#william shakespeare can catch these hands

[partywithponies]

Listen. Anne absolutely got her own personal bad ending in Bill. If your options are "guy who's kind of an asshole and doesn't particularly care about your feelings who regularly abandons you and your children to struggle while he chases his every dream on a whim and who is historically almost definitely going to cheat on you in the future" or "guy who's kind of an asshole and doesn't really care about your feelings who wants to give you land and title and almost unheard levels of power and authority as well as enough wealth to keep you and your children comfortable for as long as you live, and who probably won't cheat on you if only because he's never going to be exactly rolling in bitches", there's only one correct choice, I'm sorry.

#except Anne never GOT a choice #did she? #the whole movie people just make decisions that will affect her entire life without even consulting her #smh #william shakespeare can catch these hands #and of course we all know Philip II of Spain is already my one true nemesis #bill 2015 #bill the film

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (05/10)

The Challenge

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: new sensations envelop you when you are with Aemond, especially when you learn more details about his relationship with Alys and an unexpected news fills you with nerves.

word count: 6.6k

previous part • series masterlist

new chapter finally!

probably won't be as exciting as the other chapters, however...there is something here going on and I want you guys to figure it out in the comments and we'll see if you are catching what I am👀

the next chapter will be full of drama, believe me, so expect it to come very soon as I'm focusing on finishing writing this story without making new ones and considering I have no more fics pending, just this one🤗

now yes beautiful people, enjoy!

warnings: cursing, language, mentions of cheating.

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @a-beaverhausen

The sound of birds in the distance reaches your ears.

Today the sky is cloudy, with no chance of rain, the temperature is pleasant and you are thankful that there are no intense sun rays burning your skin when you are outdoors.

You find yourself immersed in your physics homework, sitting on the bleachers of the sports field, where you can only hear the sound of the birds and also faintly the sound of the soccer team training.

You sit in tranquility, undisturbed and unobserved by anyone, when suddenly the sound of footsteps stepping on the metal bleachers pulls you out of your concentration.

You look up and see Aemond approaching, a small smile on his face. You return his greeting with a shy smile and make a small space beside you for him to take a seat.

Aemond plops down nonchalantly next to you, letting out a sigh, then curiously observes what you're doing on your lap.

"What are you doing?"

You deliberately ignore his question and instead, take a loose leaf you had tucked away among your folder, pick it up and hold it out to him, with a gentle yet expectant look.

Aemond takes it and frowns, reading what you've written on it, only getting more confused.

'Pride and Prejudice' by Jane Austen.

'Romeo and Juliet' by William Shakespeare.

"And what is this?"

"Have you already forgotten my conditions of the contract?" you tell him amused, "For every party I go with you to, you have to read one of my favorite books or watch one of my favorite movies or shows," you remind him, "So now, you have to pick one of these two of my favorite books."

Aemond rolls his eye with amusement.

"And why exactly do I have to pick one of these two? Don't they seem... repetitive and so usual?"

"That's what people always say, obviously they know these books by the title and their authors, but how many people actually read these books?" you look at him with your tone full of expectation, "I'm sure you haven't read either of them."

He shrugs indifferently, with his nonchalant air.

"So? There are movies," he says confused, "I haven't seen them either, but I know how they both end. In the end they both get married," he points to the title of 'Pride and Prejudice', "And here they both die together and their families stop being rivals," he points to 'Romeo and Juliet'.

You let out a small chuckle at his witty response, but you are not intimidated.

"Yes but there are a lot of things that in the movies they don't show, so... what will be your choice, Mr. Aemond?"

He lets out a laugh.

"Well, we'll see how this 'Romeo and Juliet' is," he decides.

"Perfect."

And when he least expects it, from your backpack you take the book, handing it to him with your clear satisfaction and he still confused but amused examines the book in his hands.

"Good, then give me the other one at once, because there's a new party on Saturday," he tells you, completely grabbing your attention.

You open your eyes wide and stare at him in disbelief and surprise.

"What? So soon?" you ask with clear irritation and disappointment in your look and tone.

"Why are you so disappointed? After all you come out on top too since I'm going to read two of your shitty boring books," he says as he raises them slightly in the air.

"My books aren't shitty and they aren't boring!" you exclaim indignantly giving him a gentle tap on the shoulder, "And it's okay, I just didn't think it would be so soon."

"We'll just go for a little while. Then we can both go get some dinner and I'll drop you off at your house early. Sound good?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

And as soon as you say that, you also hand him the second book with a good forced look, making Aemond laugh and take that book too.

"As much as I like seeing you with a wrinkled nose, take it off or it's going to stay that way," he says amused, crinkling it between his fingers briefly, making you laugh and you immediately move his hand away from your face.

Then he says goodbye to you, before getting up and heading off to his next class. And also not before telling you that he'll see you at lunch.

And as you watch him walk away, you tell yourself that these little interactions are part of pretending, since after all, the guys on the soccer team can see them clearly from this distance.

However, that slight fear returns to yourself that things may get more complicated than you expect.

Fortunately, the rest of the week goes smoothly, the teachers seem to be in a good mood and the homework is not heavy.

And you clearly continue to pretend along with Aemond.

Both he and you continue to act as usual, he is attentive and affectionate when you are together in full view of everyone at school. His gestures and looks full of complicity make you feel special, but at the same time remind you that it's all part of a game.

You also keep your word with Helaena, taking time to sit together for lunch at break time and occasionally Alysanne joins in as well, where you gradually start telling her about Cregan.

Until the day of the party arrives.

You tell your dad that you're going to a birthday celebration for a class friend, nothing big and everything quiet.

Then you opt for a pair of black pants, low-heeled ankle boots, a strappy blouse in a vibrant shade of cherry and a jacket to complement the outfit. And once you look in the mirror, you feel ready, although the nerves begin to settle in your stomach.

And of course, Aemond arrives promptly at your house.

His relaxed expression and smile greet you before you even get into the car. And driving to the party, the atmosphere is comfortable and calm.

And when you both arrive at the house where the party is, it's not a big, loud party like the previous one. But the atmosphere is full of energy, there is music, people dancing, drinks and cigarettes.

And you together with Aemond follow the same procedure to pretend to be a couple in love.

This time, you both decide to be more present with Aemond's friends. You sit between Trevor and Aemond, who immediately puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him, starting to make conversation with his friends.

And as always, he makes sure you're always included, just like during lunch in the cafeteria.

And while everyone is talking, the guys and Aemond make you laugh, feeling more and more comfortable with them. And as the night goes on, you realize how natural it feels to be next to Aemond, as if you fit perfectly into his world, at least for tonight.

When he at your side looks at you attentively and with some curiosity.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you nod nonchalantly, "Why?"

"Just asking," he shrugs, then lifts his hand and tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, "Can I get you something to drink?"

You shake your head.

"I don't want to drink beer or anything like that."

"Then a soda? Or water?"

You let out a small laugh.

"Okay, soda's fine."

"Alright. I'll be back soon," he says then leaves a soft kiss on your forehead and gets up to head towards the kitchen.

He leaves for a moment and you are left talking to his friends, who are a lot of fun and in fact, because of them and Aemond, you begin to understand lacrosse as such, since that's all they talk about, besides their nonsense.

And also about some of the girls they like.

And also in that small moment that Aemond leaves, as you briefly observe the party around you, you see Alys with her group of friends in another corner.

You just casually watch them, you don't plan to give them any attention, but just as your eyes watch Alys, she watches you back.

And you are struck by how she says something to her friends with a smirk of superiority without taking her eyes off you and then everyone in her group watches you and laughs too.

You snort as you look away, as if you really care.

Aemond returns with your soda and only a glass of beer for himself, resuming conversation with both you and his friends, having a good time together.

Time passes and you feel the need to go to the bathroom, so you leave your now empty glass on the small table in the center.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you announce, catching his attention, starting to stretch a bit to get up.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asks you thoughtfully, "I mean, wait for you outside."

"No need, don't worry. I'll be back soon," you assure him, standing up.

"Okay," he nods at you with a small smile.

With a nod, you walk away towards the second floor bathroom, where you'll mostly take a moment to recharge your batteries before heading back to the party.

Luckily the bathroom is empty and you do everything you need to do without pressure.

Then you take a deep breath, allow yourself a brief moment of calm before returning to the party, wash your hands and mentally go over how you should behave around Aemond in front of everyone.

As you exit the bathroom, just down the hall, you notice Alys' presence in the area near the stairs.

You think about just ignoring her and walking past her, but when her eyes watch you, as if she is waiting for you, a mischievous smile curves her lips and she turns fully towards you, giving you her full attention.

"What do we have here," she mutters sarcastically, moving towards you while holding a red plastic cup in her hand.

You watch her completely unconcerned and walk past her, as you don't plan on dealing with her right now or ever.

"How does it feel to be Aemond's new pet?" she asks with a mocking laugh, planting herself in front of you, stopping your steps, "Or did you just think you could replace me so easily?"

Your heart begins to pound in your chest, but you stand your ground, reminding yourself that you will not let his words affect you, as his expression is filled with disdain.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you reply calmly, trying not to give her the pleasure of seeing you affected by her comments.

She glares at you, before a sly smile spreads across her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says with false sympathy, "I really thought you knew."

You frown.

"He's always done this, ever since we started dating," she says, "When we'd break up, he'd date the first girl in front of him as a pathetic attempt to replace me and make me jealous, so you're not the first and won't be the last, sweetie," she tells you with a fake pout, feigning pity for you.

You fix your gaze on Alys, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration coursing through your body. Who does she think she is to talk to you like that?

"I don't need your false sympathy," you reply with determination, your voice resonating louder than you expected, "What Aemond and I have has nothing to do with you."

Alys rolls her eyes in exasperation, as if your words are irrelevant to her.

"Oh, please," she replies dismissively, "Don't lie to yourself. He's always been like that, he's just looking to distract himself and you're just the last in line," she points out to you irrelevantly, "When we broke up, he was crying like a baby for me, begging me to get back together."

Your heart clenches at her words, with a surge of emotions surging through your chest.

For a moment, doubt takes hold of you.

Did Aemond really do that? Was he so affected by their breakup?

You tell yourself that maybe if he hadn't, he would never have asked you to do this. But this was mostly so that Alys would stop making a fool of him at school by cheating on him, not to get his attention and make her jealous... right?

"I'm not surprised you don't know," she continues to tell you dismissively, "But do you really think he loves you? Please," she snorts derisively, "He'll dump you in a few weeks when I give him the slightest hope because he's still crazy about me," she says superiorly, "Look at you and look at me. I know what he's into and that's definitely not you, especially you."

You try to ignore the stinging pain and keep your composure, clenching your jaw.

"I don't care what happened between you," you reply bravely, even if your voice shakes a little, "Ours is different."

She lets out a mocking laugh.

"Oh you poor little thing, you're so naive."

"If that's all, thank you so much for that vital information for my life," you tell her just as mockingly, walking past her, determined to leave her behind.

But just as you pass by her side, Alys moves along with you and purposefully slams your shoulder and arm with brutality, causing the beer in her hand to spill in a dull motion onto your chest and clothes.

The cold, sticky liquid slides down your blouse and pants, leaving you drenched and shocked by the suddenness of the moment.

You feel the liquid soak through your clothes and a shiver runs down your back. And you look down, watching in disbelief as the drink spreads through your clothes.

Then you look back at Alys, who has a mocking, amused look on her face.

"Oh, gosh, how clumsy of me," Alys scoffs, her tone of voice full of fake concern, "I'm really sorry, it was an accident."

You take a deep breath to contain your frustration, but her words spark a small spark of anger inside you. How can she be so brazen?

"An accident?" you repeat, disbelief in your voice as you stare at her with a frown.

Alys just smiles mischievously, enjoying your discomfort and what she just did to you.

"Enjoy the party, honey. But first, maybe you should clean yourself up," she says before turning away, leaving you soaking wet and clearly feeling very proud.

You don't even know what to do, feeling this way leaves you paralyzed for a moment, until you finally make your way back to the bathroom.

At the sink you further wet your clothes with water, which looks worse, but at least you won't stink of beer.

Drops of beer also splashed into your hair, so you wipe that off as well, feeling the humiliation wash over you and you don't even know exactly why.

But you do.

You look down at your ruined booties too, soaked from the front with beer and water.

The skin on your chest and collarbone feels chuckling from the beer, so you wipe it off too, when suddenly, there's a knock on the door.

"One moment!" you exclaim grumpily, still cleaning yourself.

"Y/N?"

You hear Aemond's worried voice outside.

"Fuck," you curse in a whisper.

"Are you okay?"

You bite the inside of your cheek and let out a long breath, already having the idea that you won't be able to hide this from him.

You were only supposed to come to the bathroom and you've already been late, of course he must have sensed something was wrong and come looking for you.

You leave the wet towel in the sink and open the door, where Aemond instantly notices you and opens his eye wide, seeing your clothes and some of your soaked hair.

"What happened?" he asks worriedly, moving quickly towards you, examining you.

You struggle to keep your composure, but can't, a bad mood overcomes you and you make your displeasure clear.

"Alys threw her drink on me," you finally say, stepping aside to let him go into the bathroom with you, reaching back for the damp towel to clean your skin.

Surprise crosses your face before it morphs into an expression of restrained fury and disbelief.

"What?"

You hiss, looking in the mirror at yourself as you wipe your sticky skin.

"Did she say something to you?" he asks, his voice serious but full of concern.

You let out a gesture of disbelief.

"She said things many things," you say seriously, not watching him for a moment, trying to dry your hair with the towel.

Aemond frowns, clearly annoyed.

He walks over to you and takes the towel from your hands, stopping your attempt to dry your hair. His gaze meets yours through the mirror, searching for answers.

"What things did dhe say?"

You sigh, feeling the weight of the situation on your shoulders.

"It doesn't matter, she just said bullshit," you reply evasively, looking away.

Aemond watches your face, urgently wanting you to look him in the eye, but you don't, you avoid his gaze and are obviously annoyed with the situation, which he doesn't blame you for.

He's annoyed too, because he knew he should have been near you to protect you if Alys is in the same place as the two of you.

He sighs in frustration, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, watching your soaked clothes and how you continue to clean yourself.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs sincerely, his voice full of regret, "You shouldn't have gone through this. She's totally out of her mind."

You remain silent for a moment, fighting the emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. As he looks at you with anguish and regret for not protecting you from Alys' comments and actions.

"It's not your fault," you finally say in a serious voice, still not looking at him, then set the damp towel down on the sink and inhale softly, "Can you take me home?"

Aemond nods, feeling guilty.

"Sure," he murmurs, "But first... you can put on my jacket," he says as he starts to take it off, "I'll be waiting outside."

He takes it off and gently hands it to you, his hand brushing against yours with a gesture of tenderness.

"Thanks," you murmur.

He exits the bathroom, closes the door and you remove your blouse and soaked jacket, leaving your bra down and immediately wrap his jacket around you, zipping it up almost to your throat.

With your clothes in your hands, you walk out of the bathroom and Aemond watches you silently, attentive and concerned, with a sadness and frustration in his eye that he can't hide.

He hates your distance.

A few moments ago the two of you were having a good time and now that Alys has done this... he hates that you are apart from him.

You both return to the party and Aemond doesn't even say goodbye to his friends, thinking he'll text them later, grabbing your shoulder and walking out of the house with you.

Together, you walk to his car in silence, where he doesn't dare to say a single word to you and you don't really want to talk either.

And all the way to your house, that nagging feeling doesn't leave your system.

But is it specifically because Alys spilled her drink on you or is it the interesting information she shared with you about Aemond?

You don't.

But you do.

Aemond tried to talk to you about what happened but you wouldn't let him.

You feel it's something you shouldn't make a big deal about. After all, he and you are not really 'dating'. So before he dropped you off at your house, you just reassured him that everything was fine and nothing more.

Now it's your father who drops you off at school on this day and you head towards your locker, immersed for a moment in thought.

You carelessly take your backpack off your shoulders to open it at the same time you open your locker, but as you do so, a polaroid falls to the floor.

You frown and bend down to pick it up, confused, since it's not yours.

And as you look at it, your heart begins to beat too hard in your chest as you see a picture of Aemond and Alys as if at a school dance or a party, both of them hugging.

But that's not what catches your attention, what does is seeing how there's is a picture of your face overlaid over where Alys' face should be, indicating just that, her replacement, a second place or temporary substitute.

But the thing about you and Aemond is not real.

So... why are you so affected by something you know isn't real?

It's a question that haunts your mind as you struggle to maintain your composure, beginning to tremble and feel your breathing heavy.

You swallow hard and press your lips together, when just then, you hear it...the giggles.

You raise your gaze and in the distance, you see Alys with her friends watching in your direction and laughing, clearly mocking you.

Although your relationship with Aemond is fake, the pain you feel at this moment is real.

And before you can react, Aemond's voice is suddenly heard.

"Hey, I was—

You turn your head towards him instantly and your eyes meet his, but his words hang in the air the moment he sees what you hold in your hands.

His soft expression slowly transforms from confusion to fury as he sees the picture. His whole face hardens completely and he purses his lips.

And sure enough, it's a matter of him realizing what's happening, as he hears Alys and her friends' laughter and looks in their direction, hardening his gaze even more.

"Aemond—

You try to speak but he instantly walks over to where Alys is standing without saying a word to you, taking the picture from your hands.

Your heart beats harder, opening your eyes wide and you want to walk towards him, to stop him, but somehow, you are paralyzed and you don't know exactly why.

Tension begins to feel in the air and you feel like your heart will burst out of your chest at any moment.

Aemond arrives in front of Alys with a determined look, his jaw tense and his fists clenched at his side. Instead of shouting, however, his voice is firm and controlled.

"From now on, I don't ever want to see you keep bothering my girlfriend with your fucking little girl pranks again, do you understand me?" he says angrily to then throw the photo at her.

The photo hits her face lightly and Alys looks up at him, surprised by the sudden intensity of his voice and his movements.

Instead of showing fear, however, her face hardens with an expression of disdain and disbelief.

"Oh, look who thinks he's the hero," she replies with her cynical smile, trying to hide her discomfort behind her façade of superiority, "I didn't know you had to protect your little girlfriend, Aemond. And come on, we were just joking."

Aemond clenches his fists, his jaw tense with frustration. But he continues to maintain his composure, his eye fixed on hers with determination.

"Oh yeah? You were just joking?" he repeats, "And the party thing on Saturday was a fucking joke too?"

Her face tenses slightly at the mention of the party, her smile fading momentarily before her regains his composure.

"That was an accident—

"Yeah, right. Everything to you is an accident, something you didn't meant to do, something that got out of hand. How could I not know about that, right? It's always the same fucking story with you."

She purses her lips.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that—

"Leave me and my girlfriend alone," he tells her slowly and clearly, "I'm not going to tell you again and I don't want to know that you're doing your shitty jokes again," he warns her, making it clear with his tone that he's not willing to tolerate her childish games anymore.

Alys recoils slightly at the annoyance and determination in his voice, her confidence waning slightly.

And before she can say anything else, Aemond turns and walks back along with you.

The students around you are still fully attentive to the confrontation, shocked and delighted by the drama, while you watch Aemond in awe of the way he has defended you.

"Come on," he murmurs to you in a softer, gentler way, closing your locker door and taking your hand, leading you with him away from the watchful eyes.

After what happened, he takes you with him to a nearby empty classroom and once inside, he gently closes the door behind him and turns to look at you, his expression attentive and full of concern.

He doesn't say anything right away and you just bite the inside of your cheek and lower your gaze, not knowing exactly what to say or what to do.

Until he exhales deeply, releasing the tension built up in his shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice soft and comforting as he watches you intently.

You nod slightly, though your hands still tremble slightly.

"I'm fine," you reply, trying to sound unconcerned.

He sighs, tearing his gaze away from yours for a moment.

"I'm so sorry. I-I didn't... I didn't expect something like this to happen. And she..." he runs a hand across his forehead in frustration, "It's not fair for you to be dealing with this."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Aemond," you tell him softly and sincerely, "But thank you for standing up for me."

He sighs.

"And you don't have to thank me, Y/N. It was the least I could do. But I promise you this is the last time something like this happens."

"You can't control what Alys does or doesn't do."

He exhales again.

"I know, but we never agreed that you would go through these bad times in the contract."

"Hey," you take a step towards him, your gaze soft as you see the frustration and worry on his face, starting to get upset, "Aemond," you call his name in a calm manner, "It's okay. I'm fine. Yes, the party thing and today was difficult but..." you shrug, "I'm fine. It's nothing I can't handle."

Still the worry doesn't leave his face.

"Are you sure? At the party you were upset and I don't blame you, but I don't want this to affect between us. You were distant and now...

His words float in the air and you try to place a small, comforting smile in his direction, though it appears more of a grimace.

"We're fine," you assure him softly.

His gaze reflects a mixture of relief, watching you without another word, then briefly glancing around.

And then an idea seems to cross his mind and he watches you again, attentive.

"What do you say we skip this first class?"

"What?" you immediately inquire.

"I know you don't like skipping classes but just one missed class isn't going to hurt you."

You frown.

"And what do you want to do?"

He shrugs.

"Just talk."

You bite your lower lip, hesitant.

But it's only enough to see the look on Aemond's face and his posture, utterly determined and solely waiting for you, that you finally let out a resigned sigh and nod.

Soon the two of you are sitting in the bleachers, with almost no one around, just the cheerleading squad training in the corner of the huge soccer and lacrosse field.

The atmosphere is quiet and you like that, just like the last time you were here and he chose the book of 'Romeo and Juliet' to read.

And once both of you are silent, just looking around and feeling each other's presence, Aemond decides to speak.

"What did Alys say to you at that party?"

He dares in asking, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of curiosity and concern, while you remain silent for a moment, not expecting that he would try to bring up the subject again.

