#the thumbnail is way to dramatic

[martian-garden]

Ngl I have Thumbnail Fatigue.

I am so so so sick of seeing every thumbnail for a video strain to be the most eye catching, chaotic, overdramatic thing on earth. I don't trust any of it. I'm tired of the stretching the truth. Can you please just title and thumb your video in a way that actually matches the intensity you're planning. I'm tired of everything being an ad.

[whatsagirltoblogabout]

just found out that a certain scene from a certain show affected me so much that I can recognize it from a single shot. the framing and whatnot is seared into my memory apparently, enough that I have an involuntary response to seeing it again. love that for me.

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Not so Fake

Masterlist

Tim stationed himself in the third sitting room in the Manor. It was the closest to the kitchen, and furthest from the bedrooms and entrance of the manor. In other words, the perfect hiding spot from his overactive family that have united to try and make Tim rest. The only member that would find him right away would be Alfred, who already left him a cup of tea with a few of his cookies along with one of his laptops.

A note left on top stating that Alfred expected him to actually relax, and spotting the stickers Tim could tell this was his personal laptop. Taking Alfred seriously, Tim booted up YouTube and decided to watch his new favorite, GalacticPhantom, or Danny. He had found the channel a few months ago when one of his search engines caught a mention of Tim Drake and Red Robin being the same person.

The video in question had started off with a very well made video of the camera zooming down from a space view of the Earth to Danny’s home town, through his window and coming to a screeching halt in front of Danny and his friend Wes. The opening was highly impressive to Tim and the twenty-five minute video that followed had Tim wanting to pull his hair out.

Everything Wes said was true, completely true.

Tim was absolutely stunned and terrified because the other teen had managed to fully pull together who Red Robin was without even being in Gotham. The only thing that stopped Tim from calling a meeting about it, was that no one in the comments believed him. Instead Wes was mocked with the tried and true, ‘what do the butts match?’. He ended up watching every video under the playlist, ‘Wes the Detective’ and every single video hit right on the money but absolutely no one believed him. 

Well, no one but his friends it seemed. Tim had a couple theories about it and if it wasn’t for the fact that Wes has his identity clock he’d be staking out the town now. So he chose to stick to the theory that Wes was incredibly smart, but cursed in some way.

However today Danny had posted a new video and Tim could barely wait to watch it. The title was called ‘This thing wont leave me alone.’ and the thumbnail showed a screaming Danny holding a broom with a humanism but clearly not human girl spiderman to his ceiling seemingly hissing at him.

Tim grinned as he pressed play and settled back into the couch to watch. As the intro came to an end it found Danny in the closet of his bedroom speaking into the camera as if he was documenting his last moments.

“Hello everyone and welcome back to my channel.” He whispered softly only stopping at a noise outside the door that sounded like nails scratching against something. “What the—” the chittering of a badger interrupted him to cover his curse. “Today I’m hiding in my closet because this demon thing showed up and won’t leave me alone.” Something being knocked over in the background was heard causing Danny to freeze again. “I am taking my stand though, I have my makeshift weapon and-and I’m gonna face it. In the event that I don’t come out of this alive, Tucker you can have my Doomed character, Sam just ask them out already, Val you can sell all my stuff, and Wes I’m sorry I gaslight everyone in school that one time into thinking you weren’t real.” 

“That was—you Danny, oh you better hope you don’t survive after this!” Wes snapped from behind the camera, his curse being covered by bird chirps, and a second later Tucker’s head popped up from the bottom right screen. 

“You’re focusing on that rather than the fact Danny said that all to the screen like we weren’t even here.” Danny shushed them all dramatically holding his broom in front of him like a weapon.

“It is time. Remember me views, remember me.”

“So—dramatic.” Sam is heard but not shown on camera, soon after Danny is shown bursting out of the closet startling the humanoid creature with white hair and bright neon green eyes. 

Tim assumes the creature is one of their little siblings decked out in a creepy cosplay, a really creepy one that Sam definitely had to have a hand in making.

The girl immediately starts screeching and hissing at Danny who starts screaming back before starting to swat at her with the broom. Only for her to drop on all four and start crawling around to dodge him.

“Why won’t you stay still!!” Danny cried out as he panted slightly out of breath. The girl let out an evil cackle starting to crawl toward him and the others fast as he head began to turn to the point that it was upside down. Everything was silent before Danny began screaming hysterically while hitting the girl with the broom before she managed to jump on him and they began to fight. The video cut off right as the girl got a good hit on his nose, only to come back to Danny back in the closet with a bloody nose.

“You okay man?” Wes asked from behind the camera as Danny just stared dazed ahead. Danny turned to him, eyes unfocused as he stared at the camera.

“Do-do I call an exorcist? Do we have exorcists around us? Bro I have a demon in my house, and my parents who are ghost hunters can’t even detect it. What do I do?”

“Danny, I think she might have broken your Lego space shuttle.” Val was heard and seconds later Danny was shown back outside the closet in a screaming match with her while fist fighting and rolling all over the ground. 

“THAT LEGO SET COST ME FOUR MONTHS ALLOWANCE!!”

“I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU REGRET BREAKING IT!”

“ALL I DID WAS HIT YOU WITH A BROOM!”

The girl seemed to be responding to him in either gibberish, or a language they created. Which only seemed to anger Danny more.

“ENGLISH! SPEAK ENGLISH!!” The girl paused, stopping herself from landing a solid punch to his cheek before grinning at the confused teen.

“No.” Danny seemed stunned before anger took over again and the fight continued.

“You can_____speaking english! You____daughter of a______!!” The feed cut off before returning to Danny who was sitting on the bed of his wrecked room. The girl in question nowhere to be seen as Val cleaned some blood off Danny's cheek with a grin.

“I don’t know where she went, but I know she is still in my house. Tune in next time I find her because she better have some money to pay me back for my lego set. Thanks for stopping to watch this episode of mine and until next time, don’t let the ghosts get ya.”

“That was pretty interesting.” Dick said as he stole a cookie from Tim’s plate. “Are all his videos like that?” Tim didn’t even blink at his brother's sudden appearance as he moved to type out a comment.

“For the most part, ya. He’s a shit poster, his content is just a tun of stuff that is so outrageous and realistic but clearly not real.”

‘That fight gave off peak sibling energy. It’s giving, I’m gonna fight my sibling to the death because of one slight inconvenience.’

Jason hummed as he picked his book back up, dropping down in front of the couch to reread Pride and Prejudice. “Ya he was definitely fighting his little sister. He held back too much and she wasn’t pulling her punches.” 

“Only Drake would spend his time watching pointless videos.” Damien huffed, causing Tim to roll his eyes.

“Awe Dami, you know Tim is on mandatory rest. No work of any kind.” Dick grinned before jumping up, wrapping his arms around Damien and dragging him down onto the couch.

“Richard!! Let me go this instant!!” Damien screamed struggling to get away from his octopus of an older brother.

“No! I need my little brother cuddles and I need them from my Dami! No escape for you now.” Damian kept fighting Dick’s hold for the next twenty-five minutes while Tim put another of Danny’s videos on and rewatched it with Jason and Dick watching as well. The video in question was one where Danny went through a locker with his friends and went back in time to when his school first opened. Jason snorted, commenting on them making everything black and white. Danny meets a seemingly see-through kid named Sidney Poindexter and it ends with the two of them having a dance off.

“Bruce, why the fuck are your kids watching a video of a kid dancing with an Infinite Relams ghost?” Tim paused, staring blankly at his computer screen before turning to look at Bruce and John Constantine. “Wow holy shit, the Infinite Realms rarely interact with us since Luthor let the Anti-Ecto Acts pass. Yet that kid is interacting with one like their friends.”

“You’re saying this shits real?” Jason asked, closing his book looking at the screen more interested.

“Language Master Jason.” Alfred said as he walked in from a tray of tea for everyone.

“Sorry Alfred.” John nodded as he moved closer, eyes trained on Poindexter.

“If it is not real it is still more similar than could be possible. They’ve definitely had interactions with the Realms.”

“Wait, what are the Anti-Ecto Acts?” Tim asked his attention zeroing in on John.

“Well fuck, you don’t know? It affects like all of you, thought for sure you’d know. Shit this is gonna take so long to explain. We’re gonna have to call a JL meeting for this explanation because I’m not doing it twice.”

Of Meetings and Musings

[zkyeline]

Time to share my piece for @raedafanzine ^^ I did a comic about Eda carving Raine’s palisman and the way it lives on in their rebellion 🎻🎼

+ some extra stuff below!

Page 2 and 3 were conceptualized as a two pager, later in the zine itself the team chose the split pages version which upon seeing I actually really liked because of the dramatic page turn fits so much more. Here’s how the pages looked when they were connected!

And these are the final sketches, I’m sure I have the initial thumbnails somewhere, not sure where they went tho 😓

Explorations of Raine’s student in the first page!

And lastly, before the finale came out and revealed how Raine’s palisman looks like when it is not the violin I headcanon that it’s a bat (and I REALLY tried to work a violin case shape into the design) So a quick change needed to happen haha

[my-castles-crumbling]

summer - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 167

Chewing his thumbnail, Sirius stood on the platform with James, eyes constantly flickering around the area, heart pounding in his chest.

"He'll be here soon, mate," James drawled comfortably, breaking off from his conversation with Lily to look over at Sirius. "He's never late."

"I know, I just-" Sirius began to whine, but he broke off at the feeling of two strong arms winding their way around his waist, a chin coming to rest on his shoulder, the smell of chocolate ticking his nostrils.

"Had a good summer, baby?" Remus Lupin murmured in his ear, making Sirius break out in a huge grin as he spun around and threw his arms around the taller boy.

"Much better now that you're here," he grinned before pressing a kiss to his lips, ignoring James's dramatic gagging sounds.

"As if you two didn't see each other two weeks ago at my place," James scoffed, but Lily lightly smacked his arm and pulled him away, leaving the two boys in peace.

[adorkastock]

wait, you have aphantasia? do you (or your followers) have any tips for navigating aphantasia as an artist? i have acquired aphantasia due to a TBI and i am trying to relearn How To Do Art. have yet to figure out how i need to adjust my process to accommodate because i keep trying to do things the way I used to and getting frustrated when it doesn't work. Obviously everyone's process will be different but i'd love to hear if you have any ideas.

Oh dang first of all ♥ that is a BIG change to have to deal with. So ♥♥♥ First. THIS WILL BE LONG I GUESS I DONT KNOW HOW TO BE CONCISE ♥ I can assure you can still make art with this new, less picture brain. There's loads of artists with aphantasia and while many of us have had it our wholes lives and had no idea, I am certain we can help give you advice to keep your art going. I will say up front that I started making pose references because I found that my drawings were a LOT better when I worked from reference. Turns out I guess I don't have any head pictures so ??? This explained a lot! I wish I knew how my brain stored info if not visually because I know when I used to draw a lot especially when I drew a lot from life, my figure drawing dramatically improved and I got pretty good at coming up with stuff on my own without references. I guess these would be my tips and I hope people jump in, especially if there's anyone else that's an artist who was a visualizer and is not now. 1) References are your friend! HOARD THEM. Don't be afraid to MAKE them. Take lots of photos, save art that does things you like for inspiration, collect lots and lots of visuals outside your head. 2) Even artists who can visualize often seem to report they cannot always reproduce their head pictures the way they want to. When I have 'an idea for a drawing' it's like a concept in my head. It's kind of just words and maybe some vague composition but again - not sure what it is just know it's not visual. So I gotta THUMBNAIL. A lot of times when I wanna work out what an idea is I just have to doodle a bunch of little versions of it til I go "yep, that's it, that's the one." Basically when I see it I know it's right but I have to see it externally to "see" it. Every piece I make (even my hair bows) I can't really *see* until it's there in front of me. I guess that means this part's advice is: draw little versions of things to work out visual problems on paper rather than in your head. If anyone else has things to add please please do!

[hotchscoffeecup]

banana pancakes

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: E

Category: Fluff (tooth-rotting)

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: On a Sunday morning, you wake to find Aaron making breakfast in the kitchen. He surprises you with slow dancing to old country music, Jack is cute as all get out, and of course, banana pancakes.

“Jack?” you ask groggily. You prop yourself up on your elbows and note Aaron isn’t in bed beside you. “Hey buddy, is everything ok?” You glance at your phone plugged in on the nightstand where the numbers blink back 8:37AM aka too early on a Sunday.

Jack giggles quietly. “Daddy is being silly in the kitchen.”

Knowing that could mean anything to a six year old, naturally, your brow furrows. Your lips quirk into a half smile as you regard his own happy face. “What do you mean, silly?”

Jack’s little hands fly to his mouth as he stifles another laugh. “I’m going to go play in my room!” And just like that he bounces off of the bad and darts out the door into the hallway.

Now curious, you push the sheets back and slide out of bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as a chill passes through you. Before leaving the room, you pull on the gray cotton robe that falls to your mid-calf and tie it loosely over your sleep shirt and shorts set. As you step into the hallway, the smell of coffee and something baking fills your nostrils. Your stomach rumbles gently in response to the sweet aroma.

Quietly, you make sure way down the hall. When you’re close enough to peer into the kitchen, you lean against the doorway and watch. The stove is along the far wall, so if you’re cooking, you’re turned away from the doorway. He doesn’t see you, not at first.

Dressed only in a white t-shirt and boxers, the apron decorated with images of wine glasses on it contrasts sharply with the plaid pattern of his undergarments. George Strait is playing on the stereo. He gently shakes his hips back and forth as he quietly sings along to the country ballad. As he flips the pancakes over, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You bite your thumbnail as you watch him and when he turns around, the stunned look on his face causes you to smile even wider.

“Now how am I supposed to bring you breakfast in bed if you’re not in bed?” he questions, the dark slash of his brow arching as he regards you with warm, brown eyes.

“You can blame the little man,” you reply cheekily. “He woke me up to tell me daddy was being silly in the kitchen.”

Hotch smiles, revealing the left dimple in his cheek. “Oh yeah?” he says, tone playful as he saunters toward you. Stretching his hands out toward the ties on your robe, he takes hold of them and pulls you in toward him. Looping one arm around your waist, he uses the other to swipe at the dial on the stereo. The volume cranks up and he takes your hand in his. Turning in a slow circle, he sways to the music, pulling you along with him.

He presses a kiss to your temple and holds you close as he dances you in small circles around the kitchen. Putting a deep country vibrato into his voice, he begins to hum and sing along against your cheek.

“I cross my heart,” he sings, “and promise to, give all I’ve got to give to make your dreams come true.”

You drop your head back and laugh as he whirls you around in a dramatic arc. “Aaron!” you cry giddily.

