#but the fact that they won’t even recognize that it’s a real thing that’s happening is super fun

[vespertine-legacy]

lol 7.2 patch hit me harder than any previous patch/update in terms of the “resetting preferences to factory default” bug that the devs seem to refuse to acknowledge? We’re so sorry you’re having this problem, let us make it better by having it impact more of your settings

[venjras]

MIND GAMES - EREN YEAGER.

screaming, crying, throwing up, i love this one sm. hope you’ll enjoy it too. nsfw : slightly exhibitionism, dirty talk, fingering, dry humping, use of pet names, mention of alcool.

you felt on top of the world tonight, you could feel the electricity running through your entire body. heading to the bar where your boyfriend was waiting for you with his friends, since you were early for your date with your bestie you had decided to stop by for a quick hi. after all, it had been a while since you had last seen the boys.

you would have recognized your boyfriend's dark hair from miles away, sitting with one arm resting on the couch, shirt unbuttoned and a bold smirk as he talked to the others. it still seemed unreal that he was your boyfriend. sigh, entering his vision and immediately gaining his full attention. his gaze was quite literally setting you on fire, making it really difficult for you to walk properly towards them. “oh, oh, look who's back.” it was erwin's voice greeting you, bringing you back to the real world. in the meantime eren had stood up, immediately putting an arm around your waist and stealing a small kiss from you. “hello, my love.” his deep tone ran straight down your spine, creating a flock of butterflies in your stomach that made it hard to breathe. trying not to show it, settling next to him, taking off your jacket and leaving it abandoned next to your body, leaving your fit completely expose.

a flowing mini skirt that reached just above your mid thigh, a black shirt tucked into it, extremely tight, mid-knee boots and as a final touch hanging from your neck was the necklace he had given you for your anniversary. shiny. “didn’t think you’d miss me that much, don’t worry it won’t happen again.” you said sarcastically, greeting levi, jean and armin sitting around the rest of the table. they all adored you and it was a mutual feeling, right from the start you had found a really good connection and after all they had turned out to be such precious friends for eren so it couldn’t have been otherwise.

speaking of the devil, he hadn’t taken his eyes off you for not even a second. his arm was stretched out behind you, his hand caressing the back of your neck. he always needed some form of physical contact, even small and this thing had always driven you crazy. it made you weak, slowing down any logic and rational thought. putting you under a spell. you were all lost in talking, chatting about the news and joking animatedly. after half an hour you glimpsed your friend and stood up to hug her immediately. the skirt had risen up a bit, giving a dizzying view to the dark-haired man who couldn't help but lick his lips. just enough to tease him a little. tonight you felt inspired, you wanted to provoke him and maybe end up bent over in the back of his car. obviously the view was simply reserved for him, behind you all was the wall and it was something calculated to perfection. putting on your coat, bending a little to greet him with a kiss and finding his hand on the back of your thigh, caressing the naked skin with his fingertips. “i’ll take you home, hmm? have fun, babydoll.” and so he let you go, your head spinning and your friend’s words sounding all jumbled together.

the hours passed quickly, between one drink and another, not enough to make you drunk but enough to make you feel lightheaded. however, the feeling in the pit of your stomach had not abandoned you, in fact it had only increased. now you were in the car with him, in the passenger seat, you two were driving your friend home. and once you were alone, silence had fallen, but it was a silence full of desire, as if there was no need to speak to know what was going to happen soon. very soon. “baby..” you turned your head towards him, reaching out to caress his hair, now tied in a small ponytail at the back of his head. “i really, really need you.” the words had come out fluidly before you could even think about them, your voice full of need, of desire. taking his hand, already resting on your thigh, bringing it even higher until it collided with the edge of your panties.

the car suddenly stopped, luckily you were on a not very busy street and almost immersed in nothing but pitch black so it was rare for other cars to pass by. in no time you were on top of him, his mouth attached to yours, drinking you up desperately. hands squeezing your ass, pushing you down on his clothed erection, making you feel how much the whole situation was anything but indifferent to him. moaning against his lips. starting to move your hips against his cock, panting as you felt how hard he was. “need you so bad..” your voice was needy, pulling away from him just so you could look at him with pleading eyes, thinking that you could easily come just by seeing him with labored breathing and messy hair, totally fucked.

now he had you turned, back against his chest and the car visor lowered so you could see yourself in the small mirror. legs spread, blushing violently at the thought of being completely exposed to his merce. “you wanted to play, then let’s play.” he said huskily in your ear, making you want to clench your thighs together in search of some relief but being stopped by his hands that kept them well spread. “eren..” your voice was begging him, lifting your hips slightly as one of your hands went back, squeezing his dark locks, not thinking you could resist any longer. you needed him to touch you right now. “what a messy girl.” he quipped at the way your thighs seemed to spread wider at those word, your impatience made him feel lightheaded. his fingers stroking softly along your wet folds through the panties’ fabric. his breathing fanned along your neck and his lips curled when you shuddered into him, drinking in the twitch of your thighs and the muffled whimper slipped from your lips when he collected your slick, trailing it up to ease the first roll of your clit.

he watched your hips twist under his touch, making him press down on the sensitive bud harder before he's finding a pace and rubbing at you with two fingers. your hands grabbing at his forearm with every sinful circle of his fingers against your cunt, whimpering needily against his body and it's almost like you're begging him not to stop, and that only drives him to press into you even harder, more eagerly as he get lost in the way your lips part to moan when he finally sinks his fingers into your pussy. penties finally pulled to the side. “so fucking wet, my pussy it’s always so ready f’ me." he groaned, his tone wavering with the weight of his arousal. he took a handful of your breast through your shirt, grinning when he realised you've decided to go out without a bra tonight, rolling and twisting at the sensitive peak as you whimpered. “such a dirty girl..” eren’s words were heavy, only making the slick between your legs intensify, making it easier for him to sink his fingers into your tight walls, pressing them against the swollen, sensitive spots inside of you with every practiced twist of his wrist. your clit was getting puffier, more swollen with each graze of his palm against it and he couldn't help but pull out of your cunt to rub your slick around it. so so sensitive to his touch.

“e — eren.. ” you gasped, trying desperately to muffle your moans when you looked over to cast him a starry-eyed look, one that lured him in for a kiss that made the whole car spin as his other hand rolled your sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger. drinking in your next languid moan of his name, licking into your mouth with such an intensity that made you gasp.

“that's my girl, fuck — ” your thighs trembled around him, breaking apart from the kiss wetly to let your head fall back against his shoulder. he kept up his movements, sinking his fingers into your clenching walls with every few swipes just so he could feel the way you were soon going to be squeezing around his length. letting you ride out your orgasm as you grabbed at him and your hips twisted and jolted with every rub of his fingers as they pulled back to roll your clit, prolonging your blissful state until you were pushing him away with a whimper and breathless pant. but he was breathing heavy from where his chin was pressed into your shoulder, grazing his lips along your jawline when he tapped on your clit. chuckling at the way the tiny aftershocks made you jolt before he gently tapped on your thigh.

you just could never win with him, you would always end up at his feet in the end. not only metaphorically.

©️ venjras.

[stuckasmain]

Hal’s deactivation is hard hitting across both the movie and the book. It’s been dissected a million times and likely more in the future. Most recently in the way of Hal having little agency…he has no arms to ward off his attacker or means of defense (but I’d argue killing Frank and the others was his defense, especially in the movie when his reasoning is more ambiguous). I do love the idea this is following and hope to see more of it in the future, however the way I’m approaching it is with a more romantic lense.

The entire lobotomy sequence is heart wrenching and almost worse in the novel purely because we get to see Dave’s thoughts on it. Not only do we hear Hal’s frightened pleas for his life but we get the ‘attacker’ perspective and it’s… an act of mercy.

While there is the themes of survival and violence this is approached with a softer touch. It’s much more that he is putting Hal out of his misery. Ending his suffering. Not putting him down like an animal but rather the harsh decision faced when one has an ill/dying lover.

“The only answer was to cut out the higher centers of this sick but brilliant brain, and to leave the purely automatic regulating systems in operation” 155

After the job is done Dave forgives Hal incredibly quickly once all of the facts are in. He can quickly pull together the mental break that must’ve happened and recognizes that Hal had the very human ‘fight or flight’ response to what he had been through. He had always been treated like a sixth crew member, respected and talked to like anyone else but it is only “post Mortem” that Dave recognizes how human Hal was and that true emotion might be more than theorizing.

“And yet, in one very real sense, he was not alone. Before he could be safe, be must be lonelier still.” 153

The fact that Dave genuinely sees Hal as his last true connection. Even after the murders. How he fights and forgives and comes up with excuses to not have to go through with the enviable because then will he be truly alone… but he also knows logically- Hal isn’t right and can’t be left active. Despite his feelings safety and protocol come first.

Hal is human in Dave’s eyes and it makes things all the more tragic, it’s what turns shutting off functions into lobotomy, into murder. He thinks he won’t feel pain, not because he’s machine but because there’s no sense in the human cortex. So human that his “true” voice is unrecognizable and horrifying.

“Bowman could bare no more. He jerked out the last unit, and Hal was silent forever.” 157

It’s not rage which he makes the final blow, it’s sorrow. It’s pulling the plug.

Some of Hal’s lines in the book particularly, as we get more insight into him as well and some of his pleading. His honest to god confusion and panic because he’s so young and has no idea of sleep and …

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me. . . You are destroying my mind. . . Don’t you understand? I will become childish. . . I will be nothing. . .” 156

I don’t know, I’m becoming borderline incoherent but there’s something here that’s so tender and sorrowful that I have to address it. I’m a sucker for the violence = intimacy metaphor just as anyone but the unwitting murderer is also an angle I have to adore.

Maybe in another life Hal got to be a little gay Victorian with someone to hold his hand on his sick bed rather than be murdered. I just think he deserves better; they both do.

Computer death sad -> he should be fed soup

This is when you know you should go to bed.

[manias-wordcount]

Conflict of Interests (Light Yagami)

Kinktober 2023 Day One: Distracted

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You always thought that Light Yagami who sits behind you during your 1:15 PM Tuesday/Thursday Lecture is a really, really cute guy. You also thought the Kira was a gift from the gods of old- sent to protect those who still believe in all things good.

You never expected them to be the same person.

But then again, you didn’t expect that Light Yagami would invite you of all people to his home one day after classes to compare notes for the upcoming exam.

And you certainly didn’t expect it to end up with you being bent over his desk and fucked from behind while he passes judgment on the criminals plaguing the world either.

You honestly thought you were the luckiest girl in the world after being invited back to your classroom crush’s place. You thought you were even luckier when the two of you arrived only to find the house empty and quiet and private. And you swore the first thing that you would do after this was buy lottery tickets when he started putting his hand on your thigh and leaning in close. And one thing led to another, and suddenly you were on your knees in front of him. Pulling out a slender cock with impressive veins, a bright red tip, and a little bit of precum leaking from the very top. He let you lick and lick and lick it all to your heart’s content. But it was only when he had his hand wrapped up your hair and his dick down your throat that he told you that he was him. 

That he was  Kira.

You thought he was joking. You thought it was supposed to be some lighthearted joke to turn a hot and heavy scene a little more fun and silly. But he started explaining. He started telling you stories. Of his conquests. Of his progress. Of his victims. And while still shoving his cock down your throat, he pulled out a notebook and held it above your head. He said if you let him do what he wants with your body

You know you shouldn’t believe him. In fact, you’re still not sure if you do believe him or not. He said so many pretty and terrifying things. It’d be insane to take him at face value.  You’d be insane to take him at face value. 

Yet here you fucking are. Letting him fuck you nice and a little dumb while he places the notebook flat against your back and writes names in it like there’s no tomorrow. 

‘Your prayers have been heard,’ He told you with a gentle voice after he stood you up and walked you over to his desk. And that meant that your clothes needed to be thrown about his room and that your panties needed to find their way around your ankles as he rolled his hips into you and kept a steady pace while he continued his work as god of the New World. Sliding in and out of your warm, wet pussy so, so easily now that he’s stretched you out and got you adjusted to the feeling of his cock filling you up and stuffing you full. 

“You understand, don’t you?” He asked you in a breathy voice- a sound you’re only barely able to hear over the daily news broadcast reporting about a robbery in the Shinjuku area. Truthfully, it’s the only real sign of him being affected by what’s happening. But that didn’t stop the creaking of the floorboards and the shaking of his desk. That didn’t stop the pen in his hand from scribbling in the little black book- a feeling you can only barely recognize. Nor does it stop your wanton moans the muttered comments underneath his breath about your whorish body- ready to serve your god the only way you could. “Kira is too busy to fuck you properly. So this will have to do, won’t it? ”

His tone loses its gentle touch in that moment. No longer does it sound like the Light Yagami that you knew from class. No longer does it sound like the Kira you would imagine in your dreams. Strong, considerate, sweet. Maybe deep down inside, you could have imagined that Light was Kira after all. Maybe, but you’re not really sure. You really…you really can’t think that hard right now. Because there’s a hand gripping onto your hip that’s forcing you to bounce back on the cock behind you. And it’s hitting at that particular spot inside of you- the spot that none of your past boyfriends have been able to come close to reaching. And that feeling is making you whine. Making you squirm and moan and call out the name of your god- the real name. 

And yet? He doesn’t seem to care.

Instead, you hear him groan from behind you when you move too much. And you feel his anger when you get a little loud. Annoyances like this cause him to get a little rough with his handling of you. Sometimes, he’ll just turn the TV a little bit louder, as if to try to drown out your voice as you call for your god. Sometimes, he’ll adjust his grip on your hips to be a little tight.  Too tight.  Or maybe it’ll be a harsh slap of your ass. Or a tug at a fist full of your hair. Or a single, murmured command: “Shut up.”

But he never once stopped writing in that notebook. He never once stopped judging. Killing. Saving.  

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but justice waits for nothing.” 

At least, that’s his offhanded excuse to you to get you to quiet up and let him work. And maybe it’s because he told you that he’s a god that you decide to stand there, spread your legs, and take it. Maybe it’s because you believe that he’s a god that you decide that you’ll just bite at your lips, turn your hands into fists, and let yourself get fucked so incredibly deep and slow that you don’t know what to do with yourself. At a pace that is just enough to drive you mad but not nearly enough to drive you insane. At a pace, he decided. At a pace he designed. At pace built to do nothing but please a man who will never be satisfied. Who will never be entertained. Not unless the world burns. Not unless the world burns. At his very command. And then…and only then…

“Not even for you to cum.”

…maybe then Light Yagami would fuck the sin out of you like you always wished Kira would. 

[seeingivy]

the met gala

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: the end contains some possibly triggering content. toxic man moment/unsafe situation so dni and protect ur peace if you need to.

an: fan service to the highest t. you want laufey? i'l give you laufey. you want sukuna? ill give you sukuna. did you ask for catoru gojo? no but i'll give it to you anyways. and the end is a nice yummy lil eren little fdklsfjdksljfkdlsjfkdsjk. also I changed real life met gala lore idgaf if they don't do real perfomances there bc they do now

songs mentioned: death of a bachelor by panic at the disco, seven by taylor swift, promise by laufey, and dorothea by taylor swift

previous part linked here

--

Eren waits for it in nervous anticipation. Because despite everything Hyla and Lana say, he knows for a fact that you won’t be staying silent. That Danny and Sareen wouldn’t let this slide and neither would you. 

And it eats at him while he waits for the real response, beyond that video Connie posted of you, Mikasa, Connie, and Jean dancing to Girlfriend and your tweets about how much you loved the song. 

He’s positive that a forty second video can’t be all you’re doing. People loved it and thought it was funny. But surely that can’t be it. 

“I can’t believe all your friends sided with her. I thought you were close with Connie.” Lana mentions. 

“I was. Before you did that.” Eren responds, clenching his jaw. He can feel anger surging through his blood, every minuscule fraction of frustration building even more - like it had been for the past three days since the awards show. 

It's irritating how quick things crumble down. He figures this is what Sukuna was talking about. Because the last time he talked to Connie was when Mikasa called him and it was nothing short of irritating. 

Eren’s phone rings in the middle of the night and he’s nearly scrambling out of his bed because he thinks it’s you. Nine hours after the awards show and you’ve finally gotten the chance to respond.

Except he sees Mikasa’s name flashing across the screen, accompanied with her contact picture which is you and Mikasa sleeping.

“Mika? What’s wrong?” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you Eren?” 

“Mikasa. Okay, I can ex-” 

“You can explain? You can explain why you just humiliated Y/N in public? Are you serious?” 

“I-I know it’s bad and she hasn’t picked up my calls and-” 

“Eren. Is there something wrong with you? Because I don’t even recognize you right now. You would never do something like this, let alone to her of all people.” 

“Did you just call me to yell at me Mikasa? You don’t think I feel bad enough about it already? You don’t think I would have stopped it if I had any idea it was going to happen?” 

He hears the line get quieter and Mikasa murmuring over the phone, only to be met with Connie talking to him now. 

“Hi Eren. It’s Connie.” 

Eren sighs, the fact that Mikasa’s so put off she won’t even talk to him sitting wrong with him all together. 

“Hi Con.” 

“You okay, man?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, is she okay?” 

“Mika? You know her, she gets mad so fast and-” 

“Not her.” Eren whispers. 

“Oh. No, no that’s why we called. She won’t talk to any of us. We called to see if you would know what to do because we’re coming short on ideas.” 

The words die on Eren’s tongue. The first line of defense when you get like this is always him, because he can always get you to talk. 

Could always get you to talk. 

“You tried Levi?” 

“Yes.” 

“Her brothers. You need to fly Falco and Colt out now. I’ll pay for the tickets. Get the shin ramen from the store, it’s her comfort food - put half of the spice packet in because she can’t eat it too spicy, make sure you boil the egg for six minutes because she likes it when it’s still a little runny, and chop ONLY carrots and green onions for the vegetables. And put on Spy Family, it’s her favorite show. Her favorite episode is nine, I think. It’s called Show Off How In Love You Are. ” 

“Okay, that’s all great man. Really. Thanks.” 

“Connie?” 

“Yeah?” 

The thought crosses his mind so fast and suddenly he's asking it.

“Do you hate me?” Eren asks, the whisper in his voice sounding so pitiful that he’s almost embarrassed. 

“No, Eren. I could never. Just, I have to be here because she needs us right now. You get that.” 

“No, no I do. Take care of her, please. Tell me how it goes.” 

“Yeah man. Sure.” 

Connie hangs up and the guilt eats at Eren. 

Eren hears the resounding pounding of footsteps - only to be met with Myka, Hyla, and two other people he’s literally never seen before - standing in his bedroom. 

The first thing he learned quickly about filming with these people? They have no concept of personal space or time. 

“What?” 

“Ricky and Y/N. They made a music video. Put it on.” Myka states, the group of them crawling onto Eren’s bed as he starts pulling up the video. 

The thumbnail already has him sick to his stomach. It’s you kissing Ricky’s cheek. The video starts with you and Ricky’s hands, playing the piano together, and it takes Eren all but three seconds to realize that this is the horrible, gut-wrenching response he was waiting for. 

His first cue? Not only are the two of you playing the piano together, but you and Ricky are wearing matching, beaded bracelets with each other’s names on them. Like the ones you and Eren have, the one he keeps on him at all times. 

The camera pans up to the two of you and Ricky starts singing, which earns him a nice list of profanities from Lana at his side. 