And inevitably Alys' words echo in your mind, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

And you don't understand why.

You don't understand why you feel this unpleasant sensation when you remember her words.

"Well, she wasn't very nice..." you're silent for a moment, "Actually she wasn't at all but..." you lick your lips and avert your gaze from him, focusing on the lacrosse field, "She called me... your new pet, a new pathetic attempt to replace her."

He frowns, his gaze hardening as he hears your words, incredulous and annoyed. And he doesn't need to say anything, his face speaks for itself.

"She said you did that all the time when you both broke up... you know," you clear your throat, "Going out with other girls to make her jealous so she'd come back to you. That I was just a distraction and that pretty soon you'd drop me the moment she gave you the slightest hope of getting back together."

His lips tighten into a line, closing his eye for a moment and shaking his head, still intent on your words. And you prepare to say the next thing more softly and tactfully.

"She also said that you cried to her and begged her to come back this last time you both broke up."

He snorts, more incredulous than ever.

"Of course she said that."

And before he can speak further, you feel the need to clarify your behavior a bit.

"I always acted with her as if we were a real couple," you clarify, "I wasn't bothered by what she said," what a fucking lie, "What bothered me was her talking to me that way and throwing her drink on me."

"No, no, it's okay, I understand that," he assures you instantly, in a soft voice, "But everything she said to you is not true."

You watch him with your parted lips, slightly surprised and beginning to feel your heart knot.

"It isn't?"

"No," he says more firmly, incredulous, "It's true that I begged her to get back together, but that was a while ago, practically in the beginning of our relationship when it was fun for her to break up and come back," he explains to you, serious and honest with his words, "I was crazy about her, I even grew to love her and gave her all of me. But I was just a fucking child experiencing his first love... and that wasn't enough for her."

His confession takes your breath away for a moment, revealing a vulnerability you didn't expect, watching his serious and frustrated face clearly from what happened at the party and an hour ago at your locker.

You have no idea what to say, not wanting to minimize his feelings from that time nor now by saying the wrong thing.

"It's also not true that I was dating other girls to make her jealous to get her to come back to me, I-I..." he shakes his head, "I've never been like that. And you're certainly no distraction or... my new pet," he says with distaste.

You let out a long breath.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, "She said it in a way that made me believe her. I don't know what I was thinking," you say sincerely, "And I'm also sorry she made you feel that way," you mumble, feeling a lump in your throat.

"Don't worry, it's okay," he says softly, with a bitter little smile and his gaze lowered.

He shakes his head regretfully, as if he's remembering a past he'd rather forget and you feel guilty.

"It's just..." he starts to say, "Why would I want to go back to her if she cheated on me?" he asks incredulously, "She was the one who cried and begged to get back together this last time. And you know why? Because I found her fucking that guy in her car after she told me she was feeling sick and didn't feel like seeing me or going out with me."

Fuck.

His words echo in your mind, bringing with them a wave of sadness and empathy, definitely not expecting to hear that.

You never knew how it was that Alys cheated on Aemond, it only began to be said that it was with a college guy, but it was never said under what circumstances exactly she cheated on him.

You feel a sharp pang in your chest and suddenly feel outraged at what he had to endure, that she betrayed his trust in that horrible way.

How could she do that to him?

You don't have a heart made of stone to put a person through that.

You feel grateful that he shared this with you. It just shows you the level of trust you both have built. And you take a moment before you speak, trying to find the right words.

And the first thing you do is raise your hand and place it on top of his.

"I'm so sorry," you say softly, sincerely, "I'm so sorry you went through that. You didn't deserve it."

"You don't have to apologize, Y/N," he replies gently, accepting your touch, "None of it was your fault."

Then he sighs and you realize there's a weight to his words, a pain he's carried with him for some time.

"It's just... "he continues speaking, his voice heavy with mixed emotions, "Even if this thing between the two of us was real, why do this? Why tell these lies and want to hurt you with her cruel words and actions? Why won't she let me move on?"

You press your lips together and your heart clenches as you listen to his anguish.

"Maybe she's still in love with you," you mutter, trying to find a reason, "In her own twisted way."

He shakes his head, incredulous.

"This isn't love. It wasn't before and it isn't now. She just wants to have me eating out of the palm of her hand, like always."

His words are blunt and make you feel even more helpless about the situation.

And there's really nothing you can do, you can only be here for him, listen to him, support him in whatever he needs and be... his friend, like you've really been all this time, putting aside your facade of a girlfriend in love.

Right?

He lets out another sigh, this time heavier than the previous ones, and then leans against the metal of the bleachers behind you, leaning back.

You think he will let go of your hand, but he pulls you along with him, both of you close, shoulder to shoulder, both of you suddenly falling silent, saying nothing more, just staring at the horizon.

Until he speaks again.

"I don't want to think about it anymore," he says as he watches you and you look back at him almost instantly, feeling his thumb gently caress the back of your hand, sending a kind of electricity through your body.

And you propose the first thing that comes to mind.

"Do you want to listen to music until the next class starts?" you say in a soft voice and he nods immediately.

You take your headphones from your backpack, your phone and settle back down next to him, handing him an earphone and then you play your Spotify playlist with the songs you keep listening to lately.

You don't even know if he also likes the same style of music as you, but he doesn't complain or say anything to you the moment you start playing The 1997, Harry Styles, The Weeknd, Chase Atlantic, Cigarettes After Sex and Lana del Rey.

Until he closes his eyes and suddenly uses you as a pillow, dropping his head on your shoulder, immediately this catching your attention and feeling a strange sensation in your lower stomach.

Despite being surprised and feeling confused for a moment, you do absolutely nothing to push him away and after a moment of hesitation, you slowly drop your head on top of his as well.

He doesn't open his eye or say anything to you, he just settles in better and then you both get very still, continuing to listen to music.

And you can't help but wonder; are the two of you even pretending now?

You honestly don't know.

"We have a problem."

That's the first thing Aemond says to you on a Tuesday morning when he stops by to drive you to school.

Immediately this catches your attention and you look at him slightly concerned, closing the passenger seat door to the side of you and watch him completely attentively.

"What's wrong?"

"My mom knows about you."

Shit.

Your whole body tenses and you watch him with your eyes wide open in surprise.

"And of course, she wants to meet you."

Oh shit.

"B-but...

You try to speak, not finding the right words watching him confused, not understanding anything and Aemond helps you with that as soon as he sees your completely disbelieving and surprised face.

"Aegon told her," he lets you know, "The fucking cunt talked out of turn and before he knew it, I'd already told her everything."

Oh God.

"And what did she tell you?" you ask, feeling a knot in your stomach.

"She wants you to go to dinner Friday night."

He tells you in a soft voice and looking just as worried as you do, still trying to convey calm.

"I told her I'd talk to you about it, but..." he lets out a resigned sigh, "I know her. And she won't leave me alone until she meets you. She's really nice, I swear, she's the sweetest person and... I know we agreed not to involve families but I had nothing to do with this."

Your mind is spinning as you finish processing the information, feeling an unexpected uneasiness and anxiety.

The mere thought of meeting Aemond's mom already makes you feel nauseous from the same nerves. However, you empathize with him, as this wasn't something he planned and it was by third parties who think he and you are actually dating.

But still, you feel incredibly nervous and the day hasn't even come close.

"I get it," you mumble, trying to hide your nervousness, licking your lips, then looking at him hesitantly, "You want me to?"

Aemond averts his gaze from you, running a hand over his face, not knowing exactly what to say to you, as you wait for his thoughtful response.

Until he lets out a long breath and moves a little closer towards you, placing his hand on top of yours.

"I know this is a lot to ask, especially after we agreed not to do this," he tells you softly, "And my mother is insistent, I do want you to meet her, but... if you don't want to do it, it's totally fine with me," he assures you, "The least I want to do is pressure you into doing something you're not comfortable with."

His words comfort you a little, but you still feel the nervousness wash over you, as well as feel a slight pang of guilt.

You bite your lower lip, struggling with your own emotions and thoughts.

"It's just that I feel remorseful that I'm going to meet her and she's going to meet me when this isn't real," you say in a sad, worried tone.

"I know," he says with compression, holding his hand tighter with yours, "Me too but you won't have to do this again. I'll take care of it, I promise."

You let out a long breath you too, lowering your gaze to the clasped hands in your lap as you feel Aemond's attentive and concerned gaze on you.

"All right," you finally reply, "If it's important to you and your mother, I'll handle it."

"Are you sure? You can tell me no and I'll understand."

"No, don't worry," you assure him, "I will."

He smiles softly at you with gratitude, but also with a hint of concern in his eye.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it."

And despite your own misgivings, you return the small smile.

"It's okay, really. I just... need a little time to think."

Aemond nods, understanding.

"Sure."

general taglist:

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond one eye #aemond x y/n #modern aemond #ewan mitchell fandom #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell characters #ewan mitchell

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 8 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

um. hi. i am so nervous about posting this i could die, not because anything too significant happens, but it's been so long. this is not a super action-y chapter, but it's necessary, so bare with me. there's a good bit between the lines, so if anything's confusing, hit up my ask box or just hit me up to chat bc i love this story. we're getting close to the end, but i am .... sad about it. i love this eren. i love much ado. without further theatrics from me.... enjoy!!!!! <3

specific cws: swearing, mentions of drug use, alcohol, mentions of sex

want to catch up? series masterlist here<3

-

“Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by.” - The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

“It’s about time you got up! I got bagels from– oh, hey,” Historia falters when she catches sight of you and Eren, finally having made your first appearance for the day even though it’s well past 10:00.

“You again?” Ymir says with a snicker, walking past Historia with the aforementioned bagels swinging beside her legs with every step.

“Ymir!” Historia hisses, shooting you an apologetic look. Your face warms, knowing exactly what you look like right now: hair a mess, bruises covering your neck and chest, and the telltale sheen of guilt practically glowing in a halo around your head. Eren’s not much better off; there are angry red scratches down his entire back under his hoodie, and his eyes are hooded and heavy with that satisfied, I just got laid glimmer to them. He looks good like this, you think, sluggish and weighted down with the work he’d put in on your body all night and all morning. Cocky and satiated.

“Where are the bagels from?” You peek into the bag that Ymir dropped on the counter, shaking yourself out of your private admiration and sidestepping the obvious elephant in the room in favor of filling your grumbling stomach.

“That place on Melrose, but I only got three…” Historia looks sheepishly to Eren in apology.

“He’s on his way out,” you answer for him. Eren nods affirmatively, shuffling over to the doorway where his enormous sneakers are thrown alongside a small collection of yours and Historia’s shoes.

“Leaving so soon?” Ymir’s eyebrows raise in uncharacteristic interest, looking between you and Eren, who don’t seem able to truly meet each other’s eyes.

“Busy,” Eren grunts, slipping his shoes on, “I’ll see you–”

“Tuesday, right?” You say around a mouthful of bagel, still not quite meeting his gaze.

“Tuesday,” Eren looks to the sky like he’s mentally penciling you in to his schedule, nodding after a moment, “got it.”

“Merry Christmas!” You call out as he makes his exit, throwing a hand up in acknowledgement and farewell. A few heavy seconds of silence pass, the only sound in the room being the noisy smacking of the cream cheese bagel that you’re practically inhaling as Historia stares at you.

“That was…awkward,” Historia starts cautiously. You frown at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen two people that just fucked look less like they want to be in the same room,” Ymir says from the couch, punctuating her statement with a sharp laugh, “I mean, is it that awkward when you have sex?”

“It wasn’t awkward,” you cross your arms defensively, narrowing your eyes, “we’re just…casual.”

“Eren looked sort of tense,” Historia adds thoughtfully, a little line of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

“I’m sure his family’s been talking to him a bunch with the holidays coming up. Maybe that’s it, I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, not meeting Historia’s gaze. You can almost feel her smug, understanding nodding, seeing right through you.

“So you’re still not talking, then.”

“Of course we talk. You just watched us talk.”

“Not like you used to,” Historia counters, crossing her arms.

“So?” You scoff, letting your annoyance erupt in the form of tearing your bagel into little bite-sized pieces. Historia’s right, she’s right way too often for you to live with.

“You liked him. A lot. And he liked you. What happened?”

“You never told us,” Ymir echoes from the couch, “the last thing you told me at least was that you and Sasha went to Scout’s, Eren practically fought Floch, you slept with him for some reason after that, and the next thing we know, he’s here every morning.”

“Not every morning,” you mumble, rolling your eyes petulantly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Historia says impatiently, waving Ymir off, “it’s been weeks of…I don’t even know what to call it– this weird, awkward no-talking just-fucking thing. What happened?”

“We made up,” you shrug, staring at her blankly, “we’re fuck buddies. It’s not something that needs to be, like, picked apart and analyzed.”

“It absolutely does,” Historia argues, “you went from making goo-goo eyes at each other and staying up all night hogging the couch to what may the be the weirdest fuck-buddy relationship I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“It’s not weird,” you groan, throwing your hands over your eyes in exasperation.

“Is it Breeze?”

“What?” you hiss, pulling your hands from your face to narrow your eyes at Ymir, “what would this have to do with her?”

“I heard she’s staying for awhile, just moved into those snazzy new apartments across from the farmer’s market.” Ymir is either unaware of or unphased by your immediate aggression. She delivers her statement matter-of-factly, twirling one of her many rings idly. Her nonchalance makes you prickle, and Historia notices.

“Is it Breeze?” Historia asks, watching your reaction carefully. “Are she and Eren talking again? Or is he with you?”

“I don’t know what Eren does in his free time,” you roll your eyes, “much less if he’s got anything going on with Breeze right now. It’s not my business.”

“Granted, I don’t see how he could even find the time to deal with Breeze with how often he’s over here,” Ymir scoffs.

“Don’t you two have packing to do?” you ask in a desperate attempt to change the conversation topic. Luckily, Ymir takes the bait.

“We finally finished,” she shoots Historia a meaningful glance, “but our flight doesn’t leave for another four hours, so we don’t need to head to the airport until noon.”

Great. Your patience has already worn thin with the both of them for the day, and just as you’re formulating a plan to bid them goodbye and drag your exhausted body into a shower, Historia jumps ahead of you with yet another question that you don’t necessarily want to answer.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“Bits and pieces,” you answer, twiddling the hem of your t-shirt between your fingers, “she and Tom are in Costa Rica right now.”

“No invite?” Ymir questions wryly, cocking an eyebrow. Historia shoots her a reprimanding glare, but Ymir’s callous humor is exactly what you need at the moment.

“Of course not,” you say with a chuckle, shrugging, “but she sent me some sweet pictures. They’re cute together.”

“I think Tom is my favorite of the recent boyfriends,” Historia concedes with a small smile.

“He’s definitely better than that asshole from Dubai, that’s for sure.” Ymir nods affirmatively, the unspoken voice of reason in relation to your mother’s dating life.

A few minutes of idle chit chat later, you’re able to excuse yourself to shower, ducking behind the curtain and into the steaming, nonjudgmental spray of water. Your theory these days is that turning the water up to an unbearable heat may scald the weight of everything on your mind off of your shoulders. It hasn’t worked yet, but you’ll keep trying.

Christmas isn’t your favorite season by any means, not since your parents’ divorce. It’s a solitary season for you, one for contemplation and baking. You don’t not enjoy spending Christmas’ alone; after so many years, you’ve started your own little traditions, and while you know the concept of someone spending Christmas alone is objectively sad, you’ve grown to prefer your own company over that of your mother and her boyfriend of the year. She’ll send you her American Express information along with a text to “Go crazy! Anything your little heart desires!” and you’ll spend Christmas Eve playing Santa for yourself, watching movies, and stuffing your face with whatever sugary treat you decide to throw together.

Okay, maybe it is a little sad, but it’s your tradition.

Ymir and Historia leave for the airport, and unsurprisingly, Historia begs you to catch a flight to come with them because “No one should be alone on Christmas!”. You only falter when Ymir begrudgingly extends an invitation, the first year in the three you’ve known them that she’s done so. Ymir shrugs and blushes when you and Historia stare at her in disbelief, claiming it’s because you seem like you have a lot on your mind. She’s not wrong, but you wave them off to Ymir’s parents’ anyway, assuring them you’ll Facetime on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, just to check in.

You don’t consider Historia’s offer until you’ve curled up under a blanket, the fifth or sixth mind-numbing, standard Christmas movie you’d selected not quite doing the trick of silencing your thoughts. You open your phone, pull up your recent texts; maybe reaching out to someone for some lazy, technology-driven conversation will do the trick.

First is Historia, per usual, sending you a barrage of selfies of her and Ymir’s family playing a board game. Even in your melancholy state, the sight of Ymir with her mouth stretched comically wide around a plastic game piece, scowling through her ridiculous expression, makes you snort to yourself.

Second is your mother, sending you an update about her and Tom’s dinner reservation getting canceled amidst short-staffing at the resort restaurant. You roll your eyes at that one; for your mother, the end of the world will surely present itself as a minor inconvenience at a five-star establishment.

Third is Sasha, checking in amidst the holiday season. She tells you that Hitch loved the little self-care package that she put together as a thoughtful, but casual Christmas gift. You text your congratulations back to her, feeling an unfair pang of envy hitting you.

Fourth is…oh, god, you shouldn’t have let yourself get this far. Eren. He’s still saved in your phone as “Eren 10 Shadows User Jaeger”; instead of making you giggle, his idiotic, self-placed contact name only makes a hollow thud ring through the confines of your empty chest. Feeling a bit like twisting the knife, you start scrolling through your texts, frowning at how short and unsubstantial each message is.

> Outside.

> tonight? 10ish?

> Be there in 10.

> i can venmo you for the doordash

> Don’t worry ab it.

The most painful part of all of it is, if you scroll just a bit further, back into the crisper autumn months, the messages aren’t so dry. In fact, in hindsight, Eren seems smitten with you. The messages still give you butterflies.

> Are you in your office was gonna pick up 104 otw to yours but I don’t want it to get cold.:)

> Is developing the six eyes the key to getting you to like me as much as you like Gojo?

> Just did a drop at the library and spied you w your kiddos across the room I didn’t say hey bc I didn’t want you to yell at me (bc youre rude) but you look HOT.

> Got your fav cookie dough to soften the blow for you when we start shibuya arc tonight be there in 10 nerd.

You groan and toss your phone to the other end of the couch, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. What are you doing? Why can’t you just talk to him, tell him that he’s all you think about, that every time he touches you, you swear that it burns an imprint into your skin?

Because it’s not real, your mind helpfully supplies. Breeze. Luke. Rumors. You’re clearly not over Luke if you drunkenly texted him that night at Paradis, right? Or maybe you’re projecting your old feelings for Luke onto Eren? Is that really something you’re prepared to gamble with?

And if you weren’t mess enough, Eren’s only been the commitment type for one woman in his life; out of the many that you know have rotated in and out, your statistical chance of becoming the second is slim. Not to mention the fact that the only woman he’s ever committed to has just moved in a whopping five minutes down the road from you, and is apparently interested in re-opening doors that you had assumed were closed.

With a huff, you grab your phone from where it's nestled into the cushions and check the time. 11:04pm. Still plenty of time to run down to the bodega and scrounge around for some cookie dough, maybe a cheap bottle of wine.

That’s motivation enough to shake you out of your wallowing state, and after you’ve pulled a pair of slouchy gray sweatpants over your pj shorts and thigh-high socks, you’re shoving your feet into some slippers and shuffling down the street, arms crossed over your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the biting wind. The shock of the cold numbs you to the bone, a welcome reprieve from the watery, shaky feeling that’s been brewing in your chest all night. You storm through it, noticing your breathing get a little looser with every step, feeling very much like you could stay out here all night, leave all of your problems cooped up in your lonely little apartment.

The bodega’s a certifiable ghost town, as expected. You only have your lucky stars to thank that the owners aren’t religious and are willing to stay open this late the night before Christmas Eve. You give a weak wave to the heavyset man behind the counter, a gesture that he doesn’t return. Figures.

Luckily, with most of the students on campus having left for home days ago, the shelves and refrigerators are still mostly-stocked with everything you’ll need. Item 1: cookie dough. A pack of the Pilsbury reindeer sugar cookies should do nicely; delicious and small enough that eating the entire package won’t depress you too much. Item 2: cheap wine. You round the corner a bit too quickly in your excitement, running headfirst into a tall stranger that you didn’t notice upon entering the store.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t–” your voice cuts itself off as the man in question’s irritation slowly slides off of his face. A tentative murmur of your name comes through wind-chapped lips, bloodshot eyes widening in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Eren’s brow crinkles almost comically, furrowing into a frustrated little divot between his reddened eyes as he tries to make sense of why you’re standing in front of him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Technically not for another forty minutes,” you counter, checking your watch, “and I could ask you the same thing.”

“You know me, not exactly the family type.” Eren shrugs, a bit of the tension melting off of him. And he isn’t wrong; you do know. During the period of yours and Eren’s less-complicated friendship, he had divulged little bits and pieces of his home life, not enough to give you the full picture, but at least enough that you feel like an ass for not realizing why he was spending Christmas alone. Dead mother, asshole father, overbearing stepmom, try-hard brother. You can’t exactly blame him.

He looks heartbreakingly soft; wrapped in one of his classic massive hoodies, hair tucked beneath a cozy beanie, nose and cheeks kissed slightly pink from the cold winter winds. He’s clearly stoned, eyes heavy, muted, and slow-moving as he looks down at you. It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from cupping his face, breathing warmth back into him. Your fingers clutch a little tighter around the cookie dough in your hand, mimicking the swell of emotion that chokes your heart in your chest.

“Right, sorry.”

“That brings us back to square one. What are you doing here?”

The longing for closeness in your heart hasn’t quite outweighed the sadness and awkwardness of the situation, and you opt to deflect again. Unhealthy, but functional. “Buying wine.”

