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aurae-rori · 9 months ago

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DR RATIO ANALYSIS

SPOILERS FOR 2.1 CONTENT!

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, Oh No! and Are You Satisfied? are much too basic songs to analyze Dr. Ratio to! Just because he's a scholar doesn't mean that he has academic trauma!" WRONG! Before we start, I have been researching psychology for approximately six years and I plan to go into it professionally. HOWEVER, that said, I am NOT a professional (YET. One day I will be. Yay for Aurae!) so understand that everything I come to conclusions about has been analyzed with some personal judgement, personal interpretations, and this is just what I have concluded with the info that I have deconstructed from his brain. If you disagree, that's fine!

I will be pulling from my own experiences with being a "golden" and "gifted" child, as well as the experiences I've had speaking to other people who were those. I will also be pulling from my experiences of researching and seeing how people with superiority complexes work, as well as diving into how those work (from what I've seen, as well as how they conceal a lack of self-esteem).

OKAY, NOW THAT THAT LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, ALLOW ME TO WORK MY PSYCH ENJOYER MAGIC! Let's deconstruct Dr. Ratio like a lego toy.

Let's start off with how Dr. Ratio presents himself. When you first meet him, he seems like a haughty, arrogant asshole. He likes to PRESENT himself as a stoic, superior scholar who is purely in it to win it, and I got total "*stares down at your tiny body and laughs at how you lack knowledge*" vibes at the very start, due to how he goes around calling people idiots all the time. However, he DOES lose the idgaf war, and we can very quickly see that he does care for other people, even if in his own, strange way. Dr Ratio presentation: An asshole. The reality?

His entire character is based around the idea of helping the masses. He wishes to spread knowledge through the cosmos and give people who didn't have access to it, access. He's a harsh teacher, and calling people 'idiots' is NOT the way to motivate them, but he's doing his best™.

Actually, no, I'm going to go full psych into this. Okay, so here starts the Dr. Ratio and my FATHER COMPARISONS. My father is a professor and he is often called a harsh grader by his students. However, I've spoken to him multiple times because I was curious - why is he so harsh and diligent with his grading system? The answer is - he wants them to actually learn. When he's grading, he gives them harsh marks because he wants them to know exactly where they messed up, and he's always willing to stay after hours to help students understand where they can't. My father also is an enjoyer of knowledge, and for as long as I've remembered, he has prioritized teaching me how to think critically. He wants me to be able to think for myself - and I think that's what Dr. Ratio wants, too. He wants for his students to be able to fully comprehend and absorb the information that he teaches, and although his methods are harsh, he genuinely wants to help. My father's like this too - he hates students that waste his time or aren't here because their hearts are in it. Dr. Ratio hates people who aren't taking their education seriously because knowledge is important. Knowledge is a tool, and to disregard it completely is lowkey kind of insulting - especially when there are people who weren't privileged enough to actually get it, so this isn't something that you should take for granted. Dr. Ratio despises people who take knowledge for granted.

Also, I disagree with the claims that say that Dr. Ratio hates the genius society. He shows open respect for them in his voice lines. Just check them if you need proof. Also, I'll delve into the idea of Aeons and recognition later.

Now that we’ve established that Dr. Ratio kins my dad, let’s let's tackle the 'stoic' allegations. He is LOSING the idgaf war. Like, really badly. He has a temper of a thousand suns and snaps at people frequently, despite his 'impassive' face, his tone holds a LOT of emotion. He seems to feel very deeply and has a shit ton of empathy for others - why else would he be dedicating his entire career to helping others? Of course, he doesn't express this in 'typical' ways of being openly kind - but it doesn't mean that he doesn't care for other people. In fact, he seems to be pretty good at putting himself in the shoes of others and understanding them - expressed in the 2.1 quest where he tells Aventurine to tell him if he can't hold on any longer. Also, he loses the IDGAF war because he is actively trying to help people who want to learn and trying to spread logic and knowledge across the cosmos to those who didn't have it before. Would a man who didn't GAF do that? No!

Now that we've covered his view on knowledge and the way that he presents himself, let's turn to the way that he SEES himself. Now, this is where we get into the nitty gritty of gifted child trauma & academic trauma as well as crippling expectations. It's literally explicitly said in his character stories that he sees himself as mediocre, and it's canon that he doesn't have a good view of himself. His self-esteem is down in the fucking trenches along with my sanity as I write this analysis. The reality is - being called a genius your whole life doesn't really make you feel better about yourself. I'd know. I was. In fact, it makes you feel fucking worse when you can't live up to an expectation. We all fail in life. It's part of being human. But when you're held to such high standards - idolized for your knowledge and the way that you're 'gifted' - the crash comes really fucking hard. Failure is inevitable, and when people who are held on that pedestal experience it, they take it really bad.

The reality is that nobody - not even geniuses - are perfect, but you grow up believing that you are. Then, when you fail for the first time, it all comes tumbling down. The first time I came home with a bad grade was one of the most humiliating moments of my life. I hadn't studied because I was arrogant and I thought that I was smart enough to pass without putting any extra effort into it - because I was a 'gifted' child, right? I should've been able to do it without studying like the other kids. And that's the thing with gifted children – you grow reliant on that title. You cling onto it for dear life for motivation, as well as self-perception. Little by little, the person you are falls apart as you slave away to the perception other people have of you. I think basically every gifted child that I've ever spoken to is a victim of this – and of course, you can heal from this mindset - but it's a hard one to shake.