Do I look lonely? I see the shadows on my face People have told me I don't look the same Maybe I lost weight I'm playing hooky with the best of the best Put my heart on my chest so that you can see it, too I'm walking the long road, watching the sky fall The lace in your dress tangles my neck, how do I live?

His second cue? The dress you’re wearing in the video, the one with the lace, is one he knows all too well. 

“Okay so, Eren. I have to find a dress to wear for the album premiere tomorrow. And it's my first album and it's special and I want it to be perfect. Something kind of soft and casual, since it’s just going to be just fans. Can you help me pick?” 

Eren nods as he flops back onto the soft plush of your bed, eyes focused on all the little pictures and knick knacks littered over the walls of your childhood bedroom. Participation awards for sports, signed letters from your teachers, and pictures of you and Colt doing karaoke. 

“Ew, Eren. Don’t look at those.” 

“What do you mean? You were such a cute baby.” 

Eren hopes your kids don’t inherit your messy hair genes as you walk up to his side and look at the picture - of you and Colt with little pink microphones in your hand and the little plastic crown on your head. 

“You know, you still do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Everyone else holds the microphone at the top, their fingers nearly wrapped around the wire. You’re like the only person I know who holds it at the bottom - like you’re doing in the picture.” 

You roll your eyes as you gesture to the dress, asking for his opinion. Eren stands up, grabbing you by the wrist, to spin you around in the air. And he loves the sound of your laugh and how you berate him immediately after. 

“Eren. Be serious. What do you think?” 

“Perfect. Wear this one.” 

“But it’s black - it doesn’t really fit the vibe that I wanted to go with.” 

“Good point. No one should see you in this but me. Try another one on.” Eren states, placing a kiss on your neck before walking over to your bookshelf. 

"You're no help." you whine.

"I'm biased. You look good in everything, sweetheart."

He’s running his hands against the spines of your books, clearly bent and broken from reading them so much as you try on the next dress. 

“Love?” 

“Hm?” your voice comes out, all muffled from the sound of the closet door. 

“How many times have you read the Goblet of Fire? This spine is demolished.” 

He feels your limbs wrap around his neck and a kiss on his cheek as you lazily murmur into his skin. 

“Lots. Cedric Diggory was my first love.” 

“Oh? Really?” 

Eren turns around and makes it a point to pointedly glare at you, which you return with the sweetest, cheesiest of smiles as you tease him on. 

“Oh, of course. I’ve always had a thing for Hufflepuffs.” 

“Would you look at that? I’m a Hufflepuff too.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re a Ravenclaw, Eren.” 

“I was expecting you to say Slytherin.” 

“No, I feel like that’s a cop-out answer. You’re intelligent, creative, and clever. Ravenclaw.” 

Eren smiles as he brings his hands down to your wrists again, spinning you in the air again. He brings his hands up to your hair to tuck your hair behind your ears before responding. 

“Nope. Very pretty, but too formal for something small like this.” 

“I appreciate the honesty this time, mon chéri. I only have one more, so it better be the one.” 

Eren leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“What was that for?” 

“I love it when you speak French to me.” he whispers. 

Eren watches you roll your eyes as you disappear into your closet again. He settles into the seat at your desk, flipping through the song lyrics in your bound notebook.

And he doesn’t miss the polaroids you have taped into certain pages - the one of the two of you at the vow renewal on your invisible string page and one of him at the piano on the New Year’s Day page. 

“Okay, Eren. Good?” 

Eren turns around to find you shyly smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back. It’s a soft white dress, with a lace neckline. Eren thinks it makes you look like an angel. He makes it a point to stand up just so he can push you onto the bed behind you and lean right over you. 

“Eren.” 

He leans forward and starts peppering kisses all over your cheeks and your face, leaving longer lingering ones in your neck that leave you in a fit of nervous giggles and saying his name so softly it only sets him off more. 

“It should be illegal-” 

Kiss. 

“To look like this.” 

Kiss. 

“You’re doing this on purpose.” 

Kiss. 

“Doing what?” 

“Trying to drive me crazy, love.” 

“Am not, Eren. It’s just a dress.” 

“It’s never just a dress with you. Be serious, Y/N.” 

He watches your eyes go wide, a soft pink dusting your cheeks. Your hands are resting on his face and he swears they’re shaking, your arms trembling along with them. Eren brings his hand to your cheek, softly brushing across the skin once. 

“Hey. What is it?” he whispers. 

“You said my name.” 

“I say your name all the time.” 

“No, no. You always call me love or sweetheart.” 

“Do you like it when I say your name, Y/N?” 

He watches the blush spread across your cheeks again as you nod, the sweetest smile on your face. 

“I like how you say it. Y/N.” 

“I love your name. Though, it’s missing something.” 

He watches you frown, the confused look spreading across your face. 

“What’s that?” 

“My last name at the end.” he responds, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“Ew, Eren. That was so corny.” 

He brings his hands down to the side of your dress, where the zipper lies and starts pulling down. He watches the shock spread on your face, immediately pulling back. 

“Are you crazy? Falco and Colt are still here even if my parents aren’t.” 

“Falco is sleeping over across the street. And Colt is definitely at a party and pretending not to be. Who takes limes and salt to a study session? He definitely needs those for the drinks, silly girl.” he responds, sliding the dress off your shoulders and burying his face in the crook of your neck, leaving lazy kisses all over your skin. 

“Eren.” 

“Hm?” 

“Chelseaiswatching.” you murmur. 

“Huh?” 

“Chelsea is watching.” you whisper.

“Who the fuck is Chelsea?” he asks, the panic laced in his voice. 

You point over his shoulder and he immediately rolls his eyes when he sees her, bringing his hands up to pinch your cheeks. 

“Are you being serious? You can’t kiss me back because your stuffed animal is watching?” 

“Eren. It’s weird, I’ve had her since I was a kid. And my dad bought her for me.” you whine. 

“And you think she’s going to narc on you?” 

“No. It’s the principle, Eren! Don’t do inappropriate things when kids or kid-like things are present.” 

Eren stands up, making it a point to pick up your stuffed animal and bury it in the back of your closet before he returns, hands on his hips. 

“Okay. Anything else? Do I need to put tape over your posters of Loid Forger doesn’t watch us doing it?” 

“Now that you say it, it’s actually-” 

“Too bad.” 

And well after being tangled in the sheets together, Eren pretends not to be offended when you pull on a hoodie and immediately get out of bed and reach for your notebook and your pen instead of cuddling with him after. 

You crawl back in the bed next to him, where he immediately rests his head in your lap and starts groaning. You reach forward to push the messy hair out of his face and make a mental note to cover up the purple skin on his neck later so Colt doesn’t hang you at the cross whenever he comes back. 

“Did I get you that inspired that you can’t hold me right now?” 

“Basically. You’re my muse, Eren.” 

“What’s the song called, Y/N?” 

“Dress.” 

“Clever. I wonder what it’s about.” he responds, pressing kisses along your thigh, consecutively going higher with each kiss. 

“Eren. Are you serious? It’s only been like ten minutes.” you respond, the nervous jittery feeling growing in your stomach. 

“It’s like vitamins. Can’t go without it.” 

“Do not refer to it as vitamins. And you can technically go without vitamins, if you’re like really healthy.” 

“Quit being a know-it-all. You know I meant like medicine.” 

“Eren.” you respond, a warning tone in your voice as you keep scribbling your lyrics out. 

“You get two minutes to finish what you’re writing and then I’m throwing that book out the window.” he responds, his breath on the inside of your legs tickling you. 

Eren knows you’re trying to drive him crazy and not in the way he likes. And it’s working. And Ricky’s all too agitating singing voice doesn’t make it any better. 

The death of a bachelor Oh oh Seems so fitting for Happily ever after (woo) How could I ask for more? A lifetime of laughter At the expense of the death of a bachelor

Eren watches you and Ricky dancing through the streets, while Ricky sings on and on about happily ever after, and he can’t help but slam the computer shut and all but push the group of them out of his room. And when he closes the door, all he can do is cry and hope they can’t hear him.

--

You peek out the window and count seven black cars and fourteen different people standing on the block, anxious faces craning up with shining black cameras in their hand. You feel a hand on your shoulder and know the ice cold hands can only be Ricky. 

“Hey.” 

“How many?” 

“Fourteen.” you groan, giving him a frown as you yank your shoulder out from under his hand and walk past him. 

You head to the vanity, where you’re going to place your last finishing touches on your outfit. Ricky’s quick to follow and lean into your space, with a smirk pressed on his face. 

“Ricky.” 

“Yes, babe?” 

“Ew. Do you need something? Or are you all up in my space for fun?” 

“For fun! You smell really good.” 

You make it a point to lightly shove him back, which you both laugh at as you clip on the sparkly necklace, making it a point to not move suddenly at all from this moment forward. 

It would be infinitely embarrassing if you ripped the first designer dress you wore. Especially when you have to return it later. 

Ricky swings his hand around you from the back and holds a cupcake in front of your face, a glimmering blue candle lit in the middle. You give him a questioning look in the mirror. 

“Baby’s first Met Gala!” 

You snort as you blow out the candle, taking it from his hands and pulling the wax out. 

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Ricky says. 

“For?” 

“The cupcake! And getting you invited to the Met Gala.” 

You smack his shoulder, giving him your angriest look, before you both laugh. 

“You’re a prick. I got invited all on my own.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.” he responds, sarcastically. 

“What flavor is the cupcake?” 

“Chocolate.” 

“Eh. I like vanilla.” you respond, swiping the frosting off the top with your finger. But before you can lick it, Ricky reaches for it first and swipes it right off your finger. 

“I mean, I was going to eat that, Ricky.” 

“I only like the frosting of the cupcake.” 

“Well, I only like the frosting too. Especially when it’s not the flavor of cake I like.” 

You hand Ricky the rest of the cupcake and grab your purse as you head out. You press the button on the elevator and both slide in when it opens, the anticipation of the fourteen people waiting outside for you and the hundred more who will be at the event sitting on you. You must be making some weird face because Ricky catches on to it super fast. 

“Just relax. It’s just paparazzi, not flying to the moon.” 

“I know that. I just feel like I’m not entirely here at the moment. And they’re all going to ask me about Girlfriend and you and Eren and I just-” 

You still haven’t encountered the press after the entire thing, despite most of the tabloids writing things in your favor. Because rehashing the worst thing that’s ever happened for you in the two seconds the paparazzi talk to you and have it become a whole convoluted story is not something you’re ready for. 

After the entire thing went down, you retreated to your room for one day. One day. With full intentions to mope for the rest of your life, because you would never live this down. And because the entire ordeal was so overstimulating, so stressful that you need to rest.  

Until Danny and Sareen dragged you out by the legs and forced you to film a music video with Ricky. Then go to his debut of the song and the music video in Times Square. And then they granted you your beauty rest, but then that stupid voice in your head got the best of you and you couldn’t help but watch what everyone said about the entire thing after the event. 

People thought the entire Girlfriend thing was really tasteless. Because it was. Ricky did a bunch of interviews, where he just talked you up and how the entire thing was ridiculous in his opinion. They thought it was sweet of Ricky to come to your defense with Death of a Bachelor and that your official debut as a couple was one for the books. 

You’ll take a win where you can get one. 

Everyone sided with you, which was nice. Fans wise but also from your real friends. Connie, Marco, Mikasa, and Jean were at your side the entire time, which you appreciated. 

Connie was the one that convinced you that “you had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever” and filmed a video of you, Jean, Mikasa, and him dancing to Girlfriend and posted it. 

Which was your favorite part of the entire thing, not because of the song, but because they were there for you through the entire thing. That Connie could make something mortifying funny for you. A bad memory a good one. A true testament to his support. 

Unlike some people. People’s inquisitive eyes leave no stone untouched and now rumors of a fallout between you and Historia are flying around, when she’s the only one to not publicly come to your defense. And you get it, she doesn’t have to. What you don’t understand is why she won’t return any of your calls. 

Ricky reaches down and grabs your hand, locking his fingers in yours as he gives you a smile, bringing you back down from the thoughts. 

“I won’t leave you, okay? Danny and Sareen said I should handle all those questions anyways.” 

“And if Lana comes up to me?” 

“Spit in her face. She’s really annoying.” 

“And if Eren comes up to me?” 

“I’ll give you a big kiss.” 

“Ew. Don’t do that.” 

“I love it when you act disgusted by me.” 

You snicker as the elevator rings and the door swings open. You’re immediately flooded with a mound of flashing lights as Ricky grabs your hand and drags you through the crowd into the fresh air. And it only gets worse outside because not only are the cameras outside bigger, but the reporters are louder. 

Are you and Ricky official? 

Eren and Hyla are rumored to be dating. Do you have any comments on that, Y/N? 

Can you tell us anything about your upcoming record, Ribbons? 

Ricky ducks your head into the car first before sliding in himself, tapping on the seat ahead of him as the car speeds off. You let go of Ricky’s hand, wiping the sweat against your dress, immediately freezing when you remember you’re supposed to return it at the end of the night. 

“Now was that so bad?” Ricky asks, giving you a winning smile. 

“Literally, yes! I wasn’t expecting them to be in the lobby.” 

“Cmon, you nailed it. I was there, wasn’t I?” 

“Quit trying to flirt, Ricky. You suck at it.” you grumble, which he laughs at. 

The car comes to a screeching halt and you give Ricky a weary smile as he walks out first, making it a point to open the door for you on the other side. You wrap your arm around his as you both walk the carpet, giving glimmering smiles every time you walk a few paces. 

You make mental notes of those standing on the steps behind you and you catch sight of them. Eren and Hyla, in the center of the carpet. Eren’s lifting his hand to twirl her in the middle, with consecutive clicks from the cameras. And you can see Sukuna right behind them, pretending to gag with Maki and probably ruining all the picutres.

You smile, making it a point to sit with Sukuna later because he’s so wildly unserious that it’s probably the only thing you could tolerate on a day like this. And it would really piss off Eren.

Mikasa and Jean are smiling at you from behind the ropes, Mikasa giving you a sweet smile and mouthing that you look great. She points at a spot towards the left and you nod, signaling that you’ll meet her there after. 

Out of the periphery of your eye, you catch sight of it. The giant cat in the middle of the runway. You tap Ricky on the shoulder, pointing it out to him. 

“Oh god.” 

“At the Met Gala? That’s so unserious.” you respond. 

“Ten bucks it’s Gojo.” 

“That’s such a lame bet. I know for a fact that’s Gojo. He’s the only type of dumbass to show up to the Met Gala dressed up as a big white cat with blue eyes.” 

You both lean closer together, making a point to make sure the paparazzi are taking pictures of you two all close to each other. The head of the cat pops off and surely enough, a very excited Satoru Gojo is now running in circles around in the middle of the carpet. And blocking every girl standing on the side.

You don’t miss Geto standing ten paces behind with Shoko, the two of them very loudly declaring that they, in fact, do not know or associate with that man.

“You owe me ten bucks.” 

“I never agreed to that, Ricky.” 

Ricky leans forward and plants a warm kiss on your cheek, earning a nice symphony of cooing from the photographers on the other side. 

“Oh?” 

“We both got it right. So we both get a reward.” he responds, tapping his left cheek. 

You roll your eyes as you stand on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and consequently wipe your glittery lip gloss off his face after. You give the cameras a smile and wrap your arm around his again as you walk farther down the carpet towards the interviewers. 

“Y/N. You look gorgeous!” 

“Thank you! So do you.” 

“Is there anything you can tell us about your third upcoming album, Ribbons? What’s your favorite track on the album?” 

“Thank you for asking! I think Ribbons is a mix of a lot of feelings I’ve had lately - specifically good, warm, and positive feelings. I-I think that being negative is something that’s really easy to do, especially when you’re in my position, but I try to keep my music feeling like sunshine on a nice day, because who likes to focus on the bad when you can just be the good. My favorite track on the album is seven, a song that I’ll be performing inside later today with one of my best, best friends who I wrote it with.” 

“That’s sweet. Are any of these positive feelings a consequence of your new beau, Ricky James?” 

And right on cue, Ricky’s on your side, tilted eyes glimmering in the camera. 

“I know for a fact they are. She loves to write songs about me.” 

“That’s a bold statement coming from you, Ricky.” you respond. 

“I’m a bold guy.” Ricky responds, giving you a wink. 

“Speaking of writing songs, Y/N. How do you feel about songs being written about you? Songs like Girlfriend?” 

The reporter looks way too excited at this part now. You look at Ricky before answering, who gives you a subtle nod. The answer you practiced with Sareen and Danny. 

“I think it’s flattering.” 

“Really?” 

Ricky slides his hand around your waist and smiles, finishing off the rest of the answer for you. 

“Oh, it’s totally flattering. I mean, I’d be really intimidated if I was comparing myself to someone like Y/N here too. She’s quite literally at the top of her game, in every sense, and it’s easy to feel less than when you’re comparing yourself to a future triple threat. So we get the thought process behind it.” 

“Ricky.” 

“It’s true, Y/N. Personally, I think they should pick London Boy from her discography as the song selection. But that’s just me.” 

You smile at each other as you give the interviewer a polite nod, giving each other a thumbs up as you walk around the floor. You finally get to stop near Jean and Mikasa, who are very obviously already wine drunk, from the way their cheeks are tinted pink. 

“Wow, Jean. It hasn’t even been two hours yet.” you respond, placing your hand flat against his cheek to see how much his skin is burning. 

“I hate this type of shit.” Jean responds, grumbling. 

“Jean. How drunk are you? Don’t tell me you’re imagining cats walking around are you?” you ask, feigning concern. 

“Huh? That cat isn’t real?” 

“You’re actually seeing cats?!” Mikasa asks, catching on. 

“THERE’S A REAL CAT HERE, MIKA. LOOK.” Jean says, pointing at Satoru who is now lying face down on the red carpet. 

"Jean."

"Y/N. MIKASA. I'M SO SERIOUS I SWEAR THERE'S A REAL CAT. IT TALKED TO ME EARLIER. IT TOLD ME I SHOULD HAVE DRESSED UP AS A HORSE WITH IT."

“Oh, sweetheart. We should go inside, you’ve had too much. You always do this, Jean.” Mikasa says, shaking her head as she leads him in. Mikasa turns her head over her shoulder and gives you a wink, before she walks straight into the venue. 

Geto and Shoko come up to your side after they catch you staring at Gojo - who's now doing the worm in his cat suit on the floor - as they both give you polite hugs. The three of you stand against the wall to watch him take the spotlight away from anyone who was hoping to have it. 

“Can you believe you’re married to that guy?” you ask Geto. 

“Please don’t remind me. It pains me everyday.” 

“He wore the cathead to my house the first day he got it. I was hosting a vigil for one of my neighbors.” Shoko states, placing a cigarette between her teeth. 

You snort at the thought of Gojo, in his fully exuberant energy, trotting into a room of people mourning with the cat head on.

Megumi and Yuuta join the group of you as you now watch Yuuji - whose actually dressed in a nicely styled suit - have a dance off with Cat Gojo on the red carpet. 

You nudge Megumi in the side. 

“Can you believe you’re dating that guy?” 

“We’re breaking up.” Megumi responds, earning a laugh from the group. 

“I can’t tell what’s worse. The fact that they’re dance battling at the Met Gala or that Yuuji is horrendously losing to Gojo wearing a twelve pound cat-suit.” 

“Yuuji losing.” you all respond in unison. 

“I think Cat Gojo is going to haunt me in my dreams.” you respond. 