“And cookie dough?” Eren raises an eyebrow at your currently-occupied left hand. “Did you just get dumped by Santa?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No. It’s my Christmas tradition.”

When Eren’s gaze softens into something thoughtful, green eyes raking painfully over your bundled-up form, you realize you’ve let your guard down. Even that simple statement has bared something to him, given him yet another piece of you to hold– maybe to drop. It sends a nervous chill over you, and you drop your eyes to the floor amidst a pregnant moment of understanding silence.

“Here.”

You flit your gaze back up to Eren’s outstretched hand. He’s holding a bottle of Pinot Grigio– your favorite kind of cheap Pinot Grigio, at that. When you dare to look up at his face, you can’t read it, no surprise there, but if you had to guess? Something like warmth, something like the beginnings of a familiarity you hadn’t realized had been growing.

When you hesitate to take it, a little too long apparently, Eren pulls the bottle back up to his face, squinting at it, and moving it further and closer from his face. With a stuttered chuckle, you realize he’s trying to read the label.

“Is this not the one? I swear I saw it in your fridge–”

“No, that’s it.” You reach up and pull the bottle from him, momentarily shaken out of your stupor. “Where are your glasses? Were you planning on stumbling around the bodega asking the clerk to read all the labels for you?”

“I left ‘em at your house forever ago,” Eren admits, a bashful hand running over the back of his neck, “keep forgetting to grab them on my way out.”

“That’s right.” Your face grows warm at the mention of Eren– the same Eren who’s in front of you, adorably bundled up and cheeks pink with embarrassment– in your home. The things Eren’s been doing in your home as of late.

More like I’m not giving you enough time to grab them, you reflect with a grimace. Eren’s presence in your life has been hot and momentary over the last weeks since your run-in at Scout’s; you’ve made a habit of not keeping him around long enough for conversation, pleasantries, even so much as nabbing those readers out of your nightstand. Even after this short interaction, a vicious stroke of memory reminds you why you’ve kept your distance– Eren’s charming. He’s thoughtful, he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s so careful with you sometimes it makes your fingers shake. And now, with him beginning to turn away from you, giving you a sad and half-hearted goodbye and preparing himself to check out with whatever meager snacks he’s gathered, you don’t think you can keep observing your emotional vigil anymore.

The first flutters of snow have begun to coat the ground and there’s a cold, Christmas wind rattling at the shop windows and you’re holding the bottle of wine to your chest so hard you might be bruising your ribs when you decide to take a chance on him.

“Eren!”

He turns on his heel slowly, as if he’s about to raise his hands and call a truce. His eyes betray nothing but confusion, but if you squint, if you let yourself believe just a bit…you want to believe that he looks a little hopeful.

“Do you…do you want to come over?”

“Right now?” Eren cocks his head in disbelief. It crushes you a little how far out of the realm of possibility it’s become for you to just…want to spend time with him. The blow to your ego and his lack of immediate response nearly bring your newfound courage to its knees, but you push on.

“I can’t eat all of these by myself,” you lie, “and I have better food than that in my pantry.”

Eren eyes the two bags of chips he’s holding in one hand, looks back at you almost like he’s waiting for the punchline. You do your best to smile in a friendly, I-totally-won’t-cry-later-if-you-say-no type of way and snatch another bottle of wine off the shelf.

“I think they’re two-for-one anyway,” you say with an airy chuckle, “no one needs to be alone on Christmas.”

A shaky smile shatters Eren’s hesitant expression, and he cocks an eyebrow, raises his hooded eyes to the sky like he’s thinking it over. “Uh…yeah, I guess I have room in my schedule to keep you company.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” you scoff, the relief viscerally warming you from your growing smile to your fingertips, “and you’re buying after that one.”

“Some fucked up plan you got there,” Eren chuckles to himself, placing your wine and snacks on the counter, “tracking your fuck buddy down at the bodega and guilting him into buying you wine and snacks.”

“Eren,” you hiss, smacking him in retribution, masking the burn of his choice of words with embarrassment. It’s true, you’ve both wordlessly agreed upon it, but the reminder stings. You shoot an apologetic look to the clerk, but he’s entirely apathetic, reciting the total to Eren in a monotone voice. Your unnecessary chagrin only makes Eren giggle harder, earning him an eye roll from you.

The short walk back to your car is filled with some intentional tightrope walking between unnecessary etiquette (Eren insisting upon walking with you to your apartment, saying he’ll grab his car later; you pulling your Venmo app up, trying to assure him that making him pay was a joke) and the banter that you’d established between yourselves upon first meeting, the easy conversation you used to enjoy whenever you liked. Even as you both lull into that familiar rhythm of jokes, stomping through the light dusting of snow side-by-side, you can feel the precariousness of it all. Who’s going to be the first to decide that you’re too close? Who’s going to run away? Who’s going to wish they had run after them?

“Smells nice in here,” Eren remarks, bending down to tug at the laces of his heavy Docs once he’s made it past the threshold of your door.

“It’s about to smell even better.” Suddenly overcome with nervous jitters that Eren’s in your apartment with no part of his mouth on you, you scurry over to the oven to begin preheating it, urgently in need of something to do with your hands.

“Where’s ‘Stor?” Eren ambles along behind you, seemingly far more at ease than you judging by the way he slouches against the counter.

“Ymir’s parents have them come up that way every year.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s their thing.” You try to disguise the sudden tightness in your voice with a tinny note of disbelief, as if Eren should have inherently known that you elected this lonely Christmas celebration. “Hand me a baking sheet?”

“Where?”

“Down there.”

Your intonation must have carried the desired effect because Eren doesn’t press the matter further, following your instructions and producing a rectangular pan from one of the lower cabinets of your kitchen. You work wordlessly and in tandem with one another. Eren produces two wine glasses when he sees you scrounging around in the drawer for a corkscrew; he begins to scoop healthy dollops of cookie dough from the package with the spoon you hand him as you pour two not-so-healthy glasses of wine for you both. The silence is interrupted by Eren’s poorly-muffled snickers when he watches you take your first sip of wine.

“What?”

“Am I that bad?” Eren directs a playful, but meaningful, glance at your wine glass, a fourth of which you’ve just knocked back in one sip. You feel your cheeks warming, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Has nothing to do with you. Just…thirsty.”

"Is it awkward? Me being here?"

"I invited you," you say, not quite wanting to acknowledge that, yes, being around him fully-clothed is a little strange. It isn't an unwelcome strangeness, but you're not about to let that little confession fly either.

“We used to be friends,” Eren muses quietly, uncharacteristically outspoken. That makes your eyes widen; you almost wonder if he’s spoken without meaning to.

“We’re still friends,” you murmur against the rim of your glass, taking another large swig. Eren shrugs, very focused on portioning out the cookie dough. “We are.”

“I know.” Something about his voice shatters you, makes your fingers grip around your glass tight enough to break. You can almost see the self-provided rejection flitting across his face; it’s quick, but it’s cold enough to feel.

“Eren–”

“Friends.” Eren’s eyes flit over towards you in a gesture of laying arms down, and his lips tighten in a smile that threatens you to challenge the tentative peace he’s building between you both. The word stings when it hits you, bittersweet and ironic. Another fourth of your wine disappears in a single sip, and you smile back in a way that you hope looks more kind than it feels disparaged.

The cookies are baked, the necessary seating arrangements are settled upon, the glasses are refilled, and soon you’re snuggled up on the right side of your couch, feet stretched into Eren’s lap, practically dozing off to a Christmas romcom. Eren is, surprisingly, enthralled, intensely focused on the television and leaning forward in a way that’s bending your ankles uncomfortably but is too adorable to tell him to stop.

“So he’s not going to chase her?” Eren turns to you, devastated and frowning a bit. You snort into your second glass, finding his furrowed brow and flushed cheeks funnier than the mayhem that’s been building on the screen for the last hour.

“You have to watch!” You kick him meaningfully.

Eren receives your kick like a child, groaning dramatically and shooting you a look cold enough to kill. He throws himself back into the couch, absentmindedly taking one of your sock-covered feet in his massive hands and kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot. He presses into a particularly tender spot, working a soft groan of appreciation from you; Eren’s lips tighten, and he subtly moves your heels a little further away from his crotch, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He rubs firm circles into the sides of your ankles, running a thumb up your leg to the back of your knee, beginning to extend his massage up your leg.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, and though he doesn’t turn to look at you, the corner of Eren’s mouth quirks up.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. You can hear the rustle of Eren’s hair against the couch as he nods, the movie now long faded away into your peripheral focus.

Just as you’re beginning to truly melt into yourself, scooching just the littlest bit towards Eren so he can start rubbing at your thighs, something glimmers into your consciousness. Eren’s your fuck buddy, he said it himself at the store. The gooey, soft emotion that’s welling in your chest, the thing that’s rendering you spineless and malleable that you don’t dare to name– it’s unseemly. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck and causing your eyes to fly open.

Something sickly and sour curls behind your ribs, darkening the contented little glow that had begun to grow there. You feel sick, you feel sixteen again, you feel like a lamb being fattened up for the slaughter. Eren’s not Prince Charming; he’s your fuck buddy, just like he said. You’d done a thorough job of establishing that dynamic, and you remember that as sweet as everything around you might taste, it’s artificial. He’s here for something.

Eren doesn’t notice the change in your demeanor, the stiffening in your muscles; not until you’re climbing into his lap, at least.

“What are you–”

You cut him off by slotting your lips against his, gripping into his shirt with such a fervor that the self-loathing behind it could be confused for mindless want. Eren hesitantly reciprocates, hands sliding down your waist and landing firmly at your hips, leaving a soft impression in the skin there. You rake your fingers through his hair, kissing him deeper and more frantically, bringing your hands down to tug at the hem of your sweatshirt–

“Hey.” Eren’s quiet voice against your lips freezes you where you are, fingers still twisted in the bottom of your shirt.

“What?”

“What’s all this?” Eren’s hand is against your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. It’s so gentle it nearly burns, scalds against the cold, callous arousal you’ve built up in yourself.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice is weak, all the fire you’ve contrived fizzling out as your words cross the barely-there gap between your mouth and Eren’s. Your hands fall into the space shared between your laps, fingers curling and uncurling to mask the tremble running through them. Your gaze stays fixed on them, monitoring for any visible signs of weakness, unable to glance up to meet Eren. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Eren murmurs, forehead pressed unwaveringly against yours, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It was nice,” Eren says, a little breathless and disbelieving, “it was nice before.”

“So don’t you want…this?”

“I mean, yes. I always want this,” Eren punctuates his statement with an airy chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “but I don’t always need it.”

“I feel like I upset you.” You can’t stop the embarrassed frown from working its way onto your face amidst your confusion. This…this is what you and Eren do. Now that it’s been refused, you don’t know where to put your wandering hands, where to tuck the rush of needing to touch him.

“I’m not upset,” Eren says, still barely audible as he thumbs at your chin, “you made my shitty day a lot less shitty, actually.”

“Why was it shitty?”

“My dad.” Something dark and coarse has infused his voice now, rasping against the warm air between you. Despite the rough tone of his voice, Eren’s moving a hand up and down your back soothingly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. It works– your body goes slack in his hold, slumping against his chest and nuzzling your nose into his shoulder. “Won’t bore you with the details.”

“Tell me.”

“You don’t want to–”

“I do.” You pull back from where he’s pinned you, bringing your forehead back to rest against his. “Even if I’m just your fuck buddy. You can talk to me.”

Eren sighs, heavy and resigned. Even with your vision blurred by how close you are to him, you can see a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “You’re not my fuck buddy.”

“I know. Friends, right?” You hardly dare to breathe against him, heart thudding viciously in your throat to the point that you worry Eren might hear. It’s not a word that encompasses what you feel for him, the mess you’ve both created between yourselves, but it’s your scapegoat, your fallback. No matter how many times you catch his lingering glance as he leaves you in the morning, no matter how often you delve into a bottle of wine and hover your thumb over his contact, no matter how closely he haunts your every thought. Friends.

The hint of a smile disappears from his face. Eren shakes his head against yours, fingers ghosting along your thigh, up your arm until he lands his hand over yours, curls them together in a loose fist against his chest.

“No.” You aren’t sure that you’ve heard him correctly, how quietly he speaks.

“No?”

“No,” Eren confirms, tightening his grip around your hand, “we’re not friends.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the same time Eren’s eyes flit up to meet yours, doubling down on the little confession he’s breathed into you. You’re powerless to do anything under the weight of your fear, your relief, your confusion. It’s enough for now, the understanding that no, you’re not friends and maybe you’ve never been, hanging between you and making the air a little more palatable.

“Not friends.” A little nod from you draws a shaky exhale from Eren, an answering nod of his own, and it feels like you both have mutually agreed to set whatever’s been building, whatever’s too-hot-to-touch, to the side for the time being. It’s enough.

He holds you, and you let him, despite the growing ache in your hips, the restlessness of your feet as they fall asleep. Eren tells you about his father, the career path he’s still afraid to go down. You tell him about your mother, how the emotional distance between you always manages to somehow be greater than the geographical, how love is her number one priority except when it comes from you. Both of you listen in reverence as you map out your scars for each other, delving into what’s healed and skating carefully over the parts that are still tender.

The couple on-screen reunites with a zoom shot and a dramatic kiss in the Christmas snow. The soaring orchestral number that accompanies their reunification is one that’s just loud enough to cover the sound of you and Eren’s hearts beating in tandem, and the clatter of his phone vibrating repeatedly on the kitchen counter.

#much ado about nothing #much ado #much ado uni #much ado universe #much ado verse #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger fanfic #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you

[writingquestionsanswered]

hello, do you have any tips for getting more creative titles? Like going for a more poetic style without it being too much. I like for example, "These Violent Delights" and "Our Violent Ends" by Chloe Gong. They're simple, telling, and short - and I just think it's different (from "The" type titles, and the Blank of Blank and Blank format). I also think "The Folk of the Air" is simple yet creative. I feel like I don't know enough words to get the title. I appreciate any advice! Thank you.

Coming Up with Poetic Titles

Some of the most beautiful, poetic titles often stem from actual prose quotes, either from poetry, classic literature, song titles, public domain lyrics, plays, etc.

These Violent Delights and Our Violent Ends, for example, are actually derived from a quote from Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet ("These violent delights have violent ends...") which is appropriate since the These Violent Delights duology is a Romeo & Juliet retelling. Other examples are The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold (I knew a woman, lovely in her bones... “I Knew a Woman” by Theodore Roethke), The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars/But in ourselves... Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare), Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger (What immortal hand or eye/Could frame thy fearful symmetry? "The Tyger" by William Blake), Across the Universe by Beth Revis ("Across the Universe" by The Beatles), To All the Boys I've Loved Before by Jenny Han ("To All the Girls I've Loved Before" by Hal David and Albert Hammond, made famous by Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias.)

Series titles, like The Folk of the Air series and A Song of Ice and Fire series are usually broad references to what the story is about. I haven't read The Folk of the Air, but I know it's about faeries, so I'm assuming that's a reference to the fae in that story. A Song of Ice and Fire is a reference to a prophecy and history book in the series, but the imagery also references many of the themes and events in the story.

So, whether you're titling a book or series, here are some places you can look for a title:

-- references to relevant source material, such as original fairy tale if you're doing a retelling (Ash by Malinda Lo)

-- references to relevant poems, song titles, lyrics, plays, music, classic literature (Catch a Falling Star by Kim Culbertson)

-- relevant quote, title, person, place, or event that appears in your story (The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, The Cruel Prince by Holly Black)

-- beautiful imagery that appears in your story (Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes)

-- who or what your story is about (The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak, The Martian by Andy Weir, All the Crooked Saints by Maggie Stiefvater)

My post Coming Up with a Book/Story Title has more tips!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[just-wublrful]

only one of you is going to make it and you’re afraid it's going to be you, or, alternatively: you are standing by the tragic hero and it is looking rough out there-

( @lasilhouetteinbianco i did it there’s moby. whoo)

A History of My Brief Body, Billy-Ray Belcourt | Antigonick, Sophokles trans. Anne Carson | The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry | Doña Juana “la Loca” (1877), Francisco Pradilla | Giovanni’s Room, James Baldwin | THE TRAGIC HERO UPON REACHING THE END OF THE SCRIPT REALIZES HE HAS BEEN DEAD THIS WHOLE TIME, Joan Tierney | Wishbone, Richard Siken | Orpheus and Eurydice, George Frederic Watts | Bitter Water, The Oh Hellos | Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare | YOUR LOVE FINDS ITS WAY BACK, Sierra Mulder | Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus (detail, 1905), John William Waterhouse |  Wishbone, Richard Siken | Richard Siken, in an interview with James Hall | Moby Dick, Herman Melville | Weeping Nude (1913-14), Edvard Munch | Love and Pain (1895), Edvard Munch | Metamorphoses, Ovid

[ID: An assortment of various quotes, lyrics, and paintings from a variety of sources.

1. To love someone / is firstly to confess: I’m prepared / to be devastated by you.

2. Ismene: I can help you suffer. // Antigone: No. // Ismene: I can give you reasons not to die. //  Antigone: No.

3. And he took me by the hand. But he was still worrying. “It was wrong of you to come. You will suffer. I shall look like I was dead, and that will not be true...” I said nothing.

4. A painting of a young woman dressed in black. She stands in blank despair beside a casket in an open field. She is surrounded by a procession of numerous mourners, as smoke from a behind her rises into the air.

5. What are we staying here for? How long do you / want to sit in this house, eating your heart out?

6. You are kneeling at the water’s throne / When preparing for an ending scene / It’s important that / Swords drop like anchors / Yours will never rise again / I am watching from the cowberries, or / From your mother’s curtains, as if / Through a burial shroud, or

7. And it’s another wrong-man-dies scenario / and we keep doing it, Henry, / keep saying until we get it right... but we / always win and we never quit.

8. A painting of Orpheus and Eurydice at the entrance to Hades. Orpheus, in a toga, reaches out to catch Eurydice as she goes limp and pale, soul having returned to the Underworld. In the background a dead tree trunk can be seen.

9. I am not a fool entire / No, I know what is coming / You will bury me beneath the tree / I climbed when I was a child

10. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, / But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

11. My throat is a beehive pitched into the river. Look! / Look how long my love can hold it’s breath.

12. A painting of Orpheus’ head floating down a river after being torn apart by the Maenads. His face is turned upward, with pale skin and long red hair. His lyre floats beside him, alongside numerous lily pads and lilies.

13. See, we’ve won again / here we are at the place where I get to beg / for it where I get to say, Please,

14. Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking, “I am falling to the floor crying,” but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it — you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.

15. “...Sleeping? Aye, toil how we may, we all sleep on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust amidst greenness; as last years scythes flung down, and left in the half-cut swathes — Starbuck!” But blanched to a corpse’s hue with despair, the Mate had stolen away. 

16. A painting of a nude woman sitting upon her bed, hunched over with her head in her hands and legs sprawled. She appears to be weeping. Her long, dark hair, spills around her shoulders and into her lap.

17. A painting of a woman and a man embracing each other. The woman has warm skin and long red hair, which spills over and contrasts with the man’s pale, grey skin. She buries her face into his nape, and he into her arms.

18. But when she saw him in his hapless plight, / though angry at his scorn, she only grieved. End ID.]

#webweaving #web weaving #oh god this one was a MONSTER #christ. #woe be upon ye #you know the drill #retribution #thornwhirr #dustmill #hiuhcore #wubweaving

[bisexualunicronrunningloose]

Almost kisses and a stolen kiss

4 times Dream almost kissed y/n and the one time he did

Word Count: 3,732

Warnings: Pure fluff, Dream being Dream, Dream and reader are both idiots, Dream be is an ass in part 4 (but we love him 😂)

In the Garden - Dream POV

“I thought I might find you here. You know I can grow those just with a thought and a swish of my hand right?” Dream said as he walked toward y/n tending to some flowers.

“I know. But where is the fun in that? Plus I like how calming it is” she said standing up and brushing the dirt off her hands onto her trousers. “Also this way I feel like I’ve left my mark here when I’m not visiting.” She smiled up at him.

“You are one strange being. How did you manage to get dirt on your nose?” He spoke walking towards her. How was it possible she looked so beautiful without even trying? She was one of the most caring people he had ever met. And when she came for a visit to the Dreaming his day was always better.

“I got dirt on my nose? Haha that must have happened when I sneezed earlier” she tried to rub it off with her hands, but she only made it worse. “Did I get it?” She had such a bright smile that reached her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Not in the slightest. You are only making it worse. Here let me.” He walked towards her and retrieved a tissue from his pocket and wiped the dirt off her nose. He looked down at her. He was leaning in toward her hand now resting on the side of her face when Jessemay came swooping in calling out.

“Sir, sorry to bother you but Luciene needs you for something” called the Raven as she landed on Dream’s shoulder. Dream held back a sigh and stepped away from her.

“Go, we can catch up later” she smiled giving him a little nudge in the shoulder.

“I will see you soon then” he spoke in a soft voice before turning around and heading back to the palace.

In the Library - Y/N POV

You were walking down one of the long aisles of books in the library. You ran your fingers along the spines of the books looking at the titles. The books along this aisle were poetry books and play scripts, smiling at the titles that you recognised. You suddenly felt a shift in the air behind you and you smiled. You turned around to find Dream standing behind you, arms crossed behind is back with a fraction of a smile ghost across his lips.

“It’s getting harder to sneak up on you” he spoke walking closer to you, looking at the books on the shelf your hand was resting on.

“Well maybe you just need to try a little harder” you joked leaning against the book shelf with your shoulder looking up at him.

“Maybe. Or maybe I don’t want to” he spoke softly and picking a small book of the shelf just above your head. He was leaning forward. So he was leaning over you. He pulled a way just as quickly once had the book.