He continues to sing. “In all the world, you’ll never find a love as true as mine.”

The acrid smell of something burning starts to singe your nostrils. “Aaron, the pancakes!”

“Oh, let them burn!” he croons.

You playfully slap at his chest before breaking free from his hold. In turn, he slaps you on the ass. You shriek gleefully and he laughs as you dash over to the stove and pull the quickly blackening pancakes off the pan. Fortunately, he has a bowl half full of batter still off to the side alongside a plate of about half a dozen perfectly golden brown pancakes.

“Daddy! Daddy!” The pitter patter of small feet slapping against the linoleum echoes as Jack tumbles into the room. Aaron grabs him around the middle and swoops him into the air.

“Hey buddy!” he greets as he kisses him on the cheek.

“Daddy, it’s our song!”

Aaron quiets for a moment as he listens to the stereo and Jack is right. The track had changed over to another George Straight song, Love Without End, Amen.

As Aaron dances Jack around the kitchen, swinging him high and low and singing lyrics fractured with laughter, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with joy.

“Daddies don’t just love their children every now and then, it’s a love without end, amen.”

You couldn’t begin to imagine a more perfect Sunday morning than this.

“It’s a love without end, amen!” Jack sing-shouts as the song comes to a close.

Aaron sets Jack down on the floor and you start to clap and cheer. “What a show!” you exclaim. “Jack, that was amazing!”

He grins sheepishly, “Thank you.” He tacks your name to the end of his thanks as he runs to the kitchen table to climb into his chair and you can’t help but feel all the more grateful in return for how much Jack has welcomed you into his little family with him and his dad.

“I’ll get the pancakes,” Aaron says with a quick peck on your cheek as he scoots past you to pick up the plate.

“I’ll get the coffee!” you say in turn and pull two mugs down from the cabinet. As you fix yours and Aaron’s (black for you and splash of milk and two sugars for him), you make sure to grab a third mug from the cabinet to make Jack a glass of chocolate milk. Drinking out of a mug while you two drank your coffee made him feel like one of the grown ups, after all.

You carefully pile all three mugs into your hands and make your way to your seat at the table. Aaron sets a plate in front of you and Jack and you serve yourself and him two pancakes each.

“Oh! Do we have any—” you start and stop as Aaron places a small bowl of sliced bananas beside your plate.

He eyes you knowingly. “You think after all this time, I’d forget your favorite?”

You cup his cheek in your hand and press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Yuck!” cries Jack as she shoves a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

“I do love banana pancakes,” you say as you scoop a spoonful onto the fluffy rounds in front of you.

Aaron hugs you from behind before taking his seat at the head of the table. “And I love you more than you love banana pancakes.”

[alien-wooliee]

While doing my monthly rewatch of Hbomberguy's 4 hour plagiarism epic, there was one specific thing that stuck out to me- the idea of commentary youtube content farms. Like, we all know that content mills exist, right? But I think it's so interesting just how much of YouTube has been overtaken by vaguely right-wing chuds who post shitty and stupid documentaries on the current popular drama of the week.

They all have the exact same editing style- so much of the time they're just like "What happened to Scrinky Fuckbo?" With dramatic fade-ins and outs, all read out in a voice that sounds like someone trying to do a cartoon nerd impression. So much of the time, people just hop on and commentate about the current big thing, without adding anything unique to the table, and it's so, so boring.

So many times, these channels pick out random tweets with, like, 3 likes and 1 retweet, and say "These people are ATTACKING so and so!" in their titles and thumbnails, which always are so obnoxious to look at. The fact so many of these channels were a part of the anti-sjw crowd years ago also isn't lost on me- it's like they never really grew to believe in empathy, and simply see every situation as a way of making money while tossing the most ingenuous ivories the way of the people actually affected.

The amount of this content farm slop on YouTube is insane to me, and the fact that so many people get their big bucks from either commentary or 'video essays' that do the bare minimum research and get sponsors up the wazoo says a lot about how so much of the time, conservatives just want to constantly have their beliefs reinforced. I'm not saying I'm immune to this, either! I've found myself in a bit of an echo chamber that I'm trying to break out of, after all- but I feel like there's a difference between an echo chamber reaffirming the fact that capitalism destroys lives, and an echo chamber that reaffirms the idea that all trans people are insane lunatics who should be put down. Of course, I'm hyperbolizing somewhat here, but the idea still remains.

So many of these videos feel vaguely sinister as well- they all go over the 'personal flaws' of each person involved, and it just feels like they're vagueposting bigotry whenever it comes to something like a queer person. Take, for example, that infamous SunnyV2 video about Mr Beast, where he claims that Ava Kris Tyson being trans could tank his gains. You don't seriously think that, Sunny. You just wanna throw shade at a trans person for existing.

tl;dr I hate commentary youtube and the fact it always pushes these videos into my recommended feed.

[mclalan]

What art program do you use? sorry if you already answered something like this but im so mesmerized by the techniques you use in your art.

Thank you. No need to apologise; I don't mind answering this question because it's an excuse to walk through my latest image!

The concept for this piece is based on being perceived online through interpretations of posts and artwork, yet how artificial this can be. The relationship the viewer forms is more with the narrative of the work, and any insight into the artist through this feels highly awkward to me, which is precisely what I want to explore with this piece.

In this example, I wanted an attractive sitter to look like someone out of a new romantics music video or like an Enya video, because this genre and era of media is very aesthetically pleasing and nostalgic for me. I hold it as an unobtainable ideal— a hauntology. So, as wonderful as it is, it equally feels shameful and perverse because it's an aesthetic object of desire that I am contriving.

The sitter is holding one of my cartoon characters, Lauren Ipson, the protagonist of my Ersatz world project. A trope in writing is when a character acts as a self-insert of the author, and I'm conscious to try and avoid that with Lauren. I try to write Lauren as dry and sardonic yet also fun, dramatic, and friendly. I don't think of these as personal qualities of my own, but I imagine personal qualities bleeding into fictional characters is inevitable.

Yet Lauren Ipson feels much more alive a character to me compared to any attempt at self-portraiture or self-expression that I've done, which is very little because I'm not interested in constructing a perceivable identity. (I'm aware this text itself can be interpreted as self-expression; however, to me this is just another construct.)

So Is the sitter meant to be me, controlling Lauren? I'm definitely baiting the viewer to think this, and you can interpret it that way if you want, but really I don't think of the sitter as me at all. My intention is to show how it's all a facarde. The sitter is basically just as much a doll, a puppet, a mannequin as Lauren Ipson is, if anything more so.

There's a deliberate irony between Lauren's cartoon rendering and the sitter, who I wanted to render with more detail and evoke a modernist style. I'm inspired by Hans Bellmer and Dorothea Tanning with their work with dolls. However, despite that implied visual hierarchy, the more detailed sitter shares a similar, stilted vector construct to Lauren. They're both born from vector drawing after all. And it's further undermined with the way Lauren the doll looks directly at the viewer, as if she's alive, while the sitter looks to the side with a blank, almost dead-in-the-eyes expression.

Anyway, with that in mind, almost all of my work starts as a thumbnail sketch. Although I often draft digitally and am fine with doing that, I feel more confident doing it freehand on paper. Digital rendering feels more like a refinement process to me. Funnily enough, although I often prefer to sketch with physical materials, I'm anxious of refining or rendering with them.

I like my designs to be very direct and conceivable, so a solid silhouette, pose, negative space etc. I often create a quick digital sketch with this in mind, either by tracing or referencing the thumbnail, although sometimes I skip this step and go straight to the rendered drawing. The aim is to establish a visual guide, dividing the drawing into various shapes for digital airbrush rendering later on.

With this composition, I made a second draft with more attention to details such as the face, hands and feet. Sometimes I'll use photo references if I'm struggling with posing or anatomy. These drafts are often blue because it's easier to render the black linework over a transparent blue sketch.

The chair took some time but was relatively simple to render. It uses the line tool set to magnetic anchor point, following two-point perspective vanishing points. I like two-point perspective because it feels sort of digitally native to me to have these impossibly perfect vertical lines. I also know the horizon line should be at eye level or something, but I just like the idea of the top of the chair to be perfectly horizontal.

Here I'm drawing the final rendered form. I use the stroke tool with it set as smooth as possible. Often I'll redraw lines over and over if it means getting certain curves to look right. Once the lines are drawn, I'll fill them in and remove the stroke, leaving just the solid vector shape. The shade of grey I use is done to simply denote the shape. It does not represent any kind of shading or anything; in fact, when I bring it into Photoshop, all these shapes are set to the same shade, but if I had that here in Animate as I'm drawing, it would be impossible to see what I'm doing. The red background is just for clarity.

Once it's all drawn, I'll make sure every shape is clean, overlapping nicely, and divided into its own layer. A composition can often be comprised of hundreds of separate shapes.

Each shape will be its own layer in Photoshop, which will operate as a clipping mask. The clipping masks act like masking tape or shielded off areas for soft brush opacity rendering, similar to the soft atomised rendering from an airbrush, just done digitally.

I follow very rudimentary painting techniques of simple shading, lighting, and bounce-back highlights. I follow a simplified Grisaille technique, focusing on strong values in greyscale before adding a wash of colour with a color gradient map set to layer style color. Sometimes my values can be a little off, but as long as the values are all consistently acting together, I can correct them with transparent washes or color curves. If the greyscale looks harmonious with all the forms clear, colour will likely work.

Proper digital painters will say this is an amateur process, with results that look mechanical and stiff, as colours in the real world all bounce together off different surfaces, resulting in colour harmonies. However, I don't mind the inharmonious nature of the colours, as I find the values give the composition enough harmony. I'm working digitally, so why go to all the effort to make it not look digital? It's interesting to me to have the red chair look blindingly red, the green skirt look blindingly green.

Colours can look boring without some form of harmony though, so I will add in blue-greens with the darker areas, more turquoise greens towards the highlights.

Skin tones are far more complex, however, as it's something that's more informed by realism. This is why kigurumi dolls with their plastic flesh look so artificial to the eye, because we're familiar with how light passes through flesh and skin and all the subtleties of colour that it picks up. This piece is the first time I've explored flesh tones, as typically I avoid all this by rendering skin as grey porcelain.

I needed to really up the contrast, with shaded areas becoming purples and highlights verging on washed out. Areas with more blood, like feet and cheeks, appear more orange and red. Areas closer to bone and cartilage, like the bridge of the nose, can look almost blue and green. Exploring these colour values and tints in the aim of natural tones was fun to do, and ironic given how blank the face is.

Although in the moment I feel very much like I'm rendering a realistic reality, when I step back, I'm reminded how stylised and unrealistic the painting actually is. It looks kind of insane, like everything is so uniform and overtly saturated. It doesn't feel present in a real space, despite the shadow and form implies one. But I'm not consciously thinking of these things, of style, as I'm working. To me, it's a process of world-building and problem-solving.

[6okuto]

3:08 PM

gojo x gn!reader | he’s NOT on the battlefield he is somewhere being whiny and dramatic RIGHT NOW. no one can tell me otherwise.

gojo stares at you from his spot on the couch, a pout etched on his face as you continue to type away at an assignment due in more than a week. something due 10 whole days away has taken priority over him—he pouts even harder at the thought.

“i can feel you staring at me, satoru.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“mhm.”

there’s only a few minutes of silence when your phone suddenly vibrates. without sparing it a glance, you switch between tabs, trying to find a specific quote for your answer. satoru huffs from behind you, and another notification comes in.

“y’gonna check that?”

“check what?”

your phone vibrates again.

“that.”

and you’re not dumb. you have a feeling your boyfriend is very aware, probably even more aware than you about what that notification could be.

“no?”

it vibrates again.

“are you sure?”

another.

“pretty sure.”

and after a couple of seconds, another.

“…actually, you know what, ‘toru,”—you pick up your phone, and satoru sits up ever so slightly, before you swipe down the bar to turn on do not disturb—“you’re right.”

“babe,” he drags out the pet name, “what if it was important?”

“and what if it was my classmates being idiots in the group chat again?”

“it’s not!”

at his denial, you spin your chair around, an accusatory—yet amused—expression on your face. “and how would you know?”

“because no one else is working on an assignment due in more than a week on a saturday afternoon except you, because apparently i’m dating the biggest nerd ever,” satoru complains, letting himself slide half off the couch, leg thrown over the top.

putting your hand over your chest, you gasp. “the biggest nerd ever? you wound me.”

“you wounded me first when you downloaded that assignment pdf instead of checking my texts!”

“well now i’m never opening that text from you.”

“why no—” he stops, and you stare, and he squints and quietly replies, “…i hate you.”

a lie through and through that finally gets you to laugh, just a little, before picking up your phone, where a photo of the both of you greets you as your lockscreen. “i’m kidding, ‘toru. but seriously if it’s something stupid i’m going to the library.”

“nothing i send you is ever stupid.”

you shake your head and go to open your messages. “i’m not even going to try to argue with you on that.”

GOJO sent you a post

babe

ME!

Notification noise

buzz buzz buzz buzzzzzzzzzz

EMERGENCY!!! HELLO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

your lip twitches when you read “notification noise” but you hide it with the back of your hand, instead clicking the video he sent.

you think maybe it won’t be that bad—the thumbnail a photo of a white cat—and satoru watches you intently when he hears the audio start to play. ”top ten things you should pay more attention to. starting with number one—me.”

you blink.

the video loops.

“top ten things you should…”

“seriously, toru?”

“c’s get degrees. satorus need constant attention or they’ll die.”

you snort—maybe you’d take him more seriously if he wasn’t practically upside down.

“they’ll die! i’ll die! do you want me to die?”

“not on my couch, no.” you respond, standing up.

“oh, alright, apologies, my heart, for not taking your feelings into consideration. i’ll die on your laptop so you’re forced to face the consequences of your actions more directly then,” he says, sarcasm rolling off of him in waves, even as you make your way toward him.

“oh, thank you so much, my love, i’d greatly appreciate it.” you huff as you do your best to pull him back up to lie on the couch.

satoru lies on his back, arms crossed over chest, strands of hair messy across his forehead.

he says nothing as you stand above him.

yet despite his attitude, he lets you run your fingers through his hair to fix it, leaning in ever so slightly into the warmth of your palm. you pout at him endearingly. “okay, you’re right, i can work on the assignment later. i’m sorry for not giving you attention and ignoring your texts.”

“and?”

you quirk an eyebrow, trying to rack your brain for what else you could have done. “and…implying you could ever send me something stupid?”

“…apology accepted.”

“can i lie down with you now?”

satoru shifts as far as he can. “as long as my back is to the couch so you can’t push me off.”