“Get this, Y/N. It’s not Cat Gojo. It’s Catoru.” Yuuta responds. 

“Don’t tell me he trademarked it already.” 

“He did.” they all respond in unison. 

"Geto. Shoko. When you burn that thing in the flames of hell, I want a video." you state.

"That's a promise, kid." Geto responds, with Shoko giving an affirmative nod.

You turn to your left to find Ricky standing at your side, with his arm wrapped around John. Historia’s ex-boyfriend. You give the group of them a polite nod as you walk away and join Ricky at your side. 

“Y/N. This is my friend, John. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.” 

“Hi. Y/N.” you respond, making every effort to emphasize the flatness in your voice. 

“John. Nice to meet you.” he responds, holding his hand out which you refuse to touch. 

“Play any chess games lately?” you ask, making a pointed reference to Historia’s song. 

He glares and you watch the smile on Ricky’s face drop. You give your best, sickly sweet smile as you wait for a response. 

“That’s right. You acted in Attack on Titan so you must be friends with Historia.” 

“Very good friends.” you respond. 

“Okay John, we’re going to go in. I’ll see you in a sec, yeah?” Ricky responds, hands increasingly hard on your biceps as he drags you a few paces away. 

“Ouch, Ricky. Get off.” 

He’s leaning close to you, whispering in your ear earlier like you two were when Satoru came in, except this is nowhere near as fun as last time. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“What’s yours? He’s not a good guy, Ricky.” 

“I’ve made every effort to be friends with your friends. You could and should be doing the same for me, Y/N.” 

“And I will. For your friends who aren’t groomers, Ricky.” 

Ricky glares at you before giving you a smile and pressing a kiss to your forehead with the paparazzi so close, before dragging you into the venue with him. You settle into your seat next to Ricky, craning your neck to see where the rest of your friends are sitting, all the way on the other side of the room. 

You turn to the girl sitting next to you and whisper in her ear. 

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” 

“I-I know who you are. I’m a big fan.” 

“I’m really sorry to ask you this then. But you see that guy right there, pink hair, those two little scars near his eyes. Could you go and switch seats with him? He’s sitting in between Megumi Fushiguro and Yuuta Okkotsu, so I can at least promise it’s a better seat than this one.” 

She looks over and gives you an affirmative nod. You squeeze her shoulder as you watch her stomp over, Sukuna turn back to give you a questioning look, before letting the girl take his seat and striding over to sit next to you with two cups in his hands. 

He sits on the chair to your left, making it a point to spread his legs as far as he can on his chair, and glare at Ricky as he sits down. 

“What do you want, doll?” 

“Nothing. I got bored.” 

He shrugs as he places the second cup in front of you, which you pick up. And then immediately spit back up, because it’s just straight vodka. 

“Shit. My bad, doll. That’s mine.” 

“You’re drinking straight vodka? No chaser?” you ask. 

“Imagine doing this shit sober. I’d drive myself half insane.” he murmurs. 

You switch the cups and drink yours again, pleasantly surprised by a warm, sweet latte. 

“Sukuna. How’d you know?” you ask. 

“Eren told me.” 

You look over at him, giving him your best glare. 

“As if you’d talk to Eren.” you snort, craning your neck to find him on his phone, next to Hyla’s who is fixing her hair. 

“We talk. It’s just not pleasant.” 

“Yeah. My preferred coffee order is just so horrible to talk about.” 

“You wouldn’t believe it. Poor guy mopes about you so much it even makes me depressed.” 

Ricky taps aggressively on your shoulder, leaning over into your space.

“I’m going to go sit with John.” Ricky states, angrily. 

“Okay?” you respond. 

“Okay? That’s it, Y/N?” 

“Do you need a formal, written invitation? Or does she need to hold your hand and walk you there so you don’t get lost?” Sukuna responds, glaring at him. 

Ricky gets irritated at Sukuna’s response and storms off, which just has Sukuna moving his chair so that you can both prop your legs up on it. You’re both switching off on sharing your drinks - mixing Sukuna’s alcohol with your latte and watching all the performances. 

“Are you performing?” Sukuna asks. 

“Yeah. With Marco, right before Eren.” 

“Real cute. Is it that same fluff shit you always write?” 

You smack him hard on the shoulder. 

“Asshole. That fluff shit is Multi-Platinum, dumbass.” 

“I get that. But I’m saying, you should write something more serious than that. Instead of penting up all that rage in your forehead, you should write it in a song. Quit letting real stupid girls call you stupid in songs.” 

“I can’t. My record doesn’t really like the idea of that.” you respond. 

“So? You’re the artist and it’s your music. Write whatever you want. Don’t be a chickenshit.” 

“It’s not that simple, Sukuna.” 

“No. It literally is. You’re just chicken.” 

“It’s not about chicken, Sukuna. My record was the one who took a chance on me and to some extent, I have to follow that. And they’ve made me Multi-Platinum so far so who am I to not listen to them?” 

“God. You’re pathetic.” 

“And you’re an asshole, Sukuna.” 

“Do you want to kiss now?” 

You reach forward to smack his face, which elicits a laugh from him. 

“You never change, do you Sukuna?” 

“Best thing about me, doll. You should learn to piss people off like I do. It’ll actually relieve some of that tension. And flirting is good for your health.” 

“We can’t all afford to be feather rustlers like you.” 

“You could. I’m sure people would eat it up - the whole sweet girl saying her mind type thing. I’ll give you lessons on how to talk your shit sometime instead of letting idiots like that do it for you.” 

He points over at Ricky, whose glaring bullets at the two of you. You give him a gesture, which he completely ignores as he turns over to whisper in John’s ear. 

“Out of all guys, you had to pick that one? When you tweeted that you were charged with murder, I thought you were being serious and got really excited for a second.” 

“Danny and Sareen picked him. That’s not my fault.” 

You feel a tap on your shoulder and see the usher, signaling that it’s time for you to perform. You nod and turn to Sukuna, who's already getting up from the chair. He presses a kiss to your cheek before you walk off to the other side where Marco’s waiting. 

--

Eren’s sitting towards the end of the bench, hands pressed under his legs, when he watches you take the stage with Marco, a glittering smile on your face.

And in your billowing, white dress, there’s only one thing Eren can focus on. The fish tattoo, right on display. He instinctively reaches for his own, hidden under the fabric of his clothes, and thinks about how your sweet, flowery smell was always overwhelming, even in a disgusting tattoo parlor. 

And when Eren catches sight of Marco at the piano, Eren knows you’re a temptress to everyone and not just him. Exhibit A? You convinced Marco to sing in public with you. 

“Hi everyone. My name is Y/N.” 

Everyone breaks into a loud applause and Eren thinks that the wolf-whistling in the corner is Mikasa, who he’s convinced is shit-faced by the way her cheeks are glowing pink. 

“Thank you. Um, can we just take a minute to give a second round of applause to my sunshine boy, Marco, here? He’s not a big singer and I’ve all but forced him to do this with me, so let’s all give him some love.” 

The crowd claps again and Eren knows for a fact that the wolf-whistling this time is Jean, who is actually plastered. 

“This song is off my new album, called Ribbons, and it’s called seven. The idea of this song kind of came up randomly. I told Marco that it was kind of sad that I don’t have any of the childhood friends I did when I was a kid anymore. And Marco just responded by saying, ‘what do you mean, we’ve been friends since we were seven?’ And long story short, I jumbled out a nice mess of lyrics with Marco and Armin produced it after that and the song was finished. We hope you like it!” 

Marco starts playing a soft piano tune, accompanied by your light strumming on the guitar, and some part of it is so familiar, so you that it makes Eren’s heart ache. Not that Eren’s a big hater of your new, more pop songs like London Boy, but Eren’s always enjoyed your soulful, soft songs like this more.

They remind him of the soft parts of him that you only shared with him, when you used to be next him when he slept at night. 

Y/N:  Please picture me In the trees I hit my peak at seven feet In the swing Over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?

Eren fights the urge to snort. Of course, there’s still beautiful things. You’re standing right there.

And Eren knows he’s way too sensitive for this because hearing your soft, echoing voice when he’s about to sing a song about the last time he kissed you has him pushing his face into the table. Because there are tears in his eyes. 

Y/N:  Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you

Marco:  Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

When you both finish, Eren watches you give Marco a big hug and a kiss on the cheek as you both walk off together. And then Eren’s trailing up to the stage where Historia’s waiting, the orchestral suite setting up their instruments and he feels his hands shaking at his sides. Historia gives him a smile, which he appreciates as he takes the front stand.

He hates it up here. He knows that flowery scent in the air is you. He manifested it by thinking about it and now it's suffocating him.

You lean against the wall with Marco, hands linked together, as you watch Eren readjust the microphone to his height and Historia sit at the piano. You make a fleeting second of eye contact with her and give her a smile, which she halfheartedly returns.

Eren’s hair is shorter, he’s cut it from the last time you’ve seen him. And he looks kind of tired, though you’re sure you look no better. 

“My name is Eren Jaeger. This is my new song, Promise, that I co-composed and wrote with my friend, Historia.”

You lean your head against Marco’s shoulder, who is giving you a warm squeeze on the shoulder, as you listen. 

I made a promise To distance myself Took a flight, through aurora skies Honestly, I didn't think about How we didn't say goodbye Just see you very soon

You pinch your eyes shut as you feel the breath constrict in your throat and tears warm in your eyes. 

“You okay?” 

“It’s Eren. Of course, I’m not okay.” you whisper. 

No matter how long I resist temptation  I always lose  It hurts to be something  It’s worse to be nothing with you I’ve done the math  There’s no solution  We’ll never last Why can’t I let go of this? 

As Eren goes on and on, that soft voice that’s lulled you to sleep hundreds of time is haunting you. And Marco’s reflexes to wipe your tears away fast are the only reason that people don’t catch on.

When Eren finishes, his green eyes meet yours and he gives you a painstakingly long look, before walking away. 

You don’t see him again that night. Or for a while. You figure it's better that way. Being in the same room but not talking is like nails on a chalkboard.

--

You lean over the counter, scrolling through the set of pictures Ricky just took, as you wait for the timer on your computer to count down.

Ricky circles his arm around your shoulder, as you both watch the seconds on the timer run out and the little display of confetti go around the screen. 

You refresh the tab on your Apple Music and you see it - your name and album cover displayed in bright colors right at the top banner. 

“How does it feel?” Ricky asks, watching you refresh your Spotify on your phone and watch the songs turn from grey to white, meaning they're now able to be played. 

“Good. I hope Historia calls me after she realizes that dorothea is about her.” you murmur, the notifications on your phone buzzing from Reiner, Levi, and Mikasa. You open Levi's first.

levi: We love the record, kid.

you: it's been out for five seconds.

levi: Just shut up and take the compliment, sometimes.

you: I love you, levi. give kisses to hange. i'll call you guys tomorrow.

“She will. Just relax.” Ricky states, as he watches you push up on the counter, legs dangling in the air after putting your phone down.

He reaches for the lowest drawer, pulling out a dark black box and placing it flat in the palm of your hand. 

“What’s this?” 

“A gift, before you go on tour. And I wanted to ask you something.” 

You nod, encouraging him to go on, as you look at the bracelet - a chain-linked, chunky silver bracelet with a heart charm right in the middle. 

“That’s custom made. From Tiffany, because it’s your favorite right?” 

“Yeah. Thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

“Well, I’m really proud of you. Ribbons is a great record and I’m sure you and I will be competing for Record of the Year in a few months.” 

You smile as Ricky leans closer, hands on both of your sides of the counter. 

“I think you’re really great. And-and I know we’ve been pretending but some part of this became really real for me and I think it did for you too. So I think we should quit playing around and do this for real.” 

You feel your throat dry as Ricky smiles at you, so excited and earnest, that you almost feel bad. For how you’re going to shoot him down. 

“Ricky. Oh. Um. Listen. You’re really great. I-I really like you. But I-I don’t know if I can do that right now.” you respond. 

“That’s okay. I don’t expect anything from you and I’m willing to be patient and all that. We’ll figure it out.” he responds, yanking the chain out of the box and reaching forward to secure it around your hand. 

“Listen. I-I don’t know if it’s all that. It’s just, I don’t. I like you Ricky but not like that. I just can’t do that right now.” 

Ricky leans back in confusion, dragging the necklace off your hand as you give him your most sincere smile. And you can’t help but feel bad for not liking him back. When he’s helped you out more times than you can count, with red carpets and defending you when he didn’t have to. 

But you can't help these sort of things.

“Listen. I-I can go home. I’ll take the trash and then leave so you can be alone, yeah?” 

“Okay. I appreciate that. Thank you for being honest.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Of course. And thank you for taking it well, I still appreciate what you’ve done and have a lot of love for you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder as you walk past. 

You take the half filled bag of trash and walk out to the garage to swing the door open. There’s a decent amount of rain pouring down and you quickly scamper out admist it. You throw the bag over your shoulder and quickly run over to the chute to throw it down before running down to the door. 

Except when you reach for the handle, it doesn’t pull down. You jam it down, more aggressively this time as the heavy drops start matting your hair to your forehead. Giving up on the door, you run to the other side and rap your knuckles against the window, where Ricky’s back is still turned. 

He turns around and gives you a look, half opening the window. 

“Hey. Sorry, I accidentally locked the door on the way out.” 

“That wasn’t an accident. That was me.” Ricky responds, glaring at you. 

“Huh?” 

“That was me.” he responds, again. 

“Listen, I can’t really hear you and it’s really cold outside. Can you just let me in?” you ask. 

“Sorry, Y/N. I really like you but I just don’t know if I can do that right now.”

"Ricky."

He closes off the window and walks away all together. 

You can feel the panic setting in your chest - at the fact that you’re standing in the pouring rain in Seattle and you don’t know where to go. And that Ricky, nice and sweet Ricky, just locked you out.

You hunch over on your knees, yanking your phone out of your pocket to call Mikasa. She picks up on the first call and you can hear her and Jean screaming through the speaker. 

“TOP TEN ON THE CHARTS I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT.” they both scream, the sentence going over you’re head. 

“Mika. Mika, wait.” you whisper, the tears starting to fill your eyes. 

You’re thrown off by the screeching of tires and doors closing and you march over to Ricky’s side door. You lightly crack it open and spot seven paparazzi cars, parked straight on Ricky’s porch. 

Meaning. Not only did Ricky lock you out of his house in the pouring rain but he made sure to call the paparazzi so they can catch you the first chance he got. You quickly shut the door and run to the backside of the house, into the back streets by Ricky’s neighborhood. And the panic's starting to make your legs shake.

“Mika. You’re not still in Seattle, are you?” you ask, the panic laced in your voice. 

“No, babe. We’re in Tampa right now for Armin and Annie’s thing. We left a few days ago.” 

“Do you know anyone who is? This is urgent, Mika.” 

You hear Mikasa murmuring over the phone and suddenly Jean’s on the line, his voice more firm and collected than Mikasa’s. You can suddenly hear her panicking in the background, talking to a third voice you can’t identify. 

“Marco says your options are Eren or Historia. They’re both still in Seattle, though I think Eren’s closer to where you are. Call us when you’re safe. Immediately, Y/N.” Jean says. 

“Okay.” 

You can hear the sound of raised voices from the direction you came and you quickly hunch to the side. You try your best to wipe the wetness of your phone as you scroll for Eren’s contact and dial. 

He picks up on the first ring.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice raspy like he was sleeping. 

And at the sound of his voice, months after the fact, when you’re soaked to the bone in the rain, you can’t help but cry. 

“Eren?” you ask, voice breaking. 

“Y/N. What is it?” he asks, voice suddenly louder. 

“I need your help.”

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No. No, I'm not hurt, but I could be? I don't know, Eren I-"  

“Say the word. What-what is it? I-I’m there. Just tell me what you need me to do, love."  

“I need you to come get me, Eren.” 

“I’m coming. Stay exactly where you are and on the line with me.”

--

--

next part linked here

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai  @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist by either commenting on this or the masterlist <3

[lawbreaker13]

There’s something about Elemental that I love but I can’t quite seem to articulate.

[Spoilers by the way]

At the end of the movie, Ember and Wade leave together so Ember can take her internship at the glass company. This is supposedly a full time thing for her, which means she’s moving. Like yeah, she underestimates herself like “oh it probably won’t go anywhere and I’ll be back home soon,” but that’s a very “ooh this is a big step and I don’t feel ready to move out” mentality (literally told my parents I’d be back at the end of my first year’s lease, it’s just a mental safety net, but boy was that a relatable line for me). Regardless of her lack of confidence in herself and this potential new job, she is moving out. And Wade is going with her.

She had said “I want to travel the world with you.” That’s great, and I hope they do, but that’s not what’s happening here. It’s said that this is several months, maybe even a year after the main events of the movie. The majority of the movie itself spans a couple weeks or so (edit: I counted, it’s about 8-12 days). So by the time they leave for Ember’s internship, Ember and Wade have been dating for a while. Anywhere between three months and a year. Wade is leaving with her, and it’s difficult for me to believe they’re going anywhere but the same place. Which means they’re moving in together.

Now I know that it sounds like I’m just freaking out and being incoherent about a ship, but the truth of the matter is, that’s really mature of Pixar.

Family friendly and kid-centric animation tends not to push anything but the “fall in love, kiss, get married, move in, have babies” pipeline. But what I loved about Elemental was that it portrayed a REALISTIC, HEALTHY, and MATURE relationship. One where the couple has arguments about real things that matter and after space, they talk it out. One where “I don’t understand” isn’t an invitation to shut down (even if Ember meant it that way in the heat of the moment), but an invitation to try and learn. One where anger and “I’m leaving” can be met with “I’m coming with you,” and one where the couple doesn’t just love each other right off the bat, they have to DATE MANY TIMES AND GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER, SEE EACH OTHER IN THE WORST OF TIMES, and THEN, realize they’re in love. AND they said it out loud, which doesn’t happen often either (edit: I am well aware that a week or two is a very short amount of time to fall in love, but I’m gonna cut them A LITTLE slack because it’s not like. 3 days, and also they seemingly saw each other every single day for those couple weeks and had the months after that. It’s rare, but sometimes, when you know, you know).

But beyond that. Beyond dating, getting to know each other, communicating and helping each other out, and deciding “yes, we can and should be together,” Elemental showed these two doing an adult thing together—leaving home and moving out. Because they are ADULTS. And the fact that I felt like this movie was targeted towards me and my peers the same way a PG-13 or R rated movie might be, strictly because of the realism in the character’s interactions and dynamic, that is something that I absolutely adore. Like, Zootopia was a kid’s movie with mature themes. Miraculous is a kid’s show with mature themes. Even Avatar: The Last Airbender was clearly targeted towards children, even though we all know it has something for everyone.

But Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. The Spider-Verse movies. And honestly, Elemental. These feel like our movies. Movies I’m glad the kids can enjoy, but they’re made for us. The 20- and 30-year-olds.

I’m just so happy to see animation studios treating adult characters like real people. Maybe soon people will start to recognize animation as a legitimate form of storytelling, too.

I loved Elemental. I really did.

[steddiealltheway]

It’s been a while… but here’s a (long (oops)) ficlet :) tw: some blood.

 

Dustin calling after the whole mall incident wasn't really abnormal to Steve anymore. Sure, if two years ago before the whole monsters are real and they're living in Hawkins thing happened, Steve would have scoffed at the idea of some freshman boy calling him multiple times. But here he is, and, honestly, it was secretly one of the things he looked forward to - not that he would ever openly tell Dustin without some coercion. But this call is different... 