Ratio's way of presenting himself as being a 'genius' and 'arrogant' also seems to contradict the way that he calls himself 'mundane' at the same time. However, these are two mindsets that can coexist. One part of you believes that you are a genius and that you are perfect, while the other part is crumbling and calling yourself good-for-nothing every time you make a mistake. It's a tiring cycle to live in. This usually leads to people shutting themselves out and closing themselves off after living like that, pushing back your own feelings in favour of being the perfect child. However, we don't know the exact details of Dr. Ratio's childhood, but we can infer that he was held to a pedestal, and this is a very harmful mindset for a child to have.

His superiority complex comes both from how other people view him, but it's a way to cope with his crippling lack of self-esteem. I'm sorry my guy. Also helping others probably helps him feel like he's worth something and makes him feel better because he bases his entire worth off of what he can do and how he can help others. However, this is just my personal interpretation backed by what I have already deconstructed.

In general, this is an easy way to crush self-esteem. You spend your whole life working to meet the image of what other people think you are. In fact, another reason why Dr. Ratio might be so harsh is because that’s the kind of attitude he holds towards himself when conducting research – he’s as hard on himself as he is to others. You end up hating the idea of failure, instead of seeing it as it should be - a way to improve and grow. Actually, I think this could be a reason that he went out of his way to break that illusion of 'worshipping geniuses' in the Space Station. Maybe some sort of childhood connection? Personal connection? In his endeavour to spread more knowledge and make people think for themselves and not blindly follow geniuses, to wake them up and let them think for themselves - maybe, somewhere, in there, he's helping that little child that was almost dehumanized for his intelligence. TLDR: Conflicting mindsets due to trauma, brain vs heart almost - his knowledge that he is a genius vs the crippling lack of his self worth.

Now that we've established Dr. Ratio's self worth, let's take a look at the impact Aeons had on him. Nous, the Aeon of Knowledge itself. I think in a world where the Gods are real, tangible beings that you can reach out and talk to - it makes sense that someone with high ambition and someone who's been called a genius his whole life would seek the confirmation of Nous. When you're a man of knowledge, and you've spent your whole life working with it, being praised for it – it feels natural to look for a god to look down upon you and bless you, right? The Genius Society – it should house him, because he is a genius as well, right? Imagine this – you have been called a genius your whole life, held to that kind of pedestal for so long, and now you wait for the recognition of the Gods. Because if you truly are a genius – then surely, a higher being will recognize your intelligence, right?

The invitation never comes.

And then, comes the doubt.

What if I'm really not a genius? What if everything I've worked for is a lie? Aeons are beings that are 'absolute'. If the god of Knowledge won't accept you or even cast a glance upon you, does that mean that everything was wrong. Gods see more than humans, after all. Gods know more than humans - and that spiral... I think you can see if. (If you don't let me know. I will ramble about how a failure like that can make you spiral down into a worse mindset).

However, the reason why Ratio was never invited to the Genius Society is simple. It’s because he LOSES THE IDGAF WAR. Now, if we look at all the people we know who are in the Genius Society - we find one thing in common. They’re in it to win it for themselves. They don’t help others using the knowledge that they’ve gotten - they use it to pursue shit for themselves. The people of the Genius Society are inherently self-serving. They WIN the idgaf war. Ratio LOSES. Do we see now?

Ratio’s empathy is the reason why he wasn’t let in. He is too human. Nous is a computer. Herta is detached from people. Ruan Mei is literally looking at life as test subjects. Screwllum is a robot.

OUR DOCTOR MAN LOST THE IDGAF WAR, BECAUSE HE IS HUMAN AND FEELS FOR OTHERS!!!

Also, it’s a plausible theory that Nous’s definition of ‘genius’ is different from the human definition of ‘genius’ – it’s a computer, after all. Who knows what’s going on in that code head of its.

However, we still love you Ratio. Never stop losing the IDGAF war.

TLDR: Nous is a computer. It is also in it to win it. It is also self serving. It gazes upon the hoes who are here to win it for themselves. Ratio is busy serving the masses and cooking knowledge in his frying pan. To it, there is no logical reason to be doing this. Therefore, no reason to invite this guy to the Genius Society.

Ratio’s gifted child trauma says otherwise. He wants in. Why wouldn’t he? He’s been working his whole life as a genius.

Nous is like… nah bro, you care too much. Ratio is like, ‘what the fuck?’ And then the AEON OF KNOWLEDGE GOES FOR THE MILK.

Okay, now, quick shoutout to Ratio wanting to help others. He is just like me fr. SO BASICALLY, RECAP OF EVERYTHING I JUST SAID:

Ratio LOSES the idgaf war because he cares about other people. Spent his whole life as the golden egg, and then turns to the gods for recognition because of the inherent trauma of being a child genius. He goes, "hey bro, can you confirm that I am in fact a genius?" and Nous goes, "no, you are too busy cheffing for the masses." Ratio goes, "what the fuck?" and then we collectively realize his attitude comes from blocking off his feelings (while failing miserably), being salty about not being recognized, being put on a pedestal for his whole life, and his crippling depression *cough* lack of self worth *cough*.