“woah, woah, woah, okay, that was an actual accident, and you already accepted my apology for that! i even ordered food,” you remind him, maneuvering beside him so you can fit and wrap your arms around his torso.

he pulls your head to rest on his chest. “doesn’t mean i can’t stay on guard from now on.”

“oh, whatever,” you mumble, breathing in and noting the scent of his new cologne that he got a few days ago—the one he got because you said you liked it.

a hand comes up to rub the nape of your neck, and you melt further into him. satoru mutters, ”you’re not leaving until dinner now as compensation.”

“what if i have to pee?”

“i’ll follow you to the washroom.”

“inside?”

“you wanna hold hands at the doorway?”

“not particularly, no, actually.”

“maybe romance really is dead.”

you laugh into the fabric of shirt where you can feel his chest rumble with his own laughter, and your heart flutters as you feel satoru smile against you. he's warm, and his lips soft as they kiss your forehead, when you think maybe your work can wait a few days to really start.

hai. sometimes a girl has to write a bunch of domestic fluffy banter. who gets me. video cat is gojo catoru in another life btw... Trust. also im pretty sure this is the first time i get to use my jjk taglist. LMFAO

🏷 | @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @tooruchiiscribs @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist @libbyistired @milkbreadforlife

[seeingivy]

better than revenge

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

previous part linked here

an: this is 11k and tweets on tweets. buckle in. if you find the typo in the tweets shut up

songs mentioned: see you again by tyler the creator ft. kali uchis, end game by taylor swift, and vampire by olivia rodrigo

--

The following morning, the buzzing energy in the townhouse is almost palpable. Not only because you’ve finally completed the set and the last four people have arrived – Erwin, Bertholdt, Ymir, and Historia – but it seems that your intense energy from the night prior seemed to have transferred over to everyone else. 

You’re almost too embarrassed to walk downstairs to the frantic chatter – that coupled with the fact that you’ve heard Connie name drop you almost four times – and it seems that Eren seems to be feeling the same when you walk out into the hallway to find him awkwardly lingering by his  door. 

“Hey.” 

Eren looks up, thrown out of his spiral of thoughts, as he gives you a smile and then looks down at your lip. It’s a little sore, the tiniest bit swollen from the tattoos that you got yesterday, and you can see that his is the same. 

“Hi princess. How’s your lip?” Eren asks. 

“Good. I guess I should be thankful that your name is only four letters and not nine letters like Bertholdt or something.” 

Eren smiles. 

“Let’s see it then.” Eren responds. 

You oblige his request, pulling down to show him the inner of your lip and watch as he smiles at the little ink. He follows suit after, making a rather dramatic display of crouching down to your height before pulling his own lip and showing you his. 

“You know, life really does imitate art. Because now, my name really will be forever on your lips.” you respond. 

“I sure hope not. You’d be slashing my head off sometime in the near future if that were true.” 

You smile. 

“You know, that doesn’t sound that bad to me.” 

“But you have to kiss me after. You know, if it were up to me, I think life should imitate art. Like at least ten times, for scientific purposes.” Eren responds, shrugging as he gestures for you to follow him. 

You shake your head, inexplicably unable to respond to the harmless flirting this time around, as you gesture for him to join you downstairs. The two of you walk in tandem down the steps, sparing each other one last smile, before you get hounded by the likes of Connie and Jean. 

And surely enough, the second you make it down to the kitchen and the dining table at the side, you’re met with the sight of Connie air-playing fan edits on the TV screen for everyone to watch. 

You and Eren take the spot behind Connie on the couch, and Eren smacks him on the backside of his head, before you two watch the edit. It’s of Eren singing Glimpse of Us in the background, except the video’s edited to be showing videos of him and Hyla, before juxtaposing them with videos of him and you. 

“Speak of the fucking devils. Don’t tell me you actually got matching lip tattoos? I’m half convinced you assholes are just lying to piss me off at this point.” Connie asks. 

The two of you look over and grin at each other. 

“Why are you watching fancams of us on the TV?” you ask. 

“Edit accounts are a form of art. Look at this one.” Connie responds, sliding to the next video on his phone. 

This one is in a similar vein, videos of you and Eren from the red carpet to the backdrop of you singing Style. You’re not sure what it is, but the video fills you with an insurmountable amount of joy, especially when Connie scrolls up the comments – most of them being about how people can’t stand how Eren seems to look at you. 

“Connie. Why have you watched this entire YouTube video?” Eren asks, pointing to the little thumbnail at the side. 

You follow the line of vision to where he’s pointing to an hour long video, entitled “eren and y/n creating love for an hour straight.” 

“There’s no way you watched that entire thing.” you respond. 

“Watched it? Bitch, I recorded half of those videos for Y/N-Jaegers back in the day. Please put some respect on my name.” Connie sneers, as he leans forward to put the video on. 

You turn to Eren, as the gears start turning in your head. You can tell that he’s following your lead – in fact, thinking the same exact thing as you – as you discuss it over. 

“I mean, kind of makes sense. S’how we did it the first time.” Eren responds. 

“I’d argue that it’s almost poetic to do it the same way. Plus, the resurgence of Y/N-Jaegers would be crazy, just for PR sake.” 

“I agree.” 

Eren reaches forward, yanking on Connie’s ear to catch his attention. He leans back, before swatting Eren off, and standing to face the two of you. 

“Do you have your phone, Connie?” Eren asks. 

“Yeah.” Connie responds. 

“Then, use it.” Eren responds. 

You give him a grin, waiting for Connie – who albeit, in his confusion lifts his phone – before you both pull down your lips and show off your new tattoos. You watch as Connie’s eyes nearly boggle out of head as he moves closer to the two of you, his excited voice filling the entire room as the group of them all start huddling around you. 

Mai and Mikasa look positively appalled, quietly whispering about how painful that must have been, while Reiner and Sasha break out into their own side tangent about how oppressive lip tattoos must be since they limit your food options so greatly. 

You and Eren laugh as you shuffle back into the kitchen, leaving the group of them to their devices as Connie uploads the video, and the two of you reach for the yogurt in the fridge. The piping hot, spicy ramen seemed like it was just going to burn your entire lip off, so you decided against that for today. 

You lean forward to read the little schedule on the fridge, though the filming is considerably light for the week. Considering the fact that almost everyone was here now, or arriving within the next hour, you were going into serious rehearsals for the ensemble showcase that you had planned. Though you were really only in it for one verse. 

Wednesday, March 27th, 10:00 

Eren and Y/N - REDACTED #1 

You frown. 

“What the hell is redacted number one?” 

Eren spins to the side, crouching down so his chin is just hovering over your shoulder. And the fact that he lowers his voice, to the gravelly octave, makes the hair on your arms stand up on its ends. 

“Levi not talk to you about this yet?” 

“No. We’re too busy talking about award show stuff. You know how he loves to lecture.” 

Eren looks over at you, his eyes borderline smoldering, as you can’t help but look away. It was getting harder and harder to look at Eren after your godforsaken realization last night.  

“From what I hear, what they’re lecturing you about is actually very valid.” Eren responds. 

You scoff. 

“You know, they’re so annoying. I’d appreciate it if they kept my conversations with them as private as they keep their conversations with you.” you respond. 

“Well, they were actually trying to get me to convince you to not use your triple threat performance on me. Not when you’re already performing twice that day, with me at the centerpoint.” Eren responds. 

When you had first pitched your idea for the awards show to them – and humbly begged them to give their ensemble showcase moment up to include the Jujutsu Kaisen cast – you had let them know that your intentions were from the get go. 

And when Eren had created the perfect segway for them with the song requests, Hange had slipped theirs in a week prior with maybe the most difficult request that you had been given yet. 

write a song about danny and sareen 

And even more than just writing it, Hange had made it very clear that they were expecting you to sing it at the award’s show at the end when you finally got to do your triple threat performance. That you couldn’t sing another song about Eren, when winning that award, was always going to be about them. 

Hange’s more theatrical than Levi. Because Levi just gave you the cue card that they have read off of that night, that had your name on it. But Hange had gone the full ten miles and given you the little trophy that you never even got to hold, with the note that came attached from the Institute. 

You can still see it now in the dull, gold looping. 

Dear Y/N, Danny, and Sareen,  Congratulations on your accomplishment! Included in the box is the trophy and a golden glass case to display it in. Please call the offices on Glass Avenue to discuss timings for interviews and your performance at one of our four award shows next year.  Best,  The Institute 

And annoyingly enough – despite the fact that it was your name on the trophy, their names were inscribed on the box. 

It was enough to irritate you into writing the song that Hange wanted you to sing. And at this point, you were itching to give them a run for their money too. 

“They didn’t need you to convince me. I gave in eventually.” you respond. 

Eren shrugs, before dipping his own spoon into your yogurt. Eren had instinctively given up the last strawberry one because it’s your favorite, but clearly, wasn’t very attached to his decision.  

“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to make it about Danny and Sareen in the first place.” Eren responds. 

You shrug, leaning against the back of the fridge. The metal is cold on your back, as you let the freezing cold yogurt soothe the burning in your mouth. 

“Well, I only came back here for Marco. Because he won’t ever get to act again. Then when I started to do this, I was only doing it for you – because you did it for me first.” you respond. 

“And now?” 

“I thought back to what Historia had said to me, when she finally dragged me out of that house the first time. She had brought up Hange’s speech, the one way back when that made me even interested in acting in the first place. About showing the real you and all that.” you respond. 

“And?” Eren asks. 

“Well, Hange brought that up to me, when I originally said I wanted the third song to be about you. Not that you’re not important to me, but…being a triple threat was what I always wanted. And really at the core of it, I just wanted to be as unapologetic as  Hange was. I guess when they put it that way, it was almost stupid not to make the song about them when they’re the one who got to take the sanctity of that award away from me.” 

Eren smiles. And before he can respond, you’re tackled by two pairs of arms nearly strangling you around your neck, your line of vision telling you that Eren’s experiencing the same bombardment. Ymir and Bertholdt are shaking his entire frame and jumping at his side – and your ears don’t deceive you when you hear Historia and Erwin bellowing in your ear. 

You pull back, wrapping your hands around Historia’s face. 

“You crazy bitch. Don’t tell me you actually got a fucking tattoo again?” Historia asks. 

You grin, pulling down your lip to show the group of them. 

“Well, I’d be a fucking liar if I said that.” you respond. 

Erwin, in his theatrics, places a hand over his chest and the other one on the top of your head. 

“That’s my girl. Always had such a sound moral compass.” Erwin responds. 

You can’t help but wrap your arms around him as Erwin lifts his hand and gestures for Eren to join him at the other side. He still smells the same – the lingering scent of Old Spice deodorant and a very husky perfume. And when he pulls back, you can’t help but feel your heart squelch when he puts a hand on both of your cheeks and beams down at you two. 

“You’ve always been our little trail blazers, you two. I’m so proud of you two.” 

You turn to Eren and smile, before looking back at Erwin. 

“We’re proud of you too, Erwin!” Eren responds. 

You turn your head to the side, giving Eren a confused look. 

“Don’t flatter me, Eren. I’m not above crying in front of you children.” Erwin responds. 

“I’m offended you would even think that, Erwin. Don’t you know who I am?” Eren responds. 

You shake your head as you turn towards Ymir and Bertholdt at your side and leave Eren and Erwin to hype each other up for what was probably going to be the next thirty minutes at your side. You had already given up trying to understand Eren and Erwin’s relationship years prior. 

“Hey, kid.” Ymir says. 

“I’m older than you.” you respond. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I have someone I want you to meet.” Ymir responds. 

You follow her line of vision to the opening of the kitchen, to find someone lingering against the frame of the door. There’s a girl standing there, with tan skin and a short pixie cut – nervously knitting her fingers together. She’s smiling at you, rather brightly, and you can't help but feel like you’ve met her before. 

“Y/N. This is Sofia, my fiance. Sofia, this is Y/N.” Ymir states, gesturing for the two of you to shake hands. 

You oblige, her hand warm and the shake firm, as you try to hide the shock in your face. With the rush of everything that was going on, the information that Mikasa had shared with you days prior had been floating around in the back of your mind but you were never able to ask Eren to put it to rest. 

And now there was another lingering question mark hanging. 

That Ymir had proposed to Historia, but that she said no. That she begged her and Historia couldn’t bring herself to do it. But even despite that, they were still sleeping on the same mattress when you came back for the first time, for Marco’s funeral. 

And now she’s engaged to someone else. 

“Hi Sofia. My name is Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you.” 

Her eyes light up as she squeezes your hand, which you now realize is still locked in with hers, as you look back up at her and smile. 

“It’s really nice to meet you too.” she responds. 

“You know, you look really familiar, but I can’t exactly place why.” you murmur. 

You look to your side to find Ymir grinning at Sofia, as Sofia can’t help but groan in response. 

“I told you she would remember you.” Ymir states. 

“That doesn’t count as remembering me! A lot of people can look familiar to people!” Sofia responds. 

You smile, rubbing your palms together, as you look at the two of them. The thought of Historia a few feet away talking to Jean and Mikasa has you sweating, nervously passing your eyes over just to make sure that she wasn’t watching the entire interaction go down. 

“Have I met you before?” you ask. 

Sofia sighs, the slightest pink tint in the apples of her cheeks. 

“This is so embarrassing. I met you and Eren a couple years back, at one of those conventions with the panels and stuff and –” 

The recognition is instant. 

“Oh my god! You were wearing a shirt with my face on it! With your sister, right?” you respond. 

“I fucking told you she would remember! She has really good memory.” Ymir responds, this time goading her on. 

You shake your head at Ymir, before placing your hands on both of her biceps and squeezing. 

“Sofia, wait. I really remember that because it actually meant the world to me at the time. I’m sure you…know about Scott Clarkson and all that mess and –” 

“I want that man dead and I’m so serious.” Sofia deadpans. 

You laugh. 

“You and me, both. But yeah, that day was actually the first time that Eren and I had ever met him in person. And the entire event in general was just so uncomfortable and left a weird taste in my mouth and you…you really made me feel like I was doing something important and I actually thought about it for a really long time.” you respond. 

Sofia smiles, before she reaches forward and wraps her arms around you. The embrace is overwhelmingly warm, as you eye Ymir behind her back, who's just shaking her head at her demeanor, almost insinuating that this was what she did all the time. 

“I’m really glad. I really meant what I said back then and I’ve always been a big supporter all this time. You’re really brave and courageous and –” Sofia stars. 

“Okay, Sof. Enough. You’re going to make poor Y/N’s head bigger than it already is.” Ymir groans, as you turn back to your side. 

“That’s really sweet of you. How is your sister?” you ask. 

You’re not sure what it is, but it’s almost like you’ve thrown ice on the little warmth that was pooling in the conversation. Because her face slightly droops and Ymir’s quick to put a hand on her shoulder in comfort. 