“Have you read this one?” He asked revealing the title. ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ one of Shakespeare’s comedies. You had read it, countless of times

“I have. It’s probably one of my favourites of his” you reply

“You know. I met the Bard before he became the Bard. When I met him he went by a different name” he responded flipping through the small book.

“You did? When was that?” You ask moving away from the bookshelf and walking towards Dream who had taken a few steps back.

“I met him on one of my earlier visits with Hob Gadling. I over heard him talking about how he wanted to be a famous playwright. I spoke with him and granted him his wish” he spoke handing your the small book.

“You mean to tell me you are the reason the world got William Shakespeare? You really do have soft spot for the arts and artists” you replied, after all this time of visiting the Dreaming and your conversations with Dream he was still able to surprise you.

“Artist, writers and musicians… they are all dreamers. And I as King of Dreams do like to keep an eye on them and see if they need some motivation” he replied. He closed the gap between the the two of you. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear and looked into your eyes.

“Dream… I…” you spoke softly

Lucienne came around the corner.

“My lord, Merv is here and he has a few things to report… oh..” she spoke. Dream pulled away in an instant his facial expression changing just as quickly.

“Of course. I asked him to check something for me” he gave you a slight nod and he followed Lucienne to go and speak to Merv. You watched as he turned around the corner. You let out a breath you that you had been holding. What was that… was Dream about to … no he wasn’t…. was he?

In Fiddler Green’s - Dream POV

Dream found her lying in the grass looking up at the sky and the clouds. He was perplexed at how she could just lie there and not do anything.

“What are you doing?” He asked as he stood next her looking down.

“Watching the clouds. What does it looking like I’m doing. Come join me for a bit.” She spoke looking up at him.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea” he spoke.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you can’t take just one afternoon or a few hours off from your duties of Lord of Dreams and Nightmares” she sat up a little resting on her elbows. “Please, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Just take a look at what you’ve created” she begged. Her eyes were so sweet and kind. He couldn’t say no to her.

“Maybe a few minutes” he sat down next to her and smiled

“How are you going to watch the clouds if you don’t lie down and look up at them” she lay back down pulling him with her.

“So you just lie here and look at the coulds? Why?” He asked settling down next to her. Looking up at the clouds

“It’s calming plus sometimes they actually look like shapes. Like that one there almost looks like Merv’s head. And that one looks like a raven feather.” She said pointing out at the clouds as they slowly floated by. He turned his head to look at her and she had the widest smile on her face. That gave him an idea, he turned his attention back to the clouds, there was one that was just a big blob and with a small thought he turned it into a sheep.

“Hey that one looks like a little sheep” she spoke with a giggle. He turned his attention to the next cloud and turned it into a four leaf clover.

“That one looks exactly like a four leaf clover. Wait … are you doing this?” She turned to look at him.

“What is that not allowed?” He said turning his face to look at her.

“No, you are supposed to use your imagination to try and figure what the look like” she laughed nudging him with her shoulder

“Well I was! I was using my imagination to make the clouds” he nudged her back. “Are you mad?” He asked in a serious tone

“I could never be mad at you. It’s sweet and kind. Thank you” she replied turning on her side to face him better and resting her chin in her hand and looked into his eyes.

He leaned up and forward to meet her eye level. And looked right into her eyes. “I’d do anything to make you smile. I don’t think I could ever take you being mad at me.” He spoke softly his eyes looked down at her lips for the briefest second then he sat up and slowly stood up. He reached his hand down to help her stand up.

“I better be off now. Lots of dreamers to attend to. Do you need help getting up?” He asked

“No I’m ok. I think I’ll stay here for a little while. I’ll see you later” she smiled lying back and looking back at the clouds. He looked up the clouds one last time and created a cloud that looked like a dog. He heard her laugh out loud as he was walked away. Her laugh was so infectious and couldn’t help chuckle to himself as he left her lying in the grass.

By his throne - Y/N POV

You walked into his main hall looking for Dream. You hadn’t seen him in a while and missed the little chats you had. You found him sitting on his throne talking to Merv. Your footsteps echoed in the vast hall giving away your arrival, catching the attention of both of them.

“Y/n! Long time no see.” Merv greeted you as he hopped down the stairs and gave you a hug.

“Good to see you too Merv. How have you been?”

“Oh you know. Can’t complain, I’ve been good. Busy but I like to keep busy. How have you been?” Merv asked

“I’ve been good. I’ve spent some time in the Waking world. I feel they are the brink of of success or chaos. I fear it is leaning more towards chaos. So I thought I would swing by a visit to see some old friends” you smiled

“Well I sure hope they don’t cause any chaos. Anyway I better be off lots to do” He turned and did a quick bow to Dream and he headed out the main hall.

Dream was still sitting on his throne looking down at you. You felt a small shiver run down your spine, his gaze was so piercing and held so much emotion in them. Even after all this time you still were unable to read him.

“It’s been a while since your last visit” he spoke from where he sat.

“I know. Like I told Merv, I’ve been busy watching the mortals. Don’t tell me you actually missed me” you spoke as you slowly made your way up the stairs, stopping halfway up to his throne. You didn’t want to venture to far up, you knew how he was about people approaching his throne without asking.

His eyebrows raised slightly at your last comment. “Merv clearly did. Lucienne also did along with some the other dreams. Your little garden did as well. Don’t worry I made sure none of your plants suffered.” He spoke as he stood up and made his way down the stairs and stopped a few above you. He looked down at you with those deep eyes that never gave anything away.

“You know you didn’t actually answer my question” you teased

“I didn’t hear a question in your statement” he responded in low tone taking a step closer to you. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Did you miss me?” You asked looking up at him.

“Your absence was noted.” He responded taking one more step down so he was one the step above you. You didn’t know what you were expecting from his answer but his answer upset you a little. You took a couple of deep breaths.

“How have been Dream? You create any new dreams or nightmares lately?” You asked trying to move past your slight disappointment.

“There is a dream I have been creating… but it is not ready to be seen by anyone yet.” He responded never taking his eyes off you. You could have sworn his eyes darted to your lips for the briefest second.

“Oh come on Dream. You always used to show me what you were working on.” You teased

“Not this time. It’s not ready” he responded in a sharp tone.

“Aww come on. Can’t you give me a hint at least. Your creations are always so beautiful” you begged.

“No” he spoke his tone almost scaring you. You furrowed your eyebrows he had never spoken to you like that before.

“What has your cloak in a twist today Dream” you joked nudging his arm slightly. The second you did that you knew it had been a mistake. The temperature in the room plummeted and his eyes turned dark.

“I said NO. I would appreciate it if you dropped the subject. Why do you feel the need to push into others business.” He spoke in a cold voice taking a step down to look at you face to face. You took a step down to get away from his cold presence.

“I apologise Dream. I’ll drop it…” you tried to keep your voice calm.

“It is not just about my creations!” His voice boomed “You visit my realm whenever you see fit! You drop in whenever unannounced and without invitation.” He kept taking steps towards you and you kept taking steps backwards. He was growing taller and his face had grown dark. This was the nightmare side of him. The side he reserved when creating nightmares and visiting peoples nightmares, you had never seen it before and you were terrified.

“Dream… you’re scaring me” you spoke

“I am Lord Morpheus and you will address me as such! And you will never come back to my realm. Do you understand?” His voice boomed off the walls.

“You want me to leave and never come back? Fine” you spun around and began to walk out of the hall you stopped halfway and spun back around. “It was a pleasure visiting your realm Lord Morpheus. If it is not to much trouble could you say my goodbyes to the dreams and Luciene for me. I wish nothing but happiness for you Lord Morpheus. I apologise again for my over stepping” you bowed to him and turned back and walked out. You tried your hardest not to cry until you had left the palace and out of earshot of Dream. You made it across the bridge and out of the main gates before you broke down in tears.

Watching the Night Sky - Dream POV

He had finally gotten all his tools back, the dreams and nightmares were back in the Dreaming, rebuilt the Dreaming and had taken care of the Vortex. Now his next stop was to find y/n and see if she would accept his apology. He had been cruel to her last they spoke. He wouldn’t blame her if she completely ignored him or yelled at him. Lucienne had agreed to help him track her down mainly because Lucienne was pissed at him when she found out he had basically thrown her out of the Dreaming. They found her in the Waking world and now he was going to apologise for everything.

He found her sitting on top of a large pile of boulders looking up at the stars. He slowly walked up to her and made his way up the pile. He stood on the boulder next her and looked down at her not knowing what to say.

“You still need to work on the sneaking up on me Lord Morpheus. Though it has been a little over 100 years so I’ll leave this attempt up to lack of practice. ” she spoke in a cool tone not taking her eyes off the sky.

“Lord Morpheus? Not Dream?” He spoke quietly

A shooting star crossed the sky. “Did you know mortals make wishes on shooting stars? Last time we spoke you made it pretty clear I should address you as such” she spat still not meeting his gaze watching the star cross the sky.

“And I have come to apologise for my behaviour… I acted unfairly…” he began but she cut him off.

“Apologise? The King of Dreams and Nightmares has come to apologise for his behaviour.” She turned to look at him as she spoke. Her face dropped when she turned to him. “What has … what happened to you? Not to speak out of turn and risking your anger again … but you look awful, like you haven’t slept in years” she asked with a nervous look in her eyes.

“Not long after we last spoke, when I told you leave my realm. One of my nightmares, the Corinthian left my realm and refused to come back. I went to the Waking world to bring him back and I was captured by a mortal who saw him self as a sorcerer of sorts. He stole my symbols of power and said he would free me when I gave him what he wanted. He held me captive and when he died his son still held me captive” he replied. As he spoke she slowly stood up and fully faced him. She slowly lifted her hand and reached up to his face and placed in on his cheek.

“How long did they hold you?” She asked looking into his eyes. He leaned into her touch breathing in a deep breath and taking comfort in the small contact.

“100 years, I was kept in that glass sphere for 100 years” he replied.

“How did you get away?” She asked looking at him in his eyes, but turned his head and looked away from her.

“Paul the husband of the sorcerer’s son, he wiped away part of the rune circle that was on the floor. I think he might have done so on purpose. It was enough to allow me to escape.” He said looking at the stars. “Do you wish for anything when you see a shooting star” turning back to face her.

“I do, but don’t ask what because I can’t tell you. Then the wish wouldn’t come true” she answered with a slight twinkle in her eyes. “Now that your free what are your plans? I assume you would want to get your symbols back and return to the Dreaming.” She said turning her attention back to the sky, she sounded a little sad.

“For 100 years the only thing that kept me from losing my mind was my goal to get my symbols of power and finding you and doing three things. I would have sooner after getting my symbols of power but I had to take care of The Vortex and begin to rebuild the Dreaming.” He said never taking his eyes off her profile

“There was a Vortex?” She spun back around. “And now you’ve dealt with that you’ve come to find me and apologise?” She asked sounding a little skeptical.

“I realise that the way I spoke to you last was cruel. You only wanted to know what I was creating. And banning you from the Dreaming was harsh of me. I know how much you loved … love visiting my realm” he spoke

“And I apologise for always stopping by with out asking” she cut in

“Still, I never should have lashed out. I never said anything about it. The truth is I always loved your visits and my day was always better when you would visit.” He took a deep breath “I’ve learned that apologising to friends is important, though I’m still learning on how to. So, I would like to apologise for my behaviour and banning you from the Dreaming. I would also like to tell you that you are more than welcome to come to my realm whenever you like, no need to ask before visiting” he spoke looking into her eyes that were shining with tears.

“For someone who is just learning how to apologise that was a really good one. Also that’s only two things. What’s the third?” She asked

“Always the observant one aren’t you?“ he spoke stepping onto the boulder she was on cupping her face in both his hands and leaning down brushing his nose over hers before placing a light kiss on her lips. He be began to pull away to look into her eyes to judge her reaction. But before he could she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back in and kissing him back. He moved one of his hands on the back of her head and moved the other to wrap around her waist pulling her in closer to him. He pushed his tongue against her lips she sighed and opened her lips allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth. She responded by chuckling lightly against his lips.

He pulled away and furrowed his eyebrows together. “What’s so funny?”

“You know how I said telling what you wish for on a shooting star is bad luck? Well there are three that I would rotate through. The first one, you would realise what an asshole you were and apologise” she said placing a light kiss on his left check. “Two you would let me come back to the Dreaming” placing a second kiss on his right check.

“And the third?” He asked

“You would stop being an idiot and finally kiss me” she placed a kiss on his lips. He pulled her in close to him and returned the kiss happily. She moved one of her hands into his hair gently tugged at it and he let out a moan against her lips. He gently turned her head to the side with his hand kissed her along her jaw and then her neck. He kissed her in the same spot and sucked on there leaving a small mark on her neck. She let out a sigh and shivered a little “Dream…”

“Hmm yes.” He said with head still against her neck. “Are you cold?” He said pulling away looking down at her.

“A … a little. Yeah” she shivered.

He wrapped her up in his long coat bringing her into his chest. She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzling her head against his chest.

“Better?” He asked with a light chuckle

“Umm hmm, better” she replied giving him a little squeeze

“What you say about heading back to the Dreaming?” He asked looking down at her

“I would love that” she replied

He gave her a kiss on her forehead and took some sand out of his bag and threw it in the air. And it spun around them in a swirl and he held her close as they traveled back to his realm.

#the sandman #dream #morpheus #the sandman x reader #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #fluff #dream is dream #the sandman fluff

[rjmartin11]

Sweet Kisses

Pairing: Elvis & black!female!reader

Summary: Candy, a young enslaved woman, learns the art of witchcraft from her mistress, Margaret. Along the way, Candy meets the mysterious Elvis, who appears to be more than what he seems. A vampire with an agenda. Candy and Elvis form an unbreakable bond that proves to be fatal.

Word Count: ???

Warnings: Witchcraft, vampires, blood, murder, magic, hence the witchcraft, talks of slavery, sadness, forbidden love, smut, death.

Material is not suitable for under 18 years of age. View discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: I'm making this special appearance for a limited time. One of my friends (@powerofelvis) wrote this incredible story about the Vampire Elvis, and I always wanted a prequel to it. Sadly, said friend has quit indefinitely. I'm heartbroken over it, and I hope I do it justice. This is one of my favorite stories written in the fandom. If you enjoy this tale, please like, follow, comment, and repost.

・ʚ♡ɞ・💋・ʚ♡ɞ・

"These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness, and the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore, love moderately." - William Shakespeare: Romeo & Juliet

1692

Candy toils away in the kitchen as dinner soon approaches. She sweats as the heat of the oven has the room sweltering. She's been working all day to make sure the food is prepared to master's liking. The breads baked to perfection. The roast is honey coated. The mash potatoes are fluffy, the greenbeans seasoned, and the cake's sweet. So she hopes.

Candy wipes her brow as sweat pours down her face from the heated stove. She hears a slight rattling on the table and swiftly turns around to look at the table. Everything is in place as it should be. She takes out the roast, placing on the adjacent bar.

The rattling sound happens again. Candy turns just in time to see a teacup falling to the floor. She's too far away from the falling teacup to catch it, so she does the only thing she can. She stretches out her hand, feeling the energy of her power flow through her. She catches the cup in mid-air. She places the cup back on the table with ease and exhales. Her fear subsides, allowing her to relax once more.

"Very good, young one," Margaret says, stepping out of the shadows of the doorway. "You've been practicing."

"Yes, thank you, Mistress," Candy says, bowing her head.

Margaret walks into the hot kitchen, looking at all the food prepared for the evening's dinner. She pauses, not wanting to take another bath.

"Candy, make it cooler in here, now," Margaret orders.

"Yes, Mistress."

Candy faces the three windows that lead to the outside. Slowly, she raises her hands up, opening the windows. Putting her hands slightly together and widening her fingers, Candy quietly conjures the cool night air to cool down the room.

"Very good, Candy."

"Thank you, Mistress," Candy says, placing her hands back in front of her.

"Tonight promises to be a must eventful evening," Margaret says, looking back at Candy.

"Why is that, Mistress?"

"After dinner, when the men smoke their cigars and have their console. The women will have ours," Margaret says.

She lightly lifts up Candy's chin.

"I will announce you as my apprentice. You will join my council of witches. You will be seen as my equal in a circle where there's no favorites. We will be sisters, and you will call me Margaret."

"Yes. Margaret."

Candy knew, as well as any slave, it was forbidden to cross the line of formal and casual with her mistress and master. Yet her mistress is giving her a direct order to call her by her name as if she's an equal. Candy knows her place. She knows what to say in front of Master Abbott. It was beat into her for the last two years of how to act properly as an enslaved woman. Now that her mistress has commissioned her to be a witch, she realizes she must tread softly.

・ʚ♡ɞ・💋・ʚ♡ɞ・

As the other servants of the Abbott household, Candy has permission to be absent for an hour. She wastes no time, taking a spare pair of clothes with her, and quietly runs through the woods. Slaves don't have the right to wash indoors, but Candy found a private spring a mile away from the Abbott's house.

Running through the woods is almost as good as running through the palms of Barbados. If she closes her eyes, she can almost smell the fresh salt sea air.

When she reaches the spring, she stripes herself away from the chains of slavery for just a moment. Candy places her clothes on the giant oak tree limbs that reach over the water. Without another thought, Candy dives into the lukewarm water, cleasing herself from the Abbotts.

When she comes up for air, she rubs her left shoulder, where her moon shaped birthmark lies. As she washes her hair, Candy sees the figure of a man in the distance. Candy gasps as she back strokes in the water.

"Who are you?!" Candy asks, covering herself with her hands. "What are you doing here?!"

"Who are you?!?" The stranger asks, the bass of his deep voice sends fear to Candy's heart.

"Never you mind!" She shouts, realizing he was a white man she swims back to the shore.

Not caring if he sees her naked body, Candy rings out her wet curls and puts on her clothes.

"You're not a shy one, are ya?!?" He shouts to her.

Candy looks over her shoulder then walks away. She was hoping for a peaceful bath, but she was interrupted by a stranger who could possibly get her into trouble.

"Wait a minute!" He shouts to her.

Candy stops in her tracks, knowing the rules. If a white man, woman, or child asks her to do something, she's supposed to do it without question. Fully dressed, he makes his way in front of her.

"You didn't answer my question," he said.

"W-which question was that, sir?" Candy asks, looking into his eyes.

Something behind his eyes captures her heart. His eyes were as blue as the waters that surrounded her home island. Behind his oceanic eyes lay a rushing wave that spoke to her lonely soul.

"Who are you? You're different. You have fire in you that most slaves would fear to have."

"I'm... Candy."

"What family do you work? Candy?"

"I'm a slave in the Abbott's household," she answers, crossing her arms shrinking away from him.

"The Abbotts... fine company you keep."

"Sir, forgive me. I have to get back to my mistress."

"I never liked the thought of slavery. In fact, it makes me sick to my stomach," he says, lifting her chin. "You're the first servant that's looked me in my eyes since I've been in town."

"Sir, please..."

"Elvis. My name's Elvis, little one."

"Master Elvis..."

"It's just Elvis... Candy."

Candy knew with one breath she could knock him down on his back. But the law would kill her for exposing herself as a witch.

"I have to go... Elvis."

Candy runs past him, heading to the Abbott house. Once back in the house, Margaret escorts her to the ladies' quarters. Inside, about fifteen ladies fill the room, seven of which are black. Light illuminates the quarter as the candles flicker. It sparks that fire Elvis was telling her about earlier.

Margaret and Sarah Barnett bring Candy the coven wine gauntlet.

"Sisters," Margaret starts. "Let us welcome our new sister, Candy, to the coven."

The ladies individually say their hellos and greetings to Candy. Margaret gives Candy the gauntlet of wine and whispers to her instructions on what to say in her induction speech. Candy smiles, taking the gauntlet in her hands.

"I... I drink of my sisters, and I do so entering this unbreakable circle with perfect love and perfect trust. Never putting no one above my sisters and this coven."

Candy raises her glass in a toast and takes a sip. The ladies applaud her, then one by one, kiss her cheeks, welcoming her into the coven. They asked for a small demonstration of her powers. Candy levitates all the candles in the room. This act pleases the coven.

The evening goes on with light wine and conversation. The ladies speak of secrecy and discretion.

"First and foremost, we are to remain quiet about who we are. We also must watch out for vampires," Sarah instructs.

"What are vampires?" Candy asks.

"Our true enemies. They are the enemies of those who produce warm blood in their veins," Sister Miraim squabbles.

Mistress Sarah gently places her hand on top of Miraim's hand, calming her.

"If I may," Sister Beth commented. Beth was the slave of Lord and Lady Blacksmith. "As Miraim more spiritly put it, vampires are our enemies, yes. But moreover, they are undead creatures that look and speak just like us with minor misconceptions. Other than drinking the blood of the living to survive, they sneak through the shadows of the night like evil spirits. They can't walk in the daylight. The sun is a holy relic that burns their pale skin. They are unholy creatures. If they feed on a witch, they gain ten times more strength and speed."

"Vampires are our enemies, and they will be disdained as such," Candy stated.

As the meeting drew in for a close, Beth pulled Candy aside for a small conversation.

"Just between us, Candy. I'd love it if you joined our small group of enchantress," Beth said.

"Enchantress group?" Candy questioned.

"You must never tell your mistress. All of the enslaved women here are a part of it. They may see us as equals here in this room, but once outside those doors, we are mere slaves yet again," Beth states.

"I know this to be true," Candy acknowledges.

"Do you know of the Well's family?" Beth asks.

Candy shakes her head.

"They were absent tonight, but they have a slave by the name of Renée and she's also from the island of Barbados."

"My cousin? Here in Salem? We were separated during the auction two years ago. I feared I'd never see her again."

"Never say never, Sister Candy. She's a part of our coven. Will you join us at your leisure tomorrow?" Beth asked.