Oh, and the "I will never be enough" thought train probably hits him every single day. He is not enough to be recognized by a God. Gods are superior to humans. Maybe nothing has worth after all. Hey, that's Nihility! Hi IX, let's hear what you have to say.

*muffled ix noises*

I see, I see.

The consensus is: HE'S TRAUMATIZED BY EXPECTATIONS! HE WILL PROBABLY SUFFER FROM BURNT OUT GIFTED CHILD IF HE HAS NOT ALREADY!

Okay, now, before I delve into song lyrics (and I KNOW this has been long, just bear with me) I want to talk a little bit (read: a lot) about his relationship with Aventurine. We all know that he cares about Aventurine in his own way. But I want to pull in another idea that I didn’t cover before:

Ratio’s fucking emotional constipation.

Basically, the reason why he has trouble connecting with others is because he was most likely alienated by others as a symptom of being called a genius and being put on a pedestal. This makes him seem unapproachable to his peers, most likely, and therefore, as a result, doesn’t know how to properly connect with others. This just makes his way of presenting affection and care to others even more challenging – because he just doesn’t know how to do it in a healthy and clear way. Academic trauma causing emotional problems, because he’s probably a little bit out of touch with his own. Processing? No! Research. Also, this is very important for understanding Ratio’s character in my opinion, because he’s just a little guy who doesn’t know how to articulate. Maybe he’s got a touch of the ‘tism. Tism mutuals, do we agree or disagree?

However, in comes Aventurine. Love Aventurine, but they are both emotionally constipated. Aventurine displays his affection in ways that Ratio probably only catches after re-analyzing their time together about five times. He’s also a very closed off individual – but Ratio knows this. A cute thing is that Ratio is patient where he needs to be, even if he’s generally a pretty hot-headed guy, and I’m like… bro… that letter… “I wish you the best of luck”... I will wait for you…. GAY ASS MAN…

Sorry the Aventio demons took over. Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that they both have nonverbal communication with one another that they clearly decipher and Ratio obviously cares for him (he came back and almost jeopardized the plan just for the sake of his ‘coworker’... okay gayboy…) and they just have such a neat little dynamic… Aventurine lets Dr. Ratio do his thing… understands his emotional alienation to a degree…. they’re so neat….

Okay, Aventurine segment over. NOW, FINALLY, WE CAN GET TO THE SONG LYRICS!!! YAY!!!! We all cheered!!!

We are going to be here for two more amber eras, because I realized I actually want to analyze every single lyric from both of these songs. Brace yourself for like, 2k more words. Help.

I think it’s only proper that we start off with ‘Oh No!’ the song that has haunted me since my childhood.

“Don’t do love, don’t do friends

I’m only after success

Don’t need a relationship

I’ll never soften my grip”

Remember when I mentioned that alienation was a big part of Ratio lore? Yeah, that manifests itself in this. When you spend your entire life chasing after knowledge and being held to that standard of untouchable genius, it makes sense that you couldn’t connect with others and that you turn your gaze only to success. Therefore, relationships that are interpersonal lose meaning for a bit – you’re just looking for answers and ways to help them, not connect with them. Also, this is what he wants to do – so he’s never going to pass down an opportunity to better himself or to help someone else.

“Don’t want cash, don’t want card

Want it fast, want it hard

Don’t need money, don’t need fame

I just want to make a change

I just wanna change, I just wanna change”

This is directly alluding to his reasonings for distributing knowledge across the cosmos. Was he based on this song? Maybe he was. He’s not looking for money or fame, his ultimate goal is actually pretty selfless – to bring knowledge and give people the tools they need to think for themselves. He just wants to make a change – he just wants people to be able to have access to knowledge and help cure ‘stupidity’. He wants to do it as quickly as possible, always reaching for lofty goals that might seem impossible, but he will make them possible.

“I know exactly what I want and who I want to be

I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine

I’m now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy

Oh! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no, oh!”

Ratio knows his goal. He knows what he’s working towards. I do believe that he understands why he is the way that he is – he has a degree in Psychology, after all. He knows how he’s been hurt but at the same time, the trauma brain probably doesn’t want to recognize it and he hasn’t stepped into healing yet. He knows what he went through impacted him, but he’s too busy helping others to help himself. He’s becoming what he wants to be, and yet he’s not, all at the same time – which causes the idea of “oh no!” as a kind of cry for help, almost. He’s too proud to ask for it himself, of course, so he’ll fall alone until someone manages to catch him and give him the strength to continue holding on. Aventurine is that.

“One track mind, one track heart

If I fail, I’ll fall apart

Maybe it is all a test

‘Cause I feel like I’m the worst

So I always act like I’m the best”

Now, these are the exact lyrics that made me associate this song with Ratio in the first place. He’s got a singular goal that he will do nothing to stop at getting, that he goes so far to get to. However, as I mentioned earlier, failure is not an option for those who were deemed gifted or genius. You are perfect, so therefore you must live up to everyone’s every expectation and surpass them, too, in order to keep your perception of yourself intact. Ratio does not hold himself in high regard, but acts arrogant in order to hold himself together and not fall to the self-deprecating thoughts, even if they fall through the cracks. It gets tiring to hold yourself together like that for a long time, you know?

