil Wars III. 26

For Dolabella is in Syria, and, as you have foreseen in your prophetic soul and have foretold, Cassius will crush him while they are on their way. For Dolabella has had the gates of Antioch shut in his face and got a good beating in trying to storm it. Not trusting in any other city, he has betaken himself to Laodicea, on the sea-coast of Syria. There I hope he will speedily pay the penalty of his crime: for he has no place of refuge, nor will he much longer be able there to stand out against an army as large as that of Cassius. I even hope that Dolabella has by this time been overpowered and crushed.

Cic. Fam. 12.14

Place then before your eyes, O conscript fathers, that spectacle, miserable indeed, and tearful, but still indispensable to rouse your minds properly: the nocturnal attack upon the most beautiful city in Asia; the irruption of armed men into Trebonius’s house, when that unhappy man saw the swords of the robbers before he heard what was the matter; the entrance of Dolabella, raging,—his ill-omened voice, and infamous countenance,—the chains, the scourges, the rack, the armourer who was both torturer and executioner; all which they say that the unhappy Trebonius endured with great fortitude. A great praise, and in my opinion indeed the greatest of all, for it is the part of a wise man to resolve beforehand that whatever can happen to a brave man is to be endured with patience if it should happen.

Cicero, Philippic 11

Philippi and Perusia, Ronald Syme

ko-fi⭐ bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara.app

#the actual line cassius has here is 'tell mark antony im going to kill his fucking dog' but it doesn't work without the context #of antony earlier calling dolabella one of his dogs. so. i have edited it slightly to provide that context #this is also the one thing that cassius doesn't forgive brutus for because it's brutus who wanted antony left alive #and the dots are simply that if antony was dead then trebonius would not be #brutus can get away with everything else in the name of love. but not that one #(i'll do anything for love but i wont do that etc)#you might say. hey. it doesn't seem like you like brutcass very much. incorrect! i love it a lot! i just want to make them worse #also one of the most romantic scenes ive ever watched in my life in a show was a breakup scene and ive been chasing that high #ever since. but mostly i think theres a tragedy to brutus’ decision making and there should be narrative consequences #roman republic tag #komiks tag #drawing tag #gaius cassius longinus #marcus junius brutus #gore cw #In appian’s text. it’s pretty gnarly tbh

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literatecowboy · 10 months

Text

The King With No Name

1. An Unconventional Princess

Part 2 here Summary: König - the king of Caldera - has been called upon by your father to choose a bride from his daughters in order to establish an alliance to keep peace over the lands they rule. When he arrives, he is enraptured by you, your father’s eldest child - an unconventional woman by all standards. He pursues your hand in marriage, doing his best to make you fall in love with him like he has fallen in love with you - much to your dismay Author's Notes: Inspired by the royalty fics I’ve been seeing around lately Warnings: Arranged marriage, eventual smut, pining, dogged pursuit of reader’s love and affection

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Kaustav Castle was well-positioned and well-fortified and as a result, had stood the test of time and war. Built at the intersection of three rivers on a large, grassy plain, it had served as the seed of a kingdom and a city had sprung up around it.

Many kings had walked its halls and ruled from its throne. Blood had been spilled on its battlements and fires had ripped through the chambers but she stood strong through war, flood, and plague.

The times were peaceful now and your father intended to ensure they remained that way, so he had invited a guest into your home. Gates creaked open and drawbridges crashed to the ground. Banners waved and fanfare played as the king of the neighboring empire, Caldera, rode his large black stallion into Kaustav Castle’s courtyard to be greeted by your father the King, and many of his lords.

Your sisters gathered at the window above in the dining room, watching as he came into view.

“Is that him? Why is he still wearing that hood?” Sadie asked, peering around Lydia to get a better view. She smoothed her hand through her hair and fanned herself slowly.

“They say he never takes it off, not even in his castle. He must be quite the terrifying sight on the battlefield.” Lydia murmured, watching as König dismounted and shook your father’s hand firmly.

“He’s so…big. The stories did not do him justice.” Sadie murmured. Her cheeks pinkened and she giggled. You rose from where you were seated by the fire, sharpening your hunting knife, and tucked the blade into its sheath at your side.

“Let me have a look,” you grunted, pushing the curtain further aside and looking down on the scene with your arms folded. König knelt and kissed your mother’s hand through the hood - you knew she would be impressed by his chivalry.

“You still want to marry him?” you turned to Sadie and leaned against the wall, concern etched across your face.

“If he chooses me, I will go. He…intrigues me,” she said with a soft smile, blushing.

“And what if he chooses you?” you asked Lydia. She frowned.

“I know that you’ve been speaking to Lord Henry and father seems to favor him. What will you do if König wishes to marry you?” you asked. Lydia shook her head.

“I will be making myself scarce, though I do not plan to avoid him outright like you do,�� she admitted.

“Father wishes for him to marry me and I wish for the same. I will charm him and distract him from you two.” Sadie said, a twinkle in her eye. You snorted.

“Oh, Sadie, what would we do without you?” you said, smiling and embracing her gently. Outside, König and your parents walked into the castle.

“I ought to leave before they get up here. I’ll be in the stable preparing for a hunt if either of you needs a break from the formality.” you offered. Your sisters bid you goodbye as you slipped into the hidden servant’s corridor and raced downstairs and towards the outside world.

You had always been different from your sisters. Your father had hoped for sons, but when you were born and quickly followed by your sisters, he had elected to raise you like the son he did not have. While Sadie and Lydia had been raised as proper ladies and were doted upon by your father, he had raised you to ride and hunt and govern and had pushed you almost to the point of being controlling.

Your mother was still unsure about her oldest daughter going about like a man, but as your father was in poor health and there were no male heirs to the throne, she was relying on you growing up strong enough to maintain power after your father’s death to protect her, Sadie, and Lydia.

When you reached the stables below you called out a greeting to the stablehand who waved back to you. Your family was beloved by your father’s people and you made sure to spend time socializing in the village to build good relationships with the people you would someday lead.

“Going out for a hunt?” a voice called out to you from the back of the stable as you brought your little tan mare out of her stall and hitched her to a post. You raised your head and made eye contact with one of the lords visiting for König’s arrival.

“Ah, good morning, Lord Marrick. And yes, I’m off to look for game before dinner. Will you be joining my father and König?” you asked.

“Call me Ferdinand, please, my lady. And yes, I had planned to - will you not be attending?” he asked, leaning against the stable wall and offering your horse a snack.

“I’m doing my best to stay out of sight of König,” you admitted with a laugh. “My father has offered him the hand of any of his daughters, after all, and even though I am not…conventional…I wish not to risk marriage being forced upon me.”

“Will you never marry?” Ferdinand asked, his voice softening. There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t read as he came a little closer to you. You hefted a blanket, then a saddle, onto your horse’s back.

“No. When Father dies, I cannot risk having the control of my kingdom wrestled away from me by a man who means to harm the people,” you admitted. Ferdinand nodded slowly.

“That is…a shame, I must admit,” he said softly. Your cheeks felt hot. You and Ferdinand had known each other since you were children and had always been close. He cleared his throat as you tightened the straps of the saddle and buckled your bedroll onto the back.

“I have a gift for you,” he admitted. You turned and smiled at him.

“Oh, Ferdinand, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you said.

“Nonsense, your birthday just passed, did it not? This might help you on your hunt today,” he said, fumbling in his pocket. pulling out an item wrapped in cloth, and offering it to you. You took it and unwrapped it slowly, gasping when you saw the contents.

A small charm on a chain laid against the leather, delicately carved from a deer’s antler and decorated with silver. It was the symbol of the goddess you held most dear to your heart - the goddess of the woods and plains.

“It’s for good luck. I had it blessed by one of her priests in town before I came.” Ferdinand admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh, Ferdinand, it’s lovely. I will surely have bountiful hunts with this attached to my quiver.” You embraced him warmly, smiling against his chest as he hugged you tightly.

“Here, help me put it on!” you invited, slinging your quiver off your back and unlacing the leather at the top. You held tightly to it as Ferdinand gently laced the leather through the charm and tied it into place securely.

“Get going now, before the sun sets!” he said with a laugh, smiling as you took your horse’s reins.

“I’ll come see you later and tell you stories of my hunt should anything exciting happen,” you said, eyes gleaming as you led your horse out into the courtyard and prepared to mount up.

—

König sat in the parlor with your family chatting idly with your mother and father as Sadie leaned forward attentively and Lydia busied herself in the corner of the room behind him. Movement outside of the window in the courtyard drew his eye and he watched as you led your horse outside. He was instantly enraptured by your beauty, your boldness as you waved goodbye to someone in the stable, and your strength as you controlled your horse.

“I believed you to have three daughters?” he asked suddenly, cutting off your father as he discussed local harvests. Your mother and father glanced at each other warily.

“Yes, I do. The third is…a rather special case,” your father admitted, taking your mother’s hand. König watched as your horse nosed at your pocket and you laughed, pulling out the apple you had inside it and giving it to her. His chest tightened and he leaned forward slightly, gaze fixed on you intently. He watched the horse nibble at the apple in your small hand and imagined how it might fit in his.

“She is special?” he asked idly, his gaze fixed on you as you swung the reins around and mounted up. Your father followed his gaze.

“I have had no sons. I suppose that as a result, I raised her as I would have a son.” The room lapsed into silence.

König watched as you spurred your horse forward and took off at a gallop, laughing as you raced out of the castle gates and towards the open plains. His heart thumped faster in his chest and he was thankful for the hood that covered his flushing cheeks.

“I should like to meet her.”

—

Your hunt was largely uneventful, and you spent more time enjoying the sensation of the wind flowing through your hair and shooting at random tree targets than you did hunting game. As hours passed and the sun set, you felt sure that it would be safe to return home now. Sadie had surely charmed König and he had declared his intention to marry her to your father.

After reaching the stable and untacking your horse, you sorted everything away and fed her before bidding her goodnight. Ferdinand met you at the castle’s backdoor, concern in his eyes.

“Your father is looking for you. König seems set on wanting to meet you - he kept asking after you at dinner tonight,” he warned, following you as you slipped inside.

“Seriously? Do you know what he wants?” you asked, your eyes widening.

“Just to talk, I guess. He didn’t seem interested in Sadie or Lydia at all,” he said, following you as you headed into the kitchen.

“Fuck, Ferdinand, that’s the last thing I wanted,” you growled, snagging some leftovers one of the cooks had left for you and sitting down at the table in the corner. Ferdinand sat across from you.

“Just lay low, okay? I’ll warn you if I hear anything else.” he offered before taking his leave. You ate quickly and quietly, lost in thought, before rising and hurrying out of the kitchen and going into the servant’s stairwell. You thought it best to avoid the main halls for now - who knew where König may have been lurking?

When you reached your room you breathed a sigh of relief, shutting the door behind you. You had failed to see the looming shadow in the hallway behind you, and as you stepped behind the partition in the corner of the room to undress, the door slowly creaked open.

You froze - you were wearing only your underclothes - and slid your knife from its sheath on your belt which you had hung on its hook.

“Sadie? Lydia?” You called out softly, stepping slowly around the partition. You squeaked and dove back to safety as you caught sight of the looming mass standing at your door.