Different in the way that Dustin is screaming about Eddie Munson but not in awe. He sounds more on the verge of panicking, and if Steve didn't know better he would think the demo-somethings were back in Hawkins. But, something about a fight and Eddie needing help is the only message that gets through. 

And although it is Steve's day off and he slightly despises Eddie for no good reason, Steve finds himself racing to his car and making the familiar journey to the school.  

Eddie Munson. A loud mouth that would disrupt classes with jokes that were way funnier than Steve would ever like to admit. After graduation, Steve thought he would never think of Eddie again. Well, maybe in some fleeting ways whenever he saw a guy with long hair but... no, not at all. But then Dustin started high school and the Eddie in Steve's head and the Eddie Dustin kept talking about slowly and quickly turned out to be the same person. 

They had never directly interacted, just shared a few fleeting glances, nods, and maybe Steve had caught Eddie staring at him in high school a few times and maybe even shot him a smile. But that was only one time... maybe more than once, especially whenever Steve picked up the kids from the D&D sessions. 

But this time... a fight? What is Steve supposed to do? Was he supposed to bring ice or even show up at all? And what happens when he's forced to talk to Eddie? 

Steve takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. Why is he so nervous? He hasn't felt this way since back when he first started talking to Nance. Which makes no sense. 

He takes another breath and focuses on the road. Or rather the small stretch of road slowly turning into a large parking lot. 

Steve parks and hopes that no one notices him as he makes his way inside the school. Luckily, it’s lunch time so a random person wandering around won’t be too strange. 

Steve ducks his head as he makes his way past a group of students and hopes no one recognizes the notorious fallen “King Steve.” As he rounds a corner and approaches an empty hallway Steve lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He does not miss this school. 

Also, where is he going? Dustin really could’ve give him more information. It’s not like he’ll know exactly where… 

Steve knows exactly where to go. In fact, he already started walking there before he knew it. He’s only been to the room once or twice when Dustin and the other kids have stayed a little too close to their curfew or the one time Dustin dragged him in telling him he “had to see Eddie’s metal setup.”  

Steve had to admit that it was impressive, but he was more interested in the blush Eddie was trying to hide behind curly hair. Not because it meant something like that to Steve. It was just… just. Just that he was confused about what it meant?  

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the door in front of him. It’s familiar not in terms of actually seeing it, but because it runs through Steve’s thoughts often. Must be Dustin. 

Steve takes a deep breath and mutters, “Why the hell am I treating this like breaking into the Russian military base?” 

A groan from the other side of the door has Steve immediately shoving the door open.  

“You can’t be in he- Steve?” Dustin says and immediately runs to Steve and wraps his arms around him.  

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, squeezing the kid and glancing around. He finally spots Eddie on the floor with a dark blanket dramatically wrapped around his shoulders. Or maybe it’s a cape. Steve isn’t sure. His head is ducked down so Steve can’t see the damage. 

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie drawls out the name, and Steve nearly shivers. “Jason must’ve knocked a few screws loose because I thought you were just a figment of Dustin’s imagination. But here you are.” He glances up and Steve winces.  

It’s clear that Jason is right-handed with the way Eddie’s face is battered on the left side. It’s not nearly as bad as Jonathan, but Eddie definitely is going to be left with a black eye. There’s a small cut on his lip that is slowly leaking blood down Eddie chin, and Steve almost scoffs because it’s clear that Eddie is keeping the drop there for dramatic effect.  

The bell dismissing lunch rings and Dustin looks between Steve and Eddie panicking. Steve squeezes his shoulder and says, “Go to class, Henderson. Can’t miss a period of learning.” 

Dustin nods seriously at Steve then turns to Eddie. “You’re sure you’re okay here?” 

“Our beloved king is here to save the damsel in distress.” Eddie cracks a smile and winces. “Yes, you are dismissed.” 

Dustin nearly sprints out of the room, but stops when Eddie yells, “Wait!” He hesitates until Dustin turns back to him. “Thank you, Dustin.” 

Dustin smiles and goes to open the door. Steve stops him by prompting, “What do you say back?” 

“You’re welcome,” Dustin huffs then runs out the door. 

“He’s going to be the death of me,” Steve comments as the door closes. “But he’s a good kid, but don’t ever tell him I said that or-” 

“Are you here to finish the job or what?” Eddie asks, his voice cracking slightly. Steve turns and takes in the way Eddie’s usual confident smirk is gone. Instead, his lips are in a tight line as Eddie swipes at the blood on his chin. His other hand is tightly clutching the blanket cape wrapped around him. The look in his eyes is fearful as if he really thinks Steve is going to beat him up. 

Steve slowly approaches him with his hands up. “Hey, Eddie, I’m here to help. I promise.” 

Eddie looks just as on edge as Steve approaches him but he doesn’t look like he’s about to run. Steve sits down in front of him and glances around. He spots what looks like a wet washcloth on top of a bag of ice. “Does Henderson have some in with the nurse or something?” Steve lightly jokes. 

“He must,” Eddie comments, not looking at Steve.  

Steve nods to himself. He doesn’t know how to act around this Eddie, he’s used to the usual bravado and dramatics. Not that he minds this timid version of him, but he just wishes he would trust him more. 

He grabs the washcloth and holds it up to Eddie’s face slowly. Eddie flinches slightly but lets him slowly swipe at the blood collecting under his lip. Steve can’t help but stare at the full lips and wonder… 

He snatches the washcloth back and shakes his head. What is up with him? He grabs the ice next and wraps the washcloth around it. He makes sure to put the non-bloody part on the bruise next to Eddie’s eye. “Looks like you’ll have a bit of a black eye but nothing too bad. How’s your head though? Any signs of a concussion?” Steve asks gently, knowing that the headache after a concussion is killer. 

“Head is kind of fuzzy honestly, but I don’t think it’s the concussion,” Eddie comments quietly. Steve glances from where he’s pressing the ice against his head to Eddie’s eyes which are locked on him. Gosh, he’s gorgeous- or his eyes…. His eyes are gorgeous. Is that weird to think? 

Steve looks back at the ice and adjusts it. When Eddie winces, Steve grabs one of the hands gripping the cape and squeezes. “Sorry.” 

“Not your fault. Well, maybe by association a bit your fault. It’s like all you jocks trade in your brain for your horseplay,” Eddie says with a bit of a sneer. He seems to realize who he’s talking to and apologizes with a quick, “Sorry.” 

Steve shakes his head. “I wish I could blame sports for all my stupid decisions, but here I am. Not that coming here was a stupid decision. I just mean… in general.” 

Eddie takes a moment to stare at him before replying. “Maybe it was a bit of a stupid decision. I don’t really think a freak is worth all the fuss especially from a king.” 

Steve groans, “Please, I hate that nickname.” 

“Which one?” 

“Both of them,” Steve says seriously. Eddie continues to lock eyes with him and squints them as if he’s looking for something. “See something you like?” Steve flirts before realizing what he’s done. 

Eddie smiles and shakes his head. “Maybe you have changed.” 

Steve shrugs and looks down. “I’m trying, man.” He clears his throat when he notices out of the corner of his eye that Eddie is still staring at him. “So, Jason did this to you?” 

“Yes,” Eddie answers immediately, tone colder than before. He glances off if recalling what happened. 

Steve pulls the ice pack away from his cheek and sets it down. He runs his thumb gently over the bruise, feeling for any swelling. “Why’d he do it?” 

Eddie shrugs. “Thinks I’m trying to steal his girlfriend or something. Not my fault he’s too much of an asshole to listen to Chrissy. Also his fault for not realizing I’m ga-” Eddie cuts himself off and looks at Steve with pure panic in his eyes. “Just, forget I said that. Please. Don’t tell Dustin or any of the kids. Steve, please.” 

Steve realizes that he’s also frozen in place at the admission. It feels somehow different from Robin’s confession. It’s like he’s filled with… excitement? As if this opens an opportunity for something more. Steve takes a deep breath and tries to sort out his feelings. Gosh, it’s all so confusing. 

“Steve?” Eddie prompts gently. 

Steve realizes his hand is still on Eddie’s face, and he’s been staring at him during his whole internal panic. “Shit,” Steve says and pulls his hand back. “Yeah, of course. I won’t tell anyone, Eddie. I promise.” 

As Eddie sighs, Steve notices the cut on his lip that’s already begun to scab over. But then he can’t stop staring at his lips, and he feels… like he needs to kiss him. 

Steve looks up at Eddie and finally realizes what he’s been feeling… attraction. He takes a moment to glance over the boy and gets overwhelmed with the realization. 

Eddie’s gaze turns concerned and he gently taps Steve on the forehead and asks, “What’s going on in there?” 

“When did you know you were into guys?” Steve asks without hesitation. 

Eddie gives him a look then glances away. A soft blush appears on his cheeks. “Uh, it was a few years ago in high school. One of my friends in my band had a huge crush on a cheerleader, and he dragged me to a basketball game. And while he was watching the cheerleaders, I realized I was too interested in a certain basketball player…” Eddie trails off as if lost in thought. 

“Do I know them?” Steve asks feeling weirdly jealous. 

Eddie snorts. “Yes, you definitely know them.” 

Steve nods and hesitates. “Is it too much to ask who they are?” 

Eddie’s breath hitches before he answers, “Yes.” 

“It’s not Tommy, is it? Or Billy?” Steve asks before he can help himself. 

Eddie chuckles to himself. “No, I think you would be more disappointed to know the truth.” 

Steve tries to think. Who would be worse than Tommy or Billy? He glances back at Eddie as he thinks. He would put more ice on his face, but it’s turned to water at this point. Steve asks another question. “What about him made you realize?” 

Eddie looks at him in disbelief but thinks for a moment. “I think it was his smile whenever he or one of his teammates scored. Everyone used to say it was the hair, but it was the smile that I couldn’t take my eyes away from.” 

Steve nearly jealously asks who in the world had better hair than he did, but then it suddenly hits him. He looks at Eddie who stares at him with that same panicked look in his eyes. Steve runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Was it…” He trails off unable to finish the question but tries to by vaguely gesturing to himself.  

Eddie’s mouth opens, but he’s cut off by the bell ringing. Instead, he just nods. 

Steve’s heart soars, and in a moment of pure excitement he asks, “Eddie, what if you were that for me?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t mean…” 

“Yes,” Steve insists and grabs at one of his hands and squeezes. 

Eddie’s eyes search Steve then flicker down to his lips. “Then… I would ask if you would kiss this cut better,” Eddie says while pointing to his lip with that usual confident smirk. 

Steve laughs but cups Eddie’s jaw gently. He quickly looks down at his lips, and he begins to lean in.  

The door slams open as Dustin sprints in. “Eddie! Are you okay?!” He yells.  

Steve jumps back, and replies, “He’s good! Just checking on the cut on his lip!” 

Dustin looks at Eddie and asks, “Are you sure you don’t want us to go after that asshole?” 

“Language,” Steve lectures as Eddie replies, “As much as I appreciate your bravery, I don’t need to be responsible for any beat-up children. But you can grab my stuff, so I don’t get detention for skipping.” 

Dustin immediately runs to Eddie’s notebook and lunch box and starts picking them up. Steve stands up and holds his hand out which Eddie immediately latches onto for Steve to pull him up. Eddie leans in as he comes up and whispers, “I’ll see you around, Steve. Thank you for everything.” 

Eddie steps back and grabs his things from Dustin. “Off to Hell,” Eddie announces dramatically as he walks out of the room. 

“Thanks, Steve!” Dustin yells as he follows Eddie out of the room. 

When the door closes, Steve takes a moment to himself and lets out a deep breath. First, he needs to talk to Robin. Next, he needs to figure out whether to punch Jason or thank him. Maybe both. 

[vrisrezis]

OMG I REALLY LIKE YOUR YAN!GETO AND GOJO HEADCANONS!! If you don't mind can I please request a yan!itadori? No pressure btw

Have a good night/day!

THANK UUU!!! Yan yuuji is sooo cute I love him :0 (featuring Sukuna lol)

Yan! Yuuji who would never kill somebody ….. not unless you asked him to of course…

Yan! Yuuji who’s disgusted by killing, especially to innocent people, but even to bad people… unless they’ve wronged you.. they deserve a fate much… much worse than death

Yan! Yuuji who is like a loyal dog .. that’s the best way to describe him tbh

Yan! Yuuji who loves to make you laugh, if he doesn’t make you laugh everyday he feels like he’s failed, like he’s nothing more than a pathetic weasel.

Yan! Yuuji who loves buying you gifts!!! Nonstop!!!! He will never stop… he believes no matter what you say, you deserve it. :}

Yan! Yuuji who does NOT budget money for himself bruh he be wasting all his money on you… he’d rather buy you something than feed himself (megumi is very worried abt him)

Yan! Yuuji who always lifts you up… he’s so sweet

Yan! Yuuji who loves sharing his clothes with you… you look cute with his clothes on… also it feels like you’re his

Yan! Yuuji who is terrifying when your life is threatened like even sukuna backs off … “he’s like … Jesus Christ wtf … what happened brat…” he’s like when junpei died cuz of mahito but so much worse

Yan! Yuuji who would blame himself if anything happened to you… would probably just tell you to kill him for being so terrible and he absolutely means it

Yan! Yuuji has strong feelings in terms of wanting to be the one to protect you and keep you safe, even if you’re stronger than him. Due to this fact he really beats himself up if he can’t protect you.. even if you only get slightly hurt,

Yan! Yuuji who is protective but not isolating. He loves seeing you get along with other people, and he doesn’t expect you to return his devoted feelings. He wants you happy above all else, even if that meant you’re with somebody else. But he still makes it known to you you’re everything to him.

Yan! Yuuji who would absolutely kill anyone that broke your heart though. He will straight up be your exes best friend when you’re dating them cause they make you happy, but once he sees the signs of them making you unhappy and miserable, he waits till you break up and goes in for the kill.

Yan! Yuuji who also notices a lot of toxic traits so he also recognizes his own, so he’s constantly trying to improve his behavior around you..

Despite this fact probably sees killing for you as a good thing cause it’s getting rid of those that put you at risk or in distress

Probably tries to form a pact with sukuna to make sure sukuna doesn’t hurt you, as well.

And Yan! Yuuji who would do anything to have that pact with sukuna cuz holy

Yan! Yuuji who, even if you aren’t dating, tells you how much he loves you constantly. He doesn’t bother hiding his feelings unless he thinks you’d be uncomfortable by them.

Yan! Yuuji who probably falls more in love if you get him to open up to you (esp post shibuya …) you’re so loving.. so trusting … so kind …

Yan! Yuuji who would be delighted to date you, but wouldn’t force it on you. It would come naturally, with you genuinely liking him.

Yan! Yuuji is a lovely boyfriend as well and the gifts, the protectiveness, increased tenfold but he tries not to be too overbearing (he is, but he still won’t isolate you from people)

Yan! Yuuji who just grumbles when sukuna teases him for his devotion towards you.. trying to get sukuna to shut up when sukuna starts talking in grave detail to you about how yuuji stalks the hell outta you

Yan! Yuuji totally stalks you but he’s not as bad as a lot of other yanderes so it’s just a short mention tbh

Yan! Yuuji who already wants to get married ..

Yan! Yuuji who is very clingy and very affectionate … constant kisses and cuddles for real

Yan! Yuuji who’s just a sweet boy … would really just do anything for your love and approval..

[justanotherlifeff]

Use of an unrequited love

Sukuna x reader [Final part of “Love is Meaningless” and “Posession”]

[Trigger warning: Kinda rapey and borderline non con. Sukuna is a red flag. Sukuna has some very backdated views on how women should dress. Sukuna is the trigger warning]

You always had these vivid dreams your entire life. Dreams that seemed awfully real despite being inexplicably blurry. You remember a time before you were born, before anyone you know existed. You remember a small hut, a decent family, a village full of friendly people. You remember a cave near the forests, the smell of homecooked food in a bento box, the sound of water at a passing by stream, the feeling of wet grass on your bare feet. You remember crimson eyes, a blurry figure, and an intense feeling of love. You remember so much, the sensations, the smell, the taste, and yet, you couldn’t remember who that man was, the one that took your heart for himself. You remember helplessness, fear, and pain from being stabbed and it all goes blank each time. And then, you woke up to face reality, as you always do after these dreams. However, this time you were looking into those crimson eyes that had always existed in those unreachable dreams.

You didn’t recognize where you were. The last thing you remembered was being hit in the head while trying to fight Sukuna after he took over Megumi’s body. However, you were definitely terrified, given the fact that in the traditional Japanese room with you was the king of curses himself, waiting for you to wake up with an unreadable expression on his face.

How adorable, he thought, when you regained consciousness and had that look of abject horror. To think you of all people would look at him this way someday. Fate truly was laughably cruel. “I won’t hurt you, brat.” He chuckled, finding your reaction hilarious, and yet, more painful than any wound he had ever suffered. To think, the woman who accepted him with open arms a thousand years ago looked at him like the curse he was. Didn’t he fall for you because you never looked at him this way back then? What even was left of that love you two had? “Where am I?” You asked him, your voice full of fear and surprisingly, intrigue. He didn’t quite understand your reaction. “I wondered, how I would react if I ever heard you say these words. Whether I would chop you to pieces for acting like I was some parasite possessing Itadori for so long. But I’m afraid, whoever decided to play this sick joke towards me were right about one thing. I cannot kill you.” Sukuna sighed. That expression confused you. What was that expression in his eyes? Was it… longing? Why was there this expression of profound loss in his eyes? Why did you see these eyes in your dreams?

“Why can you not kill me?” You asked, trying to get as much information as you could. Perhaps it would help you escape, perhaps it will help you understand his weaknesses. Or perhaps, you would understand if those dreams truly had any significance. You were grasping at any opportunity at this point. “Ryomen Sukuna never took in a wife and never had children, that’s what you humans were taught in history, correct?” He asked, the frown never leaving his lips. “Yes. Was this wrong?” You asked, definitely curious. This was huge information after all. “Heh. Wrong is an understatement. I had a wife who was going to give me an heir. Before I became the king of curses, when I was just a wretch, a worthless being in this worthless world. She was weak, pathetic even. Her humanity was what killed her. And with herself, she took away the child too.” He chuckled dryly, as if he was amused by the sheer audacity of the world. He didn’t care that the wedding never happened. That you died before he could make you his, before he could give you the happiness you deserved. You were his wife in that lifetime. He didn’t accept otherwise in his mind.

Ah, that sounded, awfully familiar. Yet, somehow, when you dared to look into Sukuna’s eyes as he spoke of that past that you dreamed of, you knew exactly who you were to him. What you didn’t know was how to feel about it. “Why are you making that expression?” Sukuna asked, raising an eyebrow at the shock in your eyes. He didn’t even tell you the whole thing yet so why were you so shocked? “Was I… her?” You asked him, not knowing what else to say. “You knew? Heh, you are a tricky one huh… How did you know? Well, I suppose that’s good since I wouldn’t have to waste my breath explaining things to you. I’m sure you realize exactly what I want from you, correct?” He had a smile on his face as he told you this, pleased that he wouldn’t have to speak of those complicated emotions. You never imagined you would see the king of curses make such an expression.