“I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die

I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die”

Remember how I was talking about contradictory mindsets and how they can coexist. This is them. The feeling of crippling self-hatred and lack of self esteem versus the idea that you can do it, you can make a difference – you were born a genius, this is what you’re going to do. This is the knowledge that you are a genius vs the lack of self-esteem that Ratio has. “Mediocre” vs “genius” mindset, eh?

All the other lyrics in this song are repetitions of what I’ve analyzed before, so let’s move onto “Are you Satisfied?”

To be honest, there are only a few lines in this song that allow me to connect it to Ratio, so therefore, I will only be analyzing them. However, if you think that other lyrics can connect to him, I’d be interested in knowing how.

“What you’re gonna be

It’s not my problem if you don’t see what I see

And I do not give a damn if you don’t believe

My problem, it’s my problem that I never am happy

It’s my problem, it’s my problem on how fast I will succeed”

Pretending to not care about how the world sees you is so fucking real. Sometimes, you really don’t give a shit, and sometimes it’s all you can think about. Ratio… doesn’t seem like he’s the happiest person. He works himself hard and he’s always chasing after a goal that must be exhausting. He’s always doing his best, and I think even with his empathy, it’s easy to start not giving a shit after trying for so long and so hard. Accepting help is one of the hardest things that anybody can do, especially with how much pride he has. His personal problems are his personal problems and he can deal with them on his own.

“High achiever, don’t you see?

Baby, nothing comes for free

They say I’m a control freak

Driven by a greed to succeed

Nobody can stop me”

Nothing comes for free. A lot of the things Ratio has achieved is due to his own intelligence, yes, but also because of a shit ton of hard work. His goal is literally to cure the universe of ‘stupidity’ – and that’s a pretty large fucking goal. He is a high achiever who likes to know the details of every situation when he can in order to try and make things better, and he is driven by a greed to succeed. Why wouldn’t he be? Success is important, and success means helping more people. He isn’t going to allow himself to be stopped by anybody – not even anybody from the Genius society.

Okay, and we have finally reached the end of my analysis! This caps at around 4k words, so if you stuck around for this long, thank you so much. I would love to hear any of your comments, and I hope you laughed a little bit. Thank you again! This means so much to me that you read. <3

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cheriden · 22 days ago

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˙ . ˚ ₊ 「 HOW TO FIND OUT IF YOUR ROOMMATE IS A VAMPIRE 」 ꜝꜝ

── your new roommate has been acting weird, and you've taken it upon yourself to get to the bottom of it

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ 。。。

pairings 。best friend!yeonjun x reader x friend!soobin

.ᐟ genre 。suggestive at most? crack & fluff

.ᐟ tags 。vampire au, blood sucking?? feeding?? idk, they're both kind of dumb but not really just kind of, erm nothing else i think

.ᐟ status 。oneshot | masterlist

✎ ๋࣭ ⭑ kind of corny and cheesy but idgaf it’s my blog!!! i totally forgot about this but it was at a point where i said yeah sure what the hell and decided to post it. another roommate hyuka au bc my schedules never go as planned so i just cut it short...i'll post an nsfw addition if people want it though

You tap your pen against the counter as you watch your roommate do his “work,” typing away at his remote job on his laptop. You narrow your eyes at him with a pout, drumming the writing material faster on the surface. Kai sighs and looks up at you, mirroring your investigative expression. “Are you alright?”

You narrow your eyes further, nodding slowly. “Yeah, just finishing the points for my project.” He turns back to the screen, humming absentmindedly. “What’s it about?” You freeze, stuttering over yourself. “It’s—uh, about…Global warming.” He doesn’t seem convinced, raising an arched brow at you, but he lets it pass anyway. “Well, good luck on that.”

It’s been a few months since the boy had moved in with you, and fewer when you began to realize his strange patterns.

You look down at your notes—and in bold, underlined writing are the words “HUENING KAI IS A VAMPIRE (proof).” If anyone were to ever see this pad, they’d call you comically insane. However as previously mentioned, you have proof. First, he never goes out during the day. Granted, he has a job and takes night classes—but other than that, he’s never gone on a grocery run with you or exited his room on the weekends unless the sun sets. Second, he always drinks from an insulated tumbler. It even stays by his side at the dinner table, opting for it rather than the rest of the glasses. Third, he never cooks with garlic. He’s pretty much the cook out of the two of you, recalling the incident of you somehow setting fire on the stove. Who cooks without garlic? A vampire, that’s who. Third, he always disappears at dawn. You’re not insane enough (yet) to follow him, especially when you can barely keep your eyes open after midnight. Sometimes you hear the front door and peek at his silhouette, a large duffel bag in his grasp—but your conscience (your laziness) forbids you from leaving the place unattended for the sole purpose of following him. Lastly, he’s unbelievably pretty. This point has a really large question mark on it in red ink, but you’ve never seen someone look so angelic, as if he would glimmer in the sunlight. Not that you would know, he mostly wears baggy clothes that are long in sleeves and pants. Like what? A vampire!