"Yes. I will be there."

The next day, Candy reunites with her beloved cousin, Renée. Seeing Renée brought a great joy to her, she thought she'd never experience again. Candy and Renée reconnected, building a strong bond of blood and magic.

Because of this, Candy pledged her undying loyalty to this secret black coven within a larger coven. Together, they formed the Coven of Black Enchantresses. Reading and writing were outlawed for slaves but the sisters taught each other how to read and write. Margaret secretly tutored Candyin her spear time from the Book of Spell Casters.

Two weeks later...

The churches harvest ball was quickly approaching. The autumn leaves were falling, and the weather started to cool. Candy cleaned the house from top to bottom with the assistance of her cousin, Renée.

"Candy, this harvest ball sounds so exciting," Renée said, striking up a conversation.

"Yes. Too bad slaves can't participate."

"True. Can we just imagine, though?"

Candy looks back at Renée's eager face. So full of hope for things to come. Being that Renée is her younger cousin, Candy obliges her whim of imagining a life better than their current one.

"Let's make a small circle, Candy. We're alone," Renée says, grabbing her hands.

Candy and Renée breathe deeply, chanting small incantations. As the circle forms, they open their eyes to look at one another.

"What are we imagining, Renée?" Candy asks.

"A life without servitude, cousin. A life away from this hell."

"Home..." Candy whispers as she imagines the waves crash against the shore of her home.

"Candy, you are of age. If things were different, you could have on one of those pretty gowns and fall in love tonight."

"That's not in the book for me."

"Imagine. Don't break the circle because of things that may not be. Close your eyes as I conjure you up the perfect night," Renée says.

Candy obeys her cousin and allows her imagination to run as wild as horse on a prairie.

"You have on the most beautiful dress of all the eligible women at the ball. Every eye is on you, but one bachelor catches your eye. Oh my. Candy, he's handsome."

Renée says these words, and those pair of blue eyes come back to her mind. The fine cut jawline exquisitely complements his brood shoulders. He's built like a god of legend. He lips... cover a smile of sharp fangs.

"Elvis!" Candy shouts, breaking the circle. Fear covers Candy's soft features.

"Who's Elvis?" Renée asked.

"I wish I knew," Candy says, taking a breath. "Come, let's finish up. No more imagining for today."

The Harvest Ball

The entire town of Salem, with a few residents from surrounding areas, has come to celebrate. All the lords, ladies, and their children are dressed in their Sunday best. They make conversation, sip on libations, and nibble on snacks as the light hymns play.

Candy was excused from the duties of the event. She quietly watches from the window outside. A part of her wishes she could be in there dancing with a handsome stranger. She wishes she could be the bell of the ball. But no, she would rather go for a swim.

She goes to get Renée, Beth, and Phadrea to go for a swim. Originally, her spring was supposed to be a private place, but she'd not dare keep it from her sisters.

As they walk arm in arm through the quiet town, they hear growling like a pack of wolves have surrounded them.

"Those are vampires," Beth says. "Be ready to defend yourselves, sisters."

The three witches fight with their might. Candy turns to her left and sees a pair of red eyes in the dark. Fear seeps within her veins, and her heart races at the face of this loathsome creature. She takes a deep breath and chants her incantation as dark smoke springs from her hands. She throws her hand up, slamming the vampire hard against the side of a house. He laughs with evil delight as Candy gives herself strength to pick him up and throw him. He hits the ground with a thunderous thud. He looks over at Candy, his demonic eyes glaring back. She's ready for him.

Then Candy hears Renée scream at the top of her lungs. A vampire on top of Renée, ready to sink his into her flesh.

"RENÉE!" She shouts, using her energy to throw the off of her.

The vampire Candy turned her back on, grabbed her neck from behind, throwing her to the ground. He growls, exposing his sharp fangs to her. Candy places her foot in his abdomen, flipping him underneath her. He rips the top part of her dress off her shoulder, showcasing her moon shaped birthmark.

"The cresent moon," he says, looking into Candy's eyes. "Little one?"

Candy backs away from him, holding the top of her dress. He stands and shouts at the other vampires. They all scatter in different directions except for him. He glares at Candy for a moment, revealing his human face.

"Elvis," Candy breathes.

Elvis smiles and races into the darkness of the night. Candy exhales for the first time since the first initial attack.

"Candy?" Renée says, coming to aid. "Are you alright?"

"I... I think so," Candy says.

"We are not safe, sisters," Beth states. "There are vampires in Salem. We must inform the heads of the council."

・ʚ♡ɞ・💋・ʚ♡ɞ・

The next day, Candy cleans the house from top to bottom, trying to get that image of Elvis out of her mind. Ever since the first time they met, Candy knew there was something about him. Something different. She never dreamed it was that he was a vampire.

Candy finds time later in the afternoon to make her way to the spring. When she arrives there, it's as silent the grave. She quietly walks to the edge of the water, bracing herself for the unexpected.

"I hoped you come," Elvis said.

Candy throws him up against the base of the oak tree, holding him there.

"We need to stop meeting like this, Candy."

"Why should I trust you?" Candy asks.

"Because, if I wanted you dead, I would have killed you last night."

"I don't trust you. Vampires are the sworn enemies to witches!"

"We don't have to be. I don't want to hurt you."

"What do you want, Elvis?"

"To live in a world where slavery doesn't exist. A world where vampires and witches are not enemies but live together in harmony. A world where humans don't fear us. We shouldn't have to hide in the shadows."

"That's impossible..."

"Why? Because you were told it couldn't?"

Something in Candy wanted to trust him. She wanted to believe him. She eases her hand down, releasing Elvis from the tree. Elvis slowly walks up to Candy, never looking away from his eyes.

"Sit with me, please," Elvis asks.

"Why would you want to sit with me?"

"I find you beautiful and interesting. I've been waiting for you to come back here and spend time with me."

Elvis offers Candy his hand, and without hesitation, she takes it. Noticing how warm his touch is, her heart rate raises.

"You're so warm," Candy points out.

"Yes."

"And you're out in the sunlight."

"Yes, I am. Those tale tales were created to throw humans off our scent," Elvis admits.

He sits her down in the grassy meadow. For a moment, they stare at one another. Elvis admires her dark curls and honey coated skin. He finds her absolutely breathtaking.

"Where are you from?" Elvis asks her.

"Barbados. I was kidnapped two years ago. My cousin and I. Sent here. Away from my family. Forced into slavery," Candy sighs.

"You miss it."

"Everyday. I miss the palm trees and the sandy beaches and the blue water, my mother," Candy said, reminiscing about a life stolen from her.

A tear falls from her eye. Elvis takes her hand and places a kiss on her knuckles. An energy radiates from his touch to her soul. For the first time in a long time, Candy smiles a true smile.

For the next week, Candy finds a way to spend the afternoon in Elvis' arms. They share stories about their lives. Soon, Candy finds herself falling madly in love with Elvis. He's never far from her thoughts.

"How's about we go for a swim, baby?" Elvis asks.

Candy stands up and strips her dress off, being completely bare in front of Elvis. Elvis analyzes her body carefully. Every curve and every scar.

She runs into the water, diving into the water. When she comes up for air, Elvis has disappeared.

"Elvis? Where are you?" She calls out.

"Here," he whispers in her ear.

She turns to see Elvis behind her. Elvis grabs her face and kisses her lips softly. There's nothing between them at this moment but water. Candy wraps her arms around Elvis as he kisses down her neck to her arm. He kisses her birthmark.

"Oh, Elvis," she cries out.

He stops short and looks at her.

"What's wrong?" Candy asked.

"I want to taste you."

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes, but you'll like. I promise."

"Okay," Candy says, bracing herself.

Elvis kisses her neck then sinks his teeth into her skin. Candy feels a rush as he tastes her blood. Candy sees Elvis' past in quick images. Love. Loss. Death. It makes her want to protect him and guard him from the world. She also feels herself wet as Elvis sips her blood. He pulls back for air and licks her wounds.

"You're pure magic, Candy," he says.

"You're pure love, Elvis," she says, kissing his lips.

Elvis lifts her leg and drives into her with his hardened shaft. She moans at the urgency of it all. Her bud is so sensitive, and she feels so needy for what Elvis can give her. She never truly knew about this connection. The bond among her coven was nothing compared to this. She feels herself expand as he thrusts his cock into her throbbing pussy.

A fire deep within her has ignited and feels like Elvis is casting a spell on her. She grips ahold of him chasing this feeling until finally she bursts. Elvis follows quickly behind her.

"Oh, E. That was spellbinding."

"That was lovemaking, darling."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I love you, Candy. I'm in love with you," Elvis says, kissing the top of her head.

Thirty minutes later, Elvis takes Candy to his cabin. Their both still pretty wet from swimming, so Candy lights a fire for them. They sit for a while, getting warm from the flames.

Elvis can't help himself. He strips from his wet clothes and asks that Candy do the same. He lays her down in front of the fire and precedes to make love to her once more.

The flame on the inside of Candy scorch her soul as he pushes and pulls in and out of her until once again she cums. They lay in each other's arms for a while until Elvis breaks his silence.

"Marry me, Candy. Be my bride. Let's rule this world as one," Elvis begs.

Candy looks at him. Seeing the seriousness in his eyes melts her heart. She wants nothing more than to be with him.

"What about my sisters?" Candy questions.

"In time, they will come to accept our union. Please, my love. Marry me."

"Yes, I will."

"You will?"

"I will."

They kiss for a moment, and Elvis cuts his arm to unite them both as one.

"Drink. Be one with me. It won't turn you into a vampire. This will make you more powerful than any witch on Earth."

Candy licks his cut from top to bottom. The blood fills her taste buds with a peculiar taste, but the sensation was a delight. She feels stronger somehow. She feels like she has more control over her powers.

Realizing the time, Candy gives Elvis one last kiss goodbye and runs back to town. When she arrives, the coven is all there waiting to her.

"Where have you been?" Margaret asks.

Candy has no words. She can't lie to them, but she can't tell them the truth either.

"Beth," Margaret called. "Make her speak."

Beth stepped forward, placing her palms up and out to Candy.

"Give me your hands, Sister Candy," Berh orders.

Candy hesitates but does as she's asked. She places her hands on top Beth's hands.

Beth sees all that had conspired in Candy's mind. She sees the secrets they have and all of her moments with Elvis. All their private moments.

Beth gasps, pulling away from Candy she slaps her in the face.

"Sisters, she has betrayed us all! She has lied with a vampire, allowed him to drink blood from her veins, and tasted his blood as well!!!"

An unholy gasp spreads across the room.

"Sisters, please. Let me explain," Candy begs, tears falling from her eyes.

Margaret slaps Candy's face, silencing her.

"You have lost all rights to speak!" Margaret shouts.

"I love him."

"You shall burn for your sins against us. Your betrayal has stung us all to the core," Margaret states. "All witches in favor."

"Aye!" Screamed by each witch except for Renée who watches in terror from the back of the room.

For the next few days, Candy remains locked in an upstairs room with little to no food. She cares not for herself but for Elvis. She was supposed to see him at the springs. With little to no way to get to him, Candy falls into despair.

Suddenly, there's a commotion downstairs. Things are being thrown about the rooms, and there's yelling.

Candy has been patient long enough. She blows the door down with one wave of her hand. She runs downstairs and sees Elvis being choked by Margaret. Candy waves her arm and flings Margaret away from him.

"Elvis, darling," Candy runs to him, helping off the floor.

"My love," Elvis says, kissing her lips. "I've come to take you away from this horrible place."

"Traitor!" Margaret yells.

"No! Margaret, I don't want this! Elvis wants to make this world better for us all. He's a great man!"

"Love, she's set in her old ways. No use explaining to her," Elvis says, picking her up in his arms and racing out the door.

For the next week, Elvis trains Candy on fighting and strengthening her powers. Elvis feels a fight coming, and he wants to be prepared. Candy wants Elvis to fight her with all his might because if she could stand against him, she can face anyone.

Elvis knocks Candy down on her back this time. It's hard enough that blood comes from her mouth.

"Did I hurt you, my love?" Elvis asks, stretching out his hand, helping her up.

"Yeah, but I'm tougher than I look, E," she says, giving him a kiss on the lips. "Do you really think I'll be ready to face them? I mean, they taught me everything I know. Before them, I was a slave who couldn't read or write. I own them everything."

"You're ready, and once we defeat them, you'll be my bride, and we will rule this world together. Hell, you're already my bride, Mama!" Elvis says, pulling her close to him. "They will come around. Eventually."

"I'm ready," Candy says.

But she wasn't ready. Two days later, Candy goes to comfort the coven. It was a trap. They tie Candy up, using incantations, they burn her at the stake. She screams and begs them for mercy, but they ignore her.

Elvis witnesses the whole scene unfold. He tries to save her, but his men hold him back as he cries out to her.

"Candy! You can defeat them! You're strong! Don't give up! I LOVE YOU!!! PLEASE!!!" He screams.

Candy sees Elvis trying to get to her, but it's too late. She cries as the flames of hell fire burn her from the inside out. She let's her last words be for Elvis. He hears her whisper.

"I love you," she succumbs to the flames.

Elvis and his clan of vampires are forced to flee away from Salem back into the woods.

A day later, the witch sent Elvis a box. Inside the box is Candy's burnt heart. Elvis hadn't slept all night from heartbreak, and this is what happens.

Elvis loses it and orders his men to attack Salem. His vampires came in droves and ripped Salem apart. Finding every witch they could get their hands on and bleeding them dry.

The Black Enchantresses, led by Renée, fled for their lives out of Salem and from the bonds of slavery. Renée knew the story of Candy and Elvis was to be kept a secret for all time, and so it shall remain.

After his fill of witches' blood, Elvis, heartbroken, carries Candy's lifeless body away. He wraps burial cloth around her body from head to toe. He places her under their special oak, feet away from their pond where they meet mere weeks ago.

Elvis lays her in her resting place gently, placing the box that contains her heart on top of her. He weeps the tears of a widower. For they had only just begun.

As he places fresh water lilies on her grave, a strange feeling comes over him. As if he's not there alone.

"Elvis." A voice of an angel whispers. His angel. His bride.

Elvis turns to see a figure in white standing in the grassy meadow. As his eyes adjust, he realizes he looks upon the face of Candy. Her hair was curly with little flowers, and the sun kissed her skin perfectly.

"Candy?" He breathes.

"Yes," she answers.

"You've come back to me, love?"

"No," she says, a tear trickling down her cheek. "Wait for me."

"How long?" Elvis beeched.

"I don't know."

"It doesn't matter. I'll wait forever for you. I love you."

"I love you, Elvis. Once I return to you. I'll never ever leave you again. Wait for me." Candy sits in the grass as a light fog engulfs her and she vanishes.

Elvis feels sorrow, but in his heart, he knows Candy will return to him. When she does, they will rule the immortal world together. He will wait. No matter how long it takes.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @eptodaytommorwforever @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @dreamingofep @aliypop @spooky-hazex

Are you bummed at the ending? Here's the link to the original story!!! Better ending.

Sweets For My Sweet by: @powerofelvis (Daisy)

#elvispresley #romance #elvis #Elvis x oc #vampireelvis #vampires #elvis fans #Elvis x black!oc #Elvis Presley x Black!oc #black writers #Daisy Writes #Witches

[uarmymoonlight]

"thus with a kiss, i die" - william shakespeare (part 1)

pairing: vampire hunter!jk X vampire!reader

genre: fantasy!au, historical!au, forbidden/secret relationship!au, angst, smut

warnings: explicit depictions of murder and blood, jungkook has a panic attack (twice, actually), fluff 

summary: in the moments prior to jungkook’s first real mission, he tries hard to block out visions of his past while simultaneously, and most importantly, remembering what your kind really is. even if your lips are as sweet as honey and your smiles as bright as the sun, you’re dying just like the rest of the bloodsuckers. he swears. 

author’s note: literally not a single thing here is historically accurate and that’s where the fantasy part of this fic resides, truly, bc vampires exist (real). i slightly based some of the dialogue on william shakespeare’s romeo and juliet - and fun fact, if you didn’t catch it before, the title of the fic is a quote from that play, also. 

words: 4.5K

cross-posted on AO3: to read on AO3, click here.

previous part (teaser) || part 2 teaser || part 2 || main masterlist ||

////

Jungkook’s village’s festivities for Easter Sunday are the best Easter Sunday festivities that have ever existed. He’s sure of it. Because never before in his entire life has he seen so much beauty and such abundance. Granted, he only left his village one time and, yes, he knows he’s only seven years old, but still, surely no other place could top what he’s seeing right in front of him at the moment. 

Jungkook is sitting against one of the smaller maypoles decorated with colored ribbons posted on the edges of the festival, from where he can see all of the area they use for it: a small clearing that has been filled with maypoles, a makeshift stage for the musicians, and many tents for food along with big wooden tables for the feast. Enormous trees surround the area creating a ring, as if isolating that little piece of land from the rest of the world. As if, in that little area walled by trees, the only witness to their existence is God himself.

The sun shines through the trees and on the creek that runs by, the sunlight’s reflection bathing everyone in a glimmering light that feels very much akin to a holy blessing. There’s music playing and there are people dancing and running and playing around wearing the biggest smiles they’ve ever sported as if they don’t have a care in the world. As if most of these people didn’t almost starve last winter. As if most of them won’t starve in the winters that are to come. 

But that doesn’t matter, because for today they get to eat. Because for the past few days every single seed that grew to become a vegetable, every single grain that was used to make bread, every single animal that was killed to provide meat, every single spice the village had has been brought to the clearing to be part of the big feast. The entire clearing looks just like the Garden of Eden. At least, it looks like what Jungkook thinks the Garden of Eden looks like, it feels like what he thinks the Garden of Eden feels like. Beautiful. Plentiful. Peaceful. Reserved. 

“Won’t you come dance, my little bunny?”

His mother asks as she walks over, her right hand pulling his father along. Both panting a little from having just participated in one of the dances. 

“Or will you sit there the whole festival?”

“No, not the whole festival. Just for as long as I can.” 

“As long as you can, is that so?”, his father chuckles “And when won’t you be able to stay here any longer, boy?”

“When it’s time to eat!” 

“Ah, really?” says his mother while his father only smiles wider. “So only food will make you enjoy the festivities?” 

“No, mother. I’m enjoying the festivities sitting here. But only food will make me get up.” 

“Oh, I see. Very well, if that is the case…” 

The woman puts her hands on one of her pockets and pulls out a small piece of marzipan cake, smiling mischievously as her son’s doe eyes grow bigger at the delicacy, the boy’s mouth forming a little “o” of amazement. Jungkook’s already getting up to take the cake from his mother’s hand when something jumps in front of him and grabs it before he can even fully stand up.

A cat. A cat stole his cake.

“My cake! Mother, my cake!” 

“Your cake? It came from my pocket, didn’t it?”

“Quick!” his father intervenes “The one who catches the cat may eat all of the cake!” 

Jungkook has been in this family long enough to know his parents don’t really care about cake. Chase or no chase, Jungkook is the child so he is the one who gets the cake. But he knows his parents care about him and about playing with him, so he doesn’t have to hear his father’s empty challenge twice. Jungkook bolts. 

Him and his parents chase the cat while it runs across the clearing - zigzagging through the maypoles, knocking over those still dancing, going under the big tables, around some of the tents - until the cat reaches the forest. Jungkook follows it, hearing his parents' laughter and footsteps right behind him, sometimes even seeing them in the corners of his eyes. He focuses on the cat, continuing to chase after it into the woods. Jungkook jumps over tree trunks, dodges twigs, steps onto rocks, runs around holes he can see on the earth, hears the crunching of leaves beneath his feet, the birds singing above him, he hears the bees flying past him buzzing his ear, he hears deer running somewhere to his left, he hears a scream. A piercing and terrible scream. A scream so loud Jungkook’s body abruptly stops, the speed at which he was going making him fall over and roll on the dirt. 

A scared Jungkook quickly gets up and calls “Mother!”, looking around him. He doesn’t see nor hear anyone. “Father!”, he tries. But no one comes. 

Again and again and again and again he tries yelling for them. But no one comes. He’s breathing heavy now, from all the running from earlier and the effort of screaming so much. Jungkook starts to feel the pains from his fall, body aching from head to toe. He looks at his surroundings and sees only the gigantic trees, all very close to each other, the direction he had tumbled from isn’t clear to him anymore. The boy spins around wondering where the clearing’s direction might be. He is panting hard. 

“Mother!” 

Like before, nothing. Jungkook doesn’t hear them, doesn’t hear their footsteps, their laughter, nothing. He doesn’t hear them. That’s when he notices that he doesn’t hear anything at all. Not the birds, or the bees, or deer, or any other sound of the forest. It’s a complete silence. 

In that complete silence and solitude, he feels desperation become a fist around his heart. His chest is tight and his vision is blurring and he can’t move because where does he even go? Where is the clearing? Where are his parents?  

Another horrible scream behind him and Jungkook falls to the ground terrified, arms covering his head. 

The screaming stops. He hears something but the screaming stopped. 

Shaking and nearly crying, Jungkook slowly moves around to peek through his arms at the source of the scream.

Right there, just a few steps away from him is the body of his mother drenched in blood, her once lovely face twisted in agony, mouth wide open and eyes rolled back. On top of her sits a hunched figure clad in a dark cloak, its bloodied hands holding his mother’s shoulder while its face is buried in her neck. 

Jungkook lets out a grieving moan and cries. The figure turns to him. Jungkook sees nothing but a bloodied chin. Something in him awakens and he runs, he runs and runs until he trips. 

With a thud, he realizes he tripped and fell on someone, he’s about to ask for help when he sees the blood. He looks at the person’s face and makes a horrified noise when he sees it’s his father, with his face as twisted and his neck as torn as his mother’s. Jungkook’s tears fall on his father’s face as he forces himself to get up once more and keep running. He runs and he runs and he runs and he hears another scream. 