“Ah. She passed away a few years ago.” Sofia mumbles. 

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up and –” 

She smiles, enough to give you the faintest glimpse of her dimples. They remind you of Eren. 

“That’s okay. That’s actually where I met Ymir. At the grief group.” she responds. 

“You went to a grief group?” you ask. 

“Well, not originally. I was there with a friend, a while before Marco died. Met her there. We were already dating when Marco passed away, but…we just figured it wasn’t the best idea for Sofia to come to the funeral with…you know. Historia.” Ymir responds. 

So why did she sleep with Historia on the mattress? 

“I’m glad you’re here with us now. It’s really nice to meet you. And I love weddings, if Ymir can humble herself enough to invite me to hers.” you respond. 

“Shut up, bitch. You’re so annoying.” Ymir responds. 

That’s what she says. But it sounds more like are you crazy? Of course, you’re invited. 

“Anyways, I hope you come to set later. Eren and I are going to be filming something if you want to watch.” 

“For sure. I’d love to see it.” Sofia responds. 

You look over your shoulder to find Levi, Hange, and Eren waiting near the edge of the kitchen island, gesturing for you to come over now that you’ve caught their attention. And as the four of you embark out towards the set, Levi explains what redacted scenes are to you. 

You spare Historia one last glance as you walk off the set and can’t help but feel a bitter taste in your mouth at the longing look she’s giving Ymir. 

--

--

“You know, this sounds an awful lot like method acting to me.” you murmur, spotting the sly grin on Levi’s face. 

“Eren told me not to call it that. He said you might strangle me. Or him. Or both of us combined.” 

“He would be right about that.” you respond. 

He’s leaning against the edge of the vanity, as the makeup team tasks themself with drying and prepping your hair to perfection, while Levi coaches you through what you now understand are the two redacted scenes that Levi has asked you and Eren to film. 

You just think it’s lazy script writing. Levi thinks you’re annoying for calling it that. 

With your combined permission of course, Levi has decided to let you method act through the two scenes that he originally had planned out. While he was allegedly entirely faithful in your ability to deliver lines, he wanted to see if what the two of you could produce out of real shock, in the moment as your characters, was something better than what he could write. 

Hence, the vague scene that you and Eren were going to be filming. To your understanding, the pair of them were each going to give you and Eren a set of prompts and you were just supposed to act your way through the scene based on what they told you to do. 

“Can I know my prompt then?” you ask. 

“You understand, right?” Levi clarifies. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just supposed to go based on what you tell me.” 

Levi hops off of the counter, this time leaning closer so that you can actually make eye contact with him in your line of vision. 

“But really. I don’t care how badly you want to say something else. You…you have to go based on the direction that I tell you.” Levi responds. 

It’s almost annoying, the way he’s coddling you through the entire thing. 

“Okay, I get it. This is my entire job, you know?” you respond. 

Levi scoffs. 

“Fine. Eren’s going to ask you something. I want you to shoot him down.” Levi states. 

You lean your head to the side, much to the annoyance of the makeup artist, who moves your neck back into place. You shoot her an apologetic smile, before thinking back to Levi. 

“You want me to shoot him down?” you ask. 

“He’s going to ask you something. Or insinuate it – and no matter how badly you want to do whatever it is, you have to tell him no.” 

Levi gives you a curt nod before he walks back out to the set to put things in place, as you put the outfit resting on the hangar on. You reach up to mess with the little fringe of your bangs, pulling down the undershirt and the jacket as you prepare yourself for the scene. 

When you walk out on set, the group of them are all sitting on the sidelines, giving you excited smiles. You give Sofia a little wave at the front of the sidelines, returning the little finger hearts that Gabi and Falco point towards you as you reach for your cue. 

And when Levi calls action, the lights on the entire set dimming and the chatter breaking down to silence, you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you see Eren at the top of the little landing, his back facing towards you. 

“Eren! Everyone has been looking everywhere for you!” 

At the sound of your voice, Eren lifts his hand to his face and sniffles, almost like he’s wiping away tears, before you stand at his side. He refuses to meet your eyes and now that you’re standing at his side, you’re not sure how you missed this before. 

They cut Eren’s hair. 

A small part of it – because it’s out of the usual man bun that he’s been sporting since you came back to set and instead loosely frames the sides of his face. 

It might be your favorite look yet. And all you can do is stare. 

He still refuses to meet your eye, withholding it from you. You follow his gaze to the bottom of the landing, to see the kid that Levi had introduced you to a week prior, who was going to play Ramzi in the script. You had yet to film the scene – since you’re almost positive that Levi was going out of order at this point to save time and note it. 

“The boy from the market? What happened?” you ask. 

“Nothing yet.” Eren responds. 

Eren’s voice has that same gravel, almost hollow, like he did the day that you filmed the table scene. It’s almost haunting when his voice sounds like that – so devoid of motion and strained that it makes your chest pang. 

You wonder if that’s what he sounded like in the years that you didn’t talk. 

“What do you mean? Wh-what is this place?” you ask. 

“After the war left them with no home, they all gathered here to live. They’re just like us.” 

Eren’s throat bobs at your side and you can feel his eyes clenching in your peripheral vision. 

“One day, their regular lives ended and everything was taken away from them. They were deprived of all of their freedoms.” Eren states. 

And almost in a split second, Eren finally averted his gaze from looking down and meets your eyes for the first time. You’re not sure what it is – surely something from the makeup team that’s making his eyes look fuller, rounder – but the eye contact is almost excruciating this time. Your first instinct is to turn away. 

“Y/N. Why do you care so much about me?” 

You can feel your cheeks burning. That was the last thing you were expecting him to say. 

“Huh?” you repeat. 

“Is it because I saved you when we were little? Or is it because I’m your family?” 

You swallow hard, the block in your throat stifling. It’s almost like you can’t even push air out of it, like you’re opening your mouth to try and nothing can make it past – enough to fill you with a panic like you won’t ever speak again. Because you have the faintest inkling of what’s going to come next…why Levi was so adamant on asking if you would be able to follow his instructions. 

“I-” 

“What am I to you?” Eren asks. 

Everything. 

It’s the first word that comes to mind when he asks. 

“Ev–” 

You pause, as you feel the sweat accumulating on the edge of your hairline, fighting the urge to reach up to wipe it off. Levi’s voice is excruciating in your head. 

He’s going to ask you something. Or insinuate it – and no matter how badly you want to do whatever it is, you have to tell him no.

It’s almost painful. Having to say it when it isn’t true. When in reality, you know that you’re acting and Eren knows that you’re acting too – that this is just part of your job. But to even strike him down in the fake way, after weeks of building it back together, seems cruel. 

You sigh, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath, before you look back up at his eyes. The deep green is enough to accumulate the thinnest film of tears in your eyes. 

“You’re family, Eren.” 

And after you mutter it, it’s visceral…an almost physical reaction from Eren. Because you can see the way his breath hitches, the way he hesitantly steps back – quite literally physically recoiling. And the regret sits heavy in your chest and you have to drop your eyes – because you can’t even bear to look at him. 

“Cut!” Levi calls. 

It’s enough to snap you out of the heaviness, as you shake your head at the resounding amount of chatter that follows. You can still feel your heart racing as the makeup team is quick to rush to your side – quickly powdering the sweat that had accumulated on your cheek as they do the same with Eren – and you can hear Connie and Reiner mumbling about how brutal that was to watch on the side. 

You look back up at Eren, whose hollow look hasn’t left his eyes and you give him a halfhearted smile – which he doesn’t return. Instead, he turns back to Levi and Hange, who are murmuring over the shot in the viewfinder. 

“Did we get it?” Eren nearly shouts.

“We got it. You killed it guys.” Levi responds, still fixated on the shot. 

“Do you still need me or can I go?” Eren asks. 

“Eren–” 

“You’re good, Eren.” Hange responds. 

Eren’s almost too quick with it, the way he yanks the little mic pack off the little sleeve in his jacket and hands it to the crew. And with his long bean stalk legs, he’s disappeared from your side before you can barely even process that he was standing there in the first place. 

--

You can’t bring yourself to talk to Eren until two days later, on the eve of his birthday and two days before the award show. Not because you’re actively avoiding him, but it seems that he gets so wrapped up in quite literally everything else he has to attend to. Though really, it feels like that the slight air of comfort that you had was completely shattered by filming the scene together. 

There’s a quiet knock on Eren’s door. He’s preemptively pissed off…and the quiet irritation that had been festering in his chest for the last few days was about to come to a head on Connie and Lana, who refused to take a hint. 

He had made it infinitely clear that he wanted to spend the early hours of his birthday alone. That he would be fine and dandy to celebrate with everyone the day after, but he needed the time to process some things alone. 

The tension diffuses when he realizes that it’s you at the door. There’s an almost timid look on your face, as you balance a little white box in your hands, and peek your head past the closet. 

“Am I disturbing you?” 

“No, of course not. Come in.” Eren responds, patting flat on the comforter for you to join him at his side. 

You give him a smile as you set the little box down, crossing your legs over each other to sit at his side. You lock your hands into the pits of your knees as you turn over towards him, taking a second chance to admire that his hair is the slightest bit shorter. 

“I really love your hair, Eren.” you respond. 

There’s an immediate flush in the apples of his cheeks. He reaches up to it, nervously pushing a hand through the strands before he drops it all together. 

“Thank you. The length was starting to get really fucking annoying.” Eren responds. 

“I liked the man-bun but I think this type of thing really suits you.” you respond. 

Eren looks over at you and gives you a halfhearted smile. And that quiet ease returns, maybe faster than Eren would have liked. The quiet moment of hurt that he was holding on to was absolved the second you smiled at him. 

Eren can hear Connie’s voice in his head – calling him down horrendous. 

“What can I do you for?” Eren asks. 

“It’s almost your birthday.” you state. 

“Congratulations, Y/N. You know how to read a calendar!” 

You scoff, before lightly shoving him in his side. 

“Shut up. I wanted to do something for you.” you respond, before lightly pushing the box in front of him. 

Eren gives you a weary look, before he opens up the little box. It’s a frosted green and white cake – with four candles in it. It’s a strange arrangement since they’re all numbered candles, making the number 2,345. 

“I guess I stand corrected. You really don’t know how to read a calendar.” Eren responds. 

Eren turns to the side, with the most annoying look on his face, as he turns to you and grins. 

“Okay, Y/N. Repeat after me. The year is 2024.” 

“Shut up, asshole. I was trying to be sweet.” you grumble, as you hike your knees to your chest. 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“What’s so sweet about getting the age wrong on my cake?” Eren asks. 

“It’s actually to make up for every birthday of yours that I missed, dumbass.” you respond. 

Eren can feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

“What?” Eren asks. 

You shrug, before reaching down to adjust the candles from pushing into each other. 

“The last birthday I got to spend with you was your twenty-second birthday. I can imagine that the years’ that followed weren't exactly pleasant…that…that they might have been a reminder of what happened on the beach.” you start. 

That was the understatement of the year. 

“And it’s my fault that I missed your birthday. So, I thought that…we could make them up now. Hence the candles for three and four, for your twenty-third and twenty-fourth birthday. And today’s your twenty-fifth…it’s the least that I could do.” you respond. 

Eren thinks it’s rather unfair that he always seems to be at a loss of words when he’s with you.  Instead of being able to spill out what was really racketing through his brain – that it was getting infinitely harder to swallow down his feelings, that this was almost melting the resolve that he had made with himself to let you make the first move – he opens up his arms instead. 

You oblige, leaning forward and resting your chin against his shoulder, as you feel Eren scoop his arms around your waist. It’s almost like he’s resting his entire body weight on you, because you can feel his face digging into the softness of your neck, as you absentmindedly reach up for his hair, feeling the edges that were just freshly cut. The faint scent of the hairdressing spray still lingers. 

He’s quiet for sometime, but it’s only fitting that when he does break the silence, it’s with something annoying. 

“A cake with no plates is crazy, Y/N.” Eren mumbles. 

You laugh, as you reach inside the box for the two forks you tucked inside the box. You hand him one, as he tucks the ends of his hair behind his ears, and looks up at you. 

“Game plan. You eat all the frosting and I’ll eat all the cake.” Eren states. 

“Huh?” 

“Okay, that’s a little selfish. But it’s my birthday. And I just really hate frosting.” 

The thought that comes to your mind is enough to startle you, just in the slightest. 

Eren really is your soulmate. 

It’s stupid. A stupid comparison to make when the person that you’re comparing him to is Ricky James of all people. But you can’t help but think about that stupid memory, from before the Met Gala. Ricky had bought you that stupid cupcake – and very irritatingly swiped the frosting off of your finger. 

And the two of you bickered because you both preferred the frosting as opposed to the actual cake. And naturally, Ricky was never going to be the type to give up his frosting for you. 

It was sweet that way, with Eren. And you’re sure that the thought of invisible strings and single threads of gold tying you to Eren are really only on your mind because that’s what you sang to him the last time you got to spend his birthday with him, but it almost seems too perfect. 

That Eren likes the cake, but you like the frosting. That you’d always finish the cake if you were eating it together. 

Unbeknownst to you of course, Eren is fully aware of the fact that you are overly fond of the frosting on the cake. And that you have no idea that he really hates eating the spongy cake part and prefers the frosting too. 

But he doesn’t like the frosting nearly enough to not even think twice before offering it to you. 

--

--

You only grace the red carpet for five minutes. You and Eren are above that at this point. But from what you were able to discern from Twitter backstage, after practicing your first set with Eren, it was eventful enough without you there. 

Sukuna splashed a glass of wine in Ricky’s already swollen eye from last week. Hyla tripped and fell when she got out of the limo. You and Eren spend a good amount of time reading through the stuff on your feed – and the perfectly timed blind items that you had submitted to every paparazzi company but the WBS were coming out just as you planned them. 

And surely enough, every single one of them was getting caught off guard when they were asked on the carpet – and couldn’t scramble a perfect PR response out. 

There were three blind items that were yours and the rest were strays. And you were fully intent on making sure that everyone, Danny and Sareen, knew that it was you who submitted them by the end of the night. 

First, that Ricky James had thrown an insanely murderous bitch fit at the front of the Institute Offices in New York when he found out that he had been replaced as the opening act, by Eren of all people. 

Which, according to your sources, was true. 

Second, that the producer for the critically acclaimed Ribbons album, Sareen Clarkson, had been cheating on her husband with industry plant John Stasny, who is twenty years her junior and had previously been linked to several famous actresses, like Historia Reiss. 

Which was also true. It had only been a few hours since it had been leaked, but the shit train that followed wasn't pretty.