“Get out!” you whisper-shouted, doing your best not to wake your sisters sleeping across the hall.

“I am sorry. I had to see you…to speak to you. You are a thing of beauty.” he said, his heavily accented voice almost breathless.

“You have no right to come in while I am dressing!” you hissed, pulling your sleeping gown over your head so that you were covered and striding out into your room, your knife leveled at his chest.

“Get out!” you snarled, jabbing at him and fixing your stance to hold your ground.

“You are not capable of hurting me with that little thing, maus,” he murmured but did not come closer. Your hand trembled slightly as he drank you in.

“You are even more beautiful up close.” he breathed, eyes wide. He clasped his hands together and fell to his knees. He had not felt so flustered since he was a young boy.

“I would choose you from your sisters as my wife, maus, if you would have me. Please,” he begged softly, offering you his hands.

“Get out. I won’t warn you again. Marry Sadie.” you hissed dangerously. His heart fluttered - he was falling for you hard.

“If you will not agree now, you must come to know me and I will come to know you. Yes? I will come to see you tomorrow.” he breathed, the plea evident in his voice. You surged forward, pressing the tip of the knife where you guessed the base of his throat was.

“Out.” you snarled. König got up slowly, and taking the knife by the blade gingerly, kissed your hand as it was wrapped around the handle. You jerked away, leaving him with the knife.

“I will see you…gute nacht, maus,” he murmured, taking the knife with him as he left. Your heart thundered in his chest as you slammed and locked the door behind him.

What the fuck?

#könig #konig #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty #cod #konig modern warfare #konig fanfiction #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #mw2

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coveholdenmyluv · 3 months

Text

Mean Girls - E. Jaeger

synopsis. Eren's the new kid at Trost Academy and being fresh meat in his senior year isn't easy. Especially so when the only friends he's made yet have managed to convince him to help them mess with "The Plastics". The problem?

He's got the biggest crush on their queen bee, Y/N.

series masterlist.

chapter warnings. Foul language, suggestive content, rich ppl, vomit, comedy, simping (eren almost creams his pants multiple times wtf man), second hand embarrassment, revenge revenge revenge

chapter synopsis. Eren’s first day at Trost goes horribly wrong but, hey! There’s sloppy joes? Armin and Mikasa won’t let Eren’s injustice go so easily…

chapter 1. Trost Academy

Trost district.

A paradise where sports cars, shopping centers, and marbled water fountains lined the streets from north to south and east to west.

And smack bad in the center of the bustling city stood an enormous pristine building lined with white bricks and polished blue tinted windows. Its entire essence oozed ideal perfection. Trost Academy, the city's pride and joy.

A fortifying standing contradiction to the boy currently planted at the front gate.

Beads of sweat could be seen sliding down the crevices of Eren's face, whether from exhaustion or nerves he couldn't yet tell. As if being the new kid in his senior year of high school that was in an entirely different city wasn't bad enough, the dumbass forgot to change the time his alarm went off. It had slipped his mind the night before that a new school meant a differing schedule, hence himself still operating on Shiganshina High's delayed timetable.

Luckily for him, mommy Carla wasn't so stupid, so when she noticed that Eren hadn't descended down the stairs for breakfast yet, you best believe she went in there and whooped some Jeager ass. It was because of Carla's thoughtfulness that he was only running behind a full ten minutes, though Eren doesn't take much time to get ready.

So here he was, taking in the glory of what was to be his brand new alma mater. He leisurely made his way to the front gate and displayed his temporary ID to the security guard who in turn allowed him to finally step foot inside his latest ecosystem. Which is actually a very humorous way to describe the academy since usually when a person pictures an ecosystem, one would see animals, trees, water, or any natural aspects that came from wild life.

The academy is the exact opposite of that idea; as opposing as black and white. Not a single weed out of place or bird shit staining any of the bricks - it's clear that someone takes exceptional care of the place.

It is currently 7:15 am and Eren had just acquired his schedule as well as his locker number from the front office, he is now waiting patiently for his student body president to show him around the halls as well as to grab his permanent ID from whatever room they were being made in — he has already forgotten the exact number.

Just as he was falling asleep in the very comfortable chairs of the front office, that almost caused him to froth at the mouth when he realized they were indeed massage chairs, an enthusiastic voice introduced themselves.

"Hey there! You're Eren, right?"

Right before his eyes stood a tall, tan, and freckled god. His dark hair was parted in the middle, with some of it ghosting the top of his face, and the freckles that decorated the apples of his cheeks only enhanced the bright smile he directed towards Eren. His clothes were impeccable, without a wrinkle in sight, and a very obviously expensive diamond studded watch was wrapped around his wrist, putting Eren's own withering one to shame; he'd gotten it on his twelfth birthday as a present from an aunt that he can't remember the name of.

Never in his 18 years of life has Eren ever met someone so blindingly bright, he was almost forced to use his hand as a shield for his eyes at the light that protruded from the boy before him.

"Uh, yeah. Eren Jaeger. I'm guessing you're the one that's gonna show me around this... palace?"

A pellucid laugh fell from the freckled boy at Eren's joke, though he's not sure if he would consider it as such since it's not at all a stretch of the truth, as he placed a hand on his chest to steady his vibrations.

"Yup! Marco Bodt, your new student body president. Welcome, I will do the honors of showing you around campus, to your locker, and attaining your student ID. Class starts at 8:00 so we should get going, Eren." He instructed as he held the door open for the latter. "Can I call you that by the way? I know in Shiganshina it's customary to go by last names, but here we're encouraged to refer to each other by first names because it apparently 'boosts our camaraderie', which is a weird way to think about it since it's not like we're soldiers or anything." He chuckles. "Anyway, if that bothers you then it's totally fine! I can refer to you however you prefer."

"Eren's just fine," He reassures the boy, "Can I call you Marco?"

"Marco is perfect! Well then, let's get going, Eren." Marco says as they finally begin the tour.

As they begin to cruise the halls, Marco begins to offer Eren peculiar information about the places they walk past, as if they are on some safari adventure with teenagers replacing the animals and yellow "Caution! Wet floor!" signs replacing the trees.

Although, usually tour guides speak about history or interesting facts and not... whatever the hell Marco was saying.

"And this is the janitor's closet! You can usually spot at least two people in here making out, just try to not get caught by our janitor, he's small but very scary. I also advise that if you plan on taking more than two people in here, maybe you should reconsider and instead take it to the stairwell just down the hall. Based on my past experiences, it can get pretty cramped in here." The student body president explained with a laugh that threw his head back.

Eren blinked in perplexity at the load of information thrown at him just now, though it's not like he'd be of any need for it. Eren gets no bitches.

"This window right here is where one of my best friends had their first kiss!" He exclaims as he points at the window overlooking the front garden, before he excitedly shifts his attention towards the boy's bathroom on the other side of the hall. "Oh! And just down that way is the restroom where one of my other best friend's got their first blowjob... although, I don't know if it counts since the girl threw it all back up, hmm." He ponders deeply.

That was traumatizing for two reasons: for Marco's best friend experiencing the matter and for Eren since he had NO NEED FOR THAT INFORMATION.

"Wow, you guys sure have a lot of history here." Eren offers unsurely.

Marco agrees with a nod, "That's right we do, we've been here since freshman year so these halls have seen many of our milestones." He explains with a fond expression. "By the way, right down there is the common room that we use to chill on our free periods. Feel free to join my friends and I if you ever see us hanging around here during lunch or just need some company."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Though, Eren doesn't think he'd be able to look Marco's best friend in the eyes after what he's heard.

"Great, now let's head to-" Marco begins before his sentence is interrupted by a high pitched voice.

"Jean, just leave me alone for once, please."

Marco halts his movements and turns to the cause of the disturbance which in turn causes Eren to do the same.

It looked to be a short boy with shoulder length blonde hair and azure eyes that remained obstructed by chunky rectangular glasses. He was being cornered by a taller boy with light brown hair that was slicked and parted, with a heavy amount of gel, and matching colored eyes. The taller boy had his arm perched up against the wall, effectively caging the blonde and thwarting any attempts at escape.

"Eh? Armin, y'know I can't do that. Why don't you yell a little louder so that goth friend of yours can come to your rescue yet again, yeah?" Says the one that Eren guesses is named Jean.

"How about you grow some balls and ask her out instead? Not that she'd say yes, anyway." Armin had mumbled the last part but Jean had heard it loud and clear.

"You don't know what you're talking about Armin, shut the hell up!" Jean says, (yells) whilst he throws his hands up defensively.

The blonde rolls his eyes in irritation and with many cracks to his voice present in his statement, he says, "Why should I? It's not like the whole world doesn't already know about how much of a try hard you are when she's around! Why don't you try licking her boots next time you see her, huh?"

"Oh yeah? Keep talking shit, let's see where that gets you."

"Woah, calm down Jamal. Don't pull out the nine."

"Why I oughta-" Jean begins as he raises his fist, only to be stopped mid swing.

"Is this... fun for you?" Eren asks with a furrow in his brows. His right hand grips Jean's left arm which effectively stops his fist from hitting Armin's frail face.

"Who the hell are you?" Jean asks, irritated.

"Does it even matter? Why bother the kid when he obviously hasn't done jack shit to you?"

"And how do you know he hasn't done jack shit to me? Maybe you should mind your own."

"I heard your conversation. Besides..." Eren looks to Armin and sizes him up before he turns back to Jean with the most deadpan expression one could muster. His point was spoken without words. What could he do to a guy like Jean?

"Hey!" Armin squeals in offense.

Jean nodded in agreement, "Okay, you've got a point, but still, I mean he could've fucked my girl and you wouldn't even know that you're defending a shit person."

"You've gotta get a girlfriend first, Jean. Then we'll see what I do about that." Armin mutters bitterly.

"You better shut your ass up, runt. Before I fuck your nose up more than it already is." Jean grits.

Armin gapes in offense, "WHAT- okay... new insecurity unlocked."

Jean then turns his attention back to Eren. "Anyway, this was an A & B conversation, so C your way out of it." He says oh so maturely.

"How about you make me?" Eren narrows his eyes.

"Okay! Let's all calm down, alright?" Marco finally intrudes as he places himself between the two boys. "Jean, come on man, don't make me tell Y/N about this. She should be finishing up morning practice soon anyway, you should go meet her at her locker like you always do!" He offers, effectively having an effect on the light haired boy. His shoulders relaxed from their tense position at his friend's reassurance.

"Fine." He relents. "Walk with me though, and don't you dare say a word about this to Y/N or else I'll piss in your backpack later." Jean threatens as he pulls himself away from the situation.

Marco giggles nervously as one of his hands rises to rub at the back of his neck, "Sorry about him you two. He didn't mean any of it!" He laughs off the conflict.

"Yes I fucking did!" Jean affirms from down the hall.

"Anyways, so sorry Eren. I'll be right back, I've gotta walk Jean back to his caretaker for the morning." Marco whispers with a palm shielding his lips. "I'll be back in just a sec!" He exclaims and hops off into Jean's direction.

"Why do you always take his side, Marc? I literally almost cried on the spot right now." Jean could be heard whining as both boys rounded the corner and walked out of sight.