Saying no to him is a privilege in Sukuna’s views, and you didn’t earn that privilege yet. How could you? After all, in his views, you owe him far too much. You owe him his heir, you owe him your life, you owe him whatever humanity he had left in him before your death. However, he owed you everything he was. He became the King of Curses because of you and he was never one to forget ones who did him a favor. His power, his influence, everything happened because of you and he wasn’t one to stay indebted. As on que, you disappointed him yet again. “I don’t want this. You stand against everything I fight for. You have killed so many, you have massacred hundreds and thousands… I.. or to be more precise, my previous incarnation did not fall in love with this. I fell for a man who was ostracized by society because of the way he was born. I fell for a man who deserved to be treated like human. I didn’t fall for a monster.” Was your reply.

“Did you truly believe I care for your opinion? You’re mine. I won’t hurt you, not physically atleast, nor will I kill you but that doesn’t change the fact that I take what’s mine. So get this ridiculous notion out of your head that what you say, or what you want, matters to me. We could do this two ways. You can continue to reject me, defy me, and I will take away everything you care for one by one. I will kill your family, kill that pet dog you like so much, kill your friends, and kill other humans right infront of you so that I am all you have left. Or you could give in, forget about those foolish ideals you live for, and I would give you the world. I will personally make sure your family is not harmed and I will even bring that mutt to you. As for your friends and other people, I cannot make promises since your friends are my enemies. However, even a child can tell what the better option is.” Sukuna snapped at you, anger evident. How dare you defy him? How dare you try to take yourself away from him after he waited for a millennia?

He was right, you knew the better option. Reality was, you were selfish. Like all humans, you had your vices. Even now, you didn’t wish for your family to be harmed, and you knew that Sukuna was the type of man who keeps his promises. So you just looked away, and nodded, trading your friends, your companions for your family. You dreamed of a life where you would meet a good man, have a family. However, those dreams seemed like childish musings. Reality was always different, cruel. Just like how Sukuna’s satisfied smile looked more cruel than anything to you.

“Using your family works to convince you, even now… Even after what happened in your previous life.. How naive.. No matter, anyone who attempts to harm you or take you away will face a fate worse than death. Your weakness wouldn’t take you away anyone.” He said with a smile, cupping your cheek. It would sound romantic in normal circumstances but it wasn’t. You knew that your friends will attempt to save you and he would kill them. “I have restrained myself long enough. You have heightened my temptation all those months, dressing like a vulgar whore after all. Then again, all women seem to dress that way in this era. Take responsibility for your actions, woman” The smug smile on his faces told you what was about to happen. “Strip”, he commanded.

“Sukuna.. I don’t… Im not ready…” You tried protesting with a shaky voice much to Sukuna’s annoyance. “Cease your incessant whining. You’re alive because of those disgusting emotions you make me feel or you would be dead already for defying my orders. I will say this one last time. Or else, I will tear those clothes off you myself. Strip.” His voice rang, full of displeasure. With shaky hands, you complied. “Just as beautiful as I remember… I must thank whoever decided to play this cruel joke on me before killing them” Sukuna chuckled, moving close to you, eyeing your bare skin, his arms grabbing your waist to pull you closer. “Look at me” he commanded, using one hand to grab you by your cheeks and forcing you to look up at him. Without a word, he pulled you into a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of your lips like a starved beast. Even a millenia later, you tasted the same. Your lips felt the same, soft against his.

Yet, something was missing. He couldn’t quite figure out what as he pushed you down on the futon nearby. Something about you made this different, less pleasing, less fulfilling. The thought didn’t leave his mind even as he undressed, even as he lifted your legs up on his shoulder, spat on your cunt to make it wet and plunged his cock into you. The sounds you made, of pleasure and pain were the same. The moans, whimpers, calling his name out as you grabbed his forearms, scratched his back raw… it was all the same. Your insides were just as tight, as warm, just as pleasurable as he remembered. As he fucked into you, ramming his cock against your cervix, he ended up saying those dreaded words that he only uttered all those years ago.

“I love you. Fuck! Ill make you my queen. Ill give you the whole damn world at your feet. You feel like heaven on Earth, my love. I love you.” He groaned out in your ears, about to reach his release as the erotic sounds of your moans and whimpers of his name were music to his ears. Thats when he realized what was missing. You didn’t tell him you loved him back. Not once did you show any affection towards him. As he reached his release, filling you to the brim with his seed, he realized that you weren’t the woman who loved him despite him being a monster. You were simply someone who looked like her and shared her memories. You did not love him. Unfortunately, somewhere in his twisted heart, he desperately wanted to believe you would give in if he fucked you well enough. That you would become the woman who captured his heart and he could just continue on like nothing happened. Like you never died in that past life. However, reality was often disappointing.

Pulling out of you, he was lost for a moment as he got up and sat at the edge of the bed. After a moment, he spoke. “Leave, Y/N” he said, his voice hardened. “W-what?” You asked, panting and surprised by his words. “I will win this world first. And then I will win your heart again. So, leave. Spend time with those you care for because they may die when I conquer this world. You’re not the woman I fell for. Atleast, not yet.” Sukuna answered, not even giving you a glance. “You’re just letting me leave? Just like that?” You were shocked, wondering if this is some kind of trick. “What use do I have of a love that is not returned?” Sukuna chuckled dryly in answer.

[tumbleweed-run]

Halstarion- Astarion has been captured and not fed for a long period of time (months? years? obviously this is not canon) and Halsin is the one who finds him. No animals around, so Halsin lets him feed, despite Astarion being crazed with hunger. Does Halsin manage to get Astarion off before Astarion drains him, or do other party members have to help?

The hunger isn’t just gnawing at him, it’s consumed him. When Cazador starved him, Astarion was at least offered rats. What a strange place he’s come to, to wish for rats. But the Underdark offers not even the smallest relief. This dank hole is so unfit for life that not even the rodents dare mare their home here. Astarion’s first thought upon being chained in some deeper dark of the Underdark was that this is where all hope dies. And hope did die, but he won’t. He can’t. It doesn’t matter what he wants. 

Astarion survives by giving up. He curls up on the cold floor and slips away. In the world in his head, he’s still on the surface, still standing in the sun. Sometimes everyone is there, and sometimes it's just he and Halsin. That infuriating mountain of an elf who promised he would always want Astarion to remain by his side. Astarion’s almost certain that he’d gone with him in the real world, once the brain had been destroyed but he wonders if he’s confused things. 

It’s likely days have passed. Months. Astarion doesn’t know, but there's part of him that realizes that years could have passed. There’s no way to mark the passage of time. At first, he’d thought they’d found some way to ruin his eyes, to reduce his sight to a mere humans. But he’d quickly come to the startling realization it was just that dark here. Even the glowing mushrooms seemed to have forsaken this place. 

They check on him at times. He hears them, and then the faintest glow illuminates the room almost unbearably. He’s caught glimpses of armor before the sound of stone closing deafens him. Astarion doesn’t even have a reason for why they’d taken him. When he realized they’d never answer his shouted questions or step close enough to put their necks beneath his teeth, Astarion stopped paying attention to them. 

It’s why he doesn’t stir from his place on the hard floor when the stone moves behind him. At least not until the light that fills the room threatens to blind him. There’s screaming then, too, and then a cacophony of voices. Astarion struggles to cover his ears against the racket, and that’s when he realizes the screaming is coming from his own mouth. 

He means to fight against the hands that grab him, that he’s certain of. But his body is no longer obeying his commands, it seems. Instead, he’s limp in someone’s arms. The arms are much too large to belong to the captors he’d seen. Too large to belong to anyone, he thinks half crazed. 

There’s a much fainter glow beyond his eyelids; it still hurts, but it’s manageable… at least when his eyes are closed.

Whoever is carrying him has propped him up, his whole body leaning against something warm and solid. His mouth is all but pulled up, and something soft is shoved against is fangs. Astarion isn’t sure what to make of what’s happening. He’s not even sure this is actually happening. 

Astarion’s body reacts before his mind understands. His mouth fastening to whatever had been placed in it, and he’s swallowing greedily before he even recognizes the metallic tang passing over his tongue.

Blood.

The hazy realization drives him to bite harder. 

As the blood rolls down Astarion’s throat, it’s like his body is slowly coming alive again. For the first time in forever, he doesn’t feel like he’s lying beneath a giant stone, his body slowly regaining strength. Enough for his hands to grab onto the shoulders of whoever has him. His brain is clearing just a little, latching onto the fact that this is really happening. 

The rest of his senses seem to come online next. He can smell the blood and the incredulous scent of pine, something so out of place here. Next, he can hear hushed voices in barely disguised panic from behind him. Astarion feels brave enough to open his eyes, just for a moment. He catches glimpses of glowing mushrooms, of a braid tangled in a mass of hair, of the glint of metal in the distance. 

Another noise comes from beneath Astarion. More of a rumble than an actual sound. And then he realizes.

The scent of a forest. Arms too big to belong to someone. A braid. 

It’s Halsin. Halsin is here with him. It’s Halsin’s blood rushing down his throat. 

He tries to stop. Astarion swears he does, to unlatch his mouth once he understands he’s draining someone he care… someone he knows. But his body and brain seem to be at odds again and it’s not until something (someone) grabs at his shoulders that he finally lets go. 

Astarion collapses back against whoever has grabbed him and manages to flick his eyes open long enough to see the bulk of the druid slide to the ground. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

It’s the first coherent words Astarion has heard this entire time. They’re said weakly, though insistently. He knows it’s Halsin warding off the concerns of whoever was with him, but he feels like the druid is speaking directly to him. Assuring him that he hasn't hurt him as badly as he fears.

[heliads]

Hiya,baby. I saw that requests were open and I just had to jump on that chance. Can I request a Nikolai Lantsov imagine where reader is a princess from a neighboring kingdom. She and Nikolai are engaged but they both want to marry someone else. Unbeknownst to reader though, that someone else is Nikolai as Stumhond. They were both in similar situations and were tailored but fell in love on the ship. They are both forced to travel across the true sea to get to their wedding venue and at first they're wary of each other but they each start referencing inside jokes and stuff and giving the other mental whiplash as to how they know all of these things. Super fluffy all throughout with a cute reveal at then end. Sorry if this doesn't make sense, this is my first time requesting anything.

hiya,baby yourself, anon

masterlist

Nikolai Lantsov never planned on getting married. Objectively, he knew that it would come at some point, but his eventual wedding always seemed like one of those things of the future that would never truly come to pass. At some point, he would grow older than his brother. At some point, he would outlive his father’s reign. At some point, he would be married.

All of those, now, are true. They happened earlier than he expected, but yes; they are still real, still something that he must recognize at every dawn and every dusk. Far more discoveries have happened along the way, but they still hold strong. With them, too, must stand his marriage.

Marriage is not a thing of love to a Lantsov. That Nikolai knew even before he understood the responsibilities of royalty. His parents may have loved each other at some point, when they were starstruck young things with eyes brighter than their crowns, but nowadays the whole business is more of a hassle than a net win. Nikolai will be married for a political union, but not for him. Never for him.

The contract has already been drawn up. There’s a young woman of significance, a princess from a neighboring kingdom, who will be claiming his hand. Nikolai doesn’t know a whole lot about her, but no one does. She disappeared from the public eye to further her education years ago and just popped back up on the map a matter of months back. 

Regardless  of her recent activities, her country is wealthy and she is an eligible bachelorette. Nikolai needs a queen, Ravka needs a future; so the lines are drawn. He has yet to meet her in person, but that hardly matters. Y/N L/N will be his wife and there is nothing he can do about it.

He sets out in a week for the wedding. Seeing as her country is located across the True Sea, they’re going to meet up in the Southern Isles, a venue exactly halfway between their two homes. It’s a brilliant display of political maneuvering, and definitely not an excuse for Nikolai to delay the end of his bachelorhood as possible.

By all accounts, this marriage is more than serviceable. Nikolai has sent diplomats and ambassadors over to Y/N’s country countless times, and they’ve all come back bearing messages of her wonderful sense of humor and excellent character. She’s actually a good person, and Nikolai has come to realize that’s worth quite a bit. Factor in the fact that Nikolai can finally count on at least one other nation forced to ally itself with Ravka, and this whole ordeal is technically golden.

To him, though, it is still less than perfect. Actually, this is about as far as Nikolai can get from a flawless celebration, and that’s not just because it won’t be happening on Ravkan territory. No, despite the fact that Nikolai knew since he was a kid that he was never meant to end up dying by the side of someone he loved, he made a mistake anyway.

There’s a woman. Of course there is. Nikolai has no idea where she is. He met her when he was still king of the seas as Sturmhond. He had needed support in a naval battle, she had been the nearest captain, so he asked her for a favor. Proximity hadn’t been the only reason for his asking her specifically, just the one that he told her. Truth was, Nikolai had been hearing about a fearsome captain patrolling the waters for years, and the fact that she robbed only crooked merchant vessels in the interest of helping the needy caught his attention.

Nikolai knew from the very first day of encountering her that she would be on his mind forever. She went by Maradi, named for her favorite saint. According to the legends, a long time ago two lovers from rival fishing villages attempted to run away together. An angry father found out and had one sweetheart’s vessels dashed to pieces. The other dove into the sea, trying to find her man; Sankta Maradi cleared the storm, letting the lovers reach each other. Ever since, the lost and the lovers traveling the waves pay their homage to Sankta Maradi. Nikolai’s favorite privateer happens to count herself among the number of believers.

Maradi is lost to him now, if she was ever his at all. There was a blessed period of a few years in which Nikolai almost thought that he could get away with loving her. He kept that traitorous emotion tucked away behind his lurid teal coat like yet another revolver, but he thought about it, oh how he did. He harbored a secret belief that maybe Vasily would take the throne and Nikolai could stay out there on his ship forever, but of course that was not to be.

So he misses his love, so he feels like he’s betraying her through an engagement of political chessboards and strategically posed kings and queens. There is nothing Nikolai can do about it, but of course his heart will always beg to differ.

At least he has these meager days in which he could still possibly be hers. So he thought, at least, until Zoya arrives at his office door two days later and informs him that Princess Y/N’s ship just touched down on Ravkan shores. Turns out she needs to be there to fulfill some archaic Ravkan tradition regarding the nomination of its rulers. Nikolai knows Zoya kept this information from him so he would have as little time to fight it as possible, and she chose well. 

Nikolai wants to run. He can’t, but he wants to. That evening, he’s hosting a banquet in the interest of meeting his soon-to-be wife and forcing smiles just like always. Princess Y/N is as good as they say, quick as a whip and twice as clever, plus pretty to boot. However, even if she were a saint incarnate, she wouldn’t be Captain Maradi, and to Nikolai that’s as good as nothing at all.

Nikolai tries his best to be civil. His country needs that, at least. As much as he complains about the engagement, it would be far worse if Y/N’s country felt insulted and retracted their offer of Y/N’s hand. Nikolai keeps up a perfect demeanor of kindness, but it isn’t legitimate, not really.

Y/N must feel the same way, because even after a few minutes Nikolai is able to detect a hesitation to her smile, a thin veneer of apathy hidden behind the glossed lips and easy laugh. Every now and then, when she thinks someone isn’t paying attention, Y/N gets this look in her eyes like she’s a caged bird wanting nothing more than to fly for miles. She glances at the door just as often– well, just as often as Nikolai, which means that it happens quite a bit.

The night ends eventually, as does the week, flying by in a blur. Nikolai throws out his hands, trying and failing to stop the passage of time, but who can? Certainly not him. Soon enough, he’s standing on the dock of a ship, watching Ravka disappear into a tiny speck of green on the endless blue, and then it’s gone for good and he is stuck on a vessel headed towards a marriage he wants nothing more than to avoid.

Y/N is somewhere on the ship, but Nikolai doesn’t want to think about her right now. Instead, he leans his hands up against the railing of the ship, listening to the creak of the timbers and remembering better times. Sturmhond had only been a temporary dream, of course, a fantasy useful to keep useless younger sons occupied, but Saints, if he hadn’t loved it like nothing else.

It had been intense and crazy and dangerous, far more work than expected, but Nikolai had done it all himself. Not because he was a royal, but because of his own wit and grit. At the end of it, Stumhond was a captain in charge of a fleet, and that sort of power was intoxicating. Even now, standing on a king’s ship run by someone else, Nikolai feels that same sort of tantalizing rush.

After some time, it occurs to Nikolai that he is no longer alone. Someone else has thought the same thing as him and taken it upon themselves to scout out the endless horizon. Nikolai shoots his visitor a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and feels a ripple of shock course through him when he realizes it’s Y/N. He hadn’t known that the princess had an affinity for the sea, but she looks just as heartsick to be out here as him.

She catches him staring about half a second later and a grin slices its way onto her face. “What,” she says slowly, drawing out the syllables, “would you rather I go hide away in my quarters until the voyage is over? You’d have to threaten me at swordpoint.”

It’s more verve than he expected from a dulcet princess, but then again, Nikolai really doesn’t know her all that well, does he?

Nikolai smiles back. “I wouldn’t dare. Unless, of course, you attempt a mutiny. Then I might have to threaten you for real.”

It occurs to him about half a beat later that connecting his future wife and any sort of threat in the same sentence is probably not a good idea. Usually, Nikolai wouldn’t slip up like this. It’s just, well, being out here again is messing with his head. It reminds him of being on his own ship, wearing a different face and answering to a different name.

Sturmhond would have taken it further, he thinks. Sturmhond would have taken out a weapon just to prove his point. And, in return, Maradi would have challenged him to a duel or something even worse than that. No matter how deadly he was, Maradi matched him measure for measure every time. Standing here with the sound of the waves echoing through his ears, he can’t help but think of her.

Saints, he even remembers having a similar conversation several times again. During the early days when Nikolai had just asked for her help on the job, they usually said goodnight by promising to wake the other with a blade to their throat and their ships taken over by morning. Never ceased to make him laugh.

Nikolai blinks hard, trying to drag himself back to reality. He opens his mouth to come up with some way of softening his remark, but Y/N doesn’t look offended or put out. Far from it, actually. Her sharp grin just deepens, clearly pleased.

“If you threatened me in the slightest,” she whispers to him, words half disappearing on the salt breeze, “I would carve out your tongue while you slept and assume command of your vessels. That would be a proper mutiny.”

Nikolai feels as if the ground has just given out beneath his heels. The way Y/N says it, so casually but so intensely, it reminds him of Maradi like nothing else. In fact, he swears she said that exact same line to him before. He had teased her once about not wanting to get salt stains on her sleeves. In return, she had promised to cut out his tongue if he ever dared mention prettiness to her again. They had both laughed and gotten drinks. It had been a wonderful evening.

Nikolai needs to remember, though, that this isn’t real. This is not Maradi. His captain is somewhere out there in uncharted territory, still just as free as the day he met her. This princess, no matter how beautiful nor how dangerous, is a stranger to him and nothing more.

Nikolai straightens, forcing himself to pretend as if he isn’t doubting his own mind. “That would certainly be a sight to see,” he says smoothly, “unfortunately, I tend to keep my doors locked. I find it a far more pleasant method of security than trusting princesses willy-nilly.”

A furrow creases Y/N’s brow, and she seems lost in thought. Nikolai turns his attention back to the sea, but for some reason, he can’t sink himself into it just as easily as before. Now, instead of just hearing Maradi’s voice whispering in the back of his brain, he hears Y/N’s too, the two tones mixing in the mess of his consciousness.