If you were going to call her a fame fucker, you were going to make sure that everyone was going to understand the reference. 

And the third was that stupid magazine cover that Scott had mailed you and Eren. 

This was seemingly the last pillar that had to fall in taking down Scott Clarkson and his empire – or at least putting the tiniest bit of a dent in it. 

The only reason that the WBS was successful in the first place was the same reason that his label and movie company thrived the way they did – they were big enough to eliminate all the competition. 

But when it came to something like a tabloid, that centered around reporting on drama, it was almost natural to take them down in this way. If they were the only ones that lacked the information, then they’d be the only ones who would drop the ball on reporting it – and therefore, people would have to divert their attention away to someone else to get the information. 

The foundation seemed a bit bare, but you were already too far in to oppose it at this point. 

You feel a little tap on your shoulder and you turn around to find the two people who were going to be accompanying you for your first performance. 

The dopplegangers of you and Eren – from the Girlfriend and Because I Liked a Boy Performance. 

“Hi guys!” 

You reach forward and wrap your arms around both of them as they return the gesture and warmly hug back. Thankfully, they were more than happy to oblige with your second request – third for Penelope if you counted Girlfriend – to pretend to be you and Eren. 

You almost felt bad for marking this as their legacy so many times, but they were more than happy to oblige – citing the free food and the hefty paychecks as more than enough compensation. 

“Right, well. Eren, this is Penelope.” you state. 

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ve met before. Hi.” Eren responds, the look on his face so painstakingly awkward that you almost feel bad for the prank that you’re about to play on him. 

“And this is Scott.” you respond. 

It’s insanely bad timing, since you accidentally mention it while Eren’s taking a swig of his water bottle. And due to the shock, he consequently spits the entire contents back into the bottle and gives the three of you wide eyes. 

“Your name is fucking Scott?” 

“No, it’s Jason. Y/N paid me three bucks to say that.” he states. 

Eren looks at you, giving you a downright murderous glare, as he puts the water bottle down. 

“You bitch.” Eren grumbles

“It’s funny!” you respond. 

You shake him off as you turn back to Jason and Penelope and eye the little wardrobe rack on the side. 

“Okay. Hair and makeup is ready for you two whenever you are. And just remember, that if anyone asks you about the outfits –” 

“Mine is based on Selene, goddess of the moon.” Penelope states. 

“And mine is Poseidon, god of the sea.” Jason adds. 

You grin. The two of them give you a passing wave before they walk off to the other side of the stage and Eren makes a dramatic display of shuddering. 

“What?” 

“Don’t they like…freak you out?” Eren asks. 

“Why would they freak me out?” 

“They literally look like us! And they’re literally dating too which makes it even weirder!” 

You give him a weird look. 

“They aren’t dating.” you respond. 

Eren wraps his arm around your shoulder, before twisting you to the side of where their dressing rooms are – where the two of them are standing, kissing. 

“That looks really friendly to me.” Eren states, tone dripping with sarcasm. 

“What the hell?” 

“It’s weird!” Eren whispers. 

You shiver. 

“Ew. I don’t like that.” you respond. 

“Levi should hire them to do the kiss next week instead of us. Sure, they’ll enjoy it more than we will.” 

You can feel your cheeks burning. You know that it’s not what he meant – surely, that it couldn’t have been what he meant in the slightest but the sting still hits all the same. 

“Jesus. Didn’t realize you were so opposed to kissing me.” you mumble. 

Eren’s eyes go wide.

“I’m not opposed to kissing you!” 

“You just suggested that Levi and Hange should literally offer a salary to two people who kind of look like us just so you wouldn’t have to kiss me.” you deadpan. 

“No! I didn’t mean it like that!” 

“Well…don’t be weird about it! You don’t have to…want to kiss me. I know we’re just working and that it’s all like method acting or whatever. I’m not going to get offended if you don’t want to it’s just–”  

Eren looks agitated. If Sukuna was standing here, you know that he would have no self control and probably piss him off more by asking him if he needed to take a shit. 

“Y/N, just listen. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable because I wrote a kiss into the script and told Levi and Hange that they can’t write it out this time.” Eren responds. 

And just as fast as his eyes go wide, his cheeks are bright pink this time as he suddenly busies himself with worrying about his costume to change the subject. 

It’s a hopeful thought and you’re clearly speaking faster than you’re thinking. Because it’s probably against your better judgment to assume that he wrote the kiss in just because he wanted to kiss you. 

You say it anyway. 

“You wrote the kiss into the script?” you ask, giving him a grin. 

“My costume seems like it’s going to be tight, right? It looks a little short at the legs? We should see if we can get this fixed in the next twenty minutes before we go on, so I don’t look like an idiot, you know?” 

You place a hand on his shoulder, to stop him from bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, and keep him standing on the ground. 

“You can relax. I was just messing with you. And your outfit looks fine, I think we should change now so we can make sure I don’t go swinging into the audience with the equipment.” 

Eren waits for you to finish changing before you walk over to the little makeshift hang-glider that you guys requested. He chooses to ignore commenting about how much he loves it when you wear red for the time being and focuses on making sure you don’t plummet to your imminent death from the moon you’re going to be hanging off of. 

Eren watches as you shuffle on the little seat, before he reaches around you and secures the little belt around your waist. You watch as he tightens it not only twice, but three times, before he reaches for your hand and secures the microphone around it next. 

“You know, I understand securing me to the moon but I think the microphone is a little much. I’m not going to go dropping it.” 

“I’m sorry for being overcautious. I’m not a big fan of…stints that include hanging in the air for so long.” Eren responds, as tightens the strap around your hand again. 

You pale. Of course he hates these type of things.

“No. No…I’m sorry. I totally forgot about that…I-I didn’t even realize that this might be really nerve wracking for you. We can take this part out if–” 

“No, no. I like the set design. How about you just promise to come back to me in one piece?” Eren asks. 

You sigh. 

“Of course.” 

And Eren gives you a gleaming, two dimpled smile in response, before he taps your side and walks over to his cue. As they send your little glider into the air, you can actually see the entire audience from the little break in the curtains at the top – and can spot a very annoyed Ricky James sitting front and center. 

With pink wine stains on his shirt. 

You look down at Eren, who looks up from his spot, and spares you one last thumbs up before the music stats. 

You have to give your props to Eren’s team for working out the set exactly as he wanted it. With the ocean on the left, you in the moon on the right, and Jason and Penelope doing their little slow dance on the beach in the middle. 

Eren:  You live in my dream state Relocate my fantasy I stay in reality You live in my dream state Any time I count sheep That's the only time we make up, make up You exist behind my eyelids, my eyelids Now I don't wanna wake up

Eren:  20-20, 20-20 vision Cupid hit me, cupid hit me with precision I wonder if you look both ways When you cross my mind (Yeah), I said, I said I'm sick of, sick of, sick of, sick of chasing You're the one that's always running through my daydream, I I can only see your face when I close my eyes

And surely enough, they lower you from your little vantage point behind the curtains to the bright flashing lights and the resounding cheers of the crowd – that are barely muffled out by your ear pieces – as you sing your part. 

Y/N:  Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever? I said I'm 'bout to go to war And I don't know if I'ma see you again

As Eren sings his second verse, they’re quick to lift the moon back up and off the stage in time for you to climb off – and for you and Eren to replace Jason and Penelope on the beach in the center. 

You and Eren hadn’t really practiced this part, though in hindsight it was simple enough. You just had to keep leaning in until they dimmed the lights – to make it look like you and Eren were going to kiss each other. 

Y/N:  Can I get a kiss? (Can I get a kiss?) And can you make it last forever? (Oh, forever) I said I'm 'bout to go to war (Go to war) I don't know if I'ma see you again (See you again) Can I get a kiss? (Can I) And can you make it last forever? (Can you) I said I'm 'bout to go to war ('Bout to) And I don't know if I'ma see you again

It’s excruciating to do it. To pretend – and in that second, you decide you’re going to kiss him anyways. Because he wraps his hand too perfectly around your neck to pull you closer and instinctively closes his eyes. 

And then it’s overwhelmingly embarrassing. Because the exact second you time moving forward is when Eren leans back, because they’ve pulled the curtains. And runs off to the side curtains, as you awkwardly stalk back. 

You try to swallow down that pit of shame in your throat as he turns back towards you, handing you an ice cold water bottle. 

“That was great! But was it really hot up there? Your face is all pink.” Eren asks. 

“Uh, yeah. I kind of had a panic up there.” 

Eren twists the cap off and instructs you to drink, biting cold enough to taper that burning heat in your cheeks, as he instinctively shakes his head. 

“I said come back in one piece.” 

“I am in one piece.” you grumble back, getting ready to go stalk off to your dressing room until you had to face him again four performances later. 

Eren doesn’t follow when you make it all the way to the little room, as you lean back in the chair and resort to massaging your temples. 

Too close. That was way too close. 

“Hey?” Eren asks. 

You can see Eren poking his head into your dressing room, bright green eyes curious as he looks down at you. 

“What?” you ask. 

“The answer is yes.” Eren responds. 

You glare, in irritation. 

“To what?” 

Eren bends down, pressing a kiss right into the thrumming pulse of your temple. 

“You asked me if you could get a kiss. Well really, you asked me seven times if you could get a kiss, but I’ll spare you the entire show.” Eren responds, tapping the frame of the door and giving you a bright smile before he steps back out. 

You sigh. The quiet moment of hurt that you were holding on to was absolved the second he smiled at you. And multiplied into the biggest, searing feeling in your chest when he kissed you. 

--

--

There’s seven people in your dressing room after the fact. And one of them is Satoru Gojo, who counted as an additional ten people, which is when you take the sign that it’s probably time to duck out of there. 

You had three options – Connie and Eren who were having way too much fun with your special props, a group that had both Historia and Ymir in it, or Sukuna – who was standing by himself in the corner. 

There was a very obvious choice. 

He gives you a noncommittal nod as you walk up to his side and link your arm in with his. He’s nursing a tiny glass in his hand, which he offers to you. You know him well enough by now to know that it’s going to be some taste buds descreating drink, but decide to drink anyway. 

And surely enough, it burns all the way down to your esophagus, making you physically recoil as you hand the glass back to him. 

“Jesus. I feel bad for your liver.” you respond. 

“I actually don’t drink that much anymore. My liver is just fine.” Sukuna responds. 

“There’s no way. That just destroyed like…a quarter of your lobule.” 

“What the fuck is a lobule?” 

“The functional unit of the liver!” you respond. 

If looks could kill, Sukuna would have murdered you then and there. It’s at that moment that Eren and Connie run up to you, Eren quickly placing his hands on your cheeks to angle your face up towards him and place the little crown on your head. 

“Très magnifique!” Eren murmurs. 

“Wow. Who taught you French, Ratatouille?” 

“Does that count as a self-diss? You taught me French, ma lune.” 

You lightly shove him in the side, as everyone reaches for their cues on the stage and you crawl to the revolving stage underneath with Eren and Sukuna. And surely enough, Levi and Gojo delivered well on their promise with their prop guy. 

He perfectly replicated that god forsaken throne Scott was sitting on in that stupid magazine cover. You snag the little crown Eren placed on your head off to admire the work on it – the gold handiwork. You place your hands in the middle and test the fragileness, noting that it takes little to crack the pieces – before you place it back on your head. 

“So, who was on the right? Eren or Lana?” you ask. 

“I was on the right.” Eren responds. 

The group of you flinch as the music starts blaring above and take it as a sign to stick your earpieces in. And right on timing with the chorus, you can hear the screaming get louder – which you’re positive is people just overreacting to the fact that Gojo’s the first person in the ensemble showcase when he shouldn’t even be in it in the first place – and tap your hands nervously on the handles. 

I wanna be your endgame I wanna be your first string I wanna be your A-Team (whoa-whoa, whoa) I wanna be your endgame, endgame

“Sukuna. There’s pins right there, there’s no way she’s not going to jostle the crown off before she hands it to Lana.” 

“Got it.” Sukuna responds, shuffling away as you look back up to Eren. 

He looks down at you, tucking your hair behind your ear, which has your heart pounding in your throat. 

“Pretty dress.” Eren whispers. 

You give him a shrug, before laying down the fringe at your sides. 

“Nice suit.” you respond. 

“Eh. It’s kind of digging into my neck.” Eren responds. 

You stand up, rocking back on your heels, as you turn to face him. You reach forward, reaching for the top buttons of his dress shirt and task yourself with unbuttoning them. 

“You know, you could at least take me on a date first.” Eren grumbles. 

You hum in response, giving him a smile, as you stop at the third button and reach forward to readjust the layers of his necklaces. His skin is soft and warm underneath your fingertips and it gives you an insanely inappropriate thought. 

“What are you thinking?” Eren murmurs. 

“Nothing.” 

“You’re thinking something naughty.” 

“Ew. You have such a disgusting choice of words, Eren.” you whine. 

“What was it?” 

“Nothing, Eren. I was thinking about how pale you are.” you respond, letting go of the chains and reaching back to sit in your little chair. 

Eren reaches forward, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you back. He’s quick with his other hand, securing it around your waist and holding you steady against him. His lips hover right by your ear, the gravel of his whispering makes you nearly squirm. 

“What were you thinking?” Eren asks. 

“Nothing, Eren. Really.” 

“I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before…and I know what it means. What were you thinking?” Eren asks. 

You groan, squirming out of his embrace. 

Where the hell did Sukuna get lost? 

“I just thought about something that people would notice, that's all. But we don’t–” 

“What was it?” 

You groan, before tucking your hair behind your ears. 

“I’m wearing red lipstick. And that’s a fairly…exposed patch of skin. People would notice if I–” 

“If you kissed me. Alright, go ahead and do it then.” Eren responds, angling his neck closer to you.” 

“Eren.” 

“C’mon. It’s almost our turn. You have to be quick with it.” Eren responds, gesturing frantically with your hands. 

You awkwardly step forward, placing your hands on the sides before you pinch your eyes shut and press a lingering kiss to his neck. You can feel Eren lightly tilt his head back and inhale sharply the second you make contact – but you chose to ignore it. 

You pull back and examine the mark, though it’s rather faint. Eren clocks it fast enough, as he gestures with his hands again. 

“Another one won’t hurt. C’mon.” Eren whispers. 

“Okay, yeah.” you respond. 

You press your lips to his neck again, this time earning you Eren’s hand squeezing into your side – where it was resting at your waist – as you pull back and admire the mark. You look back up at him, feeling an itching sensation all over as you give him an awkward smile. 

“You guys are fucking insane, you know that?” Sukuna mutters. 

“Sukuna! Where the fuck did you go?” you respond, angrily snatching the little pins from his hands and securing them into your hair. 