What would you even get out of this? He would’ve sucked your blood to death by now—but maybe splitting rent was just easier for him. If he was a vampire and he had no intention to murder you in cold blood, then you suppose you would let him stay.

What? He’s a great roommate, great cook, tidy, and fun to be around. Every time you think about it, it comes to a point where you realize he would make a great significant other. But that’s ridiculous, he's a vampire after all, so you conclude that you were just curious about him and his weird habits.

──

For step one, you decide to check for his reflection. Throughout your five second internet search along with your film viewing, you know for a fact that vampires do not have reflections. “Kai! Grab me a towel please!” You plead, voice shrill and loud as you patiently wait in the shower. Truthfully, you forgot your towel. But why not take this opportunity to test your hypothesis? Kai fumbles with the door knob as you peek through the corner of the curtain. “A-are you naked? My eyes are closed!” You turn to the mirror, fogged up by the steam. You tut in disapproval, wiping it away to reveal Kai’s apprehensive form. You pout, snatching the towel from him and wrapping it around yourself. “You can look now.” He peeks through his fingers and gasps at your still half-naked self as you sulk out of the bathroom.

Admittedly, you almost quit after that encounter altogether. But one evening, Kai worked an odd shift, rendering him unable to cook dinner and leaving the meal up to you. He walks out of his room to a suspiciously clean and hazard free area, with food set on the table. “This looks… Edible.” He says shocked, earning an eye roll from you. “Do you not trust me to make dinner?” The other looks down, scratching his head. “Well, the last time you cooked I had to replace my nonstick pan. That thing’s been with me since elementary.” You huff, taking your seat across from him. “Whatever. I ordered it and put it on one of our plates. Happy?” He sits down as well, taking a serving for himself. “I'd be happier if you learned how to cook without burning the apartment down. It’s a very important life skill, you know.” You make a sound of annoyance, picking at your food. “I do other things—like cleaning. Besides, if I had skill, we wouldn’t be having garlic soy chicken.” The other freezes for a while and slowly looks up at you from his plate. “Does this have garlic?” You nod, pointing at the box over by the trash can. “Yup, it’s their most popular flavor. Honestly I like their other ones better—”

Kai spits the foot out and wraps his hands around his neck, dropping to the ground. “Holy shit!” You chant over and over, flailing around in circles as he lays on the floor. “In my room—desk drawer!” He hisses, and you frantically run across the place. You aren't even sure what you’re getting, but once you see a stack of epinephrine injections, you grab one and stab him with it.

You kind of feel guilty for a moment, because you thought he was actually a vampire who couldn’t eat garlic. Turns out he just had an allergic reaction to garlic, which was rare but apparently not impossible.

──

The following morning, you meekly knock at the door to his room. Today is his free day, and you wanted to make it up to him. You bring him flowers and a new EpiPen injection, smiling at him when he opens the door. “I’m sorry for poisoning you yesterday.” And for trying to prove you were a bloodsucking supernatural immortal. “We can go out today if you want? My treat.” His smile forms the shape of a box with his eyebrows upturned, and you know he’s about to reject you. “That’s fine, but I’m really not in the mood for—” — “Come on, Kai! We can do anything you want, please?” You plead, leaning over and pouting at him. He sighs in defeat, straightening his posture once he realizes your words. “Anything?” You nod fervently. “Anything.”

“Then,” he starts, fidgeting with the ends of his hoodie, “it’s a date.” You blink up at him, thinking for a moment. Oh like a friendly date, bonding together! You nod again, grin wide and bright. “Okay!”

It was after the park walk and arcade that you realized it may be more than a friendly date. You’re shifting uncomfortably in your seat, watching Kai order something in French you won’t even try to pronounce. “Kai, I don’t think I can afford any of these.” You whisper, to which he shakes his head. “It’s alright, I got it. You must be sick of my home cooking by now.” — “That’s not true!” You exclaim rather loudly, “I love your cooking.” He giggles at you, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm lighting against the other’s complexion or seeing him in something other than sweats that makes you anxious all of a sudden. “I’ll pay you for this, I swear.” Kai pushes his hair back and rests his face in his palm. “You can pay me back with another date.” Another date?!

Your thoughts are cut by the smell of the food set in front of you, and you spare no time in stuffing as much as you can into your mouth as the other watches you in endearment.

──

When you get home, he stops at the front door and stops you from pulling out your keys. You raise an eyebrow in question, while he laughs awkwardly to himself. “Today was really fun. I’m almost entirely glad that you decided to almost kill me yesterday.” You grin sheepishly at his words, “Again, I’m so sorry.” You’re about to continue rambling, but the other is staring at you so intensely you quiet down. “...What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s embarrassing how quickly you answer yes, and you cup your cheeks in your palms in an attempt to hide the blush forming underneath—but it’s no use. He grabs the end of your fingers and replaces your hands with his, inching his face closer to yours. His lips move slow and calculated, rhythm steady as you let him work his way through your mouth. Just as you reciprocate his movements, your tongue is nicked by something sharp, making you jolt upright. But Kai doesn’t let you go, instead he crashes himself deeper into you, sucking at the surface of your tongue and separating with a resounding pop. The both of you take heavy breaths for a while, your hair disheveled and his bottom lip coated in crimson sheen. “I knew it!” You exclaim, before shrinking within yourself. “You’re—uh, you’re a…” You trail off, body pressed against the wooden panel. “I’m a vampire.” He breathes out, “Wait, you knew?”