He gets knocked up again and when Jungkook lifts his head, he’s back at seeing his mother’s dead body, hooded figure on top of her. Except now he can see the figure’s blood-painted face. 

Now he can see your blood-painted face. 

So he runs again, he runs again and he trips again and he sees you all bloodied again. So he runs, and he trips, and he sees you all bloodied, so he runs, and he trips, and he sees you all bloodied, so he - 

“Jungkook!”

He wakes up. 

He wakes up in their safehouse. 

“Jungkook!” It’s his brother, Namjoon, saying his name and shaking him awake. 

“I’m awake.”

Namjoon releases a breath and follows the younger one as both sit on the bed, Jungkook panting and sweating. He’s glad for the moments of silence Namjoon allows him to recompose himself before Jungkook has to deal with the questions he knows the other man already has on the tip of his tongue. 

“Go ahead. Ask.”

“Same nightmare?”

He nods, because there’s no point in lying about this. Not to Namjoon, at least, who would've seen right through Jungkook. Both of them had been in this exact position many more times than either of them can remember and Jungkook has shared with the older one more nightmares than days together. 

“It’s that same time of the year, so it makes sense that your thoughts and memories of it are resurfacing. I assume you still can’t see its face?” 

He hesitates. Because, yeah, for many years Jungkook couldn’t see the face of the monster of his nightmares. Until he met you. This is the fourth time this month he’s seen your face in his nightmares. 

“No”, Jungkook says.

Namjoon sighs, “Alright. Good. That’s good. We can’t have you distracted this week, we sent out some scouts who’ve reported that -”, he interrupts himself after taking a look at Jungkook’s state: not breathing as heavily anymore and the cold sweat is mostly gone, but his eyes are still unfocused and looking down, still breathing through his mouth and shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I…We’ll have time to talk about this tomorrow.” 

Before his brother can get up and leave, Jungkook grabs his arm. “No, please. No.” Namjoon sits down again “I-I’m just, I’m fine. I just…Just tell me.”

“Jungkook, you have to-”

“No. Whatever it is the scouts said, I need to hear it. If Easter Sunday will have as many vampires as Jimin thinks there’ll be, I need to know too, because I’ll be there too keeping watch on one of them, remember?” The older man still seems uncertain, so he adds “This is my first mission, brother, you can’t leave me in the dark. You can’t leave me.” 

His brother says nothing for a moment, then nods. 

“Very well. You’re right.”

Namjoon then goes over the information. How they’ve found more dead bodies discarded a few hours away from the city, all the bodies with the same profile - young adults, limbs torn off, broken bones, witchcraft symbols on their bodies, drained of blood. Suspicions that vampire and witches have been working together only growing stronger and more certain, even if they’ve never actually caught two of them together. 

The men then go quickly over the plans for Easter Sunday and after talking about where each hunter will be positioned, listing their weapons and supplies, Namjoon gives him one more task: get more information out of you. 

After a little debate, Namjoon succedes in making Jungkook agree to at least try to sleep a little bit more, since there are still a couple hours to tick by until sunrise. But not before Jungkook promises to go straight to your house as soon as he gets up.

// 

Your house fits you, Jungkook thinks. Or rather, your manor fits you. 

Standing tall over the other houses, the white-stoned building was located just a few miles away from the heart of the city, a low and vine-intertwined wall of its own surrounding the area to separate your family from the commoners. Three towers emerge from the brown roof of the manor, one of them bigger than the others being the most noticeable feature. Behind the manor sits a small, but still beautiful, house for the servants and a little white chapel Jungkook knows your family doesn’t use. The scenario is topped off with a beautiful tulip garden surrounding a big fountain at the front of the house. 

It’s a place as elegant, beautiful, and perfect as you are. At least, on the outside. 

Jungkook walks to the back of your manor, where its walls are separated from a merchant’s shop by a narrow alley. After checking that no one’s in sight, he uses some of the vines to climb over the wall, landing on the other side swiftly with the ease of someone who’s done this many times already. Jungkook is careful to avoid any servants, even if he’s pretty sure your family knows already, and he’s definitely seen a couple maids awkwardly pretend not to notice him. Thankfully, at this time in the morning, only a few of the workers are up. Still, he thinks it’s always better to fall on the side of caution, especially dealing with vampires. And, well, that is part of his whole…how can he put it? Character, he supposes, that he’s been playing for you so far. So he not-so-sneakily goes around the servant’s house, hiding himself behind trees and in shadows until he reaches a point beneath what he knows is your window.

Still partially hidden in the shadows of a tree, he picks up pebbles from the floor and starts chucking them at your window, quietly singing to himself. Soon enough, you show up at the window with a knowing smirk on your face and a playful tone in your voice.

“I know this voice. Is it you, Jungkook? Or is it a busker?”

“Neither, my lady, if both displease you.��� 

He hears your little giggle and it slightly pisses him off. Because it’s just so easy with you, to just giggle away everything. And it’s so hard to not giggle back. He finally leaves from under the tree, fully in your sight now.

“Are you crazy, young man? My family will run you off with their brooms if you keep sneaking in.”

“My lady, I’m sure no harm can come to me as long as I’m under your gaze.” 

“How do you even get here, Jungkook?”

“My heart leads me here everytime. Smart thing, isn’t it?” your smile gets wider as your eyes sparkle with a tinge of mischief he’s sure paints his own eyes as well. “It even taught me how to jump over these cruel walls, my lady. It wants to be near its owner, I swear.” 

“Don’t swear. Even if I like to hear it.” 

“Then I’ll take back my swears, only to repeat them again for you.” 

You open your mouth to speak but suddenly stop when someone behind you calls out your name. You turn back to him with a sad smile.

“I have to go. And you must leave.” 

Jungkook panics a little and shouts for you to wait. “Do you really have to go? Can you not come out? Let me take you out for a walk.” 

He sees you look back with a worried look before hurriedly telling him to leave and wait by the shop next to your house, promising to meet him there in a few minutes. 

Jungkook leaves the same way he arrived: sneakingly. Except now more of the household staff is getting up and, as it’s happened before, he sees more than a couple of curious eyes not-so-subtly averting his direction. 

You arrive at the shop shortly after, your maid trailing quietly after you. Jungkook wonders if she knows what you are or if she herself is one of yours. The thought lasts only for a brief moment as you’re soon in front of him , a big smile on your beautiful face. He smiles back, “Time for act II”, he thinks.

“Ready for some fun, my lady?”

“I suppose it’d depend on the kind of fun. What do you have in mind?”

Jungkook only answers with a roguish smirk and then takes your hand, dragging you away. He stops first at a florist to give you a small bouquet composed of lavender, yarrow, iris, and snapdragon. Afterwards, he says he’ll take you to a jewelry shop nearby, to which you answer in between giggles “Is this your idea of fun? Jungkook, you’ll spoil me rotten!” 

“I’ll try my very best to do so, my lady, I swear.” 

You warn him as you did earlier today about his swears while entering the shop. Your maid follows at a small distance. Jungkook knows you’ve been to this before, because he’s seen you and your family come by a few times to do business or to purchase some luxurious pieces. It’s not a particularly big shop, but the size of the building is compensated for by the big size of the gems on the products. 

“Jungkook” you pull on his arm to make him face you, a small smile on your face “What are we doing here?”

“My lady, you know, I spend a lot of time looking at you” you squint your eyes a little bit and Jungkook knows you’re already thinking of how to tease him “So I couldn’t help but notice these beautiful earrings of yours.”

He sees your eyes open and widen a bit, your smile falters a little. 

Your earrings are two bright, blood red ruby stones framed by small diamonds and pearls, all tied together by silver. Oftentimes Jungkook swears he can see the stone move in itself. It’s an alluring, mysterious piece. 

“My lady, I hope you’ll forgive my indiscretion now, but -” you interrupt him with a mock-disapproving look. 

“Jungkook, you’ve never bothered with discretion.”

He smiles and restarts “Well, my lady, you see, I did not mind the indiscretion of all the times before. Nevertheless, now, I mind it, for I do not wish to insult you” Jungkook steps closer to you, “These earrings, were they a gift from another fellow?” 

Your mouth is shaped in a small “o” form, not having expected the question. It takes only a second for you to recover.

“Why?”

“Because if I am to buy you a necklace that compliments these beloved earrings of yours, it’d do me well to know who else buys you jewels.” 

Jungkook sees you hesitate a little before you finally tell him your brothers gave the pieces to you. 

“They’re a family heirloom.” 

He thinks to ask more about it, but as he sees you slightly stepping away from him, gaze looking down, Jungkook decides that’s a battle for another day. 

The owner of the shop, then, comes forward and you and Jungkook get swept by the man as he presents fitting necklaces for you. After a while, you pick a delicate silver chain and a red tear-drop shaped pendant dangling from it. Not nearly as exuberant as your earrings, you, however, assure Jungkook that you like it just as much. 

“It’s extraordinary value was established the moment you meant for it to be a gift for me”, you tell him. “And…Jungkook?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I have something for you too.” You pull out from your pocket a silver locket and place it on his hand. Jungkook takes a look at it and sees that there’s an intricate art engraved on it of leaves and bushes and, at the center, a  little rabbit. Impatient for a reaction, you say anxiously “That is how your mother called you, is it not? Little bunny? I…well, I had hoped I could wait until Easter Sunday, I thought you’d need some strength, but, alas, I wanted to spoil you a little as you’ve done to me.” 

Jungkook keeps staring at the locket, your words being heard but not listened to, being pushed, instead, to the back of his mind as he tries to stay in the moment rather than think about his mother. His mother had a locket with a rabbit engraved as well. You call his name softly once. He forces himself to snap back. 

“I…I-I, yes.” Jungkook shakes his head briefly and blinks a few times “Yes, she did. I…didn’t think you’d remember all that”, he scoffs. 

“Well, I do. To have lost your mother at a young age…I’m sorry, Jungkook.” I am too, he thinks “Smallpox is a terrible disease.” He only nods. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” 

You squeeze his hand and smile at him. Jungkook takes your hand and kisses it, taking a bit longer than needed with his eyes closed.

Your maid clears her throat and he puts your hand respectfully on his arm. With the both of you now wearing your new possessions, you leave the shop. You leave smiling sweetly and he leaves with a heavy heart.

Lost in his own thoughts, Jungkook keeps walking with you by his side.

And it always hits him at the most inconvenient of times that you may actually be a good person. And Jungkook almost feels guilty for plotting your death while you're smiling so sweetly at a little girl as both you and her help a kitten off a tree. But just as soon as the feeling begins, the warnings of his brothers whisper in his mind reminding him how manipulative your kind is - how manipulative you are. His brothers have no reason to lie to him about you or about the stories he's heard since he was a child. The stories of those who took his parents from him, the stories that haunted him, plaguing his dreams with blood and death until he no longer wanted to dream. Stories of those like you.

Jungkook tries to shake off these thoughts and softens his face when he sees you coming back to his side, now that the kitten is free and the little girl is on her way.

"Fourth time this month. Same time, same tree, same cat", you tell him with a smile.

"I don’t understand why Soo-Ah doesn’t just adopt him”, Jungkook scoffs “Would save her the trouble of having to save him every other day.”

“It would. But it’d also take away his freedom of coming and leaving when he wants and of chasing that same squirrel that goes up the tree and disappears. Not to mention one more crucial factor.”

“What?”, he waits confused, eyeing your mischievous smile.

“Helping Soo-Ah with the cat uses up enough of her time that when she reaches the bakery the breads will be fresh out of the oven. She won’t need to wait even a second to get them.”

You give Jungkook another one of your pretty smiles, those he can’t help but answer with a smile of his own, and there it is again. That same feeling from earlier telling him you’re a good person, after all. Fangs and blood-sucking aside.

So Jungkook takes your hand to continue your walk together. It’s only after you’ve entered your house, leaving him with a kiss, that a shadow crosses Jungkook’s face and he heads to meet his brothers, the men waiting hungrily for the right time to kill you.

previous part (teaser) || part 2 teaser || part 2 || main masterlist ||

/////////////

author's notes:

the initial point was for this to be the first and only part, however i'll right a 2nd part bc some things i wanted to put here didn't really seem right. i also have a few ideas for a 3rd part, depending on how the other parts will be received and how i’ll feel about this fic in the future. this is why i ask for you to, if possible, give me feedback or just your general thoughts and impressions of this part. reviews are a great motivation! 

also, as it was said in the beginning, some of the dialogue was inspired by william shakespeare’s romeo and juliet. i used these sources for inspiration and reference: https://pt.slideshare.net/1977LS/peca-teatralromeuejulietaparaescolas and    https://myshakespeare.com/romeo-and-juliet/act-2-scene-2 

fun fact - these are the meanings of the flowers that were in the bouquet jungkook gave to the reader: snapdragon - graciousness, deception / lavender - distrust / iris - faith, trust, wisdom, hope, valor / yarrow - everlasting love. and rabbits almost always symbolize prosperity, abundance, good luck, and fertility.

taglist: @luaspersona @kookpeas

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook vampire #bts x reader #bts fic #bts vampire au #thus with a kiss #my writing #bts #twakid #thus with a kiss i die

[confusedgnosticcg]

IX-VIII-MMXX

“Long live the queen.” A single tear left Prince Charles’ eyes, leaving a soft glisten down his worn cheek. “Let the people know,” he let go of her dead hand, “the queen is dead.” the other people in the room left with their hearts broken. Moments later it was all over the world, “The longest reigning monarch of England, Queen Elizabeth II, is dead.”

Back at the royal residence, the family of Windsor mourned their beloved family member as she lay in her deathbed. Tears were shed all around. Love is rarely stronger than those for relatives. 

“M-may I have a moment alone with her?” Lady Louise asked her family. Her and the previous queen had been close. If Elizabeh had a favorite it was probably her. Each person took their leave after saying public goodbyes. Finally they were alone. Louise took her grandmother’s hand. “You were brilliant in your time. Everyone will miss you,” she paused, “I just… I just don’t understand why you didn't wait till you were 100…” Without even opening her eyes, the queen bursted out into laughter. “You could have waited four more years! ‘Dying’ at 96 is so unsatisfying!” 

“I am tired! I don’t want to wait four more years. That also just seems a bit too eye-catching- dying right at 100.”

“I think you dying at all is too eye-catching. You should just let everyone know you’re incapable of such mortal whims. I think it’s more believable.” They both shared a good, small laugh. “So what will you do now?” Louise inquired. How was one of the most famous people on earth supposed to live out the rest of her immortal days without being recognized for a good century or two- possibly more? Shakespeare and Hathaway took 4 centuries to come back into the open.

“Oh not much. Probably just roam around the secret corridors and ‘chillax’ in the bunker. I plan on whispering ideas on how to run the country into Charles’ ear as he sleeps, so that will be fun. Hopefully he doesn’t die right away from madness.” 

“Well, I wish you luck. I hope you’ll leave me a way to come visit you every now and then.” Louise smiled at her grandmother. She had known since she was a little girl that the conspiracies and silly theories were true. When the Queen was more youthful, she had held a secret meeting with Anne Hathaway and her husband, Adam Shulman (William Shakespeare). They had given her their secret of immortality in exchange for fame when they came back out into the open. The Queen wanted to wait to use it, and now was finally the time. 

No one knew. No one except little Lady Louise Winsdor. 

“Of course I’d let you visit. It’ll be dreadfully boring living my time out alone. I’ll need a few people to keep me company. Who better than my most beloved granddaughter?” They shared a warm smile before an unwelcome knock presented itself at the door. 

“Louise, are you done now? It’s time.” It was Andrew. 

“Yes, I’ve made my peace.” She left the Queen with a smile on her lips and a longing in her eyes. She loved Elizabeth, she just wished the queen would let her love her longer. 

That night as everyone lay sleeping in their beds, even the former queen thought to be dead, several pairs of eyes jolted open at thoughts of schemes. Elizabeth packed her most treasured treasures in preparation of going into hiding that night. As she packed away her things, her door creaked open without a second’s notice. Andrew had walked in. 

“God save the queen,” he gasped in astonishment. “You are alive.” The queen dropped her rucksack in surprise at her being found out. “How…H-how are you still alive? We saw you dead!”

“Oh hush now, Andrew,” She composed herself, “anyone can conjure up the right sleeping drought with the right friends and enough money.” The boy accepted his confusion and jumped straight to idiocy.

“Well, now that you’re alive, you can continue your rule! Charles isn't the King!”

“Ah tut tut tut tut tut,” she halted him, “Charles will be king, whether I'm truly dead or not.”

“But, I don’t understand.”

“My time is done, child. I no longer wish to be queen.”

“You can't do that though! That’s not how the monarchy works. You are alive, you are still queen!” He was getting angry now. Confused people often misplace emotions. 

“I am not the queen… and I'm not alive.” This made Andrew even more confused. “I’ve passed away peacefully in my bed. Immortals have to die some time or another.”

“Immortals?”

“Oh, sweet Andrew,” she walked up to him and began rubbing his arm lovingly. He was one of her favorites too. “Death has knocked on my door many times. I’ve invaded him time and time again. I hide in plain sight, cloaked under the veil of midnight. I am invisible to him.” Andrew’s face soon changed from puppy eyes and gaped mouth, to a devilish smirk and a scheming brow.

“Thanks for letting me know.” He pushed Elizabeth away and pulled a gun to the front of her chest. “I happened upon your little conversation with Louise earlier today. It was hard to grasp at first, but I’ve heard the conspiracies. The ones about you and your immortal friends. I’m not entirely surprised, but I think Louise is wrong. If the people find out it’ll be a real riot. That’d be real fun, no?”

“You can’t tell anyone. It would ruin everything.”

“Oh? Hm… I suppose I could keep it a secret. In exchange for the cloak.”

“What cloak?” The former queen’s glaire was sending daggers through Andrew’s spine, but he wouldn’t dare show his wavering. 

“Oh please, ‘cloaked under the veil of midnight?’ You are ‘invisible’ to death? I’ve heard of Harry Potter, mother.” 

“Wow,” she began, “you really are an idiot.” With that she pulled out her own weapon and shot fire straight through the Prince’s chest. “No loose ends.”

She decided to leave the body there. No one could blame someone who was dead and gone. Before she departed into the secret room beyond the walls she called out to her dearest granddaughter.

“Louise.” The room after that was left so quiet only the young girl’s thundering heartbeat could be heard. She showed herself, appearing from out behind the door. 

“Y-yes?” 

“I know why you’re here. I thought you of all people would be the least likely to betray me like this.” Louise’s heart pounded louder and faster. It was so far up her throat she thought she might vomit. 

“No! I- I just- just wanted-” She stumbled over her words like a pathetic newborn baby. 

“You’ve seen what I do to those who try to get in my way. Be a dear and bring me some rations every month.”

“Yes, grandmother.”

#long live the queen #god save the queen #queen of england #queen elizabeth ii #prince charles #prince andrew #lady louise windsor #anne hathaway #shakespeare #immortality #fiction #short story #gun warning #september 2022

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Sad Poems but I Choose to Interpret Them as Happy

Kamishiro Rui x Reader

“He loves history. He wanted to write a biography of John Quincy Adams. I, shamefully, knew almost nothing about John Quincy Adams, so I went online and bought every biography of him I could find. One day, he called me, claiming that we wouldn’t work out long term. He said he loved me but that we had different interests. “What does love mean to you?” I said. “That’s an impossible question,” he replied. I, however, find love to be quite simple. Love is the stack of biographies on my nightstand with a bookmark near the end.” -Julia Nicole Camp

Rui is curious by nature. Anything and everything will catch his fancy—there seems to be no limit to the scope of what he’s willing to learn about. The physiology of a platypus, the translated works of William Shakespeare, the Earth’s magnetic field and the aurora borealis . . . He’ll file it all away in his memory even if it’s impractical or completely useless.

So if you mention an interest as a passing comment, Rui’s search history becomes filled with questions pertaining to it within the hour. He pulls an all-nighter unwittingly just to devour whatever information he can get his hands on. He wants to know what you like, why you like it, how you came to like it. He wants to know you better, understand what pieces form the whole of your being. He wants to be able to have a conversation with you about the things you like and watch your eyes light up, your lips ramble, your hands gesture in excitement. His thirst for knowledge is only amplified by his love for you.

And if your interests change by the week? If you flit from gardening to crocheting to shark evolution to phylogenetic analysis of fungi to the history of Egypt to Jane Austen’s works to taking care of cats in your phone—

He’ll keep up without a sweat. Without question. He’ll visit libraries with you, send you videos and articles, he’ll join in as best as he can even if his crochet projects have holes or if his digital cats hate him. Because love is shared, and he wants to share the things that make you happy.

#proseka #project sekai #kamishiro rui x reader #kamishiro rui #rui x reader #project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #colourful stage #colorful stage x reader

[springdandelixn]

Secret Serenade

Loki x F!Reader - University AU

Summary: As you strum your fingers on the guitar and sing your heart out, you’re unaware of how the lyrics begin to bleed into your best friend.

Warnings: Fluff, some curse words here and there, a middle finger is thrown, secret pining,

Another fluffy Loki fic for you all! Comments and thoughts are very much welcome. Some squealing probably. Reblogs are highly appreciated since it will help scatter my story more though your likes will be dear to me as well. I hope you guys enjoy this quick piece 💚 

Unbetaed so may be sloppy but yeah lmao and here’s the song that inspired this fic.

As the sun sets over the horizon, you and your friends begin to gather around Thor and Steve as they build the bonfire.

Summer is almost over the new semester is upon you all. Thor pitched the idea of spending the last week of summer together after he and Loki got back from Asgard. You stayed in New York, telling your parents that you’ll be going home for Thanksgiving instead, and spent your summer reading in advance for your courses for the next semester. 