You sit back down on the throne, as you hear the little countdown ringing in your ear, and prepare yourself to sing the last portion of the song. You can feel both of their hands on your shoulders – squeezing hard – as you lift the microphone to your lips. 

Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah And you heard about me, oh I got some big enemies (hey) Big reputation, big reputation (yeah) Ooh, you and me, we'd be a big conversation, ah And I heard about you, ooh You like the bad ones too

You rustle the crown off of your head and hand it to Sukuna, who walks over to the edge of the stage and tosses it right to Lana in the front row. Who takes it in her hands and breaks it in half before throwing it behind her back. 

I hit you like, "Bang" We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't And I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em Reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me And I can't let you go, your handprint's on my soul It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks So here's the truth from my red lips  

I wanna be your endgame (endgame) I wanna be your first string (me and you) (first string) I wanna be your A-Team (be your A-Team now) I wanna be your endgame, endgame I wanna be your endgame (oh, I do) I wanna be your first string (first string) I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team) I wanna be your endgame, endgame

--

--

The last part is the most nerve wracking. You had to abandon your sweet post of sitting in between Eren and Mikasa at your table for your last performance of the night – which was going to be announced by Danny and Sareen. 

It’s like sitting on pins and needles, getting your hair done and slipping into the sparkly but scratchy dress. And surely enough, when you wait on the edges of the curtain and watch them stage your set – of a grand piano and little star decals – they join you at your side. You can feel your hands shake, nearly dropping the trophy in your hands, as you spare them a glance. 

They’re shorter than you remember and frankly, less intimidating too. That coupled with the fact that Danny has a bright pink eye and the slightest bit of dried blood around his nose.

“What happened to your face?” you sneer. 

Danny rolls his eyes. 

“Ask your boy-toy.” he responds. 

You fight the urge to smile, and make a mental note that Eren deserves every bit of your praise when you see him next, as you turn your head back to the stage, where the announcer is presenting the highlights of your career on the back screen. And surely enough, the two of them awkwardly jostle their arms in with yours as the three of you walk out together. 

You stare blankly out in the audience. And refuse to smile. 

You can see Eren sitting front and center as he gives you the smallest thumbs up in support.

“One of our crowning achievements is getting to work with this lovely young lady right here, on some of our most famous albums, like The Lucky One. Please give a well deserved round of applause for the unstoppable Y/N L/N, who will finally be gracing us with her triple threat performance.” Sareen states. 

You note the drag in her voice when she says the word finally. And you fight the acidic feeling that accumulates in your mouth as you’re suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you’re standing next to the two people you hate the most – who continue to take credit for the one thing that’s yours. 

“Out of the three, Y/N has chosen to mimic the signing performance that awarded her this coveted prize. She will be playing her brand new song, vampire, on the piano. A true testament to all the work that the three of us put together as a team, in molding her into a skilled pianist.” Danny states, sticking his hand out to Sareen as the two of them walk off and take a seat right at the front. 

You can feel your skin steaming as you place the award on the top of the piano and sit down at the keys. You’re able to catch Sukuna’s striking pink hair moving on your left – to the seats behind Danny and Sareen – as you take that as your cue to start performing. 

Hate to give the satisfaction, asking how you're doing now How's the castle built off people you pretend to care about? Just what you wanted Look at you, cool guy, you got it I see the parties and the diamonds sometimes when I close my eyes Six months of torture you sold as some forbidden paradise I loved you truly Gotta laugh at the stupidity

“Eren. You okay? You’re shaking the entire table.” Lana asks, leaning over to whisper in his ear. 

Eren absentmindedly looks down and notices the nervous shaking in his leg, as he turns to his side and spares her a glance. He can note that Lana's concerned because this is starkly similar to the last time the two of them were here together.

When you were singing your isolating, heart-shattering piano ballad about him, while he was hanging his head in between his legs. After you had slapped him, after you had yelled at him after everything that had happened.

That was far from it. It was the way your hands were shaking on the piano keys that was stressing him out. He needed you to make it through the entire thing. Desperately.

“I’m nervous. I think she’s going to cry.” Eren whispers back. 

'Cause I've made some real big mistakes But you make the worst one look fine I should've known it was strange You only come out at night I used to think I was smart But you made me look so naive The way you sold me for parts As you sunk your teeth into me, oh Bloodsucker, famefucker Bleedin' me dry, like a goddamn vampire 

You’re crying. 

Because all you can think about is how the two of them were just standing there, arms linked in with yours, in a moment that was supposed to be yours. That every moment that was supposed to be yours was theirs – and that even at the end of all of that, their still the one standing their proud with their careers when you had to suffer at the hands of it. 

That taking your career was one thing, but taking advantage of the fact that you knew nothing was another. Because you were a teenager, who was so attached to her dream that she'd do anything to get it, especially when people at the top – were promising it to her.

All at the expense of Eren and his feelings. At the expense of your relationship.

You can feel your hands shaking, your vision entirely blurred as you feel the tears start to pour out of your eyes – your singing voice coming out entirely strained as you continue to push your keys on the piano. And you’re able to strain enough until you get right to the bridge and pause. 

They had a responsibility to look out for you as an adult. And did the exaxt opposite.

You reach back to the slicked back bun and snag the pink ribbon that was secured into the little hair tie. The same pink ribbon that was dangling from your hair the day you were stranded in that godawful rain. And yank it straight out of your hair and wrap a little bow around the bottom of the award. 

You wipe the wetness on your cheek, coming back with the slightest smudge on the back of your hand, before you press your hands into the keys and continue singing. The continuation has people rising out of their seats – and you don’t fail to notice that Eren’s the first one to do it – as you finish the song. 

You said it was true love, but wouldn't that be hard? You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart I tried you help you out, now I know that I can't 'Cause how you think's the kind of thing I'll never understand

I've made some real big mistakes But you make the worst one look fine I should've known it was strange You only come out at night I used to think I was smart But you made me look so naive The way you sold me for parts As you sunk your teeth into me, oh Bloodsucker, famefucker Bleedin' me dry, like a goddamn vampire

You take the award and stand up from the bench of the piano to walk straight off the stage, directly to where Sareen and Danny are sitting in the front. Sukuna’s taken the hint to leave the open chair he was sitting in between them and retreats back to his original, as you place the award in between the two of them. 

“Congratulations. I hope it was everything you ever wanted, assholes.” you seethe. 

You slam the award down onto the open space between them, enough for them both to jump up in their seats and spill a glass of wine down the length of Sareen’s dress, as you angrily march back to your seat. And surely enough, Eren and Mikasa are waiting there with open arms, ready to wipe your glittery tears away. 

And as the cameras drop and they cut to commercials for four minutes, you lean your head against Eren’s shoulder as Mikasa pours you a glass of water. 

“So fucking good. So fucking amazing, Y/N you–” Eren whispers.

"Eren even punched him in the face earlier, Y/N! It looked like it really hurt." Mikasa murmurs.

You look up at Eren, and he's grinning so hard, that you can't even fight the urge to not smile back.

"Why'd you punch him?" you ask.

"You slapped Scott Clarkson for me. Why am I not allowed to punch Danny for you?" Eren asks.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and look to your left to find Hange and Levi standing at your side, which really only brings on a more powerful stream of tears. Levi instinctively opens up his arms as you lean against his shoulder instead, Eren standing closeby with Sukuna at his side now.

“Was that everything you wanted Hange?” you groan. 

Hange smiles. 

“And more, kid. I, uh. Actually have something for you.” Hange responds. 

“What’s that?” you ask. 

Hange gestures to Connie at the side, as he produces a small, golden trophy in Hange’s hands. 

“I really don’t give a shit about this anymore. S’kind of how it goes with this type of thing. But, I know this award, this one in my hands specifically meant the world to you back in the day, so I want you to have it.” Hange murmurs. 

You frown. 

“Hange. You can’t just give that to me.” you respond. 

“You gave yours away because it gave you more pain than it was worth. Mine did the same for me at the time too. But, it gives me joy to give it back to you, because really, you deserved it. Back then, but even now too.” 

You take the little golden trophy in your hands, noting that it’s much smaller and really not even as shiny as the one that they had just handed you, and press it close to your chest. 

“Hange, thank you so much. You have no idea what this even means to me.” you whisper, as you wrap your arms around their neck. 

Hange spares Eren a glance over the shoulder and gives him a big thumbs up, coupled with Levi’s approving smile. 

It’s the rare times that Eren’s overthinking habit comes in handy. When he’s able to think ahead and fix things before they happen. 

“I have an idea, kid.” Hange responds. 

--

--

Levi and Hange give you a three day break when you get back to set. You’re not sure what exactly it was that came out of you when you did your last performance, but it was almost like it drained the life out of you. Eren nearly had to drag you back onto that plane and consequently, to your room, when you made it back to the set. 

He thinks that you’ve finally let go of what you’ve been holding on to. And that you can finally move forward now. 

You told him that Marco must have been haunting him overtime for the past few days, which earned you a hearty laugh from him. 

And surely enough, on the fourth day, you’re able to muster your legs down to the kitchen – to a group of well meaning cheers from the group of them – as you read the little slots on the schedule pasted on the fridge. And surely enough, Levi was going to throw you right back into the thick of it. 

Wednesday, April 6th, 8:00 AM 

Eren Head Decapitation 

It’s a stupid caption. If you didn’t know what it meant, you would even laugh at it. 

But you had read ahead already – and knew that it meant that it was finally time for you and Eren to get that kiss scene out of the way.

--

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 @firelordazulaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanloll @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

[jccatstudios]

hey i just wanted to say i just finished reading thru chapter 2 of your soc adaptation and it's absolutely fantastic?? the characters look almost exactly how i picture them and its so cool to see all of my favourite jokes and lines in comic form. the lighting is fantastic as well, even in just black and white— it really helps to covey the mood of the story, especially when kaz is posturing dramatically (lol). i can't wait to read more and thank you so so much for making this, and sharing it with all of us!!! you clearly really love these books and it absolutely bleeds through into your work— i can't wait to see more! thank you so much <3

Thank you!!! I do absolutely love this book series so much. So many favorite scenes, so many comics yet to make... We're now halfway done with Chapter 3. Isn't that wild? It might even run a little bit shorter than the 56 pages I planned out since I've been doing some thumbnail edits along the way.

I don't think I ever shared this one here. Coming very close to getting a Nina face design I like. I like this one too, but I think this new one has more character. Probably will blend them together or something. This hair texture/fullness really suits what I initially imagined for her in Chapter 5. She'll have more specific jewelry later. I wish I made her look more confident in this doodle, but she can be quite melancholic at times.

[monsterfloofs]

Demon (No name yet?) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

You sold your soul. The thought never even crossed your mind until the day when travesty came to your loved ones. You knew there were rumors of people selling their most sacred self for many things, fame, fortune, beauty, yet you yourself traded for a different price.

To rework the damage of time, of events you could never be able to mend without help. You had tried to make peace with what transpired, but couldn't bear it. Thus you had decided your life was unliveable. What good was a soul if your heart was splintered into fragments. What good was a soul to a being that no longer wished to live without those who made life worth living? To rewrite the threads of fate bore a heavy price, and you could never see your other loved ones again. It was a cruel price, but one you gladly took.

Remembering the flash of bright pearlescent teeth, almost glowing in the dark. Turning with fear as a light bloomed into existence, the bright had burned your eyes. You pressed your fingers to your eyes as you ground tilted under your fit. As if the very ground had become a swarm of writhing snakes.

You had been prepared for the worst. You were ready to suffer ten-fold for your wish to abuse the hands of fate. Yet perhaps it was one last glimmer of luck, that your benefactor themselves ended up being an oddity. Dressing you up like a pompous porcelain doll and parading you around as if you were some kind of priceless luxury.

You examined your reflection in the mirror, tilting your head up to look at the dark lace like marks that encircled your neck. Fingertips smoothing over warm skin, digging your thumbnail against one of the elegant swirls and scratching at it. It was, no use of course, you had tried all sorts of ways to remove it. Your stare into your eyes instead, trying to read the expression on your own face.

Then a bell tinkled and you looked over your shoulder, before begrudgingly slouching out of the large baroque restroom in your private suite. The bell ment tea time and the first tea time of the month could only mean one thing. You dreaded the new clothes that would have to endure. They were usually poofy, with enough ruffles that you had entertained the idea of pulling them all off and using them as a rope to escape out the window. Seeing a prettily wrapped parcel on your bed you could only sigh.

It was cruel and unusual torment, yet considering how you had thought your new life was going to be. . . it was better in spades compared to that. You gingerly pull apart the bow, and open the box. Feeling your face sag as you lift up the garment. Well. . . it's. . . certainly.

Something.

Something as in, you felt like a pink profiterole as you waddled to the parlor. If the pants were any poofier perhaps you could use them to make a hot air balloon.

You sat with your hands folded in your lap as you looked out the window. Home, they had insisted you call this new world. Yet it felt like a gilded cage. No matter how pretty, how decorated the iron was, they were still bars. Your guard had been down, mind wandering as you stared out the window. You hadn't noticed the shadow looming over you until it was too late.

A clawed hand reaches over and gently pinches your cheek, which makes you scrunch up your nose and shake your head.

"Look at you!" They squealed, tail lashing back and forth. "Perfect, perfect, you are absolutely darling!"

They acted with an air of an overly affectionate aunt, and it was truly the most bizarre experience.

They clapped their hands. "I want to see all of it!"

With the air of a waterlogged cat trying to reclaim their dignity you stood slowly. Watching as they make a dramatic show of looking you up and down before spinning a perfect clawed finger.

"Do a little turn for me? Oh pretty please with a cherry on top?"

S i g h.

You turn on your heel slowly, lip jut in a pout, holding your arms out at your sides. You arms fall to your sides as your finish your and wait for further instructions. their hands clasped to their cheek and staring at you with something like tears in their eyes.

"You are just so scrumptious! OOH I could just eat you up!!"

You remember being terrified when they first said that, but now you blink mildly and politely sit back down.

They tap a fingernail against their sharp teeth, "I will have to plan. . . for next month maybe something in lilac yes. . ."

You take a deep breath, well, you told yourself you would ask, it's now or never.

"My liege. . ." You swallow thickly, "Perhaps I could. . . pick the design this time?"

You wait for the atmosphere to change waiting for the floor to drop out and you to fall into a fiery hell pit.

When you peek at them they look more like they want to cry.

"Really?"

You guiltily look at the tiered pastry tray "If it wouldn't be too much tro-" The last word gone as they fling their arms around you.

"Aaaaaa!!" They shrill, "Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes! Oh my lil cream puff, my lil cupcake you can have whatever you would like!"