You’re trembling, panic-stricken as you nudge the doorknob over and over. “That’s not gonna turn without the key.” He mumbles, and you point your key at him in an ill attempt at self-defense. “Are you gonna eat me?!”

“Eat—what? No.” He says, using his own key to unlock the place. You squeak as he maneuvers you into the apartment, and he settles you down on the couch across from him. “But how?” You start, “I can see your reflection?” — “Uh, yeah? I’m a vampire, not a figment of your imagination.” You deflate at his words, leaning forward. “But all the novels say—” He cuts you off with laughter. “All the novels? Do you read supernatural romance?” Defensive, you raise your arms. “It’s more drama than romance! They say vampires can’t see their reflection because they have no souls.” The other raises a brow, “Ouch. What does that even mean?” You shrug, completely lost.

“So what’s true? About like, myths about you?” Pursing his lips in thought, Kai settles against the cushions. “The mirror thing is just stupid. I guess the garlic thing is true.” You blink, dumbfounded. “That’s real?” The other nods. “If convulsing on the floor was any indicator, then yeah.” You furrow your brows, “What kind of old vampire ailment gets cured via EpiPen?” — “I mean—it kind of works like an allergy anyway. Contact dermatitis and whatnot.” You scoff. “And whatnot,” you mock, “what about going out at night and wearing baggy clothes outside? What about sneaking off at dawn?” Tilting his head, he replies calmly. “I told you, I have work during the day and I work out at night—what are you doing?” You reach for the notepad stored in one of the drawers, twirling your pen as you go through every item on your list. “What about the tumbler?” Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “The tumbler?”

“What’s in your tumbler? You have it with you at all times, hell you even took it out today! Is it blood?” You ask as if it were scandalous, voice low and in a whisper. “It’s really just water.” He replies, “I feed through a network of fully consenting humans.”

You put the pad down, crossing your arms at him with a glare. “You’ve never asked me to help you. Is my blood not good enough for your bourgeois taste buds?” Confusion paints his face, quick to dispute your statement. “No, and believe me, your blood has been really tempting. It’s just that, well, I like you—and I thought maybe you would hate me or something.”

“Oh.” Your palms turn clammy as you shut them on each other, thinking of more questions. “So how long were you—like were you always a vampire?” He shakes his head in disagreement, answering, “I turned a few years back actually.” You gaze at him empathetically. “I’m sorry.” He laughs, indifferent. “Sorry for what?” You return the laugh nervously, “I… Don’t know.” A few beats of silence pass before you speak up again. “Well! At least now your skin is glowing and—” “Oh that’s not a myth…” He admits, “I’ve always looked like this.” Clearing your throat, you reply: “Well, you’re very pretty.” This coaxes a genuine smile from him. “Thanks, you’re very pretty too.” The both of you stay completely still again, though this time Kai breaks the silence. “Was all this an attempt to find out if I was a vampire?” You chuckle lightly, half humiliated. “No… I kind of gave up when I saw your reflection. I promise I didn’t mean to give you an allergic reaction.” He disregards your apologies lightly with a raised hand, still in thought. “About the date…” You’re quick to explain, “Honestly I didn’t think it was going to be a date date.” His frown and the dent between his brows deepen. “So you don’t like me?” Picking at the fabric of the couch, you stammer through your words.“I don’t—not like you? I just haven’t thought about you like that until recently, I guess.”

“So what do you think now?” You gaze up to see him staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “As long as you don’t kill me I’m fine—I think.” He follows up immediately, “Does that mean you’ll feed me? I’ll just take a little, I swear.” You wince at his eagerness, rubbing the skin of your nape. “Does it hurt?” Kai draws back at your reluctance, feigning nonchalance with a dismissive wave of hand. “A bit, yeah. But! I heard it makes some people feel good.” — “Good how?” The other shrugs, lips forming into a line. “Not sure.” Your curiosity has always led you to uncomfortable positions, this being the most life threatening one so far. Honestly, you should just drop this whole thing altogether.

“You’ll stop when I tell you to, right?” His face lights up again, jumping over to your side of the sofa. “Of course.”

Hesitant, you move away the hair behind your neck and Kai takes it as a sign to move even closer. He grabs your waist and hoists you up to straddle him, cheeks flushed when he looks into your eyes and realizes he’s gotten ahead of himself. After you reassure him with a peck on the lips, he dips his head over to the junction between your shoulder and face, looking up at you for a signal. Milliseconds after you nod, he sinks his teeth in slowly, rupturing the barrier of flesh. He halts for a minute before taking, as if the slightest movement would set you off. He can feel a squeak vibrate through your throat and your thighs tense against his hips, slightly trembling.

True to his word, he lets you go once he feels your grip tighten at his arms. He licks over the wound he created and kisses it, meeting your eyes again. You’re stunned in place, the only movement coming from rapid blinking and taking in breaths.

“Woah.”