A beat of silence occurs where the latter pair were left, before Armin exclaims.

"Uhh, oh!" He turns his body to face a trash can before whispering into the opening, "Mikasa, you can come out now."

Eren lifts a brow as he watches the cover of the trash can lift itself from the inside, and out stepped a girl dressed head to toe in black attire with two dark pigtails and bangs that frame her pale face. She held a black book in her manicured hands. Black nail polish, black lipstick, black fishnets, silver skull rings, and a black choker were more than enough of a hint to Eren for him to realize that this was the goth friend Jean had mentioned earlier.

The sight of a girl stepping out of an empty trash can should have caused him to gape in surprise, but at this point he was ready to expect anything more from his first day at Trost Academy.

"Thank you so much! Uhm, Eren was it? You looked as cool as the guys from 21 Jump Street!" Armin exclaimed and it was only then that the boy held the DVD case in his hands. Who the hell uses DVDs anymore?

"No," The girl declares as she lifts her book to her face, "You must be the dark knight called forth by my curse, here to fight off that man."

"What? Uh- no, I'm just Eren. It was no big deal." Eren deflects as he places his hands into his pockets.

To tell you the honest truth, Eren was shitting himself on the inside during the encounter with the jerk from earlier. He didn't know where he gained the courage to actually stand his ground, much less for someone else.

"You'd think a school as nice as this one would have no tolerance for bullying, though."

"Well, money talks, I guess." Armin says as he attempts to locate his lenses that had fallen during the ruckus.

"I've been trying to hex him since freshman year, but it won't work for some reason. It's like there's a force protecting him from me..." The girl says as she picks up the discarded glasses and hands them to her blonde friend. "Perhaps the Marco rumors are true. It'd make sense if he were an actual angel sent from above-" She continues.

"Wait, what? Who the hell made that up?" Eren asks.

"Beats me, though if I had to guess: I'd say Sasha or Connie." She answers.

"Who are they?"

"They're only two of the plastics." Armin pipes up.

"Plastics? As in, like, a mannequin?"

"What?! No, the plastics are..." Armin began only for his voice to die off as his eyes drifted behind Eren.

"Sorry about that again, Eren!" Marco apologizes as he reappears suddenly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. We really should get going though, we still need to stop at a couple more places and then grab your ID. Oh! Good morning, Mikasa." He looks a bit out of breath, as if he had run the whole way back. The girl being addressed only waved daintily and then shielded herself with her book, probably due to how scintillatingly bright Marco's entrance was.

"That's okay. Yeah, we should." Eren replies.

"Bye Eren! Oh, you should sit with us at lunch later!" Armin bids the boy goodbye.

Eren nods in agreement as he follows after his designated guide, off to somewhere he would probably have to listen to bizarre stories about. It seemed as though Marco could never run out of those, some even filled with normal teen acts and others that cause him to question their sanity.

"Hey Marco, Armin mentioned something earlier today..." He spoke up.

"What's that?" Marco asks as he provides him his full and undivided attention.

"What are 'The Plastics'?"

Marco is visibly stunned by his question for a moment, only for his eyes to give a flicker of boredom before the corners crease in their usual upbeat manner.

"Oh, uhm... I'm not quite sure what you mean." He answers with a gritted smile. "Sorry, I don't think I can help you there."

Eren notices Marco's hesitation, though the only movement he offers is an unsure nod of his head.

A brief moment of silence ensues over the pair of boys, before it's gently shattered by the freckled boy.

"Hey, Eren?"

"...Yeah?"

"A little word of advice from someone you, hopefully, trust to guide you in the right direction?" He suggests hesitantly and Eren finds himself subconsciously holding his breath. "You shouldn't believe everything people say around here, 'kay?" Marco says with a gentle grin.

Well, gentle is what Eren guesses it's supposed to be, though the edges are too frigid for it to be considered so. He couldn't help but sense some sort of hidden lingering emotion layered into Marco's chocolate eyes. Perhaps there was also disappointment?

But, if so, directed at who?

"Yeah, thanks... I'll uhm, keep that in mind." Eren replies. He couldn't help but feel as though he was the one who had created that disappointment, and for a reason he couldn't tell you, Eren didn't like the idea.

He hadn't noticed that they made their way to a hallway filled to the brim with lockers lining the walls and students idly loitering around. Checking his wrist watch, he realized they only had 20 minutes until their first class of the day had to begin. As Eren was inspecting his watch, he failed to notice that Marco had halted his pace to peer in the direction they had just entered from.

It was as if the next few seconds moved in decelerated speed. Eren bumped into Marco's chest which in turn forced the boy to look up at the taller boy, only to notice the smile and excited flutter of his hand directed to someone currently behind him, effectively making his own head turn to face the stranger.

In walked a girl that wore a cute blue top with lace adorning the neckline, paired with a matching skirt and sneakers. She had gold, diamonds, and pearls furnishing every inch of her body — from her headband, to her ears, neck, wrists, and even a single ankle. She trotted down the freshly mopped hallway with poise and what Eren noticed to be very toned legs that could have only been worn by someone that took great care of them. Her entire presence demanded the attention of everyone blessed to be in her vicinity.

And so, that's what she got.

He didn't even need to look around to be able to tell that everyone had paused their activities to look at the elegance that was her. How could they when it had seemed as though she had just descended from the heavens above?

...Or, was that simply Eren thinking that part? Maybe that was just a him thing...

"Hey Y/N, good morning sugar! Did you just come from practice?" Marco asks with a noticeably brighter smile than all the ones Eren has seen today; the only grin he could think to rival this one was the one he offered Jean earlier.

The girl noticed Marco as well and her once weary gaze perked up at his presence.

Eren didn't notice it before, because of his ogling, but she was noticeably out of breath and her hair was wet. Did she just step out of the shower? He couldn't fathom how anyone could look so attractive freshly out of a bath... He usually resembled a wet dog.

"Morning Marc', I'm surprised you aren't with your steed right now. Did mom and dad get into a fight again?" She says with a playful lilt to her voice — that Eren could have sworn had visible italics, for some unknown reason. Her voice was so fluid and velvety that his knees almost buckled on the spot.

"Not yet," Marco grimaces with a chuckle. "I'll join you guys in a bit! I'm showing the new kid around right now. Student Prez business, you know the works." He explains with a thumb jutted towards the aforementioned student.

Eren made a mental note to bow down and kiss Marco's feet later to display his gratitude for the brisk switch of attention, for it caused the embodiment of perfection to direct her stare onto his spellbound face. She raised a brow at him before she dropped her gaze to his feet and leisurely dragged it up his entire frame.

Eren almost moaned.

"Morning, new kid." She greeted, though her tone was noticeably far less light when addressing Eren than it was when she spoke to her friend, and then turned her attention back to Marco

It seems she has deemed Eren irrelevant.

"Hurry it up, Marco, 'less you want to tarnish your perfect attendance. I'll be with the diva, I can sense he's in one of his daily moods. I can tame him, but I'll need your help soon." She teases with a roll of her eyes.

A boisterous laugh fell from Marco's lips, "Yeah, I'll join you guys in a bit. Save me a spot-" He halts mid sentence upon noticing Eren's vibrant flush.

The shorter brunet had acted nonchalant throughout the entire duration of his tour, so it baffled Marco just how quickly he altered his tune.

The Student President looks to his friend, poor Y/N who has just gotten out of morning practice and now has to deal with Jean's morning fit. Her legs probably ache and he knows how much she hates the feeling of her wet hair dampening her back, she deserves a small break this once, right?

So, he looks to Eren once again, and then to Y/N, and then repeats the process about five more times.

"What are you doing? Your head's gonna fall off-"

"OW- ooh..." Marco suddenly grips his stomach in agony and hisses through his teeth. "LORD HAVE MERTHY, I'M ABOUT TO BUST!" He yells and dramatically slams himself against the lockers behind him.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Asks Y/N, concern and shock etched into her features.

With a matching look on his face, Eren reaches a hand out in an attempt to help stable the boy. "Marco, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine! I just need to drop a deuce real quick." Marco reassures, which causes both of their brows to rise, though he pays them no heed. "Y/N, you wouldn't mind showing Eren to Dr. Hange's room, would you? He's still gotta get his permanent ID and I don't want to leave him alone. He's just a baby." He says while mustering up the best puppy dog eyes he has ever used.

She's always been a sucker for doe eyes.

"Sure? Are you totally sure you're okay though? That was super sudden-"

"Yup! All fine and dandy, I gotta go. Have fun!" Marco exclaims and runs off to someplace god only knows with how his legs are clenching together.

"He's so fruity sometimes..." Y/N mumbles as she watches him leave, before she shakes her head and extends a jeweled hand towards the boy beside her. "Anyway, sorry about that. Was it Evan?" She asks unsurely.

"E-eren." He says with an audible voice crack, which in turn causes him to clear his throat and deepen his voice dramatically. "It's- I'm just Eren." He says and accepts her offering.

He has to make a lasting impression.

As soon as he takes hold of her soft and manicured hand, he swears he feels some sort of electrical current running through from his head to his toes. Golden sparks flew around her frame and blew some of her hair away from her cheeks... or perhaps that was the effect of Eren's heavy ass breathing fanning across her skin. She noticeably grimaces at the feeling and flinches away before she steadies herself once more.

"Well then, 'just Eren'. The name's Y/N, and sorry about Marco by the way. He's usually really composed so I have no idea what got into him just now. Wow, your hand is super sweaty..." She adds as she pulls her own away from his.

Eren pays the comment no mind and instead murmurs in an hypnotic state, "Y/N, wow that's actually really pretty."

"Oh? Why do you look so surprised?" She asks with a teasing tilt to her lips, her sultry tone of voice was an obvious attempt to loosen them both from the tight restraints their first meeting held them in. Though, she failed to notice how her continuation had gravely affected the boy. "Do I look like I would have an ugly ass name or something?"

"No! That's not what I meant at all." Eren vehemently stated. "I mean, why would anyone say that? You're really pretty, like prettier than your name- prettier than me!" He nervously chuckles.

"Oh, and that's such a valid standard because you're a pretty princess, aren't you? You think highly of yourself, don't you?" She continues her teasing, though Eren still doesn't take the hint.

Shit, he's already messing up. That's okay, he still has time to fix this.

"What?! N-no, that's not what I meant either! You're just like the prettiest person I've ever met, I don't want to cause you any insecurities!"

"Oh trust me, you won't. I know I'm-"

"I over lick my lips when I'm nervous! Sometimes it causes them to get chapped so I have to carry chapsticks with me everywhere." Eren also overshares personal, (embarrassing), information as a nervous habit. Word vomit, if you will.

A trait he is unfortunately exhibiting right now.

"Uh, okay?"

"When I was younger I used to eat the wax from my ears because I used to think it was the same as bees wax, therefore I convinced myself it tasted like honey comb."

Her jaw drops and the teasing grin is gone, clearly being caught off guard by his disturbing words. "Ew..."

"Anyway, you're way prettier than your name! I swear! I could prove it to you?! What do you want me to do? I'll do it, just say the word!" Eren hastily deflects as he flails his arms around and word vomits onto the glistening marbled floors. It's a pathetic sight, really. His insides feel like they're burning an inferno that he can't contain. His stomach begins to churn and suddenly he feels what he imagines Marco had felt earlier.