The pattern doesn’t leave him after that first encounter, either. Throughout that day and well into the next few, Nikolai feels like he’s half in a dream. Y/N casually references jokes that Nikolai swore he’s only ever heard when he’s conniving with Maradi. As a test, he does the same thing, name-dropping inside secrets and jobs they did, just the two of them. Every time, Y/N has the same reaction as him, a slight tension appearing in her shoulders, her eyes growing wide.

Maradi would never share his secrets. Sturmhond never shared any of hers, either. Yet how is it that Y/N, Princess Y/N, would happen to know the exploits of Nikolai’s alter ego like the back of his hand? It’s driving him mad. For what might be the millionth time since he left the seas behind, Nikolai wishes that Maradi were there with him. He misses talking through things with her. Nikolai always swore that he made his decisions after even an hour with her, and he knows, he just knows, that if he were to see Maradi again, all would be well.

He has one last night on the ship. They’ll probably dock sometime around late afternoon tomorrow, which gives Nikolai a short window of time if he wishes to make a move while they’re still on board. With the salt air blowing through his hair, the waves providing background symphonies with every step, Nikolai knows that if he’s going to do something, it has to be now. Once he gets on dry land, his ghosts will stop haunting him and Nikolai realizes that he’s been wrong all along. If he’s going to make this mistake, he might as well do it now while he can still believe in himself.

Nikolai heads out to the deck once moonlight falls upon the sails. Most everyone is in bed save for the skeleton crew necessary to keep the ship on track. Still, there’s one portion of the rail where no words can be overheard, and that is where Nikolai finds Y/N. It’s where he used to find Maradi, once upon a time. It is where they always met.

Y/N looks up when she sees him approach. “You know, I’ll be glad to see solid ground, but I’ve always liked being at sea. It feels like home.”

Nikolai gathers up his courage and convinces himself to take this risk. “What do you know about Sankta Maradi?”

Y/N freezes for a moment, and Nikolai watches as she physically forces herself to relax. “She protected lovers at sea. I always liked her best.”

Nikolai nods solemnly. “So did I. Do you think she’ll protect us tonight?”

He meets Y/N’s eyes slowly. She looks more wary than he’s ever seen her. “Only if you think she’s close by,” she replies quietly.

“I do,” Nikolai says, and pulls something out from behind his back. 

It’s a knife, blade shining in the light of the stars. It’s well preserved, due only to Nikolai’s careful polishing. The burn of sea salt on the air has a way of wreaking havoc on any weapon to bear its force. Well, technically Nikolai isn’t the one to watch over this particular blade. That was Sturmhond’s task, one that he treasured above any other because Maradi is the one who gave him this knife, and that meant he kept it like his own flesh and blood.

Y/N’s lips part, and Nikolai knows by the gasp that leaves her that yes, his suspicions were right all along. “You’re Sturmhond?” She breathes, seeming only half able to believe the syllables.

Nikolai inclines his head. “I had one of my crewmates tailor me. It wasn’t best for a prince to be seen terrorizing the seas, even a lesser, younger one. I captained the Volkvony, and that is where I met you, isn’t it?”

Y/N nods, eyes shining. She reaches into her pocket and retrieves a signet ring, which she slips onto her finger. Nikolai feels an ache in his chest lessen, something like having a blade removed from his heart. It’s her. This is all the proof he needs. Nikolai remembers seeing that ring on her hand a thousand times:  signaling her men to take a ship, reaching for his in the dark of night, wrapped around a pistol or sword. It is the very essence of her, and thus priceless beyond anything else.

“I was tailored too,” Y/N murmurs, “for the same reasons as you, I think. I didn’t want to be a political puppet, I wanted to feel like I was doing something real. And being Maradi was the best part of my life. She was braver than me, more daring, more capable. The day I had to step down, I thought I might die.”

Nikolai leans over to her on impulse, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You still found me, though. I’d say that’s pretty capable.”

Y/N chuckles. “It wasn’t on purpose. You were an eligible prince. I was informed that I was to be married to someone within the year. Besides, I had no idea you were Sturmhond until we set sail. If I figured it out any earlier, I wouldn’t have suffered through those banquets quite as unhappily.”

Nikolai pretends to be offended. “You didn’t like my banquets? But Y/N, dearest, I had my stuffiest advisors show up just to make them more fun.”

Y/N laughs. “I seem to remember you being just as miserable as me. You were excellent at hiding it, though.”

Nikolai ponders this. “If I was so excellent, why could you see through me?”

“Because you reminded me of someone I knew better than anyone,” Y/N admits, and Nikolai thinks he must have drowned in the very sea sparkling before him, because nothing else could explain the desperate pang in his heart and lungs.

She smiles at him again. “You’re him, though. Somehow, we found each other, and we’re to be married. Not the worst coincidence in the world.”

Nikolai grins, tries not to let himself implode. “Certainly not. In fact, I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to be my bride in all the world. I’ve missed you, my Maradi.”

Y/N accepts his embrace, allowing Nikolai’s arm to pull her close. “No one else but you, Nik. I promise.”

He has trusted her unthinkably for quite some time. He is not about to stop now.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggiesolovey

[rosakuma]

Feelings on FOPANW S1 Finale

Okay so the finale dropped…….that sure was a finale….Alright, let’s discuss this in full detail. Spoilers for Fairly Oddparents A New Wish finale, DO NOT READ BELOW IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT OR CAUGHT UP YET!

Okay so this finale is a big mixture for me for a few reasons, to which I’ll explain in detail of listing out the good and bad, before then listing out personal thoughts and what I think they’ll do for S2(if we get one, to which Y’ALL WE GOTTA LOCK IN AND REWATCH THIS SERIES IN NOVEMBER ON NETFLIX OKAY??)

The good~✨:

▪️I absolutely love that they brought back most of the new characters Hazel’s befriend and seen throughout the season come back to help Hazel in taking back fairy world. ▪️ANTI-COSMO AND ANTI-WANDA ARE BACK! It was definitely a short time, but I’m just glad they reappeared and them with Cosmo and Wanda was so funny. I love them exposing their weaknesses like Cosmo being afraid of big words or Wanda not standing seeing someone read a book upside down. ▪️THANK GOD DEV WASN’T TURN EVIL! The boy definitely mess up, but I am happy he listened to Wanda and help out in the end despite the consequences of it. It shows that despite Dev doing all of this to impress his dad, he realizes that his dad not going to change and that he’ll just overlook Dev for other people or things. Plus it nice to see that he didn’t want any the fairies lock up or to blow up, he just wanted to get back at Cosmo, Wanda, and Peri(speaking of him). This definitely marks a great start to his redemption arc that I feel next season will go into more.

▪️You don’t know how much it means to me seeing Peri fricken dying and yet, he’s still worrying about Dev. The fact he still cares about him and just only was strict on the rules because he wanted to do right by Dev..MY HEART AGHHH! THAT’S HIS DAD RIGHT THERE, HIS REAL DAD! I swear they better reunite. Le bad~⚡️:

▪️Dev losing both Peri and his memory of fairies….WHY!? I get punishing him to teach him what he did was wrong, but he recognizes it and also, HE’S NOT GOING TO IF HE DOESN’T REMEMBER WHAT HE DID WRONG! Not to mention that Dev still needs Peri, he still needs a fairygod parent because he’s stuck with a neglectful dad who thinks boots are better than his own kid and doesn’t know how to make friends with him having trust issues! Plus Peri still cares for Dev and I doubt he wanted to give him up! THATS HIS FIRST GODKID, GIVE HIM BACK HIS SON 😭 ▪️The point above gets worse when Hazel could’ve prevented that from happening by including Dev in her wish for her friends to keep their memories of her fairies and magic OR that Dev keeps Peri(which is a two for one sale as he gets both his fairy and memory). I understand Hazel is probably still upset at Dev and does think that he needs to learn a lesson, but she clearly still cares about him. Enough for her to look sad at the end when he gets poofs away and to thank him for doing the right thing. Not to mention now Dev’s growth at the end for realizing he did wrong will disappear and he can’t reflect on himself now to grow from it. ▪️Speaking of memories. So Hazel decided to let Winn, Jasmine, and her brother Anthony keep their memories of all of this. I won’t lie, I am conflicted on this as while I don’t mind too much of Winn and Jasmine to know about her secret as that allows them to join more adventures and develop from there with Hazel now that they know! But…why Anthony? I can understand Hazel wanting to share her cool fairies with him, but girl you got those fairies in the first place BECAUSE he’s away at college. Even if Anthony currently visiting right now and she can have fun with him, he’s still going back to college sweetie. Heck Anthony might not worry too much of needing to visit a lot because now he knows his sister being taken care of by Cosmo and Wanda(which is good thing, but to Hazel, she might be upset to think Anthony will spend less time with her now that she has fairies to fill his role).

Alright, I definitely got that out of my system. Ultimately despite these problems I have with this finale, I still enjoyed it and this season entirely. And I feel like the writers with what they did with Dev wasn’t to be mean spirited of taking away Peri and his memory. I believe they wanted to show Dev starting to reflect on what he has done and grow with realizing his mess up, which is why he even admits that he does deserve this and Hazel agrees. And despite Hazel not including him in the wish or wishing for him to keep Peri, she does still care about him. She’s glad he did the right thing in the end and she does look sad when Dev gets poofed away after being memory wiped. And honestly….this might be good for both of them in terms of being able to rekindle their friendship. Now that Dev won’t remember the the arguments that happen when he had a fairy, it means that his jealousy toward Hazel having Wanda and Cosmo and knowing that Hazel wished to be friends with him(to which he took personally because it seemed like their friendship was based off of just wanting to get something out of him he feels and it’s fake). The only problem is thanks to the memory wipe, we don’t know exactly how much Dev remembers. Does he only remember his fight with Hazel at Founders Day or their fight during his birthday? If the former, then did he forget Hazel being at his birthday? And if not and it’s the latter, then does Dev still remember project H but without the knowledge of Hazel’s fairies? Is he still upset at her for his father paying attention to her? Does he think they’re still friends??? Really the problem is since we’re in the dark of whether we’re getting a season two and we don’t know these details, we’re stuck unsatisfied since there’s clearly more to explore and explain here. But all we can do for now is just wait and watch the show again on Netflix when it drops while spreading word of the series. We can do this and get that season two for everyone! Seriously Netflix you better listen to Peri and greenlit season two.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Thinking About Ascended!Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav)

A/N: To be clear, this would be an AU from the “canon” stuff I’ve been writing. In my version of events Evie is able to convince Astarion not to ascend. However, this absolutely disaster of a relationship won’t leave my brain. (Also if you’re curious about my thoughts of what would happen if Evie wasn’t able to convince Astarion not to ascended and refuses to help him let me know)

Warning: Heavy angst, isolation, emotional abuse, allusions to attempted suicide

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

It would be a decision made out of fear, not just from Astarion, but Evie as well

Astarion is too afraid to let go of the promise of power and the safety he feels that guarantees not just for him, but for Evie

And Evie in turn doesn’t want to lose him, if she says no he’ll hate her, he’ll leave and she’ll be alone all over again

Of course that means reverting back to her own worse self, the one willing to bend into whatever shape was required of her until she breaks

But she does help him and she does break

Some part of her recognizes the horror of her actions, but she buries it away because surely it’s worth it

Astarion offers to make her his forever and she takes it with both hands because the alternative is to face what she did and accept she just killed the man she loved; so she what she does best, she pretends it’s real

For a while it’s easy, Astarion makes good on his promise and better

He showers in her finery she would have never thought to dream of

No more going to bed hungry or cold

Astarion is always near and when he has to go, is never gone for long

The fact he starts to be the only one she sees hardly seems to matter

His grip on her only tightens

Even as the Ascended, Astarion knows Evie’s boundaries, he wouldn’t dare touch her in any way without her express permission; he’s not Cazador, he’s not a monster, he loves her

The problem is other people

He has enemies now, hundreds, possibly thousands, all of whom know how he adores his treasure

He has all the power in the world, but still there are those idiotic enough to try to get to him through her

And then there’s everybody else, the lords and minions he must associate himself with while he amasses more power

At first it seemed only right to have his treasure at his side, the better to keep an eye on her and make clear what was his

But oh how hands and eyes wander

He can’t blame her, he could never place the blame on her, his treasure is a wonder to behold

But who are they to think they can touch her

There are only so many times he can make good on his promise to pluck the eyes out of anyone who dares violate his love with their lecherous glances before it causes more problems than it solves

Better to keep her in the palace, some place he has full control over, safe and sound

But then again, everybody knows where the palace is, how can he be sure they won’t come pounding down the door and that’s not even taking account the servants

He’s not locking her up in some dungeon; he’s not Cazador

He commissions a tower, the entry to which only he knows

It’s beautiful and ornate, impenetrable and covered in magical seals and protections

The windows provide a beautiful view of the city with magical widows that become black in the daylight

Evie had a little accident a while ago, poor thing forgot to close the curtain before sunrise, she was so rattled, she seemed to hardly notice the burns

Also best to make sure the windows can’t be opened either or broken for that matter; can’t risk her having another accident and falling

She has a way of finding herself on high places; why she would want stand on the edge of the battlements is something he chooses not to indulge in

She’ll be safe there with all the comfort and beauty he can provide her

He’s not Cazador

There’s some part of Evie that can see what’s happening, who can feel herself slipping away, who wants to fight back, who wants to run to her friends and beg for their forgiveness, for their help, anything but it feels too late for that now

She made her bed and now she has to lie in it even if that means enduring the screams of 7,000 souls in her mind every time she closes her eyes, hands just as bloody as his

And then there’s Astarion who somewhere deep inside can only look on in horror, who watches his cruelty and selfishness and recognizes his master in every action

The one who sees his Evie fade into a ghost before his eyes and begs her to run, to leave and never look back because he’s killing her

He’d rip out his own throat if he could

But those are just stray thoughts, easily dismissed as remnants of the nothing he once was

Besides, none of this is forever, he and his treasure have eternity, plenty of time to allow his plans to come to fruition, an endless night where all who lie beneath it bend the knee to him and him alone

Then they’ll be safe, then nothing could touch them, then maybe they’ll be free

[oftenwantedafton]

Secret Smile - College English Professor/Vampire Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female College Student Reader

Chapter 3

Rating - Explicit

Warning for sexual content

Also available on AO3

The vampire hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he likes to drive fast.

The car moves in an absolute blur of speed that makes you think there’s something supernatural at work. A journey that should have taken twenty minutes is completed in less than a quarter of the time. You’re willing to bet that his car had been concealed before he’d pointed out its location to you—as if he’d cloaked it somehow. It seems as if anything is possible.

You arrive at your workplace and Steve—that’s what you’re forced to call him since he hasn’t revealed his real name yet—glances over at you. A little smirk. He’s showing off. As if the mere fact that he’s a vampire is not impressive enough in and of itself.

“Best behavior inside. Tongues will wag and all that. I’m sure you don’t want to be expelled and I’d rather not lose this job position.”

As if you’re going to jump him in front of your coworkers and the customers. As if you cannot control yourself. Even without the paralyzing scent, something about him draws you. Moth to flame. You can’t resist. You’re already thinking about your last kiss. Anticipating the next time he’ll sink his teeth into you. Tomorrow night, maybe. After he’s read your writing. You can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like sitting in the classroom now. Pretending there is nothing going on. You don’t even know what to classify it as.

“You’re not that irresistible,” you mutter, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

The grin widens. “As you say. Shall we go inside?”

There are a fair amount of customers. A short line. Raglan is the tallest in the crowd. You see more than one person spare him a second glance. He eyes the table in the corner and the couple who looks as if they’ve barely touched their dessert and drinks stand to leave.

“Perfect timing. Go snag that table, will you?”

“You don’t even know what I want to order. And you won’t get the employee discount if I’m not here with you.”

“I’ll manage. I’m treating you. What do you want to drink?”

“Um…hazelnut. Medium. Almond milk. Light on the sugar.”

“Done. Go sit down.”

You nod and wave to a few people you recognize as you sit in the chair tucked against the wall. The light above the table flickers. Definitely him doing something.

More customers have filed out. It’s quieter in the coffee shop now. Your professor settles across from you and places your drink in front of you. His own is laden with whipped cream. You can see the row of x’s indicating he’d asked for a drastic amount of sugar.

“Sweet tooth?” You take a sip of your own beverage.

“It’s the only way to make things palatable. An excess of flavor. Extra sugar. Extremely spicy foods. Things of that nature. Otherwise it quite literally tastes like ash.” He sucks on the straw. “Serviceable.”

“Do you still…you know…have to go?” Your cheeks are flushing.

He laughs. “Of course. Where else do you think it would end up? It’s still processed, just without purpose.”

You duck your head and swallow some more coffee. Maybe you should stop asking questions. It’s just so difficult not to. There are so many things you’re curious about. “So what do you do? When you’re not teaching. Or…resting.”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On what I’m in the mood for.” There’s some whipped cream trapped in the corner of his mouth. His tongue darts out to catch it. It’s long. Longer than average. You tell yourself not to stare. The white substance vanishes, dissolved now against the heat. “When you come over, one of these nights, you’ll see some of it.”

When, not if. “I’m coming over?”

“Aren’t you?”

You swallow. “I don’t…I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that.”

“What do you imagine would happen? I’ve already had the opportunity to…well. You know. There would be little point to all of this if that was simply the end goal.”

“What is the end goal?”

He hums in amusement. Your eyes dart around the room. No one is paying any attention. You try to imagine what his house will look like. Wrought iron gates. Gothic turn of the century. Sprawling library. Victorian settee. Heavy drapes covering every window. Crushed velvet beneath your fingers when he kisses you. The watchful flutter of eyes as dawn approaches.

The light above the table flickers again. You blink. The vampire smiles.

“Enough about me. What about you? Which classic authors do you like to read?”

“It’s cliché to say Poe, right? Every angst filled teen favors him. But yes, him.”

“Lovecraft?”

“Yes. Wharton. Brontë.”

“Which?”

“Any. All. Stevenson. Wilde. Hardy.”

“At least some of these are on the required reading list. Who else?”

“Tarkington. Dumas.”

“Why do you resent taking my class so much?”

You stare at him. “I never said…”

“You didn’t need to. It was written all over your face from the moment I walked into the room.”

You run your nail over the edge of your cup. “I don’t like being told what to read. And even worse, how to feel about what I’ve read. Like there’s some universal truth in every tale that everyone has to know. What if it’s not even the truth? What if that isn’t what the writer meant at all?”

Steve takes a long swallow. “Interesting.”

“What is?”

“You. I’m eager to read your work and get everything very, very wrong. You’ll tell me if I interpret things incorrectly, won’t you?”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Not really. It’s refreshing to have someone that’s not an obedient drone like the rest. I like the challenge of it.” He stirs his drink. The whipped topping has completely dissolved. “I may be able to help you find something of value in some of the works, at the very least. And the others, well. They’re more of an expected requirement than I’d like. But that’s simply how the game is played.” Another sip and a frown. “Too much ice. It’s watered down now.”

“I do a better job making them.”

“Do you? I’ll have to take you up on that some time.” He glances at his wristwatch. “I suppose I should be bringing you back. It’s getting late.”

***

You’re returned to your vehicle without incident.

You stand beside it, keys in hand, backpack on shoulder. Steve is still behind the wheel of the Spur. You wish you were still inside with him. Or him outside with you. A kiss goodnight that would taste like coffee. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

It’s impossible to track his car as it departs. A smear of color and it’s vanished. You return to your apartment. Undress for bed and catch sight of the bite marks in the mirror. Think about the promise of tomorrow.