Your eyes wide as you are rocked back and forth. It's getting hard to breathe. "M-my leige-" You wheeze, patting their back urgently.

"I was hoping and hoping you would ask I–" They drop you immediately, taking a step away with their hands held behind their back. "O-oh yes. Of course, touching, you don't like that whole invasion of personal space" They twitter nervously tugging at their collar with a finger. "Whoopsie, w-won't happen again!"

Enjoy what I write? I have a tip jar! I also take writing and art commissions on kofi! ヽ(*ᵔ▿ᵔ)ﾉ

[coquettebratzdoll]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

This post is directly inspired by this post by @zomb13pup and my response. Go support her ! I'm just expanding on my thoughts.

I'm pretty sure we've all seen that one girl in a couple of youtube thumbnails. You know that one; brown hair, white skin, running mascara, and reddish eyes. They are in their room at night and recording themsekf. The text above reads, "it's 4 am, i just woke up from an 8 month shift to hogwarts. i want to go back, let me leave".

They have featured in the thumbnail of edvasian and nickisnotgreen 's repective videos on shifting. I won't be posting any of the thumbnails because (1) I want to respect their privacy, and (2) edvasian has since deleted his video on shifting (not sure about nick tho). So there will be a lot of 'trust-me-bro' in this post lmao. Regardless, I feel that something has to be said.

In almost every thumbnail about shifting (where someone very uninitiated and uneducated on the topic tries to armchair diagnose us with a slew of mental disorders and blame it on the illusive 'gen z and their problems'), they are there. Usually front and center. I've also noticed that anyone else featured is usually femme presenting or a girl/woman. I've yet to see any masc presenting people in a thumbnail.

They tend to mock the seeming 'absurdity' of shifting. Yet, by using them as the thumbnail, it reveals how inherently misogynistic these videos are. They are essentially mocking them for crying about leaving their dr after 8 months. Think about it, anyone would be upset if they (for example) got into the school of their dreams, only to wake up one day and have that all taken away from you. Yet they invalidate their emotions and mock them essentially. There are literally videos up on tiktok right now, still mocking this person for feeling that way.

Now, this is where I believe part of the problem lies. For many, MANY years, women's and femme's has been invalidated, ridiculed, and downright glamourised. As an example, Game of Thrones has many scenes graphically depicting violence against women. So when they saw that girl crying, they saw an opportunity to have a 'youtube thumbnail face' to drive up engagement and the click through rate (an over dramatic face meant only for the clicks) when the reality of it is this person who felt emotional and wanted to express those valid emotions online.

[water-loos]

Bad Idea, Right ?

“I know we’re done, I know we’re through, but, God, when I look at you…”

player!mean!steve harrington x fem!reader

series masterlist ; next chapter

cw: college au, MILD EMETOPHOBIA WARNING (mentions of gagging/pretending to vomit), vulgar language smut (p in v, creampie, unprotected sex), hate sex, arguing

wc: 5k

a/n: guys please be nice this is my first time writing full on smut

It was easy to change the code for your apartment building. It was easier to sit closer to the front of the class and start participating more as sort of a Steve repellent. Even deleting his number was a piece of cake after a couple of weeks.

What wasn’t easy, was going out.

Despite it being summer when all of the college kids normally went home to their hometowns, your group of friends that lived in your building chose to move to the city permanently and stay for the summer, all in the name of partying and being drunk in public. It had seemed fun at first, and you had been excited at one point.

Then, your friend Eddie said something in a casual conversation that ruined your entire summer.

“Yeah, by the way, Steve’s still holed up at his place. His roommate works 24/7 and doesn’t really do much, so he’s kind of been stuck. I think we should invite him to come out with us tomorrow,” He had suggested innocently, the situation between the two of you was kept so well under wraps that everyone but Alexandra had been kept in the dark. “What d’ya think?”

Well, Alexandra and her girlfriend, Robin. Who was Steve’s best friend. And had apparently been giving him hell about the way he treated you.

Eddie still sat beside you on the couch, sweet and clueless. You gulped before answering. “That’s fine. The more the merrier, right?”

“See! That’s what I told him, but he was all like “Well I don’t know you’d have to ask, you can’t just invite me to someone else’s plans”, which I think is a stupid mindset,” He gave a dramatic and frankly spot-on impression of Steve that almost made you laugh. “I’ll just tell him he should come.”

“Did you tell him who’s coming? Or just that it’s mystery plans?” Robin chirped in from the kitchen, shooting you a knowing look from over the back of Eddie’s head. “You know how he is with knowing everyone who’s at a function.”

“I did not, actually,” Eddie realized and whipped out his phone, flipping it open and clicking through his contacts to find his message thread with Steve. “I’ll text him right now. I don’t think he’s doing anything.”

You watched the screen diligently from where you were sitting, pixelated text bubbles popping up.

—

i just talked to everybody and they said you’re good to come out with us saturday

Who’s going?

rob, alex, nance, sean, jared, and alex’s roommate

—

You bit your thumbnail as you watched a typing bubble pop up, disappear, and then reappear for the next minute.

“He’s taking forever.”

“He always takes forever!” Robin called from the kitchen as Alex walked out from her room.

“What’s all the shouting for?” She grumbled, clinging onto Robin.

“I’m trying to get Steve to tell me if he’s coming out with us on Saturday,” Eddie explains and sends a few question marks in the message thread. “He keeps typing, and stopping, and typing again.”

Alex whips around and shoots you a wide-eyed glance. Eddie’s too enthralled in his phone to see you shoot one back.

—

I just realized I have a work thing that night.

Sorry.

—

“He says he has a work thing. He’s no fun,” Eddie sighs, shuts his phone, and tosses it onto the coffee table.

Your stomach churns and guilt fills your veins. When you cut Steve off, you didn’t want it to stop him from hanging out with everyone else. You’d rather not go and let him have fun instead.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, indicating you had received a text. Your blood ran cold at the possibility that Steve could be the one texting you, and you immediately handed Eddie the remote that was in your lap in favor of scrambling to open your messages.

You couldn’t help but deflate a little when you saw it was just Robin, asking you if you were alright.

—

u ok?

yeah, i’m fine rob, but can you do me a favor?

sure

what’s up

can you text steve and ask him if he’d consider going out with you guys if i don’t go

what

no i’m not doing that

u don’t have to do that

he’ll be fine

can you just do it? please? i don’t even want to go that badly

i’ll buy you food

please?

fine

but i don’t think U should have to not go out with UR friends bc he’s uncomfy

—

You clicked your phone closed and settled into your seat on the couch, trying to focus on whatever horror movie Eddie had put on. Your phone buzzed not even five minutes after you had closed it, prompting you to open it again.

This time, it was an unknown number.

Your heart just about stopped.

—

Why do you want me to go out with everyone on Saturday so badly?

because i feel bad for being the reason you won’t go

so i’ll not go so you can, eddie really wants you to go

What if I just don’t want to go at all?

i want to make my friends happy, steve

robin and eddie and alex love you, and everyone else will love you

i want them to have a good time and they will if you go

please just go, for their sake

I have a better idea.

Don’t go out with them, and come here.

—

You pause and consider it. It couldn’t be that bad if you did go over. You could bring the six-pack that was in the back of your fridge that you hadn’t had the heart to toss yet, and you two could watch a movie like before. As much as it was easy to separate yourself from him, from everything, you still laid in bed and cried almost every night because your comforter still held the smell of his cologne no matter how many times you washed it. You still had one of his zip-ups, and you kept it right on your bedside table. The Altoids tin with his last cigarette still rattled in your purse.

Your phone buzzed twice in your hand.

—

DONT DO IT. DO NOT. ISWEAR TO FUCKING GOD

don’t listen to him

—

You lifted your head to see Robin and Alex standing behind you, glaring. Alex made a motion of slicing her neck.

That was enough to make you snap your phone closed and go back to pretending to watch the movie.

But it couldn’t be that bad.

Right?

———————

Saturday rolled around, and you had pulled out all of the stops. You blew out your hair, shaved your entire body, and even picked out your favorite pair of jeans that hugged your body just right.

Everything was perfect.

Your friends stood in your apartment, bottles of liquor covered your island, and music was bumping. It was a good pregame, and the energy was high.

“Alright! Let’s get this show on the road people!” Eddie cheered, a shooter between his pointer finger and thumb. “One last shot and then we leave.”

Jared, who had been standing ahead of where you sat on the couch, turned to help you up. The smile that was on his lips faded quickly, and his face fell into a concerned expression in the blink of an eye. “Are you good?”

Step one was complete.

You shook your head slowly and opened your eyes, trying to look as helpless as you could. “I’m really dizzy. I don’t think I should have smoked that cigarette.”

“Oh, shit, Alex?” Jared turned and called for your roommate, who rushed over quickly. The chains that hung from her shorts jingled as she rounded the couch and bent before you. “I think they’re gonna be sick.”

“Babe, I told you not to smoke with Eddie,” She tutted, lips between her teeth.

Before she could say anything else, you jumped up from the couch and rushed to the bathroom with your hand over your mouth, slamming the door behind you.

Step two.

You sat down on the floor next to the toilet and pretended to gag, doing your best to have the sounds you were making reverberate and sound realistic.

You kept it up for a couple of minutes before groaning loudly and flushing, which Alex took as an okay to knock on the door.

“You okay?”

“No. Just go without me.”

“Are you sure? We can just do a night in—“

“It’s fine, Alex,” You croaked. “I’ll be fine. You guys go out and tell me all about it tomorrow. I just want to chill out for a while.”

“Okay, babe. Call me if you need anything,” She agreed quicker than you thought she would, and you could hear her walk away from the door.

Step three.

You waited the ten minutes it took for everyone to get out the door, listening diligently for the faint sounds of their overly loud drunken voices to disappear. You left the bathroom as soon as you heard the door close, and you watched from the crack in your curtains as they pranced down the street and around the corner.

That’s when you grabbed your bag, Steve’s zip-up, his six-pack of beer, sprayed one last drop of perfume and left your apartment.

———————

One tumultuous twenty-minute drive later, you stood in front of his apartment, tossing your hair with your free hand as you debated on knocking.

This was such a bad idea.

But it was fine because you were just returning the last of his things. You were going to give him his things and maybe one more piece of your mind, and then you’d leave and cry in bed. It was a foolproof plan.

So you decide to knock, two raps of the knocker. You adjusted your posture one more time and crossed your arms. It would be fine. It’s a quick trip.

Step four.

Then, the door opened. Steve Harrington stood there, smiling at you with a look that could send someone to their knees. His shoulder leaned against the doorframe, and he matched your posture. It made your heart ache.

“There you are, pretty,” He quipped, letting his eyes drag slowly over your frame. You hadn’t changed, and the strong A/C that escaped the open door rose goosebumps over the sliver of stomach that showed above your jeans and the swell of your tits that was exposed over your favorite going-out top. “Almost thought you wouldn’t come.”

You tried your best to roll your eyes and pushed past him into his apartment, arms still crossed. “I’m just here to drop off your shit. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“You dressed up just to bring over my things?” He shut the door behind you and followed you into the kitchen, where you set down all of his stuff. “Sure.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might have plans after this? I don’t sit alone in my apartment like you do.”

“Oh, is that why Eddie called me?” He rounded the counter to stand in front of you, hands bracing either side of the counter outside of your hips. “Rambling about how I should ditch the work thing and come party because his favorite friend got sick after one cigarette?”

Shit.

He stepped closer once he saw your expression drop, one of his knees wedging between yours.

“I think we both know why you’re here, sweetheart.”

“You’re the one who texted me. Don’t act like this is my idea,” You said, voice wavering so slightly that you weren’t sure that he’d catch on.

“Oh, baby,” He tutted, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear and letting his hand trail down your neck. “I’m just feeling like the luckiest guy in the world, getting to be the one you get all prettied up for.”

You folded the second he pulled you closer, connecting your lips. It was like you were putty in his hands, and you were molded just for him. His hand almost gripped the back of your neck as your hands landed on the sides of his waist, anchoring him to you. The kiss was hot and hard like you were taking your first drink of water after walking through a desert. his other hand was quick to grasp your ass, pulling on it slightly as he groaned into the kiss.

“Wearing my favorite goddamn jeans,” He murmured into your lips, letting his hand smack your left ass cheek a little bit. “Just f’me.”

“Not for you,” You grumbled back but grabbed the front of his shirt and let your leg hook around his hip as he pressed you into the edge of the island. “Never for you.”

He chuckled and took one quick movement to set you atop the counter, letting you look down at him as his hands smoothed up your thighs. “I don’t think telling yourself that makes it any more true.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Aren’t you going to do that for me?”

You knocked his hip with your leg moderately hard, catching his attention. “I’ll walk out right now. This is the last time I’m ever dealing with your shit. I’m serious.”

He just blinked at you, eyes glazed over. But not with a realization that this was the end of you two. That’d be too easy.

That stupid smirk that haunted your dreams popped up on his lips seconds later.

“You’re so fucking hot when you hate me.”

He let his hand slip into the crease of your hips and thighs and all but smashed his lips into yours, groaning a little when your hands reached up to tug at his grown-out strands of hair. He was quick to pull you closer then, your legs wrapping around his hips as he leaned you across the counter. His lips started a burning and sloppy descent down your neck, his hands greedily grabbing at what he could of your ass. He nudged you further and further off the counter as you pulled him closer with both of your legs, and he was practically holding you soundly around his waist.

“You’re not fucking me on top of a counter, Harrington,” You breathed, a little less weight behind your words. “My back still hurts from your stupid car.”

“She’s not stupid,” He huffs against your neck and steps away from the counter, hosting you higher on his hips. “But have it your way.”

You scoff as he references his car as a ‘she’, but the annoyance doesn’t last long as he quickly turns the corner after the kitchen, goes into the first door on the right, and all but tosses you onto his bed. It’s huge and the comforter almost puffs out around you as he closes the door and locks it quietly. He wheeled around at light speed after that, as you positioned yourself, knees up and posed, the chunky heels of your boots digging into his navy sheets. You pulled in your shoulders and pushed out your chest, arms locked behind you.

The second you cocked your head at him, he froze, and you swore that he short-circuited.

“You just going to stand there and gawk at me?” You raised an eyebrow and watched his cheeks grow pink in the dim light of his bedside lamp. “Commit me to memory while you can.”

He was quick to step forward then, a surprisingly gentle hand reaching for your ankle. You watched silently as he slowly pulled down the zipper of one boot, slid it off, and placed it quietly on the shag rug beside the bed. He did the same for the other boot before kissing up the length of your calf and knee over your jeans, alternating legs. You let your arms drop to your elbows, entranced as he lowered your knees and made his way up your thighs, surprisingly tender as he almost worshipped your legs. The nature of it all made your chest tight, those feelings you swore to keep at bay swelling to the surface.