Does he seriously have to take a deuce right now? Perhaps he should have gone with Marco instead...

"Hey, dude... are you okay? You're looking really pale-" Begins the girl, though her attempt at showing concern was halted by Eren's loud and body convulsing gag.

Oh no... He can feel it, not word vomit, actual vomit pounding its way up his throat, climbing and begging to be released. Sharp talons cleave the walls of his esophagus so heavily that he feels as if he can't breathe. He has never in his 18 years of life felt like this and before he can even attempt to force himself to stop... it overflows.

Spewing out of his lips and onto the girl right before him was his double quarter pounder with cheese, large fries dipped in his Oreo McFlurry, and sprite from last night. All over the most beautiful girl he has ever laid his eyes on, the girl of his dreams.

And it's only then that Eren realizes they weren't alone.

Every single pair of eyes within the vicinity were glued onto their forms. The way Eren hurled and bent forward right onto Y/N's chest.

"What the actual hell?!" The girl shrieks as pure shock and disgust pours into her features. Eren feels hot tears gather on his waterline from the sheer force his body was using to dump out their contents. "What is wrong with you?!" She asks but garners no response as his mouth was preoccupied.

He tries to speak but every time he makes an attempt, his body curls inwards and begins to retch once again, "Shit, I'm so-" He begins, but to no avail. Not unless soiling a pretty girl's outfit counts as any benefit, at least.

"Are you fucking serious right now?! This is fresh Prada! Ugh, you indigent bum, I hope you know this costs more than your damn miserable life!"

It's safe to say that Eren has made his lasting impression.

About 30 minutes after his projectile vomiting incident, Eren and Y/N are walking the same hallway they had met in, on their way to Dr. Hange's room for a stupid ID that he doesn't even care about anymore. Not when he can feel the wrathful glare from the short janitor stabbing at the side of his head. Eren grimaced as he walks past and murmurs a soft apology for creating the mess he was required to scrub until the floor glistened once again.

How did he already get on the janitor's shit list?

The girl beside him wasn't a fresh breeze on a sunny Sunday morning either. Rightfully so, considering she was forced to go shower again, though at least she was smart enough to store an extra pair of clothes in her locker. Here she was sporting yet another skirt, only this one was a vintage green finished with a mermaid hem. Her top was matching in color with some sort of floral pattern that Eren decided suited the way she smelled, and a small cardigan laid right on top. Her head was adorned with a white headband that matched her sneakers.

This chick seriously can't look anything less than perfection, can she?

Eren himself hadn't gotten any of last nights dinner on his own clothes, thankfully since he was not smart enough to do the same as the irritated girl. He better be extra thankful because of course he chose to wear a white button up today and there is no way he would have gotten the stain out, much less the smell.

They walked in silence, side by side, as the girl gripped the strap of her handbag... is that Balenciaga? Either way, Eren struggled to match her pace. She was absolutely pissed, that much he could tell.

He didn't know what to do, he could barely bring himself to speak. He felt that if he attempted to, he might puke all over her designer clothes again and he doubts she would have a third outfit prepared.

She would, but that's not important.

He really really wants to apologize, perhaps he can pay her back? Maybe he can sell one of his kidneys on the black market? Would they even pay him enough for that? He could probably find a nice corner and advertise his virginity to cover the rest, he's 18 now so it should be legal, right? Or, perhaps he will forever stay in debt to a girl he met in high school that pranced around in designer clothing and handbags. No one would ever think to hire him for any respectable position in that case.

He's fucked.

"Uhm..." He starts.

She sighs in exasperation and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Listen, I'll do you a favor. Let's just forget all about this and look the other way. As long as we never interact again, this will fade sooner rather than later and I'll have received my package from UPS or FedEx or whoever the fuck, and gotten a replacement for that really cute top you just ruined. Capiche?"

Eren sputters at her solution, staggering at the thought of never interacting and going their separate ways. Though, he supposes this is better than resorting to the black market. Perhaps they truly could move past this hurdle and live as simply acquaintances — acquaintances that harbored very ill memories of each other.

"Okay-" He began, only to get interrupted by a ping in her hand.

She had barely even glanced at it, really it was not a salient thing on her mind. She would have left it at a single glance would it not have been for several more following in succession. Only then did she spare it a second glance and the horror painted on her face was a tale tell sign that whatever it was that she read was not ideal.

"Oh no... no no no no, shit!" She cursed and rapidly tapped her fingernails on her illuminated screen.

A video played on her phone, loud enough to reach Eren's own ears. There was retching sounds, a gag, and then a splash. 'Are you fucking serious right now?! This is fresh Prada! Ugh, you indigent bum, I hope you know this costs more than your damn miserable life!' Followed after from the same velvety voice that made him weak in the knees.

"Evan-" She called as she shoved the phone towards Eren's face and his worst fears were confirmed.

Someone had recorded the entire event.

It was posted to the schools Snapchat, Instagram, and Twitter. There were comments, hundreds of them, and memes were already being made of Eren's face in pure agony. His teary eyes and sweaty face were plastered on every social media. He doesn't know if he's lucky that everyone is in class at the moment so that no one could actively laugh at him or if he was doomed because he's alone in a hallway with his newfound crush as his retching sounds echoed from the phone in her dainty hand.

"This is so bad! No one is gonna let this shit go anytime soon." She states as she reads the hundreds of loathing comments. "Look, I overreacted back there-"

"Just save it, okay? Thanks for walking me but I think I've got it from here." He says and hurriedly runs with his tail between his legs as she stares at his retreating form. Her jeweled hand finds itself aching to reach out, but she forces it to stay glued to her side.

"Well... fuck."

Three.

That's how many classes Eren has had to sit through as people stare and gawk at him. Some are bold enough to point and laugh, though never to the extent where they would say anything to his face, while others resorted to mocking him behind his back, but the worst of them all?

The ones that look at him with pity.

Eren absolutely abhors being pitied.

He hates it — hates to be babied and hates to be coddled. He's a grown ass 18 year old man (boy) and has no need for people to feel sorrow for him when he's the one controlling all of his own actions.

He's a grown ass man (boy), alright. A grown ass man (boy) that just finished crying in that, surprisingly clean, bathroom stall because of the sheer humiliation that he felt. The ignominy that he had a moment of weakness caught on camera and shared with the entire school. The indignity of the fact that he ran and cried uncle from her.

If only she hadn't been there, then maybe he would have been spared the embarrassment. If only Marco hadn't needed to take a shit. If only Jean hadn't been messing with Armin this morning, then perhaps he wouldn't have had to intervene and therefore would have arrived at Dr. Hange's room on time and missed Y/N's entrance, she would have never made him weak in the knees and tongue tied. Nothing would have been spilt aside from his drool. None of this would have happened.

All of those thoughts ran rampant in Eren's head, so much so that he didn't even notice the lunch bell had rung until he felt someone continuously poke his shoulder.

"Wow you have tiny shoulders!" A tall girl with brown hair pulled into a pony exclaimed.

Swatting her hands away, Eren asks irritated, "What do you want?" Though, he knew it was pointless. She was probably there to ridicule and taunt him into crying some more, which he would totally give into.

"Uhh, the lunch bell rang already, so-"

"Oh, t-thanks." He answers.

She didn't recognize him? She isn't laughing at or deriding him, that's amazing! Maybe people have already begun to forget! That's what always happens after a major incident, so perhaps his life will be back to norm-

"Hey, wait! Aren't you the guy from that video? Oh, man! You puked all over Y/N, didn't you?" She asks, throwing her head back in a guffaw. "Dude, I've never seen her make that face before-"

"Sash! Are ya coming or not? They're leaving us behind!" Calls a boy with a silver buzz cut, his head and torso peeking into the emptying classroom buoyantly.

"Hey, Connie! Come look! It's the guy from the video, the one that squirted his juices all over Y/N!"

"I did not squirt my juices!"

"No fucking way! Man, you're famous!"

Just as the lively boy was making his way over to Eren's desk, Eren abruptly stands from his seat, the metal scraping at the floor harshly, and hastily grips his backpack.

"Listen, just leave me alone. I did not squirt my juices and I most definitely am not famous. But, you know what? Since you're both so insistent, why don't I give you an autograph?!" He erupts and then shoves two of his fingers down the back of his throat, gagging in the process.

"Woah! No need, we're fine..." Connie takes a step back and shields himself with his arms.

Eren glares sneeringly, "Apologies, I must have squirted all my juices for the day, I'm all out." He bites sarcastically and stomps his feet all the way out the door.

"What's wrong with him?" Connie asks his friend.

"He seems really upset, I don't know why, though." She answers obliviously.

"Beats me," Connie shakes his head dismissively and charges on with why he was originally even there. "Anyway, I was trying to tell you that we should go before they run out of sloppy Joes! You know Reiner doesn't give a damn about his bank account when they serve those, and if we don't go now... they'll all be devoured."

"Devoured?!" She screeched. "I'll kill the big oaf!"

"Then hurry your fat ass up, he's got a head start already!"

"What if we jump him in the lunch line? Oh! We could take his wallet too!"

"Girl, he's six foot four. The only things you'll be jumping are his man knockers, now get your ugly ass to the cafeteria."

"I mean, if that was the result of my actions, you would not catch me complaining-"

"Let's. Go."

"Eren! Over here!" Armin, the blonde from this morning, called out.

Eren had just arrived at the expanse cafeteria, and to say he's about to piss his pants would be the understatement of the century. He had hoped to simply grab a tray of those magnificent looking sloppy Joes and then retreat back into the safety of the biggest stall available in the men's restroom to finish his crying session. Though, before he could even grab a tray, he was eagerly waved over by the goth girl and scrawny boy from earlier. They didn't seem to be laughing at his expense, and he had to admit, the familiar faces brought him a comfort he desperately needed at the moment.

"Hey," Eren greets as he sits across from the duo who contrasted each other so much so, it was almost amusing to him. They were sat at a round table near the back that allowed them clear views of the others surrounding them.

"Hey, how have you been?" Mikasa asks softly. He can tell she is trying her best to be as consoling as possible, considering the obvious shit day he's had.

"As well as I can be," He answers with a sigh and then drags his hands down his face in exhaustion. "I assume you guys have seen the video?" He asks with a wince, already having accepted what answer he would receive but still afraid of it. He settles his backpack on his lap and wraps his arms around its waist — he still hadn't stashed it away in his locker in fear of walking down that familiar hallway once again. It was as if he had developed PTSD or something of the sort that had him feeling like he would reenact the entire fiasco a second time. Not to mention, the hallway would surely be filled to the brim with other students and he couldn't bear to have all eyes on him again. Simply walking into the cafeteria had a dozen holes being burned on the back of his head, he doesn't want to imagine what kind of attention he would garner then.

"Everyone and their mothers have, I'm so sorry this is happening to you, Eren." Armin says sympathetically.

"Oh no, not the milfs." Eren grumbles as he squishes his face into the top of his bag.

"It's the plastics, Eren. What can you expect?" Mikasa grits bitterly, her eyes scrutinizing a table not far from her own. "I bet Y/N planned this all out, some kind of sick scheme to assert her dominance over the fresh meat."