It was your original plan but Natasha can be very persuasive when she wants to be, dragging you to the beach and going to frat parties. She and Wanda even convinced you to go Upstate with them to support Wanda in meeting Vision’s mom. 

Wanda almost fainted on the car ride and it only made the trip even more exciting. 

The warmth of the fire surrounds you. Keeping the summer breeze at bay as you get cozy on your spot on the blanket. You then turn your head and smile when Loki sits beside you, offering you the open bottle in his hand, taking it, and gulping down a good amount of the chilled alcohol. 

“We never got to catch up when I came back.” He says and you chuckle as you lean against your palms.

“Well, Thor dragged us all the way here since you guys landed.” You grin, nudging your shoulder against his. “Why? You missed me?” You tease and you try your best to tamp down the blush forming on your cheeks when he says, “I missed you even as we were saying goodbye at the dorms.”

You’ve been nursing a crush on Loki since the day Thor introduced him to the group. He moved to New York to attend the same university as his brother after graduating high school in London and spending a year at the University of Westminster. You think it’s because of the accent that got you hooked on him in the first place. You always had a thing for British boys. But as you got to know him better, your crush on him only grew even more. 

He’s quiet. Unlike his brother who is always booming around like he has a megaphone built in his stomach. He usually keeps to himself but eventually gets out of his shell when he has a drink or two. The memory of him cheering by the speakers of Thor’s frat house comes to mind. His first-ever frat party and you saw the wild side of the silent one in your group. 

But it’s your shared love for books that has brought the two of you closer. Immediately designating each other as study buddies when exam week is fast approaching. Meeting in the library or at your dorm, studying for the classes that you both share, and sometimes, he reads to you the poems you have to memorize for your literature course, reciting the rhymes back to him. 

It was when you found out about his love for William Shakespeare. Your heart beating hard against your chest when he would randomly recite stanzas to you and you’d have to guess which one of the famous poet’s works it was. A game you both created to help you in class. You mostly got it right but at times, you would succumb to listening to him instead and admitting defeat. 

You did settle on being his best friend. And you bask in how he treats you compared to the others. Your favorite beverage always on the ready when you both schedule a study session. How he always asks you if you’re going to the party Thor or Steve or Sam is throwing. Even going to a Halloween party last year in matching costumes. You went as Tinkerbell and he as Peter Pan and god you wanted to pounce on him when you showed up at your dorm with his hair dyed red and the green tights hugging him in the right places. 

But still, you kept your feelings at bay. Deciding to not dwell too much on the what-ifs and maybes and enjoying each time you spent with him. You know he would be a great boyfriend, you’ve had a taste of how sweet and doting he can be but overall, he’s an amazing friend and you can’t imagine your life without him by your side. 

“Ayo, Tink!” Sam calls out and you groan at the nickname he’s made for you ever since that Halloween party. “Wanna play us something?” He asks as he holds up a guitar. 

“I didn’t know you play,” Loki says as he looks at you, giving him a wide smile as you take the guitar from Sam, your friends clapping in excitement as they gather closer to the fire. 

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Loki Odinson.” You chuckle and adjust yourself on the blanket, propping the guitar on your thigh and humming as you think of a song to play. 

Then it hits you. The song you keep listening to when you’re studying with Loki. Blasting in your earbuds as you give him subtle glances, admiring his profile as he focuses on the book in his hand. 

Clearing your throat, you strum on the strings to test them out before setting your fingers on the chords and begin playing your secret song to him.

Kiss me, out of the bearded barley Nightly, beside the green, green grass Swing, swing, swing the spinning step You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress

You smile when your eyes land on Vision and Wanda, his arm around her as he holds her close, her head resting against his shoulder while his head sways along to your song.

You’ve always envied their love but you were one of their biggest fans when it came to their love story. How they both confessed their feelings for each other when Wanda thought Vision was dating Natasha. You were there when it happened. Going completely sober when you heard Wanda drunk crying in front of him while Natasha stood aside and watched, rolling her eyes as she pushed Vision to console your friend. 

Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight Lead me out on the moonlit floor Lift your open hand Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance Silver moon's sparkling So kiss me

You strum your heart away, glancing at your side to see Loki looking at you with an expression of surprise. You nudge him lightly as you continue on the second verse, your eyes focusing on the fire in front of you yet your mind drifting to all the times you sang the song in your head, serenading Loki secretly and hoping the lyrics would bleed into him and kiss you by surprise. 

So kiss me

You sing the final line of the song and give the side of the guitar a light tap. You’re about to hand the guitar back to Sam but yelp in surprise when you feel someone grab your face. The instrument slips from your hold and your eyes grow wide when Loki pulls you into a kiss. 

Is this real? You ask yourself, your heart pounding hard against your chest as he keeps your lips connected. Then you see his eyes open, blinking, confusion surrounding his green orbs and when you feel him slowly pulling away, you grab hold of the neck of his shirt to pull him back, your other hand reaching for his wrist as you slowly move your lips against his. 

A mix of gasps and cheers, even a whistle, echo in your ears but you give them no mind. Your arms move to wrap around Loki’s neck as he wraps his around your waist, pushing yourself closer to him as he deepens the kiss. Your heart almost to the point of bursting as you relish in the feeling of his soft lips and how he easily dominates the kiss, a moan slowly leaning your lips when you part them and welcome his tongue in your cavern. 

“Yo! That’s enough!” You hear Steve call and laugh when someone throws a jacket at the both of you, breaking the kiss only to grab the garment and toss it blindly back at your friends.

“Damn! I didn’t know we were here to watch some live porn.” Sam teases and you raise your middle finger at him, laughing when he raises his back. 

“You owe me fifty, Wilson,” Natasha calls and your eyes widen in surprise at the redhead seated beside you. 

“You were betting this would happen?” You ask, feigning shock. 

“I knew it would happen. It was just a matter of time.” Natasha smirks.

“You guys couldn’t wait til Thanksgiving?” Sam groans as he tosses a bill Natasha’s way, looking curiously at Vision when Sam hands him a hundred.

-

“Since when?” You whisper against Loki’s cheek as he holds you closer to him, sitting on his lap, the world around the both of you forgotten. You don’t have to clarify what you’re asking. You can already sense that Loki knows what it is. 

“Bucky’s frat party.” He answers just as softly, feeling his hand caress the side of your waist. “I was going to ask you out on a date but Vision got me too drunk, saying I needed the liquid courage but I ended up—”

“Throwing up on my shoes.” You giggle and reach over to poke his cheek hard. “I couldn’t get the smell out for a week.” 

“I did offer to buy you a new pair.” He grins and tries to bite the tip of your finger. “How about you?” You feel his hand rest at the base of your neck, pulling you down to have you lean against his shoulder. “Since when?”

“Midterms.” You say with surety. “You were helping me memorize that one Shakespeare poem.” Loki looks at you with wide eyes and you chuckle at how he looks. “What?”

“You mean, if I asked you out during the frat party, you would have said yes?” You shrug your shoulders and laugh when he tries to tickle you, wrapping your hands around his wrists as you try to stop him. “Tell me.” He whines and you nod, grabbing his face and grinning wide.

“I would have said yes even after you threw up on me.” You lean over to give his nose a gentle bite before pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. “I would have said yes even if you didn’t ask me.”

“Then I guess your answer is yes if I ask you to come home with me on Thanksgiving?” He asks. 

“Wrong.” You grin up at him when he looks at you, his eyebrows knitting together. “My answer is no. I’m going home on Thanksgiving.” You hum as you snuggle closer to him, closing your eyes as you bask in the sounds of the waves and the faint chatter of your friends around you. “I promised my parents.”

You feel his chest rumble as he hums, his hand gripping your waist tightly and you gasp when he lays you down on the blanket. You open your eyes and blush when you see him so close to you, the tip of his nose running along the bridge of yours before he places a kiss on the tip. 

“Then I guess your answer is yes if I ask to go home with you on Thanksgiving?” He rephrases his question and you laugh, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. You already know that this will be your favorite thing to touch on him.

“Yes. A million yeses.” You smile and close your eyes when he leans down to kiss you once more. 

“Jesus Christ, guys!” Sam exclaims and you laugh as Loki pulls away to look at your friend. “If you guys wanna fuck, just do it in the rocks or something. Please.” 

Loki smirks as he looks down at you again, and you press a palm against his face to stop yourself from swooning. “You want to go to the rocks?” He teases. 

You giggle and move to run your hand through his hair once again. “Just kiss me.” You say softly and close your eyes as he presses his lips against yours.

Taglist: @mochie85 @stolenlucifer @michelleleewise @rmoonstoner @muddyorbs @javagirl328 @lucylaufeyson3 @huntress-artemiss​ @ariacraigggg​ @silverfire475​ @lonadane @123forgottherest​ @catalina712 @lokiprompts​

#loki #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfction #loki fanfic #mcu au #coconut bun stories #loki au

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 5 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

i have successfully kicked my writer's block to the curb and am ready to pick back up on plug!eren!!!! woohoo!! this is the part of the story where it gets really plot heavy and there's a lot of moving parts, so it's been a fun exercise to write and brainstorm. if anything is confusing or u have any theories/questions PLEASE hit my inbox i'm so down bad for plug eren i could talk about him for days.

get ready to meet a new character who is......not the best lol. this is also the first chapter written in eren's pov :o things are about to get interesting!

still haven't caught up? series masterlist HERE <3

specific cws: mentions of smut but nothing outright, alcohol use, swearing, u know the drill

-

“If music be the food of love, play on. / Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, / The appetite may sicken and so die.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

Eren is, admittedly, a romantic person, especially given his occupation. Not romantic in the cheesy, buying-flowers and kissing-in-the-rain sense, but he appreciates the little details of life. He loves autumn, when the leaves catch on fire with the changing of the season. He loves the little crook of a woman’s neck, that slope where it goes from tendon to shoulder to collarbone. He can appreciate a good bourbon; after years of raiding his dad’s stash, he developed a palate for it early on. Eren’s romantic nature leads him to believe in signs. When the universe tells him something, he listens.

The text still sat in his inbox unopened, marinating in its own bizarre, heartbreaking nature.

> heyyyy lover boy! i’m back from austria! missed u, let’s catch up ;)

Eren knows that Breeze knows him, knows him well enough to understand that his three-week radio silence isn’t a no, it’s a maybe. He hates himself for not immediately texting her back and telling her to fuck off, but after his conversation with you, he thinks it might be the universe telling him it’s safe this time, that he won’t end up a shell of himself. Maybe.

You had been firm in your assertion that you and Eren were better off as friends, and as much as he wanted to fight it, Eren respects women. As much as he can when he’s prone to wrenching their jaws open and spitting in their mouths while he’s balls deep inside them, at least. He’s disappointed, but he respects it, and if he’s honest, he likes you.

He likes your sharp humor, likes the way you tend to keep your hair up off of your neck, likes the way your eyes light up when someone gives you an excuse to talk about your studies. He hasn’t been “just friends” with a woman in a long time, but it’s refreshing, an excuse to go grab a coffee and shoot the shit like a normal person instead of lurking in the corner of a frat party handing out pills like a perverse ice cream truck.

The last three weeks of “friends” have been the best Eren’s had in a long time. You’re easy, that’s what he likes about you. He can drop the cold mask he wears so often, giggle over a stupid meme, listen intently as you prattle on about some long-dead 18th-century author that was “so ahead of her time!”, smirk when you chastise him for doodling little hearts and flowers all over your coursework.

Sure, he still steals a glance down your shirt when he can, and he’d never admit it, but he thinks about you late at night. He thinks about you when he’s in the shower, when he’s got himself in his hand, panting and swearing under his breath, but he manages to feel enough guilt over it to still consider you a friend. You’re caring and considerate and easy, wholesome fun, unlike someone that’s made a sudden reappearance into his life.

After that first night, just when he was starting to entertain the thought of promoting you from one night stand to official fuck buddy, the closest thing to commitment Eren allows himself to maintain these days, Breeze swept back into his life, and you hit the brakes on him. While it may not have been the sign he wanted to receive, Eren’s a romantic, and he listens to the universe, especially when it goes so far out of its way to tell him something.

He’s decided to let Breeze stew for a little while longer. Campus will be clearing out for Thanksgiving break soon, along with most of his business, and he’s going to wait until his hands are empty of work and you before answering her. Plus, she had flitted off to Europe after college like their entire relationship had been nothing more than a passing phase; Eren’s owed at least a little bit of pettiness, right?

> paradise ath 1130! see uthere ;)

Eren snorts at your text. Being as uptight as you are about grammar (you’re constantly hounding him about his texting style, and he’s been making them even more incorrect just to hear you berate him), he knows you’re not just texting quickly, you’re drunk.

“Yo, ‘min!” Eren calls into the kitchen, an excited flutter already rising in his chest beneath his hoodie.

“Yeah?” Armin’s head pops around the doorframe, a dab of ketchup on the corner of his mouth.

“Wanna go to Paradise later?”

“The club?” Armin’s nose wrinkles. Connie’s head appears right beside Armin, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Connie answers for both of them before Armin has the chance to shoot the idea down, “who’s going?”

“Like you don’t know the answer to that,” Armin scoffs, ducking back into the kitchen with a roll of his eyes.

“I never took her for a ‘club’ type of girl,” Connie adds air-quotes to emphasize his confusion.

Eren mulls that over for a moment; he doesn’t really take you for a club type of girl either, but from the sound of it, Historia and Sasha have already done the job of getting you good and drunk and talking you into a night on the town. Eren’s always wanted to see what you’re like when you’re well and truly fucked up; every time you indulge him with a story from college, he ends up laughing so hard he’s clutching his stomach and gasping for breath.

Supposedly, when you go all out, you drop the mom-friend act and become a little less tame; is this Eren’s opportunity to get an eyeful for himself? He’s not waiting around to find out.

Eren shrugs. “Come help me make these runs and we’ll go. Armin, you’re driving.”

The drop-offs are uneventful, and as soon as Eren steps foot inside the club, his nose scrunches with distaste. Ironically, he’s never been into the partying scene, much preferring a quiet beer at Scout’s or a blunt on the couch to a club. The music’s horribly loud, bass thudding through the fabric of his hoodie and beating against his chest, and as he looks for you, he can barely see through the mass of bodies and the fog machines. You’re here? It’s difficult for Eren to imagine you, in your favorite flannel and those cute little Vans he likes, tucked against the bar throwing back your signature craft beer. As Connie urges him and Armin in the direction of the bar, calling for green tea shots, Eren nearly regrets his decision, until fingernails dig into his shoulder, spinning him on his heels.

“Hey, you.”

Eren blinks stupidly as you grin up at him through thick, black lashes. He’s never even dared to imagine you like you are now, piercing eyes gazing up at him through a heavy dusting of makeup and the shortest, tightest dress Eren’s ever seen hugging every inch of your curves. You look sinful in a way he’s never seen you before, not even when he was holding you tight to him and wrenching out orgasm after orgasm from your body. He gulps.

“Holy shit– hey,” he lets you pull him in for an overexcited hug, bites down on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the bulge already swelling in his pants.

“I missed you!” You pinch his cheeks, much to Eren’s dismay.

“Just saw you yesterday– quit pinchin’ me. What are you even doing here? Didn’t think this was your scene.” Eren has to actively keep his eyes trained on your face; there’s a little bead of sweat traveling down the expanse of skin between your breasts that’s making his mouth water. Friends, he scoffs in his mind. Are you trying to kill him?

“Well, it’s not, but Sasha says I need to be more fun, and Stor says I need to find a boyfriend.” You gesture around like it’s obvious. Eren cocks an eyebrow, ignoring the inappropriate envy that twists in his stomach at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend’.

Boyfriends never like the guy friends, it’s practically a law of nature. If you’re dating around, it’s only a matter of time before some square in a button-down steals you away from your coffee dates and movie nights with Eren, but he can’t get too caught up in that now, not when you’re looking up at him all dizzy and sexy and bursting at the seams.

“Don’t know if this is the place for that.”

“That’s what I said!” Oh, you’re drunk drunk, all of your movements overexaggerated and shaky. It makes him want to laugh seeing you like this; his little book nerd, trashed and mere inches away from having her ass out at a club. Well, either laugh or drag you into the bathroom to bend you over the sink. He can’t be sure.

“Hey mama!” Connie shouts over at you, handing you a shot. Eren has half a mind to snatch it out of his hand after catching the slurring in your voice, but he’s too late; you throw it back without so much as a shudder, grinning all wide and wet and pretty when you swallow.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you tell him, pulling him down by his collar so you can speak into his ear. Eren has to bite back a groan at the feel of your hot lips against his ear. Friends, he reminds himself urgently, pushing you back from him but keeping his hands firm on your hips, relishing in the way your flesh gives under his grip.

“You know the rules. You call, I come.”

“That’s what she said,” you snicker, pinching his cheek again.

“Cut that out!”

“Make me.” Oh fuck, Eren’s going to die. He’s going to die if you keep looking at him like that, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and fuck-me eyes on him.

“You’re not being very friendly,” he manages to choke out, trying his hardest to give you a suspicious look through the dizzying wave of images that flash through his brain. You with your mouth full of him. You spread out on his bed, back arched and fingers twisted in his hair. The little “o” your mouth made when you rode him for the first time. Eren wants to smack himself, jump in a cold shower, something. Get a grip, dude.

“Maybe not,” you shrug, eyes darting over to the bar. “Hurry up and grab a drink, I wanna dance.”

“Not much of a dancer,” Eren admits, taking the beer that Connie hands him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work.”

Eren isn’t sure if he likes or loves the sound of that, powerless against that stupid little dress you’ve got on as you drag him behind you to the mass of bodies he had so disdainfully eyed on his way in. He’s greeted by a loud round of shrieking, one more pinch to the cheek by Historia and a slap on the ass from Sasha. You make a show of teasing him for how pink his face gets, but luckily, your friends are instantly distracted by Armin and Connie’s arrival right behind him. You pull him back down, glossy lips pressed right against his ear.

“I really like this song.” You’re barely audible over the pounding music, but even if Eren hadn’t heard what you said, he’d get the gist from the way you grind against his thigh, slow and sensual. Maybe you are actually trying to kill him.

“Yeah?” He’s breathless, irreparably and embarrassingly caught in the little web you’ve woven.

“Yeah.” You’re moving harder against him now, throwing your arms around his neck and grinding your hips into his. Eren’s only thought is to let his hands fly back to your hips, let you use him like a stripper pole to show off.

He can feel eyes on him, not the eyes of friends, but of other men around him, wondering who the lucky asshole is that’s getting the royal treatment from a girl as hot as you. If he were to be truthful, it’s getting him off, how every eye is on you and, by proxy, him, holding you like a lifeline as you let the beat rock through your body.

So this, this is the party girl you claim to have living deep inside you. This seductive, electric creature moving tantalizing against his body, this is the source of the stories Historia tells him that make you blush? How you could ever be embarrassed of this is beyond him; you’re like a little devil, sent straight from hell just to torture him, and Eren’s mouth is watering.

Song after song goes by, and you don’t let up, don’t let him catch his breath for a moment, moving from facing him to pressing your ass into his crotch and then back again, arms above your head or wrapped around his neck. Eren wishes he was mentally sound enough at the moment to feel ashamed that you can absolutely feel how hard he is through his pants right now, but he’s drunk on you, letting you press into him so insistently he has to tug your dress down for you, letting you drive him so crazy that he’s grateful for the loud music now. He’d die if Connie or Armin could hear the way he’s grunting and groaning low under his breath, powerless underneath you.

Suddenly, as if you haven’t just been riling him up for the last half hour, you back away enough to face him, shaking your empty cup and him and mouthing something that Eren’s still too dizzy to make out.

“Huh?”

“Get me another drink!” you shout over the bass, laughing at him.

Eren nods stupidly, darting away from you before he can grab your jaw, pull your lips to his like he so desperately wants to. Finally out of the throng of bodies, he can feel his head clearing, some semblance of sanity crashing over him. What the fuck has gotten into him? It was just one night, and you’ve kept him at arm’s length ever since, only seeing each other under the guise of coffee, or a beer, or Eren insisting you need to continue your education in the wonders of horror films. You’re drunk, that’s the only explanation; drunk and teasing him like you aren’t going to wake up and throw him right back into the friendzone. He rests both elbows on the bar, shaking his head like he’ll be able to knock some sense into himself if he rattles his brain around a little.

Eren orders your vodka soda and a beer and a shot for himself, something to clear his head and keep his blood pressure manageable. Hopefully, at least.

When he turns around, drinks in hand, that plan flies out the door. There you are, center of the dance floor, hands above your head and hips moving like you’re intentionally trying to make him lose his fucking mind. He tilts his head in interest when a man approaches you, grazes his hands over your hips like he means to start grinding against you. Eren can feel his own hands tightening around the bottle and the plastic cup in his hand, but he holds himself back; he’s got no claim on you, and if you’re willing to entertain the man (who, if you ask Eren, is way below your standards), who is Eren to stop you?

You surprise him in the best way: when the man touches you lightly, you whip around, brows furrowed and a little glitter in your eyes so mean that even Eren nearly flinches. He can’t read your lips in the low light, but he snorts to himself anyway as the man puts his hands up and backs away from you, eyes wide. As if nothing had happened, you spin back on your heel, facing a cackling Sasha with a shrug.

Eren feels a wide, proud smile blooming on his face. As much as he feels an unwarranted protectiveness towards you, he likes watching you get your teeth out and stand up for yourself. Before he can make his way back over to tease you, a voice from his left makes his blood run cold.

“Rennie?!”

Two thin arms are tossed around his neck before Eren can even respond, the familiar scent of vanilla and coconut enveloping him.

“Breeze?” Eren chokes out, too shocked to keep his composure. She pulls away from him and grins, a little diamond glittering from her right canine tooth.