He cups the sides of your face, searching your expression for discontent. “Woah? Woah bad or woah good?” You lean your head back and stare into the ceiling, lightly gripping the collar of his shirt. “As in I feel lightheaded—and weird. Feels super weird. Like I’m tipsy.” Gasping, the other fidgets in place, your weight keeping him down. “Oh no.” He starts to panic, but you shut it down by smiling at him, albeit loopy. “Don’t worry, I’m fine—great even.” You assure him, covering his face in short kisses before resting your cheek against his chest. Sighing in relief, Kai plays with the top of your head for a moment, before you grab both his wrists and look at him with sparkles in your eyes. “Can we do that again?”

halloooo i took a long break and this is kind of a warm-up back hehe i have like 3 fics in active development (plus one of the two/three part-ers i started last year, but it iz what it iz!

tag .ᐟ @hyunj00

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two-white-butterflies · 1 year ago

Text

archer | c16

Description: "All of my enemies started out friends, help me hold unto you." After a series of instagram posts - your ex-friend fabricates screenshots that almost end your career.

Author's Note: Inspired after listening to reputation.

natacha_ziguerra added to their story!

caption: y/n nation, this yo girl?

replies

ultraviolencekanada: CHAT, IS THIS REAL?

DARKLINGHOMIE23: She is messy

yourusername16: i never typed this thing before, tacha wtf ⁉️

yourusername16: ur broke ass got nothing to eat anymore? 💀

natacha_ziguerra: Ya'll may have seen my story and I just wanna let ya'll know that this girl has done so much worse... all the deets are in my patreon ... ya'll help a girl out. (Prices start at $5 Dollars.)

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comments

yourusername16: what is this broke-ass behavior? boo i can pay for you and ur patreon, this isn't sum wattpad social media au bs.

yourusername16: trust, i will be in contact with my lawyers. - natacha_ziguerra: BABE you've been talking shit about so MANY popstars, Ari, Sza, Lehlani, Lana... you can call your lawyers but this aint slander because I'm telling the truth. ❤️ - yourusername16: @natacha_ziguerra 💀

yourusername16: your nemesis will defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing. now he's passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. camera credits to my baby: @Charles_Leclerc16

liked by danielricciardo and 1,293,012 others

comments

ohnoloveme3: YN IS OVER PARTY

righthere99: YN IS OVER 🐍

Charles_Leclerc16: I'm proud of you for being strong ❤️

danielricciardo: You are one of the strongest women that I know. - heidiberger: 💗 stay strong yn!

kellypiquet: True power comes from the truth. You can do this! ✨

Charles_Leclerc16: I will always support, love and respect you. ✨

liked by kellypiquet and 1,394,192 others

comments

maxverstappen1: ❤️

charlottehope8: Never believe posts that are evidently edited. Some people will use you for clout 💯

pierreGASLY: 💪🏽💗

yourusername16: Likewise, Mr. Leclerc

comments have been restricted.

TRENDING TOPICS ON TWITTER.

Y/N and Lana

Queen of Disaster

Reputation

Natacha Ziguerra Patreon

Y/N LECLERC

Y/N L/N TALKS ABOUT CANCEL CULTURE AND CYBERBULLYING.

Y/N L/N: I remember waking up - completely clueless as to why my phone was blowing up and apparently an ex-friend of mine decided to forge screenshots of me saying nasty things. And that opened up a realm of so much bullying.

Y/N L/N: I didn't love myself, I had a pretty low self esteem. While, the things that she shared weren't true - I thought that the critiques about my looks, my personality and my voice had some truth. When you don't love yourself, it's pretty easy to see your flaws.

Y/N L/N: My boyfriend, actually recommended that I take a social media break just to tune everything out. And that proved to be successful. I left the public eye for a year. I wasn't physically seen for more than a year and i't's been a wonderful journey of healing.

yourusername16: maybe reputation was the friends we made along the way...?

liked by charlottehope8 and 5,182,192 others

comments

Charles_Leclerc16: The Power of Friendship 👊🏼

charlottehope8: I love this picture

kellypiquet: We should be on the album cover. @maxverstappen1 @charlottehope8 - charlottehope8: Ditto 🤣

Charles_Leclerc16: My baby's fit like a daydream ☀️

liked by danielricciardo and 1,282,192 others

comments

yourusername16: Walking with his head down, I'm the one he's walking tooo....

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notiddygothgf · 4 months ago

Text

10. Early Breakfast

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ I didn't know Hayakawa Captain had a girlfriend. ❞

★ c.w.: smut. more (poorly timed) confessions. denji is his own warning. (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: Hi again pookie dooks ;)). Okay so. I have been waiting SO LONG to post this chapter. We're nearing the end of the ones I had pre-written, and as a result updates may come a little slower, but I'll try to keep up! (Just be patient w me, ur girl is #struggling rn w uni). You're gonna love this chapter (until you dont). not saying nothing though. ENJOY LOVELIES! muah! please leave many many comments (spam me idgaf) i need smth to look forward to reading and i ALWAYS go thru yall's comments w the dorkiest smile. ily. (no beta, we die like... yeah.)