"Mikasa... even if that were true, she's the one that got her clothes ruined. What good would that have done for her?" Armin rebuts.

The girl looks appalled that her friend would even ask such a thing. "Armin, she's loaded. The cost of an outfit like that is pocket change in her eyes." She reminds him. "Trust me, that was a minuscule loss to her father's bank account."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't put it past them." He agrees.

"Uhm," Eren interjects with a raise of his had as if he were in the middle of a lecture. "What the hell are 'The Plastics'?" He asks with his fingers making air quotations. "Armin mentioned them earlier too, so I asked Marco about it but he said he didn't know what I was talking about."

"Of course he said that, he's a part of the problem!" Mikasa exclaims a bit too loud for Armin's taste.

"Calm down Mikasa, they'll hear you!" He ushers the girl, not noticing he too has reached her level of volume. "Okay, Eren. If you want to survive, cause you're not gonna thrive unless you're one of them, you'll need to know who the hell they even are." He tells him whilst jutting his fingers in the direction that the girl beside him was just glaring at.

At a table not too far from their own, that they held a near perfect view of, sat a group of 8 teens. Although they all looked drastically different from each other, not to mention how they act, one thing was certain in what they had in common.

The blistering amount of confidence that oozed from their pores.

There was no doubt about where they all stood in the social hierarchy, the energy they exuded wouldn't allow any shred to sprout. The auras around them were asphyxiating and wouldn't let them go unnoticed, it was as if those same auras had wrapped their tendrils around each person present in the room, forcing them to bend knee to their will.

"Those eight are who we call 'The Plastics'." Armin explains.

"Cause they're all fake conniving bitches." Mikasa grits. It was clear that the girl had it out for them personally, though the reason for that is still a mystery to Eren.

"Tone it down, 'Kasa. They'll hear you."

"Whatever."

"This seems very personal. What'd they do to you?" Eren asks as he leans his chin on his palm.

"What do you mean?" The girl asks.

"Well, you seem to really hate them. Like you have some kind of personal vendetta."

"What's your point?"

"My point is, why?"

Before she can answer, Armin interjects, "Funny thing, Y/N and Mikasa were actually really-"

"Armin!" She interrupts his explanation, to which the boy sputters at her exclamation.

"What?"

"Can you not, right now?" She grits at the blonde, before she directs her attention back to the brunet before her. "We should give you a bit of background first, so you're somewhat familiar with who they are."

Both teens make intense eye contact before nodding their heads in sync and announcing, "Here's the mother fucking tea."

"Sasha Braus and Connie Springer," Armin says while jesting to a pair of students sitting beside each other, both having just sat down and were unleashing their wrath onto the other members of their table. It seemed they had been served whatever was left of the sloppy Joes which meant that they had less meat than the rest. "AKA: thing one and thing two. The most dumbest people you will ever meet, much more walk the planet."

"Armin sat beside them in Film theory last year." Mikasa adds.

The boy in topic nods vehemently, "They genuinely didn't know that Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana were the same person."

"I honestly don't even know how they got in with that kind of crowd, maybe their looks?" Mikasa thinks aloud.

"Either way, be wary. Just because they're stupid, doesn't mean they aren't as vicious as the rest. They know everything about everyone and are almost always at the center of rumors and drama. Also both stupidly rich." Armin warns.

Eren's face grows distant as he looks their way, reminiscing on his own interaction with the two. "Those two laughed at me in class earlier. I nearly thought they hadn't recognized me, but of course that was too good to be true." He says.

"No surprise there," Mikasa scoffs, "One time, they were caught trying to kill a ferret. The devils almost suffocated the poor thing with their bags." She explains as her fists slam down on the table brutally.

Armin's shoulders jump at the sound of the impact and one of his hands fly towards his head to adjust the glasses on the bridge of his nose. "The worst of the worst." He agrees.

Pointing to the boy familiar to Eren's eyes, the galled teens continue, "Next, we have Marco Bodt - our student body president. The quote 'nicest person to ever grace these halls' end-quote... well I call bullshit."

"There's rumors that he's been sent by whatever god you believe in to watch over the plastics. To be completely honest, that was probably started by Connie or Sasha, which wouldn't surprise me."

"On the surface, he's a real nice guy... almost too nice." Armin adds as he squints his eyes in suspicion. "It makes you wonder if it's all a farce."

"Oh, it totally is. I've heard rumors of him snapping at others and then proceeding to bribe them to keep their mouths shut." Mikasa nods.

Eren begins to ponder all previous interactions he's had with the boy, almost saddened at the thought of Marco's extremely friendly demeanor being a farce. "I never thought of it like that, it sucks actually. I thought we could have been friends."

It's Mikasa's turn to warn the brunet this time, "Zon't zo it, girl. Zon't zo it."

"Now, Ymir..." Armin begins before his face scrunches up and his eyes shoot to the ceiling. "I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea what her last name is." He resolves.

"She's a part of the varsity girl's soccer team." Mikasa finishes as she juts her chin to a tall tanned girl sat beside Sasha. She donned dark brown hair tied into a low ponytail, and freckles littered her cheeks. She howled in laughter with her arm laid behind the seat of the blonde beside her. "She's a rude bitch and sarcastic to everyone except Historia, who she has a god obvious thing for. Well, obvious to everyone except Historia herself. Which brings us to-"

"Historia Reiss, she's your stereotypical popular girl — blonde, hot, and captain of the cheer squad." Armin interjects.

Next to Ymir was a small girl with vibrantly golden locks that could only be rivaled by Armin himself... not only that but they had nearly identical jeweled eyes. One could think they were somehow related, if not for their entirely opposing backgrounds. That one being Eren.

"Woah! Armin, is that your sister?!" Eren exclaims, staggering at their resemblance.

"What?! No!" The blonde exclaims, "Everyone always thinks that..." He grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

"I thought the same thing too." Mikasa snickers, "But, the more I've gotten to know Armin, the more contrary they get and now I can't even imagine them within an arms length of each other."

"Anyway! She's also crazy rich." Armin deflects.

"Uhm, isn't everyone in this school rich? I'm pretty positive I'm the only exception." Eren determines as he gestures to the rest of the tables littering the room.

Armin gapes like a fish out of water, "Well, yeah... but we mean Elon Musk rich! When we say rich at Trost, we don't mean normal rich, we mean buying an island rich. I have half the mind to seduce Reiner and get that bag, the big oaf won't know what hit him - I'd be set for life."

"How did you get in here, anyway? Are you like Einstein smart or what? What's your deal?" Mikasa bluntly asks.

"I wish." Eren answers, "In actuality, my dad's a doctor so we're doing well enough, though our net worth is nothing compared to everyone else here. I think I'd have to give the credit to my mom though, she recently got a new job in the fashion industry, which is why we had to move."

With a face that contradicts her words, Mikasa nods, "Interesting. Anyway, I heard Historia once made a girl cry in the restroom! Apparently, she cut the girl's hair because it looked better than her own." She informs them.

"That's downright cruel." Armin squeaks as he clutches the strands by his face.

"Next, we have... ugh, Jean." Mikasa groans and then faux vomits, which Eren finds to be insensitive, considering his experience with the action today.

"He's arrogant, cocky, and never leaves me alone." Armin grimaces.

"He's a wannabe delinquent and a whore for attention. Also, another addition to the stupidly rich club and best friends with Y/N. They're like Yin and Yang, but more alike than different." Mikasa glares at the fawn haired boy who is in the middle of flipping the bird to Ymir.

"Now, Reiner Braun. He's your stereotypical jock — blonde, hot, and captain of the men’s varsity lacrosse team."

"He's a weird one, sometimes leaning more towards a decent guy and then the next moment he's acting like... well, a jock. Pretty sure he has a thing for Y/N, too." Armin adds as the teen quite literally proves his point, feigning a yawn and laying his arm on the backrest of her chair. Though, the girl abruptly stands up and out of reach.

Weird.

"I think they've hooked up at least once. Of course, that's just what I've heard people whisper around them. No surprise, he's rich as hell as well." Armin finishes.

"And last but not least," Mikasa's once hard glare turns piercing and no longer exhibits a frosty aura. Instead, her irises project blazing infernos. "Y/N Ackerman. If the academy had a royal court, she'd be the one sat cozy on the throne. Queen bee, you could call her. She's also the captain of the girl's varsity soccer team. Don't be fooled, because she may seem like your typical selfish backstabbing slut faced hoe bag, but in reality she is so much more than that."

Eren can't help but feel as though those two have a personal history that can't be uncovered with a simple glance. Though, he notes how one sided it looks to be.

As he goes to glance at the girl they are currently gossiping about, he notices that her spot at the infamous table was vacant. The only people left were the rest of her friend group, all of which sporting dumbfounded faces.

Dumbfounded faces directed towards his own table.

Why are they looking his way?

"Hey, Evan, right?" Says that distinctly velvety voice that forces Eren to be grateful he's sat. His knees wouldn't have been able to handle his entire weight, not this time.

Mikasa gapes at the sight of the girl standing before their table, before she steels herself and returns to her signature glare. "It's Eren. Eren Jaeger." She reminds with gritted teeth.

Y/N noticeably winces at her slip up, "My bad, I'm terrible with names."

"It's fine! I'm just Eren." Eren hastily reassures as he stares up at her in a daze.

The girl chuckles softly, "Okay, just Eren." She corrects and then her eyes dart across the cafeteria to assure that all eyes were on her, as she intended. Her class did not disappoint. The oh so easily influenced senior class of Trost Academy granted her their fully undivided attention. Every breath turned stagnant, chewing halted, and conversations left on hold in hopes of finding out what the hell their most prestigious alumni wants with the social rejects.

She clears her throat and asks profoundly, "Why don't you come to my game today? We're playing home, and afterwards we're heading to my house to celebrate our inevitable win. There'll be pizza for dinner, on me." Her eyes dart to the other two across from him and her smile grows tight. "You can even bring your... friends." She says, though her words sound unsure and awfully forced.

Multiple beats of silence follow the offer, no one daring to move a muscle in fear of furthering their own confusion.

What? Why is this happening? What's her motive? Is she going to humiliate him again? Hadn't she had enough of that this morning? Eren wants to genuinely ask himself those questions, but in truth, he folds at her mere presence.

He's left with his jaw dropped and exchanges panicked glances with Mikasa and Armin.

Mikasa's expression of bewilderment fades into one of distaste and suspicion. "Now, why the hell would we do that? Princess."

"Because I'm inviting you? Obviously." The H/C girl retorts with the same bite in her tone. The room goes quiet once again, before she decides she has had enough and sighs in exasperation. "Look, I'm not about to grovel at your feet, I'd rather not crease my sneakers; they're Italian leather. You either come or you don't." She finishes and then leans Eren's way, causing him to catch a whiff of her floral perfume. "Think of this as a way for me to help you out a bit. You... didn't deserve that humiliation. Especially not on your first day." She whispers and juts her head to the eyes around them.

Oh, wow. It seems that she's attempting to make it look as if they are both on good terms, friends even. An attempt at fixing his reputation, which means she feels bad.

His heart is going to explode, and he's begging himself to keep whatever remains in his stomach where it should be.