“You didn’t text me back, you tease,” she swats at his chest, snags the vodka soda he’d bought for you right out of his hand, taking a sip. Eren takes the opportunity to swallow hard around the lump in his throat, one last tentative glance towards you before he turns his gaze back to Breeze.

She’s cut her hair, something short and choppy that swings around her ears, and fuck, she’s still just as pretty as he remembers, little freckles on her button nose visible in the darkness of the club.

“Didn’t think you wanted to see me,” Eren shrugs, forcing his face to remain schooled into one of cold apathy. She had left him, like he was nothing to her. He hates her, he realizes, god, he hates her so much it burns in his veins. Breeze cocks her head, frowning.

“Why would you think that?”

“You fucking left me, Breeze, don’t be stupid,” Eren makes a move to steal the drink back from her, but she holds it close enough to her chest that he’d have to practically grope her to take it, and his fingers recoil at the realization.

“Are you double-fisting, or did you buy this for someone special?” She teases, brushing right over Eren’s bristly demeanor. When he doesn’t answer, she raises her eyebrows. “It’s for someone. Well, point her out! Is she cute?”

Breeze turns on her heel, standing on her tiptoes to glance through the crowd. Before he can stop himself, Eren’s grabbing her upper arm, spinning her back to face him with anger blazing in his eyes. When he meets her gaze, her baby blues are alight with mischief, and he knows that no matter which direction he moves, he’s losing whatever little game she has him trapped in. That was the thing about Breeze; Eren was always losing her games.

“Fuck, just…just stop it, Breeze. What are you even doing here?”

“I’m back in town, didn’t you see my text?” Breeze shrugs innocently, sipping your drink.

“Okay, well, welcome back,” Eren deadpans, leaving her question hanging in the air between them. He turns back to the bar to order another cocktail for you, having given up hope of getting the first one back from Breeze, but she’s relentless, has always been that way. She slides up to the bar beside him, smiling demurely up at him.

“I missed you, you know.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes. Breeze flinches, but Eren knows her better than that. It’s all an act, it always is.

“I never realized how much I hurt you,” her fingers grazing over his cheek nearly burn with how cold they are in contrast to the heavy, thick air around them, “‘m sorry, Rennie.”

“It’s fine.” Eren hates the way he twitches and nearly leans into her touch when she swipes her fingers over him. How many times has he thought about this, seeing her again after all these years? Everything he’s planned out, everything he’s ever wanted to say is lodged in his throat, a jumble of letters and words so squished out of order that they no longer hold meaning. He doesn’t love her, not anymore, but his body reacts before his brain can stop it, a conditioned response.

“Can we talk about it soon? Maybe over coffee?” Blue eyes blinking up at him earnestly.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Breeze,” Eren rolls his eyes, swallowing thick around the knot in his throat.

“There is,” she insists, “I brought this amazing espresso blend back with me from Florence, and–”

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone for tonight?” Eren can feel the exasperation in his tone, can feel the weight of his mistake weighing on his shoulders. It’s fine, he tells himself, he’ll make up some excuse and get out of it. A long conversation with Breeze about their breakup is the last thing he needs.

“Maybe,” Breeze tucks her lip in between her teeth, a little smile playing at the corner of her mouth, “unless you change your mind.”

“We can talk or whatever another time, but I’m going back to my friends, okay? Go find yours.”

“You’re my friend,” Breeze purrs, one hand stroking over Eren’s bicep, “and I haven’ seen you int–”

“Don’t push it,” Eren nearly growls, scowling down at her. He knows half of the hatred buzzing through his veins is reserved for himself, but he’ll unpack that at home with a blunt, not in the middle of the club with you waiting for him on the dance floor and Breeze staring up at him hungrily.

“Always wound so tight,” Breeze hums, reaching a hand up to squish his cheeks, “but fine. I’ll see you soon.”

She miraculously leaves him there with nothing but a wink, taking your vodka soda with her; Eren’s shoulders slump in relief. Knowing Breeze, it was a wonder she hadn’t tackled him right there. When he turns around for the second time, two drinks in hand, you’re already staring at him. Shit.

You don’t look mad– and why would you be? You’re friends, Eren reminds himself. There’s no reason for you to know who Breeze is; he’s never told you about her, and he never planned on doing so. Eren knows Historia, though, well enough to believe that she told you everything from the godforsaken moment he walked into your apartment that day. 

He doesn’t like that look you’ve got, though; again, not mad, but he can see the gears turning behind your eyes. Eren has to practically force himself to walk towards you. Your head’s cocked in confusion, something watery and hesitant glimmering in your eyes through the low lighting. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you almost look hurt, but that wouldn’t be fair, would it? You didn’t want him, you had made that abundantly clear.

“Sorry it took me a while. Long line.” Eren hands you your drink, nearly wincing at how naturally the clearly false statement rolls off his tongue.

“Mhm,” you nod, downing nearly half of your drink in one long slurp. Your movements aren’t fluid and dynamic anymore; you’re stiff as a board, bouncing back and forth on the balls of your feet along to the beat of the song. “I…I actually have to pee, do you mind holding this?”

“Now?” Eren blinks, confused. “I just got your drink.”

You offer him a tight smile. “I wanted to wait ‘til you were back, so you could watch my drink. And so you didn’t think I ran off on you or something.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead.”

He watches you slink away into the crowd, watches the dozens of eyes follow you, surely wondering what happened to the little firecracker in the middle of the dance floor. Eren knows you get like this sometimes, suddenly pensive and nostalgic, knows that per your own admission, you like to handle it yourself. He hadn’t done this to you, had he?

A firm pinch to his cheek distracts him, pulls him down a foot below his normal standing height. Could everyone just stop pinching his fucking face? “Shit, ow!”

“Was that Breeze?” Historia yells directly into his ear. Eren, six-foot-something of hell on wheels, blushes furiously.

“Dude, was that fucking Breeze, or am I too fucked up?” Connie echoes Historia’s sentiment from over her shoulder, eyes comically wide. Armin’s peering around him, eyes flitting back and forth between Eren, Connie, and Historia as he tries to understand what’s happened.

“Who cares?” Eren snaps at Connie. Historia’s grip on his face loosens, releases entirely. If Eren didn’t like the look that you had given him, he hates the look Historia’s shooting at him right now. All daggers and disappointment. She turns on her heel without another word, making a beeline for the bathroom and dragging Sasha along behind her. Eren doesn’t miss Armin’s eyes either; stripping him to the bone without saying a word.

“Quit looking at me like that,” Eren scoffs, waves a hand in Armin’s direction.

“When did Breeze get back into town?” Armin shouts over the music.

“A few weeks ago,” Eren admits, avoiding Armin’s eyes and looking for a spot at the bar where he can escape the heavy gazes of his friends, run away to drown this conversation in a shot of whiskey.

“Did you–”

“I don’t know, man, you know how she is. She just showed up.” Eren knows he’s being unnecessarily gruff, but in his defense, the last hour or so has been a whirlwind of memory and emotion and lust that he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

Armin nods simply, takes a sip of his beer. Eren’s known Armin since they were kids, and he knows Armin can read him like a book. If he had a little less pride, Eren would pull Armin to the side and ask if he can make any sense of what’s going through Eren’s head right now because Eren sure as hell can’t. There’s you, with your skimpy dress and your flirty eyes, grinding on him like you’re going to take him home and fuck him stupid again, like you hadn’t demanded an honest-to-god friendship that Eren happens to very much enjoy. On the other hand, there’s Breeze, flighty and just as much of a ghost as she is a real person, popping back into his life and batting her blue eyes at him like she’d never left.

You’re his friend, and Breeze is his terrible ex. There shouldn’t be a choice here– there isn’t, it’s just the way things are, but Eren feels stuck at a crossroads for some reason.

He finally gets fed up with the music and the bumping of bodies around him and storms off to the bar again, biting back the urge to snap at Connie and Armin who he knows are hot on his heels. Eren’s just looked up from the shot of whiskey burning its way down his throat, acknowledging the dizziness that’s come with his drinks for the night, when he spots you.

You don’t look angry, that’s a small mercy you unwittingly grant him, but you’re cowering. Historia, even being shorter than you, is practically pinning you to the wall outside of the bathroom, shouting at you with her finger in your face. Sasha doesn’t look all too pleased either, arms crossed and a deep scowl written into her features. Eren gets a glimpse of your phone in Historia’s other hand that she’s waving around erratically, and wonders what the hell happens in women’s bathrooms. He’s not exactly sure what prompts it, but he checks his own phone. Nothing.

“Are they fighting?” Connie asks, nose scrunched as he peeks around Eren’s arm.

“Looks like it,” Armin nods, wincing as you try to make a grab for your phone from Historia, resulting in Sasha saving you at the last second from face-planting as Historia holds it out of your reach.

“Should we, like, do something?”

“Absolutely not,” Armin and Eren echo each other, looking at Connie as if he’d just suggested they all walk into oncoming traffic.

Eren watches as Historia grabs you by the wrist and drags you out of the bar, your feeble protests doing nothing to stop her insistent steps. Sasha follows both of you, gently pushing you along by the small of your back and shooting a regretful glance at Connie, mouthing a sorry as you all make your exit. It’s hardly been five minutes before Eren’s phone buzzes.

> had to leave. do you mind paying our tab if i venmo you? it’s under reiss.

Eren bites the inside of his cheek again, not worrying in the slightest about covering the tab, but more so the reason for your abrupt exit.

> yeah i got u everything ok?

> thanks a ton! see u next time.

It’s purposefully avoidant, especially coming from Historia, who never misses a chance to make fun of you good-naturedly. If you had been sick in the bathroom or far too drunk to stay, she would have come out and said it. Eren throws his card down, going to pay the hefty tab you and your friends racked up, but not daring to pay his own. After all of the shit that’s just gone down, he owes himself at least one more drink.

Once he’s signed, he pulls out his phone again, thumb hovering over your text thread, then Breeze’s, then yours again. Mindful of Armin’s prying eye over his shoulder, Eren sighs heftily and shuts his phone off, leaning in to order another shot. The following morning’s approaching quickly, whether he wants it to or not, and he’ll save his fucked-up emotions for the daylight.

#enjoyyyyy #sorry about no smut again but like #we have to get through some PLOT okay #also don't drink and text/call is the lesson from this chapter #trust me it'll make sense #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger series #aot x reader #eren jaeger fanfic #much ado about nothing #much ado universe

[shakespearenews]

We may think, for instance, of Falstaff, famously defined by his diseased, overweight body. Across the plays in which he appears, Falstaff’s physical being is associated with explicit disgust elicitors: one doctor notes that he “might have more diseases than he knew for,” and the Lord Chief Justice catalogs the symptoms of his declining health, noting that he has “a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly” (2 Henry IV, 1.2.5; 177-79).[1] He is notably characterized as suffering from syphilis—a malady, Shakespeare liked to point out, that could render the body repulsive—and is described as an “unclean knight” who suffers from the “dissolute disease” (The Merry Wives of Windsor, 4.4.57; 3.3.184). And his weight, of course, is presented as a continual point of ridicule, as when Hal in 1 Henry IV deems him an “obscene greasy tallow-catch” (2.4.223)—that is, a repulsive mass of congealed animal fat. In turn, Falstaff’s body comes to serve as an index of his moral failings; not only are his diseases attributed to “lust and late-walking” (Merry Wives, 5.5.143), but the newly crowned King Henry V explicitly links his friend’s unseemly behavior to his size, bidding him to “make less thy body hence, and more thy grace” (2 Henry IV, 5.5.51).

#nursing clio #medical history #shakespeare #william shakespeare #falstaff #disgust

[roydeezed]

"What's in a name?" asks Juliet.

To me, darling Juliet, everything.

What are words if not names for the human experience?

Fluid, ever-changing, tongue-shifting attempts at naming the ineffable. Love songs dedicated to describing that same burning, roiling feeling that's roared through our chest cavities over the years and decades and centuries and millennia. Eulogies grasping at words, trying to find any that fit the hole left behind. Empty promises of ephemeral allegiances and arrangements. All names for the things that we are so eager to shape and form. What's in a name? Everything.

I was looking at the new pictures from the James Webb telescope , 19 Spiral Galaxies defined in colours and shapes and names worthy of Shakespeare's greatest tragedies; NGC 1300. NGC 3627, and NGC 5068 among others, and I was struck once again by that familiar feeling I get every time the sky clears up and stars sparkle in the not-so-light-polluted urban sprawl of my perpetually twilight city. That feeling of insignificance. The words I'm writing, in the minutes in the hour and day of the specific year I'm writing it in and in the language it's written in are all as insignificant as me in the grand scheme of things. A speck in the cosmic and temporal sense. Maybe even less.

But then I remember philosophy class from High School, me hunched over my cell phone, biting the skin off of my thumb in nervousness as I read about the lava like crawl of Donald Trump to the south of the border and his march against the weight of words, the zero-g fervour he seemed to incite amongst the disllusioned. My, friend, _ _ _ _, clapped me on the back and asked me why I was so anxious. In Philosophy we learned about the beliefs of individuals and groups across the ages and the role the specificity and semantics of words played in that. And maybe it was also because of my teachers Robin William-esque ability to bring forth the idealism within us, but I answered quite earnestly, though in a much angrier and less elegant way, "I was worried about words." Or more like, I was worried about the degradation of meaning. Of that losing of form that words gave to things. That power names had to define. That birthday party sleight of hand ability to manifest meaning like a coin behind the ear.

And unfortunately that worry wasn't unfounded. As I once again see the march of demagoguery in my own country and the erosion of meaning from the mouths of Pierre Poilievre and Danielle Smith, I can't help but think of those galaxies once again. They're a red shift snapshot in time, eternally changing, eroding and disappearing outside of that time the pictures captured. May be that's what we are. Just a snapshot. It's in the nature of things to change and maybe that erosion is just a part of the process.

My friend, _ _ _ _, is formed by the letters that make up his name. Four letters in sequence that I know him as. I see him as that snapshot in time from that year, white shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled in the sleeve, a poor pastiche of Alex Turner's poor pastiche of a greaser, as we walked by ponds and forests playing Pokemon Go as the summer heat beat down, the star seemingly having a mid life crisis as it attempted to hinder our progress in catching them all. I wonder if Ponyboy would've ever been excited to hunt down a Dragonite. Those four letters in a sequence make up someone who's a little bit of an asshole, fond of playing the devil's advocate in any situation possible, arguing to the point of semantic cage matches. Those four letters in a sequence make up someone who's indescribably kind, taking on every burden possible to help others. Those four letters in a sequence make up someone who's as close to a soulmate I've ever met, the platonic ideal of a friend with whom I can pick a conversation after not having seen for over a year. There will come a moment where I'll see him for the last time. Where shortly after, in the grand scheme of things, the life will leave his body and the four letters in a sequence that make him up will cease to refer to the body he was, an eroding, decomposing, soon to be formless mass that nature will redistribute into new forms. Thus is the nature of things.

But it's in that moment where we are formed that we mean something. Over Thirteen Billion Years ago was when it all began to form. Or so the Big Bang Theory purports. And no, not the Bazinga! spouting excuse for a sitcom that's co-opted the term, though I'm sure the idea's in there somewhere. No, I mean that cosmic theory of everything, everywhere, all at once. That idea that galaxies and all that we know as the universe began to form and expand moments after a big explosion of light. Much like how words and letters and names shape the people, places, things, and ideas that we so hold dear, and much like how there was moments before they existed and there will be moments after they've ceased to exist, the moments where they hold shape, however brief in the temporal and cosmic scale, are the moments where they matter. The moments where things have names, that second hand's worth of time on the universal clock where that concept even matters, is everything. It's all we'll know. And in that sense, all that matters.

#the shakespeare brainrot isn't over apparently #i dont mean to brag about the trump thing its just my allegiance towards words and the power they hold have always been really strong #so it was pretty apparent what was going to happen #I know ponyboy and rapidash wouldve made for a funner joke but my friend actually did manage to catch a dragonite pretty early #sorry if this is incomprehensible

[thanhduydesign]

Poetic Reading Machine

You can feed this machine with information, it will dissect those information into word that can only move when you read out loud or make some noise. Basically, you are the one in control of your own reading speed, though to some extent, you cannot. So, there is two option, if you indeed are slower than the machine, will you rush in order to catch it, or will you stop, slow down and don’t care about its pace? This machine replicates, perhaps, our daily lives when we are constantly in a rush for productivity. Time itself is (product)ivity. If you see time this way, then indeed, we are running out of time. Yet, if you think beyond time as a clock monitoring productivity, then you can have all the time in the world. Time, then, is liberating. Free from any modes of producing, time is personal and emotional, connecting to one’s own experiences. Time cries, time laughs, and time shares. I hope that, through this small machine, eventually, you can start reclaiming time as not a product but an endearing entity that will nurture your mind, your heart and your soul.

Code citation:

I learned and copied the code on how to record sound from the laptop mic into the generator here, by Violet Whitney:

https://medium.com/measuring-the-great-indoors/sounds-speech-in-processing-df1e908940c#:~:text=From%20Processing%20go%20to%20Sketch,%E2%86%92%20and%20click%20%E2%86%93%20Install%20.

The original code is:

import processing.sound.*;AudioIn input; Amplitude analyzer;void setup() {  size(200, 200);// Start listening to the microphone  // Create an Audio input and grab the 1st channel  input = new AudioIn(this, 0);// start the Audio Input  input.start();// create a new Amplitude analyzer  analyzer = new Amplitude(this);// Patch the input to an volume analyzer  analyzer.input(input); }void draw() {  background(255);// Get the overall volume (between 0 and 1.0)  float vol = analyzer.analyze();  fill(127);  stroke(0);// Draw an ellipse with size based on volume  ellipse(width/2, height/2, 10+vol*200, 10+vol*200); }

The other code that I used is from learning loadString() function here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TaPVzWBWqd4&ab_channel=TheCodingTrain Then I incorporated these two to furthur use voices/ sounds as indicator for proceeding the poem. Meanwhile you can change the content of the text to whatever you want, not necessarily that piece of poem.

Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

(William Shakespeare - Sonnet 60: Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore)

#processing #creativecoding #graphicdesign

[fifteenth-entity]

Following the great example you set, I will also be sending a variety of books (and a play).

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

Ulysses, James Joyce

Maurice, E. M. Foster

Orlando, Virginia Woolf

Macbeth, William Shakespeare

listen, i want to answer this ask so bad but it has deleted itself twice now. THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM.

this is gonna be VERY awkward because i know... approximately 2 books from this list? buut i’m willing to put my research in like a good samaritan.

1. The Picture of Dorian Gray

never heard of | never read | want to read | terrible | boring | okay | good | great | a favorite

I AM SO EXCITED TO READ THIS BOOK, YOU HAVE NO IDEA. this book has been on my tbr for a hot minute but like... i can never justify the purchase to myself? like, every time i go to the bookstore with the goal of buying frankenstein, dr jekyll and mr hyde, and the picture of dorian gray, but every single time, a ya novel catches my eye and i dive for it like a raven spotting a shiny on a woman adorned with accessories. i cannot possibly hovel up to the cash register holding to kill a kingdom, lunar chronicles part 2, and the picture of dorian gray. like i dont want to do that to mr. wilde OR mr. gray. will the cashier judge me? most likely not! but you know who will? I will judge myself. but i swear on everything, i WILL read this book some day, I’ll actually have it in my hands with the receipt probably tossed in my pocket, i swear it.

2. Ulysses

never heard of | never read | want to read | terrible | boring | okay | good | great | a favorite

the “what book is this” saga begins here. I don’t... understand?? what this is about?? but like... more than a little intrigued. imma need you or ana to put me on this book, but i read “celtic culture” and alarm bells went off. to say i’m enticed i think is fair.

3. Maurice

never heard of | never read | want to read | terrible | boring | okay | good | great | a favorite

Let me take you on the same rollercoaster I was put on when i looked up this book. “this has to be like... i dont know, some sort of depraved victorian romance. is maurice even a girl’s name? im too afraid to ask. OH. OH IT’S GAY. OH MY GOD THIS IS GAY.” SORRY ULYSSES, THIS ONE TAKES PRIORITY. and it’s short too?? i need this in my hands like, yesterday.

4. Orlando

never heard of | never read | want to read | terrible | boring | okay | good | great | a favorite

hm! hm hm hm. ive read tons about this book, and i do want to read some eventual woolfe in my life time. i dont have many thoughts on this? i wanna know more about it first.

5. Macbeth

never heard of | never read | want to read | terrible | boring | okay | good | great | a favorite

OHKAY. This is some serious cheating im about to do, BUT this book deserves a story time. so i was in my sweet 16s when i went to watch the macbeth play in like... the one big theater in greece, right? and my only previous experience with shakespeare was reading a midsummer night’s dream for school, playing the part of a nursemaid to juliet for romeo and juliet, and just freshly having watched hamlet with a less than stellar experience. (like all i know is that hamlet is gay, killed some guy, and argues with the spirit of his dad. he drank a pina colada on a beach chair at his dad’s funeral tho? kinda mood of him) so when i went to watch macbeth, my expectations were in hell. so zouboulia from para pente appears on stage, and immediately, i know im gonna have the time of my life. and despite the fact that this government protected PEDOPHILE was on stage playing the coward macbeth himself, I HAD A BLAST. my mom was sitting next to her 16 year old son, who was enjoying these two peoples’ dive into turmoil and the depicted bloodshed caused by it a little too much. Lady macbeth can step on me, i’ll be her carpet. i don’t care about any other shakespeare book (ok that’s a lie titus andronicus i apologize) other than macbeth. i REALLY want to read this. did i have a blast? yeah. will i have a blast again? yeah.

#asks #book list #lmao it's either what is this book or YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH EXCITEMENT I FEEL #sorry bout that