***

Sunday evening. Steve’s waiting for you in the entryway inside the converted Victorian again.

Still cloaked in shadows. You lean against the door now closed at your back.

Silence.

“Did you read it?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“You are wasting your time being undeclared. Pursue the writing instead.”

“It’s that good?” You flush at his praise. You’d expected him to be critical. Harsh. Unforgiving.

“It’s rough still. Restrained. You’re holding back. But the potential is tremendous. I want more.”

Sandalwood. Burnt sugar. Evergreen boughs. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

You know he’s smiling even though it’s too dark to see his features. “It’s not entirely voluntary.”

“I would have thought you’d have perfected it by now. Given you’ve had so many years…”

“Are you calling me old?”

“Maybe.”

He’s in front of you in an instant. Disobeying the laws of physics. Arguing with time. “You’re wearing a dress.”

“Do you like it?” You hadn’t packed a lot of clothes for college outside of utilitarian jeans and tshirts and hoodies. But you had brought a black dress that clings in all the right places. You’re wearing it now.

“Very much.”

“Did you sleep well today?”

“The prey is bold. Yes, I did.” You hear him rest a hand against the wood behind you, feel him leaning towards you. “So fast, soft rabbit. Your heart.” His finger traces a line from your lips down your throat and lets it rest at the hollow there. His lips are so close to your own, each word uttered bathing you in warmth. “This space here. Waiting to be filled. Shallow notch. Gossamer skin.” He groans softly. “I can smell your desire, little mouse. To fill all your hollow spaces. Honeyed cavity. Mouth watering, lips parted…” His thumb shoves against your lips and you let it invade your mouth, sucking, laving, biting the pad. “I will take you apart with my tongue, with my fingers. Sculpt you anew.” The scent is overpowering again. A struck matchbook. Leather. Oolong tea. Decaying roses.

Raglan’s hand vanishes from your mouth, from the door behind you. The air is so much colder without him pressed against you. You’re panting. Warm and wet, even as he’d claimed.

“Do you want to visit the fox’s lair?”

You do.

***

Your English professor’s home is somewhat like you’d imagined it.

Maybe not quite as overtly gothic and moody, but close. The wrought iron fence. The sprawling porch and many gables. A vast library. No fainting couch but the more traditional leather one looks soft and comfortable. Every window shrouded with blackout curtains. A clock in each room. At least one. A necessary reminder, if he should lose track of time, of the approaching enemy daylight.

A baby grand piano is tucked into one corner. You haven’t played in years. You slide back the cover and your fingers touch the keys, toying with a melody you remember from childhood.

“You have experience.”

”Some lessons. Years ago. I didn’t have the discipline to stick with it. I should have.”

The instructor slides onto the narrow padded bench. There is no comparison when his slender fingers move over the keys. They are deft, expert. His head is bowed, his eyes closed. Lost to another time and place you cannot reach. His fingers lift, his eyes open once more. The strings finally cease humming. “Beautiful,” you murmur. You mean the music. You mean him. There’s something in this eternal creature. Beyond the appeal of the dark seduction. Buried deep.

You think there must be another window as you reach the landing after the first flight of stairs. The wall is completely covered. How frightening it must be to have so little to stand between oneself and annihilation. You give voice to the thought out loud.

“It is something you grow accustomed to. You greet the dawn. I wait for the night. A dichotomy of nature that must be obeyed.”

“Have you ever waited too long? Have you…”

“Yes. And the pain is excruciating. It is another lesson one does not soon forget.”

Another flight. You hover at the edge of the doorway to what must be the master bedroom. His room. “Do you ever invite people over?”

The bearded man studies you. “Are you asking if I’ve ever brought a lover into this room?”

You blush. You don’t know why it’s so difficult to ask. “I know it’s none of my business, I just…”

“You’re jealous.”

“A little,” you admit.

“Do you imagine I’m some Casanova wooing helpless women? A continuous stream of bodies for my pleasure? No. Nothing like that. I am very, very particular about whom I bring into my home. Into my bed.” He steps inside the room, holding out a hand to you. “Are you coming in?”

Your accept his outstretched fingers and he draws you against him. A little smirk. The glasses slip down his nose as his face tips to regard you. He sighs impatiently and tugs them free, placing them on the nightstand before switching on the lamp there, adding to the faint illumination from the hallway, the bedroom door still ajar. The only light the vampire is allowed. Artificial. Imitation. You think it’s more for your benefit than his.

The bed has four posts. Canopied. An extra layer of protection against the sunlight. He sits on the edge of the mattress. Unlaces his shoes. Lies back atop the covers and waits for you to join him.

You step out of your heels. Tuck yourself against his body. His fingers stroke your hair. You line your hand up with his unoccupied one. So small against his. Rough fingertips. You wonder what he’s done for work previously.

You sit up so you can see his face. He looks different without the glasses. You touch his cheek. “Do you still have to shave?” Trim your hair?”

“No. Everything is as it was when I…transformed. A moment forever fixed in time.” He traps your hand. Pale eyes going dark. There are crickets outside. You only realize it when their song ceases. Breath held, anticipating. You bend to kiss his mouth. A gentle brush stroke. Moth’s wings. His fingers weave through your hair and he pulls your mouth firmly against his. Your stomach flutters when his tongue parts your lips. You’ve thought of this all day. Dreamt of this all night. How addicted you already are to this forbidden world of his.

Steve pushes you down beneath him. His kisses wander. Your jaw. Your throat. You think for a moment he might…but no. He continues. Kisses the suprasternal notch he’d been remarking over earlier. Fingers gathering the hem of your dress. You bend your leg, letting him slide beneath, along thigh high nylons. You gasp and arch when he makes contact with the space between your thighs. You’re wearing black lace, the patterns of roses etched in thin threads. His fingers deftly dip beneath the barrier and he’s there, at your sex.

“Oh, little one, so wet for me.” He spreads your arousal through your lips and trails up to your clit. You whimper. Your thighs tremble as he traces small circles over that sensitive spot.

He pauses only long enough to change positions, tugging your panties free. One hand rests against your mound. His bearded face between your thighs. He turns to kiss the inside of your leg. Slight scratch of facial hair. Back to center. He’s watching you. Your neck slightly craning to see him. His mouth presses to your pussy.

Your head immediately rocks back, sinking into the pillows. Tiny strokes along your nub. Sucking softly, but you can feel the points of his cuspids. Drawing lines from your entrance, through the folds, back up to your hardening button. Tongue curled. Collecting your slick. Letting it drip over you. His saliva thick in the mix. Long tongue spearing you, curling again inside. Soft moans. He’s enjoying you. You’re watching him again. Your fingers in his graying hair.

A finger slips inside you and you whine your approval, grinding against his hand, mashing his face into your cunt. His lips are so ravenous, forever kissing, lingering in all the little nearby spaces: the unfolded line of your groin, the top of your mound, between your outer labia and your thigh. He sucks your tender raised tissue into his mouth, grinning around it, watching your reaction, stabbing another finger inside of your canal.

The scent is back. Rusted metal. Freshly tilled soil. Petrol. Your head digs into the pillows, your fingers drive into his scalp. He hums and your body finds the frequency and releases. You writhe and spasm until you feel his teeth sinking into the flesh of your inner thigh and you erupt a second time.

The minutes pass. The fragrance fades. His mouth is back on yours. You taste yourself, your fluids and your blood mingling together. His beard is saturated with it. His breathing sounds labored. Your hands work on freeing him from his briefs. A gasp when you realize how much he has between his legs. He’ll destroy you with it, when the time comes.

Steve moans against your throat. He laps at the scars from his previous bites. They burn and itch. Ache and throb. You continue stroking.

“You taste so good, my little wonder, if you only knew, the piquant novelty…like drinking rapture…so hard to stop, when your pulse is at my lips…consume, devour…shatter me to pieces…burn me like the sun, I can’t look away…just like that, just like that, I’m going to…”

His cock pulses against your fingers and you feel his seed flooding over them. His breath shudders, his body sinking down beside yours.

The crickets begin their song again.

[seeingivy]

award show etiquette

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: light mentions of paparazzi/stalking, SMAU!!!! hehehehe, some fun cameos (HEHEHEHE), eren being a jealous little baby, eren and y/n being so corny

an: enjoy :DDD (for some regular readers, play close attention to usernames)

previous part linked here

--

Things change in the next six months. You turn sixteen. Falco and Colt buy you a shiny acoustic guitar as a gift for you to start writing songs like you’ve always wanted. The guitar is nice, but the writing doesn’t go so well. You don’t land any new acting roles for your hiatus, but everyone else does. 

All in all, some parts of your dreams feel real, like you’re standing at the doorstep of everything that you ever wanted. But the setbacks are so debilitating sometimes it feels like you’re wasting your efforts. Plus, your dreams come with their own set of nightmares too. 

Attack on Titan truly does trend overnight - really gaining traction around the fifth episode. Whenever episodes air, almost everyone is on social media talking about it - live tweeting the scenes, commenting on how phenomenal the storyline, the acting, the costumes were, trying to guess what happens next. It was almost like a trend, becoming bigger and bigger by everyone talking about it, pointing out all the little details woven into the story, following the press junkets.

The reception of the show feels like a victory. Levi, Erwin, and Hange get praised on the daily and people fall in love with the cast fast. Despite receiving a horrendous first impression score from The Elms, they officially take away their initial criticisms and give a glowing recommendation of you after the airing of the third episode - going as far as calling you the cast member to watch out for. 

The show gets renewed for three more seasons by the eighth episode and suddenly you’re getting offers for things you have no idea about. You need a publicist, a makeup team, a personal designer, someone to control your social media presence and a manager for your next moves. Even though you're not even at that level.

It’s…taxing. You’re not really sure what you want to do next. You’re only sixteen - there’s only so much childhood left that you can cherish. But they all insist that this traction won’t come back and that you can’t fall off. There’s pressure to deliver, to keep the momentum going. 

You don’t mean to sound ungrateful. This is what you wanted, but it's far off from what you expected. Evey beyond the entire thing being stressful, it changes even the tiniest, miniscule details of your life - one’s you never even recognized as important before.

Because when you go back to school, you’re not sure what’s going on. Your usual friends treat you weirdly, people who had no idea you existed are going on about how you guys have always been great friends, no one talks to you unless it’s Attack on Titan related. And it’s not that you don’t love talking about it, because you do, but it feels weird to share and bring to your tiny little unimportant high school. 

You feel like a shiny, plastic toy, something people ogle in the hallways, but never touch or come near for posterity's sake. 

And when you leave school, there’s a flood of paparazzi waiting for you right outside, snapping pictures of you, Colt, and Falco as you wait on the block. And they follow you all the way home, taking a seat outside your house. You think it’s stalking. And surprisingly enough, the law doesn’t see it that way. 

Meaning you have to put up with the fact that they’re waiting for you every morning, following your moves like little vultures. And you’re not sure what’s so interesting about you checking your mail, but you’re advised against it, and suddenly you can’t. 

You can’t go to the park. Or the grocery store. Or even into your own backyard because in all senses of the word, they are kind of relentless. 

It feels harsh to say, but you feel like a prisoner. Like you’re watching life move on outside of you - kids biking down the pavement, Colt walking to the store, your neighbors mowing the lawn - and you never realized what a luxury mundane things like this were.

To be unknown, a face in a sea of people rather than a deer stuck in headlights, frozen where you are. Because the people you knew don’t see you the same way, and really, you’re not a stranger to anyone anymore. 

It sucks. It’s amazing. You hate it. You love it. The highs and the lows fluctuate so fast that sometimes you feel like you’re a crazy person - teetering from one place to another. Everyone loves your acting, but no one wants to sit with you at school during lunch. The paparazzi stay outside your house almost all day, everyday but you got invited to announce an award at the Savants Show. 

In some way, your feelings feel inherently wrong. Because this is some people’s dream, and it used to be yours too, but really you just want to go to the grocery store with your little brother and buy snacks. You want to talk to your friends at recess, not get asked random questions while you’re shoved into your car. 

Marco visits around the four month mark, after you confide in him that it hasn’t been the greatest. He spends a whole week with your family - teaching Falco how to play Go, Colt teaches him how to do card tricks, and the two of you spend all night talking about anything and everything. And you love him for it. Because really, you’re not the only one going through this. Sure, they were primed for this since they were little, but it’s nice to have someone who understands you by your side. 

And Eren calls you every single night, to the point where you’re both falling asleep on the phone together, his soft breathing lulling you to sleep every night. Some part of you feels guilty confiding in him, since he is on the set of a really big movie he’s filming right now, but he always assuages any guilt you have with his words.

“How was your day, Y/N?” he asks, nestled into a gray hoodie, the smallest tufts of his brown hair peeking out of the hood. 

He’s leaning against his headboard, his forearm resting against his head and his eyes shut closed. Because he’s six hours ahead of you, in Switzerland. And it’s the middle of the night. 

“Is your roommate there?” 

He laughs, his dimples appearing in the glow of the computer light. 

“He’s really mad at us about last night. He told me we need to stop giggling so late so he can get some “beauty sleep” or whatever.” 

“I don’t giggle. He must hate me.” 

“Oh, for sure. But Ry hates everyone.” 

“Rude.”

“I asked a question. How was your day, Y/N?” 

“Ah. It was okay, Eren. Same old.” 

His eyes flutter open and he leans forward, the concern washing over his eyes. And you hate when he does this, because really, it’s worse to have Eren pity you more than anything. 

“Y/N.” 

“Hm?” 

“Six days.” 

You smile, brushing down the ends of your hair. Right. Six days till you and Eren are together again. 

“Yeah. It feels like time passed by really fast.” 

“What are you talking about? It feels like an eternity since I’ve seen you. I’m not even sure what you look like anymore.” 

“Bullshit. You literally FaceTime me every single day, Eren.” 

“Still. It’ll be nice. To see you in person, to not have the Wifi lag because Coco is trying to play Roblox.” 

“He got banned the other day.” 

“For what?” 

“He censored a curse word, but still got banned because it picked it up.” 

“Rookie mistake, Falco. He can have my account if it’s that serious.” 

You both laugh, falling into a comfortable silence, as you stare at each other on the screen. The white light of the screen is doing little to illuminate Eren’s face in the dark room he’s sitting in and really, you can only make out the harsh figures on his face.

The bridge of his nose, the shape of his eyebrows, only one dimple, and his lips. And when he leans back, placing the phone on the side, as he nestles into his pillow, you put Eren to the side, typing away on your computer. When you glance over in a few minutes, he’s fast asleep, only the sounds of his breathing coming out of the phone. 

Six days.  

- 

As far as red carpets go, this has to be a memorable first. You arrive there at six o’clock, which is when the red carpet starts. Meaning the rest of the cast is already out there, getting pictures taken, doing interviews while your cab driver is Tokyo Drifting you through the streets of New York City.

The second you arrive, Mikasa’s styling team throws you into a frenzy. You’re attired into a long, flowing green dress, because the original outfit that you had picked out got lost in the airport debacle. 

Right. You would have been there on time if the universe was actually on your side for once. You were supposed to fly in on Thursday, with the rest of the Attack on Titan cast. You were all going to be staying together in a house near the awards show, so that you guys could get started on table reads this weekend before you start filming again next month. 

Except, your flight got delayed and you didn’t make it in time. And they accidentally lost your luggage in the time in between canceling your flight and scheduling you a new one. Which leaves you in your current dilemma, of walking onto the carpet an hour late. 

Somewhere in the middle of the carpet, a very antsy and anxious Eren Jaeger is doing press interviews. He’s styled in all black and a green tie, meant by his styling team to compliment the color of his eyes. He doesn’t get that entire thing, but does it anyway. 

“Do you have any news you can tell us about the next season of Attack on Titan?” 

Before Eren can respond, he feels a hand clamped over his mouth, Ymir standing behind him with a stern expression on her face. 

“Do not answer that, Eren.” grumbles Ymir, the interviewer laughing at the two of you. 

Eren rolls his eyes as he and Ymir stand side by side, the two of them answering questions from the interviewer. 

“Are you guys really friends outside of the set?” 

“No. Eren Jaeger is insufferable.” responds Ymir, Eren reaching over to smack her cheek as they both laugh. 

“Yes, we’re all really good friends. Some of us more than oth-” 

Ymir’s response is cut off by a loud sound of cheering, all of the photographers on that side of the carpet rushing to the front. And when he leans over the crowd of people to see you at the center, with all these cameras flashing at you, he can feel his heart thumping in his chest and an almost inevitable smile spreading across his face. 

It’s you. It’s really you - in real life and not on a shitty wifi phone screen but only ten feet away from him, looking like the sun. 

The entire thing is overstimulating. There’s almost a dozen camera’s flashing, all at one time. You’re trying your best to smile but all you can hear is clicking, twenty different people saying your name trying to get your attention, and your cheeks burning from keeping your smile in th3 same position as you flick your eyes around. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see it. The tufts of brown hair you have committed to memory. You look to your right to find Eren and Ymir smiling at you, the two of them giving you waves. And you turn back to the crowd, whisper a polite sorry, and run right into Ymir’s arms first. 

“Ymir, I missed you so much.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’d miss me too.” 

You pull back, every unpleasant feeling in your chest accumulating for the past six months lessening at the warmth of someone so familiar, someone you love so much gleaming at you in your arms. Ymir rolls her eyes and pinches your cheek as she walks away, leaving you and Eren standing on the carpet. 

You can feel yourself smiling really big and you try your best to will it down, but the pure anticipation and adrenaline of the event, and Eren Jaeger, really standing in the flesh in front of you, stops any efforts you may have. 

“Hi Eren.” you whisper. 

“Hi Y/N.” he whispers back. 

You lean forward and lock your hands around his neck, to which he crushes you in his hold, the two of you giggling in each other's ears as you hug each other, cheeks slightly flushed. And for the rest of the carpet, you and Eren link arms, taking turns answering the interviewers questions and taking pictures together. 

“Do you guys like each other?” 

“I mean, I sure hope Eren likes me. We are best friends and all.” you respond. 

Eren reaches forward, smacking his palm against your forehead. 

“Shut up. You know I like you.” 

You and Eren feel a sudden weight on your shoulders, and in true menace form, Connie Springer is leaning against both of your frames. He leans forward into the microphone, grinning at the interviewer as he starts talking. 

“Oh, they like each other all right. They have all these little things they do on set that none of us are allowed to do with them. Like oh, you can’t eat ramen with Y/N that’s our thing. Or oh, you can’t get slushies with Eren, we’ve been doing that since we got here.” 

You lean forward and flick Connie on the forehead, as Eren rolls his eyes. 

“Are you jealous, Connie?” you ask. 

“No. I just want some of that bitch ass ramen you guys are always making.” 

Erwin and Levi walk up, the two of them pinching Connie’s cheek as he whines. 

“Language, Springer.” Levi mutters. 

He drops Connie’s ear and places his hand in your hair, giving you a warm smile. Erwin gives you a hearty hug before the two of them walk away, meeting Hange at the end of the carpet. 

You turn back to the interviewer, you and Eren answering final questions before walking away all together. The second you get away from her, Connie’s leaning down, crushing you in a hug and lifting you into the air. 

“I missed you yesterday.” Connie mutters, his breath tickling your ears. 