His head nods buoyantly, "Yeah, I'm in love with yo-"

"Yes! We accept your invitation and will be cheering from the stands at 6 pm today. Don't worry your pretty little head, you'll see us there." Mikasa announces abruptly and fixes the girl a determined stare.

"Oh..." She breathes, almost as if she didn't expect the results she was given. "You're sure?"

"Yes, no take backsies." Mikasa says with a taunting smile.

"Okay then, cool. I'll- uh, see you guys later?" Her gaze moves to Eren for confirmation.

The boy nods dumbly, with pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, I'll love you lat- I mean! I'll see you later."

The corner of her lips rise slightly at his outburst and she tilts her head curiously, before she nods and retreats back to her seat beside Reiner, the seven sat around her giving her matching shocked expressions.

As everyone slowly snaps out of their dazes and begin to return to their own activities for the remaining of the time they had left, Y/N's friends aren't as willing to glide over what had just occurred.

"Y/N, what the hell was that? Since when do you do charity?" Asks Jean with a concerned expression.

"Don't tell me that's your way of atoning for the puking fiasco..." Ymir adds.

"We told you that it wasn't your fault, hon. It was the assholes that recorded everything and made it a bigger deal than it had to be." Historia reassures as she sits up from Ymir's hold.

"Are you beating yourself up about that, Y/N?" Connie asks sympathetically.

Reiner places his jacket onto the girl's shoulders and takes a hold of one of her palms comfortingly. "Do you want my last sandwich?" He offers.

"What? No, I mean sure I felt bad earlier but that's long since worn off. I'm trying to fix my own reputation here!" She answers boldly, "Have you seen the comments on the video? I'm being called a snobby uptight bitch. Yeah, no way am I gonna let that continue." She scoffs.

The entire table nods and murmurs their agreements, considering they probably would have done the same. It's not like she truly had harmful intentions, she just figured she could kill two birds with one stone.

"I'm not gonna lie though, can you really blame me for feeling just a tad bit bad for the guy? He already looks like a total loser. It's affecting him as much as it is me, so why not try to help the both of us out?" She explains, "Though, I didn't think they would actually agree. Especially Mikasa."

"So... no sandwich?" Reiner asks again.

"Rei, of course I want your sandwich." She answers and he happily slides his tray her way.

"To be honest, the kid's weird for projectile vomiting on his first day, but I can get behind your idea." He admits as he leans back in his chair.

"Well, you've surely seen better days." Marco comments sympathetically. "You sure you're fine?"

"Yeah," She answers, "Though, I barely got any sleep last night. Auggie had his band over because dad wasn't home, and he learned how to work the power box, so now I can't just turn it off whenever I want because the fucker will just turn it back on." She sighed as she bit into her sloppy Joe.

"Ooh! When are they gonna play for us again? They're improving so fast, I bet we could get them to play at Miche's Diner." Sasha suggests eagerly. "Speaking of, when the hell are we going back? It's been forever since I had that mouthwatering burger in my stomach!"

"Sasha, you're slobbering. Also, we literally went last weekend, what do you mean 'forever'?" Jean reminds the girl.

"I said what I meant and I meant what I said."

"Anyway, lighten up, Y/N. That loser is hardly important enough to let him get you down." Jean chuckles as he ruffles her hair, effectively tarnishing her picture perfect hairstyle.

The girl groans and jerks her head away, "I'd never let a man tell me what to do, now fix my hair you rat. I can't be seen like this." She finishes and points a manicured finger to her head, which the boy rolls his eyes at but accedes nonetheless.

"Oh, I know!" Marco exclaims with a nearly visible lightbulb above his head. "Why don't I bring Megan over to your house tonight after the game? That'd be nice, wouldn't it?" He suggests after having been brainstorming a way to lift her spirits.

"Oh wow! Yes, I miss Megan so much, please bring him over Marco!" Sasha says as she throws her torso on the table, cupping her hands together in a pleading motion.

"Yeah, I've been needing my weekly trauma dump, so that'd be nice for me too." Reiner agrees.

"I haven't been able to buy him snacks because I've been saving up for my club penguin membership." Connie whines dramatically.

"Connie, you're loaded. What are you talking about?" Jean deadpans.

The boy crosses his arms and glares at his freckled friend beside him, "Well, someone here said I couldn't use my parents' money on Megan anymore."

The boy in question simply rubs the back of his neck and chuckles, "Well, last time I let you, you ended up buying him way more than just food. Trust me, you've given him enough, get your club penguin membership."

"Look cueball, all you've gotta do is make a couple bets on who you think is gonna win tonight and then when we inevitably do, you'll have enough for Megan, your membership, and more. Donezo." Ymir says with a smirk, obviously very confident in her team's skills.

"And where the hell am I gonna find someone willing to bet against you guys?"

"Just go to the other side of the stands, Stohess is cocky as shit. Trust me, you'll find tons of betting twerps."

"Cool, good point."

"Now, let's just hope your new friends aren't bad luck charms, Captain." The brunette turns towards the girl in topic. "Last thing we want is this attempt at mending reputations to come bite us in the ass."

"Oh please, Ymir." Y/N scoffs sarcastically, "You make it seem like they're out to get us." She chuckles at the idea.

"Even if they were, what's the worst they could do?"

"Guys, what the hell just happened?" Eren asks with his mouth agape. Armin brings his hand up to close his jaw manually.

"I think we just got invited to a party? Is it even a party? Only the plastics ever get to celebrate with the captain after their wins, of course there are a few exceptions but I never thought we would ever be included in those exceptions!"

"I think I almost creamed my pants." Eren murmurs as he calms his heart rate from his latest interaction. "Wait," He redirects his attention to the ravenette, "Why the sudden change of heart, Mikasa? I could have sworn you were committing mental arson just now."

"Don't you guys see? This is our chance — we can finally get close to the plastics and ruin them from the inside out." She explains with a menacingly calculative expression on her face.

Both boys gawked at the girl and the sheer audacity she had to suggest such a thing, until Armin couldn't bear to contain his disbelief. "Are you crazy, Mikasa?! What are you on? How would we even pull that off?!"

"I don't want to do that, you sound psychotic. This is like some weird wannabe spin-off plot from some 2000's movie that we would never do justice and leave all the viewers complaining about how we should leave iconic films alone." Eren states adamantly. Her idea sounds cruel and he honestly doesn't know if they would deserve to be the pawns of some sort of revenge plot.

"Eren, she humiliated you. You might have your doubts of if she meant to ruin your first day at a school such as this one, but that's just how she works." Mikasa grits and her piercing stare somehow grows even fiercer than ever before. "She makes you think she cares and then when you need her the most? Bam! She drops you like a damn potato. She's the most backstabbing bitch to ever backstab!" She defends herself whilst her hands repeatedly make stabbing motions towards the boy's chest.

Eren's face contorts into a grimace, "This seems more like it's for your own vengeance than mine." He states as his arms cross over his chest.

"Yeah, Mikasa." Armin interjects, "Even though I don't like them very much, ruining their lives is a little too far; even for me."

The girl steadies her breath as she calms herself and reels in her resentment. "Alright, relax. I just worded it wrong." She reassures, though Eren doesn't know if he believes her. "What I meant is that we should take this opportunity to mess with them a bit. Maybe knock them down a peg, no biggie. We have nothing better to do and it's not like this invitation will actually spark some type of friendship with any of them. It would simply never work."

"...How would you know that?" Eren asks, though what he really means is, why? For what reason would no sort of relationship have the ability to form? Was the idea of being associated with people of their status so inconceivable?

"Eren, she couldn't even remember the name of the guy she completely humiliated just a couple of hours ago. Your name. She couldn't remember your name. Trust me, I know."

Ouch. That one cut deep, much to his surprise.

"Well... perhaps this would get Jean to leave me alone. At least for some time?" Armin mutters with his chin between his index and thumb.

"Exactly," Mikasa agrees. "Armin stops his bully, Eren gets his revenge, and I get the pleasure of partaking in and watching the collapse of the hierarchy."

Armin giggles conspicuously, "I mean, as long as this is just a bit of horseplay... nothing different than playing chess, right? I'm in."

The pair then turn their heads to the remaining member of their newly formed trio, who seems to be in deep thought.

Is Mikasa right? Could this simply be a game to Y/N? One that she would have no problem turning and stabbing him in the back in order to win? Everything Mikasa and Armin have said makes perfect sense, they sound like an awful group of people. But if so, why the hell is Eren hesitating so much?

He resides to closing his eyes and takes a thoroughly deep breath, relaxing his mind for what he can tell is a monumental moment that will determine his experience at Trost Academy. If he accepts, who knows what could go down? Not to mention, he might end up on the IT girl's shitlist. Though, if he declines, Mikasa and Armin would ditch him and then he'd be all alone in this enormous school filled with people who ridicule him left and right.

He can hear them laughing from the distance, condescending laughs that grow distinct the longer he keeps his eyes shut. They were taunting, as if they were testing his will or patience...

No.

Eren does not want to experience humiliation any longer. He hates to feel inferior and for as long as they are still standing, that feeling won't disappear.

Knowingly declaring war, Eren announces his final decision. "Alright, what do you have in mind?"

Mikasa's eyes grew darker than they have ever been, and Eren could almost see the snake slithering around in the deep irises that made up Mikasa Ackerman's mercury eyes. "Thanks for asking, I've already got an idea. It's got to do with tonight's game. After all, what's a queen without her throne?"

And as the vindictive girl begins to elucidate her plan, Eren finds his gaze straying to the girl that stood above him moments ago. She's sat at her table at the center of the room, or was it truly the center of the room? Perhaps it simply felt that way. Eren was convinced that no matter where she stood, she would always be the center in his eyes.

He doesn't know if he likes that fact.

She laughs at the way Jean ruffles her hair for the fourth time, berates the boy, and then returns the favor. And Eren can feel his heart crack just the slightest bit as he thinks of what he agreed to partake in. He feels as though if his heart ruptures just a few more times, it'd bleed out. Though, perhaps it will already be too late then, and he wonders just whose will break first.

But, then again, Eren has always been a sore loser.

Tag list: @idreamitski @str4wberrylover @jesus-son-of-god @hoejosblindfold [dm or comment to be added or removed!]

A/N: Happy birthday Eren! My little war criminal ♥︎

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lola-writes · 3 days

Text

One-Eye & the Dreamer

(Aemond's POV)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x O.C Aylana Velaryon

Word Count: 2,2k

Themes & Warnings: slow burn, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, violence, blood, targcest, sexual themes, tension, drama, angst, fix-it of sorts, eventual smut, sexual inexperience, forbidden love, high valyrian, dance of dragons, POV first person

Summary: Aylana Velaryon foresees Aemond Targaryen's doom and assigns herself to prevent it.

Written from Aemond's POV.

More chapters

Gravity had nothing on us, my dear.

You can’t untie red strings of fate.

This is how it feels to fall in love with the atmosphere.

The world surrendered to a symphony of wind. Turbulence thundered in my ears and whipped my hair untamed as I ascended the skies. Rising higher and higher, the clouds enveloped me in a blinding haze, and the elements of the earth below decreased into a mosaic. I conquered the celestial at such speed that I felt like Aegon reborn.