Once he reached your navel, he didn’t waste time letting his fingers grasp the edge of your top, pushing it up as he pressed gentle pecks all over the expanse of your stomach. His head didn’t rise as you carefully lifted your shirt over your head and let it drop to the floor. His pace quickened then as his kisses turned to love bites, his teeth sharp and his lips soothing. Your breath hitched as his hand skirted around your back and unclipped your bra with nimble fingers. He pushed the straps down your shoulders as you slipped them off one by one, the lace material dropping beside your top.

He left larger hickeys on the swell of your breasts and sternum as he trailed back down, fingers already popping the button of your jeans and skirting along the seam between your legs. You preened in response and lifted your hips, urging him to push the tight jeans over your plush hips already. This needed to be quick before the facade you’d built in the last twenty-four hours started to crack.

“Please.”

You whispered the word so softly that you almost didn’t know if he’d hear it, but it was like a switch flipped the second it left your lips. Your jeans were flying off your legs, white lace panties dragged with them. You were next, his hands moving to your calves and pulling you toward the edge of the bed, your legs dangling off the edge. The boy did nothing but drag a hand down the side of your now naked frame, smirk, and slowly lower to his knees between your legs. The sight alone made your core gush, clenching around air.

You were quick to scramble to your elbows, watching him retrace his earlier steps across the expanse of your legs, leaving tender kisses and gentle nips across your skin as he inched closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. He slowed even more, then, simply looking at your cunt, unmoving.

“Stop teasing me,” You huffed, leaning your head back for a moment. “You’ve seen me a million goddamn times.”

“You said to commit you to memory,” He replied nonchalantly. A finger came out of nowhere and circled your clit as he rested his head on the plush of your thigh. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

You whined softly, heartbeat quickening. “Do it faster, then.”

“You that eager to get in and out of here?” He scoffed, adjusting so that his thumb kept a slow, torturous pace on your clit, while the middle finger of his other hand began to circle your entrance, teasing delicately. You whined in response, more pissed off than anything.

“What do you think?” You huffed, attempting to shift your hips closer to him and urge his finger inside of you, but Steve simply moved his arm to bracket across your hips and hold you in place. “I didn’t come here to spend the night. Now, could you please just fucking touch me?”

You saw a flash of something in his eyes, something you’d never seen before, before his mouth was on you. His arms moved to loop around your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, tongue running figure eights from your clit to your weeping entrance so harshly that you almost shouted. You moaned softly over and over as he almost ravished you, lewd wet noises ringing through his echoey bedroom. You had almost forgotten how good he was in bed, and how he was obsessed with eating you out. It was always his favorite part of your nightly routine. It might be yours too.

Your heart ached the second you thought about how you had missed him, and you squeezed your eyes shut to wave those thoughts away. You tried to focus on the pleasure building up as an orgasm crept up on you, your moans turning into soft gasps.

“Fuck,” Your elbows ached behind you as you let yourself fall back onto the bed, hands twisting into the sheets below you. His arms kept your hips locked in place as you tried to squirm and give yourself a little more friction against his tongue. His pace had turned slow, but not any less passionate as he took his sweet time switching between sucking on your clit and dipping his tongue around and into your entrance. “Don’t stop, if you stop I’ll lose my shit—“

All of a sudden, two fingers were slipping into you and curling against your g-spot, making you squeak and writhe in place as the feeling of your orgasm slammed your senses. Your breathing turned erratic as he lapped up your cum and helped you ride out the high, your head elbows falling out from underneath you.

“That’s one way to get you to shut up,” He snorted, standing from his kneeling position. His hair wasn’t as wild as it normally was after he spent time between your thighs— the sight of him looking like he’d got ready two minutes ago made your heart ache. But, you were somehow glad you managed to keep your hands off of him. It meant you still had your self-control.

“You’re such a dick,” You scoff, chest heaving as you pushed yourself up onto your hands. You watched his eyes follow the way your tits jiggled as you did so, and rolled yours. “You planning on fucking me, or are we done here? I could still make it to the bar if I catch a cab.”

His face stayed stagnant and slightly flushed, but his eyes managed to widen ever so slightly. “You weren’t kidding.”

Jackpot.

“What made you think I was kidding?” You laughed slightly, even though you felt sick. You sat up fully then, closing your legs and crossing your arms with as much confidence as you could muster. “Look, Steve. I came here for two things: to drop off the last of your stuff, and to get off. It’s not that deep. If you want to jack off on your own time that’s perfectly—“

He was flinging his shirt off and rushing to unbuckle his belt in the middle of your sentence, and was on top of you before you could say “Fine”. He pushed your back onto the bed and his lips latched onto yours in a bruising kiss, one hand manhandling your chin as the other held him up beside your head. His hips pressed your legs apart once more, the rough fabric of his jeans giving your still-sensitive clit some much-needed friction as he rocked with the kiss.

“You think I’m going to choose not to fuck you when you’re sitting right in front of me?” He mumbled against your lips and rocked his hips again. “With a pussy like yours? Not a fucking chance.”

Your hand slipped down to palm over his bulge and gripped him through his pants suddenly, a small gasp falling from his lips as he pulled away from the kiss. “I liked this so much better when you didn’t open your fucking mouth.”

Before he could bite back, your deft fingers made quick work of popping the button of his jeans, then pulling down the zipper in record time. His other arm came down beside your head to hold him up as he watched you between your bodies, your ring-clad fingers pushing his jeans and boxers down enough for his dick to spring free. You tried your best to not openly moan at the familiar sight of him after so long and gave him a couple strokes as your other hand continued to push his jeans and boxers down further.

“You still on the pill?” He huffed, pupils blown wide as he looked up at you. That confident man that had just made you cum in two minutes flat was long gone, and you were left with a puddle of a boy, ready to do whatever you asked. “Please say yes. Need to feel you.”

You gulped at the sight and continued to feed into this confident facade you were putting on. “I have no reason to not be on it.”

He blinked, his eyes flashing with that emotion you couldn’t place again before he kissed you deeply once more. You took the opportunity to shift your hips and guide his tip toward your entrance, tapping his side to signal he could push in. He did so as slowly as possible, his cheeks pink as he pulled away and looked between your bodies, watching you stretch around his length. “Fuck. I’ve missed this.”

Your throat grew tight as he bottomed out, your hands landing on the bed, just outside of where he braced himself on his forearms. You adjusted quickly to his size, which you had forgotten about, but then, all of those emotions you had been trying to desperately push aside started to arise. Your eyes pricked with tears, and you tried your best to close your eyes and pretend you weren’t about to cry during this.

“Move, please,” You whispered, trying your best to keep your voice even. “C’mon, Steve. Do what you do best.”

He didn’t react to the jab and rolled his hips, barely pulling out. Just how you liked him— grinding inside of you like you were one. It made your tears come on faster, your eyes squeezed shut as you willed yourself to get it together. Your moans grew watery and quiet, your throat thick with emotion as he rutted into you, his hair finally flopping down toward your face. He stayed like that for a brief moment before reaching for your legs and urging them higher on his hips, giving him more space to pull out and ram back into you.

The pleasure you were feeling was almost blinding, but no matter how much you willed yourself not to let your tears fall, you could feel droplets leaking from the outer corners of your eyes with every harsh thrush and whine that fell from your lips. Your chest hurt with your feelings as you felt another orgasm rapidly approaching, your fingers twisting again in Steve’s bedsheets once more.

Then he stopped. He stopped at the end of a particularly hard thrust, his tip pressing against your g-spot, making you squirm and finally open your eyes to look at him in surprise.

“Are you crying? What’s wrong?” His voice was soft, eyes searching your face with concern. “D’you need me to stop?”

“I’m fine, keep going,” You huffed, squeezing your eyes shut again. “Don’t worry about me, just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Am I hurting you? What’s going on—“

“Please, god, just keep going, Steve!” You exclaimed, voice breaking. “Come on. Please.”

“You promise you’re okay?” He asked again, voice almost a whisper. One of his hands came up to brush your wild hair away from your face. “Promise me and I’ll keep going.”

“I promise,” You squirmed, letting out a whimper as you did so. “Please, Steve.”

With your promise, he was pulling out and quickening his pace, his hips all but slamming in and out of you as you moaned beneath him, eyes closed once more as you willed your orgasm to come any faster. With one sharp thrust, and one more press against your g-spot, you were cumming so suddenly that you swore your saw stars, and Steve followed seconds later. Your moans mingled as his body weight came down on top of you, a grounding weight as you both recovered from your climaxes.

Your tears only got worse when you felt him try to wrap his arms around you and roll the two of you over, but you kept your back on his bed and gently pushed away his arm with a shake of your head. The look in his eyes, that emotion you had seen in his eyes returning, made you feel sick as you sat up in bed. It took you a moment to gain the strength to swing your legs over the side of the bed and rise to your feet.

You ignored his piercing gaze as you wiped the tears from your face, collected your clothes from around the room, and let yourself into his en-suite bathroom. You tried to ignore the sound of him rising from bed as you cleaned his cum from between your legs and redressed yourself, trying your best to keep your composure until you at the very least got to your car.

He knocked on the door just as you finished fixing your hair, your hands gripping on the edge of his marble countertop.

“Can we talk? Please?” He asked at the door. “You can’t just leave after that. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

With one last deep breath, you opened the door and pushed past him. “That’s exactly what I’ll be doing. I have no reason to stay.”

“But you never left after before,” He huffed, blocking the doorway momentarily.

“That’s because I wanted to be around you, Steve,” You bit back.

“Obviously you wanted to be around me ten minutes ago when you were in my bed,” A scoff left his lips as you pushed past again into the hallway of his apartment. You bristled at his words, wheeling around on your heel.

“I came here to fuck, Steve. I didn’t come here to be around you,” You said evenly, your eyes boring into his. “You gave me an opportunity, and I took it. That’s all this is. That’s all it ever was, right?”

“It’s not like that—“

“You don’t get to be butthurt when you get a taste of your own medicine. I’m leaving, and you can go fuck yourself from now on,” You turned back around and reached for your thumb, where the last piece of Steve in your life laid. A gold signet ring with his initials carved into it in ornate cursive, perfectly sized for his ring finger, and your thumb. You pulled it off with ease, tossed it onto the counter, grabbed your keys that had fallen out of your pocket earlier, and headed for the door.

“So this is it?” He asked from the far side of the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest. “This is the last time I’m seeing you.”

“Whatever this is was over months ago, Steve,” You snorted and opened the door, soaring one last glance over your shoulder at his shirtless frame. “You need to get over it.”

———————

[emmyrosee]

here have an akaashi blurb™️ bc I love him

——

He’s been cooped up for damned hours in that room of his.

Keiji was nothing short of an aggressive worker, putting his mind and heart fully into whatever study he was currently diving into. It was something you adored, of course you did, he’s a passionate man who thrives on doing well for himself, thus being better for those around him.

But it’s two in the morning. The bed is cold, your fingers stroke longingly over his pillow, and you hear the coffee maker go again, and you feel a slight tinge of betrayal in your heart. You missed him, you needed him, and he was completely tuned out of it.

And that simply wouldn’t do. Not if you had a say.

With a sleepy sigh and a palm to your eye sockets, you stalk slowly out of the bed and into the kitchen, shielding your eyes from the stove light that’s far, far too bright. He looks devine carved in the moonlight, looking over papers again while he chews anxiously at his thumbnail. You offer him a soft ‘keiji?’ and your heart flutters as he physically relaxed at your voice.

“What’re you doing up so late?” He mumbles, tossing the packet to the side. Then, he smiles tiredly, “thought I tucked you three hours ago.”

“Not tight enough,” you sigh dramatically, heading over to him. He opens his arms to let you in an embrace, and you forgot how good he smells when his body’s warm with focus. “Need your arms around me to keep me asleep.”

He sucks in a deep, remorseful breath through his teeth, squeezing you just a tad tighter. “Shit, I know baby, I’m sorry. I’m just so into the thick of it and I’m scared to lose my mojo.”

“You’re not going to lose your mojo,” you whisper into his chest. “If anything, you’re going to get burnt out. And I’d hate to see that happen to you over something that couldn’t been gently avoided.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest and making you smile happily. “You’re right,” he confesses. “Let me just finish this cup and I’ll come to bed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you repeat. “You’re coming to bed now.”

“But what about my coffee-“

You slip from his arms and grab the steaming cup. The smell is comforting, intoxicating, but it’s your enemy right now, and you need to show that. You open the fridge and plop it in, closing the door with a swift swat of your hand. “Congratulations. Now you have iced coffee in the morning.”

He laughs again, the sound absolutely invigorating. “Okay,” he says, watching you. “Now what?”

“Now-“ you gently grab his hand and lead him to the bedroom, ignoring his protests of ‘wait, my lights are on’ and ‘at least let me bookmark.’ You guide him to the bed and, with an easy push, shove him to the bed. “Jammies. You want shorts or sweats?”

You’re surprised when he’s compliant, letting you undress and dress him into the comfiest clothes and sprawling out on the bed. You take off his glasses and fold them to your nightstand, and with a smile, you take the hand closest to you up towards you, placing small kisses to his fingers, knuckles, nails, nipping playfully at the pads and nuzzling into the overworked, warm palms you adored beyond words. The nails on your other hand gently trace over his forearms and biceps, goosebumps raising under his skin at your ease.

“I hate having you work yourself so hard,” you whisper, almost tearing up when the hand you’re holding cups your cheek. “You’re going to get sick. You’re going to lose your mind if you keep forcing yourself. You’re going to fall out of love with the things you love most-“

“No, I’m not,” he says sleepily, thumb stroking the plumpness of your cheeks. “I love you the most. Everything else, writing, reading, studying, researching, they barely hold a candle.” In the dark, you can make out an adoring smile. “How can i not love you most when you take such good care of me?”

“Ew,” you tease, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters and your eyes sting at his words. He laughs softly before slowly lowering his hand, letting it plop against the mattress.

“Can I have a glass of water?” He says sweetly, almost childishly, and you smile with a nod.

“I’ll take care of your lights, too,” you assure, before making your way out to retrieve his drink.

The light above the stove flicks off, shrouding you in darkness. Next, his study, where the lamp above his papers is scalding hot from the overuse. You know his laptop has an auto save, so you close that as well before heading into the bedroom.

You smile. Keiji is completely knocked out and curled up in a small ball under the sheets, lips open and letting out the quietest little snores. You tiptoe to place the glass on his nightstand before slipping into your own side, burrowing under the covers and wrapping him in a loving hold to fall asleep with.

You, too, were lulled to slumber within minutes.