“I know, I was so sad to miss it. I really missed you guys too.”  You’re not entirely sure why - but Connie, Ymir, Eren, these comforting people after six months of hellscape are enough for the air to get tangled in your throat and the warm tears to start welling in your eyes. 

Connie swings his arm around Eren as he talks, smirking at the two of you. 

“Some of us missed you more than others.” Connie grins, poking Eren’s cheeks. 

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

“Eren pouted all day. Looked nearly depressed when he had to eat that measly ramen bowl by himself. Stared at pictures of you on his phone.” 

“I DIDN’T LOOK AT PICTURES OF HER ON MY PHONE.” Eren responds, now yanking Connie by the ear. 

Connie rolls his eyes as he runs off, leaving you and Eren to walk the last part of the red carpet together. 

Right before you make it into the venue, you feel a tugging on your dress, to be met with two kids who must be a few years younger than you, matching smiles on their faces. You and Eren crouch down, taking in their outfits

They’re dressed as you and Eren, from the show. With perfect green capes and a red scarf. Why are they watching your show? Seems a bit gory for their age. 

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” you say, holding out your hand. 

They both excitedly shake, stumbling over their words as they start talking. 

“Hi. I-I love you so much. You-you’re both so cool and we just-we love you so much we-” the girl starts. 

“We made-made you a gift.” the boy continues. 

Eren leans forward, holding his hand out, as he gives the two of them a warm smile. 

“You guys are too kind. Y/N and I really appreciate it, truly.” 

They place two friendship bracelets in your hands, which you and Eren immediately slide onto your hands. You and Eren take the time to give each of them a hug, making sure their parents are able to snap pictures, before you head back inside. 

When you’re inside the safe confines of the theater, you look down at the bracelets. Yours is green and Eren’s is pink. The beads in the middle of yours say “attack on eren” and the beads in the middle of Eren’s say “attack on y/n” - like your matching tag names on Twitter. 

“Hey. They accidentally switched them when they gave it to us. My bracelet says your name.” you say. 

“There’s no way they would give us the wrong ones.” 

“They could have gotten nervous. Why would I wear a bracelet with your name on it when you-” 

“I’m keeping this one.” he says, with a tone so definitive you don’t even want to respond. 

You and Eren hold your wrists out to admire them, the soft beads standing out against your fancy clothes. It’s simple. You love it. 

You reach down and tangle one of your hands with Eren’s. He squeezes three times. You squeeze back. 

And for the first time in six months, you feel at ease. 

- 

“Wait so, explain this to me one more time.” you ask, being met with eleven prepared faces staring back at you. 

“These are the Savant TV show awards. There are other ones for things like movies, music, and plays. Any show that is part of this cycle has to send names in to nominate for each award. Five are selected in each category and then a select group of people in the industry, we call them the Institute, usually vote on winners.” starts Bertholdt. 

“Okay. That makes sense. Is that how they pick triple threats too?” 

Eren’s hand is still locked in yours, hidden under the pleats of your dress. He squeezes three times at the mention of a triple threat and you get the message.

You got this.

“Well, triple threats are different. They’re kind of variable and get announced randomly. Some years you can have a lot of triple threats and some years none. But when they get picked, they announce the three pieces that made them a triple threat. Then they have to do this long and personal interview where they discuss their time in the industry - good, bad, all of it - and at whatever award show is next, they pick one of the three - singing, dancing, or acting - and perform a piece at the end of the show.” explains Annie, fidgeting with the ends of her perfectly curled hair. 

“Do we have any triple threats today?” you ask. 

“No. But besides triple threat performances, there’s also other performers and an ensemble showcase. Have you ever seen one?” asks Armin, leaning forward to pull Annie’s hands down from ruining her hair. 

“No. What’s that?” 

“Basically, each year the Savants pick a show to perform for an ensemble showcase. It’s the cast of the entire show, or just a select portion of it, and they usually perform a dance or sing a song related to the show. This year, it’s the cast of Blue Lock, the soccer show?” responds Armin.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” 

“They’re performing that song Get Your Head in the Game from that movie High School Musical? They’re all going to do a bunch of soccer tricks on stage while they sing the song is what I’ve heard. People usually relate it to the show they’re in some type of way.” says Armin

Before the rest of them can explain more, the lights dim and you focus your head to the front, the show starting. You don’t really recognize the hosts or anyone in the room - which to you is a sign that you really should start paying attention - and you try to focus on what they’re saying. 

They’re cracking jokes about different people in the industry, which Eren explains to you in your ear as they talk. What the jokes mean, who they’re talking about, what shows they’re from. They even crack a joke about you and Eren. 

“The cast of Attack on Titan is here tonight.” 

The statement is met with an array of cheers in the room, and in true Connie and Reiner fashion, they’re both standing up for no reason, bowing to the crowd. That just garners them both a cascading sound of laughter from the audience, which only gets louder when Erwin yanks Connie and Reiner down by the ear. 

“Getting to watch the story unfold, all the twists and turns - it’s almost impossible not to pay attention to such a thrilling story. I’m sure we can’t say the same for our hosting skills, because our sweet leads Y/N and Eren have been whispering in each other's ears the entire time instead of listening to us.” 

The light flashes in yours and Eren’s faces, the two of you with widened expressions as you laugh at everyone staring you down. And when Eren says, sorry what did you say? with a confused tone in his voice, the entire audience laughs and then they move on. 

Somewhere around a third of the way into the show, the usher comes to the seats, whispering in your ear that it’s time for you to come backstage. 

Right. You’re supposed to be presenting an award with another actor. And you totally forgot. 

You turn to your right to look at Eren and before you can even express the panic, he’s already settling you down. Eren Jaeger, mind reader. 

“You’ll be fine. You just have to stand there and present the award. He’s really weird but he’s nice most of the time.” 

"What? I can’t do this, Eren. They’re all going to be staring at me and I don’t even-” 

Mikasa and Bertholdt’s hands are on your shoulder, squeezing twice as the usher leads you along. You turn back to look at Eren, and he gives you a warm smile as you try to focus on the task at hand. 

When you get backstage, everyone is in a frenzy. There are so many different crew members running around - microphones in their ears, sound-checking mics, making sure that the video on the screen stops playing on time. It reminds you of the chaos on set that you like to watch, except this is entirely more nerve-wracking because of the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. 

You tap on the guy closest to you, a boy that can’t be much older than you with pink hair. 

“Hi. I’m supposed to present the award next, do you have any idea who I’m supposed to be presenting with?” 

“Ah. That would be Ryomen Sukuna.” 

“Oh. I’ve never heard of him.” 

He frowns, squinting his eyes at you as you lean forward. You take a second to take him in more closely, his perfectly fitted suit with a black tie. You’re not sure why, but you swear you know him from somewhere. 

“You’ve never heard of him? Ever?” 

You shake your head as he starts laughing, the grin on his face so wide. And before you can ask what’s so funny, they’re pushing you onto stage, the bright lights shining in your face. You scan the crowd for Eren, who mouths it’s okay before you and him start. 

You clear your throat as you turn to the guy, who you now realize is the same pink-haired guy from backstage. 

“Wait. What are you doing here?” 

He laughs - and the entire audience does too - as he turns to you, a devious grin in his eyes. He holds his hand out, which you return, as he introduces himself. 

“Hi Y/N. I’m Ryomen Sukuna.” 

You feel your eyes widen as he lifts your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he continues. You can feel your mind running in circles as you clutch the envelope in your hand, zoning back in to pay attention to him. 

“You know, you and Eren spend all night giggling, talking about god knows what. Of course, this asshole never mentions me.” 

And then you remember. Pink hair, Ry. Ryomen Sukuna. He’s Eren’s roommate, from the movie he was just filming. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I remember now, you’re Eren’s roommate and-” 

“You’re standing here with me and you’re talking about Eren?” 

“Ah, I-” 

“You keep me up all night by calling Eren and you don’t even know my name. And then I'm trying to have a moment with you and you're talking about another guy?” 

He's doing a bit. Right. Because from what you could tell, almost everyone who presents an award does one. Maybe this is just his. 

“I'm sorry?” 

The entire audience laughs at your words and Sukuna rolls his eyes, saying something about how hard it is to impress girls these days, as he hands you a lollipop. 

“What’s this for?” 

“The people sitting in the front row, Y/N. It’s obviously for you.” he deadpans. 

“Oh, okay that’s kind of weird. Thanks!” 

The audience laughs as you unwrap the lollipop, handing the envelope to Sukuna so you can do it properly.

“It’s about that time. Ready to read the name, Y/N?” 

You nod as you take the lollipop out of your mouth, handing it to Sukuna and you focus on ripping the golden tape on the envelope. Except as you’re opening it, the entire crowd starts laughing and you’re not entirely sure why. 

“Am I that bad at opening this or something?” 

They laugh even more, which makes you turn to Sukuna for reassurance, which is when you see it. Sukuna just put your lollipop in his mouth. Like, the lollipop with your saliva all over it in his mouth. 

“Hey! I was eating that.” 

He pops it out of his mouth and holds it in between you, smirking at you. 

“Want it back, sweetheart?” 

You take it from his hands and shove it back into his mouth - which at this point, the audience is literally screaming at the two of you - as you open up the envelope. And when you read the name and hand the award over, you and Sukuna exit the stage, bickering as you get off. 

“You’re such a weirdo freak. I did want to eat that lollipop.” 

“Then eat it. There’s still some left, sweetheart,” he says, a joking tone present in his voice. 

“You’re so gross. That’s like literally sharing saliva.” 

“We can do that in other ways too if you want.” 

“Ew. Are you always like this?” 

You both laugh as you exit the stage, back into the panic behind the curtains. As people move around you and him, taking mic boxes off, you turn to him. 

“Okay, okay. Let’s start over. I’m Y/N L/N. No more sassing me because I forgot you name.” 

He gives you a glimmering smile, holding his hand out. 

“Okay, okay. Ryomen Sukuna. Call him in the middle of the night and I will do this again.” 

As you both continue talking, a group of people join him at his side, clearly his friends. Another boy with pink hair, who looks literally identical to him, a shorter boy with black spiky hair, and two girls - one with green hair and one with brown. 

They’re all yanking Sukuna by the ears, telling him that he - as always - is doing too much. 

The boy with pink hair turns to you, the look on his face apologetic. 

“He’s always like this. Menacing. We sincerely apologize.” 

You smile, holding your hand out to him as he repeats his name and the rest of them follow suit.. Itadori Yuuji. Megumi Fushiguro. Nobara Kugisaki and Maki Zenin. 

“We’re the cast of Jujutsu Kaisen.” responds Nobara, as she flicks Sukuna on the forehead. 

“Ah. I’m one of the cast members of-”

“Attack on Titan.” they all respond in unison, smiling at you. 

After a few minutes, you’re joined by a group of your own friends - Ymir, Reiner, Marco, and Eren - as well as Levi and a taller man with white hair. 

Marco and Ymir give you warm smiles and squeezes on the shoulder as they congratulate you for doing a good job, saying that the reception was really funny and that you and Sukuna are trending on Twitter. Eren's uncharacteristically silent, brooding in the corner. Before you can mention it, Sukuna beats you to it. 

“Eren. Do you need to take a shit?” says Sukuna, leaning forward to smile at him. 

“What?” Eren responds. 

“You look agitated as fuck. Like you have to take a shit.” 

Ymir and Reiner laugh, poking Eren’s cheeks and teasing him, as you move to the side, paying attention to Levi’s conversation. 

“All they do is cuss. I need to start actually punishing them or they’re going to end up cursing like sailors in a few years.” 

“Tell me about it, Satoru. Jean is actually horrible, I will genuinely wash his mouth out with soap the next time he says fuck near me.” 

Satoru. Satoru Gojo. You may not know many celebrities, but you sure know this one. 

He’s a triple threat. 

“When I got cast on a show with a bunch of kids, I didn’t realize I was going to become a father.” sighs Satoru, grinning at the group of them as he talks. 

“You’re not our father.” the group of them respond, breaking from their own conversations to shoot him down. 

Levi laughs as he looks down at you, placing a hand in your hair as you join their conversation. Satoru crouches down to your height, smiling at you as he talks. 

“Good job. That was real funny, kid.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

“Are you as rude to Levi as my kids are to me?” Satoru asks. 

“We’re not your kids.” respond Megumi and Nobara, breaking from their conversation again. 

“He does kind of remind me of my dad! He always gives good advice on set and helps me and-” 

Levi crouches down, glaring at you. 

“I’m not your dad.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

Marco and Reiner walk over, holding onto Levi’s arms as they respond. 

“Yes, you are.” 

You all turn your heads to Satoru, who is now pouting. 

“They cast the wrong kids in my show. Mine are so ungrateful,” he says, leaning down to pinch Megumi’s ear, which he just returns by literally smacking Satoru off. 

You all laugh as you get directed back into your seats, as it’s time to present the next award. You wave them all goodbyes as you start walking in line with Eren, who you now realize you hadn’t talked to the entire time. His jaw is locked, an implacable look in his face. You reach down and tangle your hand with his, to which he finally looks over at you. 

“Hey. Was it okay?” 

He stops in his tracks, letting Ymir, Marco, and Reiner walk forward, as you stand in the outskirts of the curtain. 

“It was good, Y/N. Really good.” he sighs. 

“So why are you upset?” 

He frowns as he looks over at you, his mouth in a straight line. 

“It’s stupid.” 

“No it’s not, Eren. Just tell me!” 

“Imannoyedhekissedyourhand” he murmurs quickly, under his breath. 

“Sorry, what was that? It’s kind of loud in here.” 

“igotjealousseeingyouguysupthere.” he murmurs again, his cheeks turning red. 

You lean completely into his space, looking straight into his green eyes. 

“Sorry, Eren. One more time, yeah?” 

“I’m annoyed he kissed your hand! It made me jealous because that should have been me and not him and he’s just doing that because I-” 

Before he can finish, you start laughing, which stops Eren in his tracks and now he’s glaring at you. 

“Quit making fun of me, Y/N.”

“I’m not! It’s just so cute, Eren. You’re so-” 

“I’m glad you find my personal torture cute, Y/N.” 

“Personal torture? Did you get more dramatic from the last time I saw you?” 

“Imagine being me. I just watched an idiot, a real life blathering idiot like Sukuna, kiss your hand before I got to do it. And I was sitting next to Connie too. That’s so annoying and now everyone is going to make fun of me and-” 

And now you get it. He’s…jealous. Of Sukuna. From what Itadori and Maki told you, Sukuna’s kind of infamous for being a cheeky little shit, going about things as he pleases. And Eren’s feeling possessive because you’re best friends. Connie being a little bitch probably didn’t help matters either. 

You’re not sure where you garner up this uncharacteristic courage or boldness from, but you hold out your left hand to Eren.

“What? Trying to rub it in my face now? You’re worse than Ymir.” 

“No, no. Sukuna kissed my right hand. But he didn’t kiss my left, so you can just do it now.” 

You watch his eyes widen and his face turn positively red as he starts blabbering, awkwardly pushing his hands through his hair and teetering on his heels.

“Huh? What? You can’t just- you’re just saying that. This is weird. You’re-you? What? I can’t like- oh my god. What the-” 

You place one of your hands on his shoulder as you look at him, trying to muster the sweetest smile you can. 

“Eren. Please?” 

The ask makes him give in and he shakily places his hand in yours, lifting your knuckles against his mouth as he places a soft kiss in between your second and third knuckle. And when you smile at him again, positively gleaming, Eren curses your existence. He hates you for making him feel like this. 

“Screw you, Y/N.” 

“What? What happened now?” 

"You. You’re annoying.” 

You roll your eyes as you and Eren walk back to your seats, hands locked together and already met with a barrage of insults from Sasha and Annie. They’re pinching Eren’s cheeks, mimicking Sukuna taking your lollipop, the rest of them all teasing him. 

But when you look over and smile at Eren, which he returns, you both focus your heads back on the show, the speakers talking. And when Eren drives away at the end of the night, you hold onto the feeling. 

Just one more month until you’re back together. All of you, for real.

--

next chapter linked here

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[lilyoffandoms]

[Okay I got a few asks overnight and one of them I won’t be answering because it will be blocked. Another two I’ll be answering by not publishing the (complete) ask because there are parts of it that have nothing to do with me so I can’t answer for them.]

So for one of the asks I’ll answer without publishing the ask:

i’ve seen plenty of artist that draw in a similar style so how do you know the art is ai?

Okay, so like I’ve said before, I fully admit it’s getting harder to tell as AI code gets better and the machine “learns” but there are still usually quite obvious tells, if you know what to look for.

It used to be hands were the easiest way to tell. Take for example this Bloodbound Origin cover.

First off the Kamilah is a white woman and doesn’t even look like the character. But notice Lily’s hand. Now I recognize hands are hard to draw (and I fully admit I often can’t draw a hand to save my life) but even I know that’s not a hand. It’s a club with a talon on it. Given the rest of the hands in the cover, it seems likely PB missed this when approving the cover.

Then there is Kamilah’s necklace that hangs perfectly on half a chain. Anyone that’s put a necklace on before (and even those that haven’t) know that’s not how necklaces work.

Often hands and jewelry are the most obvious ways to spot AI-generation but companies like PB are most likely beginning to use AI to finish the covers and using real artists to sketch them (but more on that later). So it is becoming harder to just rely on the hands and jewelry.

So we need to look at the other details. Let’s use The Deadliest Gambit cover for this.

Again it’s the details. Look at the characters jacket sleeves. Ignoring the weirdly swirled buttons (which is another characteristic of AI-generation). One sleeve has five buttons and the other only has two. Now I miss details occasionally in my art but I usually spot them and fix them, and, details like this I tend not to miss. And I wouldn’t expect a company like PB to be okay with paying for art and having mistakes like this on their promotional material. But if it’s free… what do they care for the mistakes? They aren’t paying for it.

Then there is the matter of the deck of cards. Don’t know about you but I’ve never seen cards sit like that. And clearly the card company had a misprint since there is only a suit and card indicator in one corner.

So hands, jewelry, details. What about when it gets trickier you ask and there doesn’t seem to be an issue with those things? Let’s take The Deadliest Game cover.

Ignoring the fact that there is not an MC that looks like that and over half the characters look nothing like their in-game counterparts, look at the hair. The one on the left has a weird swoop back of the hair that doesn’t feel natural to the rest of the hair. Then there is the weird swirling and blending that happens in the hair as well.

And always, when in doubt, look close at the details. I cannot stress this enough!! It’s all in the details. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shirt that has buttons on two sides. And the poor boy bought a jacket with the buttons on the inside.

Now this brings us to my point earlier about companies using AI to generate content based on artists work so they can better sell their “good work” of hiring real human beings to create for their content. It seems to me that this is exactly what PB did with the cover of Hot Shot (if the sketch isn’t AI generated as well but that’s a whole other discussion).

We have the sketch which looks good. I can’t spot anything that screams AI-generated to me. And notice the MC has legs that peek through the gap between the LIs hip and hand? See it? Real human artists are good at providing the character with all the limbs necessary to make the character them.

But AI really sucks at those “details” like legs.

No matter how I try and sketch this out I can’t give the MC legs that are hidden behind the LI without contorting the MC into weird positions and proportions.

So anon, that is AI for you no matter how much @playchoices cries about their commitment to using real human artists and not utilizing AI-generation in their content. I don’t know about you but I’m not that blind!

Anon, as for the rest of the ask, I don’t publish asks that name others. If you have questions for them you need to go to them. I’m not them nor can I answer for them.