Vhagar was an extension of myself, her undulating muscles beneath my straddling body felt as if connected to my own, forcing our masses through the heavens with an effortlessness. I commanded her higher still, and she heeded my command. We defied gravity in a dance of grace and power.

As we approached the stratosphere where air ran thin, I straightened in my saddle, and my mighty Vhagar leveled out, conforming to every delicate change in my movements. The world below became an inverted dreamscape as we sailed the vague interstice that marked the transition between sky and oblivion - the clouds beneath were the unconquered sky, and the indigo above was the ocean, and I was flying upside down.

Together, Vhagar and I, were limitless.

The memory of when I first claimed her was so potent it eclipsed everything else, real or imagined. It was like walking penniless and finding a mountain of gold at your feet. What was one to do with such power? A power so raw and exhilarating, it consumed. Suddenly, I had no fear. Suddenly, I was not alone…

I leaned into Vhagar’s warmth and she folded her wings against me. We plummeted back down towards the earth, a thrilling drop that sent a jolt of pure ecstasy through my veins. My stomach lurched, and beneath me, Vhagar’s thorax vibrated – a deep, primal roar that resonated through my very bones. In that moment, I mirrored her, a guttural exclaim of pure, unadultered joy escaping my lips.

Never had freedom tasted so sweet.

The force of our descent sliced through the nebulous clouds like a knife through cotton, and as we emerged, the Narrow Sea gaped wide, glittering beneath the noontide sun like a crystal embellished blue silk. I leveled out again and watched Vhagar’s twin loom out of the water.

In the distance, the seven huge drum-towers, proud sentinels of pale red stone, rose out of the sea on their stony summits, and the tolling bells welcomed me back home. An unfamiliar fleet of ships coasted down Black Water Rush like wooden beads along a blue mesh - an unremarkable observation, as nobles from every corner of the realm had been descending upon King’s Landing for the wedding. They had all come through the gates by horse and carriage, none by sea.

Traders perhaps? Coming just in time to fortify our stores for the upcoming plunder.

So many fucking mouths to feed. I had seen them endlessly pour through the castle gates in a river of gold, silver, and polished steel – their banners displaying the sigil of house Lannister, Baratheon, Tully, and I could’ve sworn I saw a direwolf banner among them. Would the Starks truly find a Targaryen wedding of such importance that they would bother dragging themselves out of their frozen pits? It was to be a grand affair, to be sure. A celebration with tourneys, hunts, feasts, and dancing, to last for at least a fortnight.

If I had it my way, I would escape and race the wind on Vhagar. But mother’s orders were a bittersweet curse. We were to be on our best behavior, a euphemism for me babysitting my nuisance of a brother, to ensure he does not imbibe every wine cask in the keep, and to hearten my sweet sister who always grew gauche in social gatherings.

One could hardly fathom I was the youngest.

But the chief of my worries was Aegon. He already had an inclination of getting unreasonable drunk on a plain day. I shuddered to think of the lengths he might go to in tribute to his own nuptials.

Unease filled my gut.

But it wasn’t the vigil of my siblings that rendered me apprehensive.

As I drew close enough that I could make out the banners, I realized that these were no ordinary trading ships. In fact, these weren’t traders at all. I tugged at the reins and Vhagar gathered air beneath her leather and sprung up high, casting her mighty shadow atop the vessels.

Memories consumed me like a bad aftertaste. The sigil-emblazoned sails draped across the masts below needed no introduction. The seahorse and the three-headed black dragon caught the wind.

It could only mean one thing…

The thought got knocked right out of me as a bone-jarring impact to Vhagar’s thorax threw me off my saddle. Her earsplitting roar resounded across the blackwater, as I tumbled down her back. Instinctively, I snagged my wrist through a loop in her saddle ropes, dangling precariously until she steadied herself. I hauled myself back up, heart hammering in my chest, adrenaline pouring into my bloodstream. I scouted the skies for an attacker in a glassy bewilderment, growing acrimoniously aware of my disability. But the firmament was still and empty.

What in the Seven Hells?

Another blow. It knocked me aslant, and I felt fury consuming me like poison. Gritting my teeth, I gripped the saddle horn and twisted the reins twice ‘round my forearm, and perceived every muscle of Vhagar’s back contracting beneath me, waiting to charge.

Who would dare challenge me?

A flicker of movement caught my eye. A shape, shrouded beneath Vhagar’s wing membranes, was soaring alongside us. And when I turned to look, my eye met a stranger, masked and cloaked, stalking us on a dragon as black and swift as a raven. But the beast was miniscule in relation, just the age to breathe fire, and yet had nearly forced me to meet the gods.

Humiliation morphed into a blinding rage that seethed through my veins and marred my vision with a red mist. “Ossēnagon, Vhagar!” Kill. I growled, and steered her toward the trespasser. But the figure crouched down in their saddle, and their dragon dove towards the city.

Fucking craven.

We went after them. Their descent was swift and inaudible, while mine was slow and thunderous like a moving mountain. The pale orange rooftops of King’s Landing, bleached from the summer’s scorching sun, spread out like a vast rust beneath our darkening shadows. I pursued them to the Hill of Rhaenys, where we landed opposite each other outside the crypts of the dragonpit.

Dismounting, I started towards them, each step a measured threat. The steel of my dagger sang its lethal warning as I drew it from my scabbard. But the stranger stood their ground, defiance flickering in their shadowed form. My anger, already a simmering cauldron, boiled over. I closed the distance between up, a growl ripping from my throat, raw and primal.

“You!” The word barely a breath before my blade bit their throat. A desperate struggle ensued, but my palm collared the nape of their neck, locking them to the steel. A Kingsguard’s alarming exclaims sounded in the distance, but the words faded underwater.

“The Stranger requests an audience.” The contiguity drowned my voice into a whisper. I took pleasure in that I towered over them, and felt their hot, humid breath against me, hitching beneath the sharp edge.

“My prince!” Ser Harrold Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, came running towards us. His voice, booming like thunder, always sufficed in snapping the whole court to attention. But it wasn’t his timber which stirred me this time. “Let her go!”

His words carried me out of my raging inferno.

Her?

I blinked through my apprehension and scavenged the stranger’s frame with my eye, as if I’d awoken from a dream and seen them for the first time. A tug, a rustle, and their hood fell back and settled around their shoulders.

A wave of ice ran down my spine.

It was like seeing a ghost. The protagonist of all my nightmares coming alive, ready to haunt me.

Aylana Velaryon.

Her eyes, the color of sunlit amber flicked with gold, held mine with an unsettling intensity. She seemed to see right through me, demanding answers I could not provide. Then, a knowing smile played on her lips.

“Skoros iksos pirta, kepus?” What’s wrong, uncle? A sardonic edge laced her voice. “Gaomagon ao daor gīmigon issa?” Do you not remember me?

The words hit me like a physical blow. I swallowed, stunned by her High Valyrian.

For a moment, I believe I stood petrified, unable to tear my gaze from her, unable to utter a word.

A torrent of questions, accusations, apologies – years of unspoken turmoil – churned within me. But now, with her life literally in my hands, the words deserted me. My tongue, usually an agile weapon, felt like lead. This was the person who had haunted my every waking and sleeping thought for years, and all I could manage was a stunned silence. Perhaps my countenance spoke volumes where my voice failed.

She echoed the girl I remembered, but time had woven its changes. I had to take it all in. Her voice, saccharine and laced with a hint of mockery, was a stark contrast to the playful child I held in memory. Her once youthful features had sharpened, cheekbones higher, lips fuller. Then, my gaze, fell upon the one jarring element – a crimson scar that snaked across her left eyebrow, expressing a raw pink sheen beneath a shell of transparent skin. Years had passed, yet the wound looked fresh.

The accident.

My jaw tightened as venom seethed through my veins.

I could still see her crumpled, lifeless form in the dirt, her skull cracked open, every time I closed my eye.

And I was holding the bloody rock.

Shame coiled in my gut like a suffocating weight. I could not bear to look at her.

“Some things never change,” she said facetiously. “Don’t you agree, uncle?”

Shit.

I was still holding my knife to her throat. I recoiled with such force that the effort pushed her back as well. A bright seam of red welled up at the lip where my blade had kissed her and painted the length of her neck like dark fruit.

I reviled myself. I had tried to kill her. Again.

But she just smiled, a dimple flashing in her cheek. As if we were still kids and she had made a humorous jest.

I realized I had been holding my breath when a gasp escaped my lips and air rushed back into my lungs. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy.

“Aylana.” I spoke her name derisively without intending to, as I sheathed the knife at my waist where my gaze lingered a moment, dreading to meet hers.

My stomach turned. I never used to call her that. It sounded so formal and distant on my tongue, just like ‘uncle’ on hers. But that’s what we were to each other now - our friendship no more than a distant memory. I no longer assumed myself worthy of her alias. I had lost that privilege. Just as I had lost my friend.

The weight of the past pressed down on me, suffocating.

Agitation infiltrated my mind and my whole disposition must have come off as reticent and hostile. I watched her pull her gloves off finger by finger and release the clasp of her cloak. There was an attitude in her movements and a poise in her posture. Beneath she was dressed in sable flying leathers that clung tightly to her body.

I averted my gaze.

Frustration clawed at my chest, and whatever other feeling it was that made my mouth dry and my palms clammy.

“You look well, nuncle,” she said.

My eye met hers and I noted them briefly flicker across my eyepatch. Her scrutiny made the leather singe my skin with awareness. Growing diffident, I looked away.

“Hmmph,” I said, my favorite expression of disdain.

I knew what she was implying. That if I had only listened to her that night, instead of acting like an arrogant scoundrel, I wouldn’t be looking like a eunuch with one eye at present.

And she was right in mocking me. If her insults were the currency for my betrayal, I would gladly become a spendthrift.

My breathing shallowed as I gazed at the damage I’d caused. I had to get out of there.

“I hope we did not frighten you earlier,” she said, interrupting my escape. “I only thought I might test the mettle of the largest dragon in the world. She truly is remarkable. A fair exchange, to be sure.”

I turned to look at her, and I didn’t know what I must’ve looked like, because the playful smile that had been dancing between her lips our entire encounter, vanished. There it is, I thought. The realization. The Aemond you knew is gone. This is the monster you forged.

“Ser Harrold,” I said. “Escort the princess to the Red Keep. And make sure she does not test the mettle of anyone else in the city.”

“Certainly, my prince,” said Ser Harrold, the Lord Commander who was the very first person to see my face after the loss of my eye. This fact made him remarkably significant somehow.

I mounted Vhagar and took to the sky, watching Aylana and Nymax blur into mere specks on a canvas.

This would be a celebration I was sure to remember…

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theladyismyshepard · 4 months

Note

For Valentines Day could I request hc for how halsin and Astarion would react to their shared lover surprising them with new lingerie?

Of course you can, anon, and I thank you for such a racy prompt

Astarion x Halsin x Reader (M/M/F)

NSFW, MDNI below cut

Three's Company, and I'm Afraid I'm Underdressed

(How Astarion and Halsin Would React to You in Lingerie)

You were a certified genius. That was all you could think after you stepped out of Facemaker’s Boutique in Baldur’s Gate with your coin purse considerably lighter. None had been the wiser when you began stuffing a lacy corset into your travel pack. Weeks of trekking through the swamps and the Underdark had left you grimy and less than seductive when it came to romancing Halsin and Astarion.

Halsin… my good man, no my good boy… The druid was a simple man who loved nature and especially the dirt that came with it. He found the dust from the roads that clung to your skin and your clothes to be the most beautiful thing in the world. The smile that slowly pulled at the edges of your mouth when you thought of how sweet Halsin was could never be helped. He was a natural smooth talker, speaking almost as if he was telling you nothing but truths and common sense when he complimented you or Astarion.

You could feel your mirrored appreciation through your connection with the vampire. Astarion originally would downplay how much he approved of Halsin’s bold declarations before the druid’s chivalry filed down the barbed-wire ensnaring the vampire’s bittered, blackened heart. And almost as if determined to clear out the shadows of Astarion’s heart just as he intended with the Shadowfell, he broke down walls that had been fortified for centuries.

Astarion had a voice like honey himself and all of the flare to go with it. His playful flirting always danced along the edge of actual seduction, and it always kept you on your toes. Halsin hadn’t always been too keen on joking, especially the dark humor that the vampire had perfected, but as the snarky facade began to crack and glimmers of a broken man could be seen peering through, Halsin was finally beginning to see what you did in Astarion.

The grand display of their love flourishing had your heart swelling happily in your chest. These two men had nothing but time ahead of them and it thrilled you to know that when you withered away with age decades from now, the two would offer each other support. But until that moment came, and while you could still claim to possess an ass that won’t quit, you would show your lovers the perks of having you involved in their love affair.

It was the perfect night. The stars were shining bright, the air was calm, and the aftertaste of victory was still sweet on your tongue. The party had dispersed almost immediately following the battle of the Netherbrain, and while initially it left you feeling hollow, the privacy sure proved useful for moments such as what you had planned. As you approached Astarion and Halsin, who were both lounging back against a log and chatting by the fire, your hands were wringing the drawstring of your robe.

They both looked up at the same time and you chuckled at how cute they were. Of course Halsin’s connection to nature helped him in sensing the change of your presence just as quick as Astarion’s enhanced hearing. The vampire arched a brow while the druid cocked his head when he noticed your robe-clad body. Your chest expanded as you took a deep breath, and you held it as you dropped the cloth from your shoulders and down your arms to pool at your feet.

The lingerie hugged your body like a second skin and the lacy fabric left no room for imagination as it practically left you bare before your lovers. Astarion’s eyes widened while slowly looking you up and down. When they returned to meet yours, his confident smirk was back in place as he attempted to convey with his eyes alone just how hungry he had become. He was a man of fashion, darling, and he greatly treasured when you put in the same effort as he did. As he shifted his upper body in your direction with his gaze piercing straight into your soul, his elbow propped up on the log as his pointer finger pressed against his temple, his thumb supported his chin, and his remaining fingers were semi-curled and resting over his lips. The tadpole’s connection between you two had vanished the moment the Netherbrain fell, but you’d swear you could practically feel his arousal as if it were your own.

Halsin drank in the sight of your semi-naked body as if it were a cold drink of water on the hottest day of the year. Initially, you were unsure if the Druid would be as affected as you’d like. He had let you know early on that he found you most alluring when you had nothing obscuring his vision…. But his entranced smile as he fully sat up to look at you around Astarion was a promise enough of what would be to come (or who). You were trapped beneath the weight of both of these men’s heavy gazes.

“Don’t you look positively delectable,” Astarion drawled almost predatorily as he motioned with his other hand for you to come closer, “I could eat you right up… And I think I just might,”

“Only if you save some for me,” Halsin chimed in, and you could see his muscles twitching with the urge to pounce, but he remained in his spot beside Astarion, but on edge with anticipation.

Certified genius.

It was a brief thought that was gone as quick as it came once you reached Astarion and he lifted both his hands to grab ahold of yours and guide you down onto his lap. You gasped and couldn’t stop yourself from grinding down when you rubbed against his semi-hard dick. It felt like electricity shot down your spine as heat pooled in the pit of your stomach when you felt his hips pump up to meet you. You both groaned in unison, and while you could have easily allowed your eyes to roll back and just relish in the growing wetness between your thighs, there was another hand that began rubbing circles between your shoulders.

Halsin’s breathing had quickened and he was leaning in closer than when you last glanced in his direction. His lips were parted as he shakily exhaled, his hands continuing to massage circles into not only your skin, but he was running his fingertips up and down Astarion’s back as well. You didn’t even think, it was instinct to lean forward and capture the druid’s lips in a kiss. It wasn’t long before his tongue was licking across your bottom lip, wordlessly asking for entrance. He was a dominating lover, and it was evident in the way his tongue fought for control.

Hands that were previously gripping your waist were now running teasingly up your sides. You felt goosebumps flaring beneath the fabric of the lingerie. Astarion’s hips continued a calm, steady thrusting as his hands explored up your sides, across your hips, and gathered handfuls of your rear. Your flesh was ablaze with each touch. As the vampire’s erection grew harder against your clothed center, you felt the moan bubble in your throat before it interrupted your kiss with Halsin. The druid’s lips kissed down your cheek to a spot right below your ear. You felt Halsin’s hand meet Astarion’s on your back before the weight of his touch disappeared and you knew his hand was running up Astarion’s arm that was wound around your body.

Halsin pulled back and looked over at Astarion, whose gaze shifted to the druid in return. It was a challenging arch of the brow that spurred Halsin forward in claiming the vampire’s lips in a searing kiss. Astarion’s head was tilted back with one of Halsin’s hands supporting the back of his head as their tongues explored the other’s mouth. You shivered in arousal, practically feeling your nipples fighting against the restraint of the lingerie before you ran your hands over Astarion’s chest. You leaned forward and started placing open-mouthed kisses along Halsin’s broad shoulder and down his chest. You growled at the clothing between your hands, mouth, and their bodies. You pulled back, and they both broke the kiss to look at you.

“Clothes, off, now,”

“How expensive was-”

Before Astarion could even finish his question, Halsin was tearing the lacy cloth from your body to get to the prize underneath. You weren’t even surprised. Astarion merely shrugged before pulling his shirt off, and Halsin stood as he fully undressed himself. The moment his underwear was pulled down his legs and his cock sprung to life just a foot away from your face, you could’ve sworn you started salivating. Astarion must have had the same thought because he was staring wide-eyed at his dick and licked his lips before glancing up at his face.

An idea sparked in your mind and you looked up at Halsin before turning back to Astarion. You placed your hands over his bare chest, your fingers splaying out and your pinky finger grazed over his nipple. The vampire inhaled sharply, neck snapping back to face you. You pull him into an open-mouthed kiss that lasted a moment before pulling back and looking him straight in the eye.

“Suck Halsin’s dick,” You command, and Astarion’s shock flashed over his face a moment before his mouth twisted into a devilish grin.

“It would be my pleasure,” he cooed before he gently grabbed the back of Halsin’s thigh and pulled him close enough to flatten his tongue against the tip of his cock, flicking it before licking a swirl around the head.

Halsin sucked in a breath between his teeth at the sudden wet heat. You were throbbing between your legs at the sight, and you could feel a renewed wetness slicking your lower lips. Your eyes never cut away even as your hands worked at Astarion’s belt. It was a familiar movement that was reflex now, and it wasn’t long before the vampire’s dick was in your hand, pumping it to full length. Astarion moaned around Halsin’s dick and as a result, the druid released his own groan. You continued to stroke Astarion with one hand, and your other lifted to Halsin’s hip bone next to Astarion’s fair hair, and caressed the skin there and up his stomach and back again, watching as the muscles of his stomach flexed.

Astarion’s hand on the back of Halsin’s thigh lightened to his fingertips as he drew them higher and higher until he grabbed a handful of his cheek. Halsin jolted forward and further down Astarion’s throat, prompting the vampire to gag a bit before bobbing his back and forth, allowing his tongue to graze the underside of his dick. Your thumb rubbed a circle on the tip of Astarion’s dick before it traced a vein that traveled the length of it, and just when you felt a clear wetness ooze from the tip, you released your grip to raise yourself to your knees long enough to line him up with your center before you slowly sunk your full weight onto his dick. Astarion sputtered around Halsin’s dick, pulling back to gasp and arch his back into you.

Halsin’s cock glistened with Astarion’s spit as it stood at attention, and who was you to deny it? You leaned forward to take Halsin into your mouth and continue where the vampire had left off. With both of your hands free, your right one lightly trailed up his stomach as far as you could reach, and your left wound behind him and grabbed the same cheek that Astarion had. Halsin’s head fell back, allowing him to gaze up into the endless sea of stars. It felt as though he was flying, but the wet heat of your mouth kept him grounded. You hollowed your cheeks briefly before a gasp gave you a pause around Halsin.

Astarion’s dick was still buried inside of you, and he had regained some of his composure. He was jogging his hips, and you felt him stretching you out as he went deeper and deeper. Given how wet you were, there was hardly much resistance and he soon bottomed out. He halted to familiarize both your bodies to the stretch, and as he paused, he surged forward to take your nipple into his mouth. Your back arched to get closer to him, but one of his hands was already around your back, keeping you tight against his body. A larger hand was suddenly cupping the base of your neck, and you pulled off of Halsin to glance up at him.

The druid gave you a warm smile before he bowed over to meet your lips with his. He licked away the moisture on your lips before following it with several quick pecks. As he righted himself, Astarion reached forward with his free hand and grabbed his length to start pumping it. You were entranced by the sight before pleasure sent fire coursing through your veins, and you began grinding down to match Astarion’s thrusts up into you. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you rode his dick, but they snapped open when you felt Halsin slightly squeeze the back of your neck to get your attention. The head of his cock was plump and looked about ready to burst. Your lips parted a ‘oh’ at the sight as well as the pressure building quickly in your gut from the suckling at your nipples. Astarion was stroking Halsin faster and you were captivated by the sight of the head disappearing and reappearing in the fist as he pumped.

Astarion kissed up your chest and sank his teeth into the flesh connecting your shoulder and neck. You moaned loudly as you teetered on the edge, but you were sure to keep your mouth wide open. You stuck your tongue out all while staring Halsin in the eye, and let the head of his cock rest against it as you waited for him to shoot his load. The sight, along with the feel of your wet tongue coupled with Astarion’s quick jerking, had Halsin spilling into your mouth as he came. You lapped it up eagerly, and licked the head clean as his fingers combed through your hair.

The teeth in your neck released and the sting was soothed by a broad stroke of the vampire’s tongue. He followed it with a kiss and trailed them up your neck, past your chin, and connected your lips as he used the hand on the small of your back as leverage for a few more quick thrusts before your walls were fluttering around his member and your back was arching as you fell over the edge. As your orgasm rolled through you, you became deathly still before snapping and your erratic grinding had Astarion pulling you off his dick just as he shot his load across your clit.

Your thighs were sore and your body felt limp as you fell against Astarion, who immediately caught you and brought you closer. Halsin’s hand was back to brushing your hair back, and as you cuddled into the vampire’s neck, you felt his head crane back to meet Halsin in a brief kiss.

Oh yeah… certified genius.

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