★ w.c: .7.5k

shameless ; chapter index

AKI'S BED WAS WARM. Warm enough that you seemed to be able to forget where you were — or, rather, where you should have been. You had entire hotel suite waiting for you, yet it seemed as if you had wasted the first five days of your stay in Tokyo entangled with him. Two days had passed between your bathroom debacle and now, and you were back again right where it all had started.

You weren't entirely sure you minded it.

Aki wrapped his long, calloused fingers around your wrist, holding your bloody finger away from his face. You had cut your thumb open on the page of a magazine while the two of you were relaxing on his mattress — distantly, a song from a band you didn't know played on his CD player (The tonedeafs, or something like that).

"I want you to," You laughed, reaching your hand towards his face again. "I dared you to. I'm not a germaphobe, I don't care."

Aki furrowed his brows, holding your wrist away from his face once more, "You should care. It could get infected, or worse."

Always so serious.

You pouted, "Says who?"

"Me, everyone," Aki trailed off — playfully, of course, like he was lost in thought, "Any medical professional."

You laughed, flopping back onto the bed where you had been moments earlier before this had started, laying perpendicular to him with your back strewn over his stomach. Makima had given him the day off and you, not knowing what else could have been a better way to help him learn how to relax a little, decided to call out of work as well.

"Pussy," You teased him, "What kind of Devil Hunter gets squeamish around blood?"

"I'm not squeamish, I'm just taking your health into consideration," He remarked (again, with a playful lilt to his words, despite his serious tone). "And, besides — what if someone overheard this? You calling your superior a pussy, hm? Then what?"

You replied with a witty retort of your own, "And what if they knew their Captain was fucking his subordinates?"

"I think I could get away with one," He teased back. "Not subordinates, plural. Just a subordinate. A married one, at that."

"So there are other subordinates?" You asked him — it was meant to be teasing, but you would be lying if a depraved part of you didn't wonder if you were the only one he was seeing. You wouldn't have a right to be upset if you weren't, granted that you were still very much married to another man.

"No. But that doesn't make you any less of a cougar," He hummed. "Devil Hunters do worse shit than sleeping with their coworkers, I hate to tell you."

"I'm only five years older than you," You huffed. Rolling over to look at him, you added, "We're damned anyway, then. That's what you're saying?"

"Not damned," He replied. Finally setting the book he'd been reading down on the bed beside him, he said, "Blessed. At least, I am."

"You're blessed?" You asked. "I'm a trainwreck, Aki."

"You're my trainwreck, though, aren't you?" He reached down, ruffling your hair with his hand. "I'm blessed because you're the first person to come into my life and give me a reason to keep myself alive."

"I thought you said you wanted to kill the Gun Devil?" You teased.

"I do," He said. "I didn't care if I lived or died before. Now that I have you waiting around for me to come back, I wanna keep coming home."

The slightest frown tugged at the corners of your lips, "That's so sad. You don't have any family?"

"No," He caressed your cheek with the back of his thumb, "The Gun Devil killed them. That's why I said I didn't care if I lived or died. As long as I did it for them, I thought I'd be able to die happy."

"You still feel that way?" You asked.

"Not really. I think I'm starting to have a change of heart," He sighed — chest rising and falling as he did so, "I'm growing fond of my roommates. Between those two shitheads and you, I dunno," A pause, and then he continued, "I'm not so sure I'd be able to die happy knowing I left all of that behind."

It was a touching sentiment. You probably should have left it at that, but a part of you couldn't help but dwell on it. You were — at least a part of — his reason to live. You were what kept him alive, what kept him motivated.

That didn't sound like he "might have feelings" for you.

It sounded like he loved you.

And, to make matters worse, you were beginning to realize that you returned his affections. The craving him, the missing him — the worrying about his wellbeing, the need to constantly be around him... All signs pointed towards one direction:

You loved him, too.

And, before you could stop yourself, before you could tell yourself it was too soon, you found yourself uttering the phrase, "Do you love me, Aki?"

He paused. A moment passed, and he took a deep breath. Then, he peered down at you, "Yeah. I do. I think I'm starting to love those two Devils, too — or at least care for them, but..." He licked his lips. "Not in the way that I love you."

Your heart nearly stopped beating entirely — skipping a beat, and then another while a horde of angry butterflies filled your chest.

Not in the way that I love you.

The way that I love you.

I love you.

He loves me. You couldn't remember the last time you heard those words.

You hadn't taken notice of the silence — or how long it was, for that matter — until Aki spoke again, the depth of his voice vibrating beneath your body, setting your nerves alight.

"You don't... have to say it back," He added, a little more sheepishly. He was so patient with you, so forgiving — it was all so much more than you deserved. "But, yeah, I love you."

You finally spoke up — voice a little weaker than you had intended it to sound. "I.. love you, too. I know I do."

It felt right to confess. You couldn't keep lying to him — to him or yourself.

"Do you want to stop seeing me?" He asked. He sounded like he did not want you to say yes (or maybe you were projecting). "I know it's too soon. I don't want to ruin your life."

You scoffed, "Ruin my life? I'm like a starving beggar who's been given food. You're the best thing that's happened to my life in god-knows-how-long."

He blinked at you. "I don't..."

"It makes no difference," You added on, "I love you and you love me. So, what? Are we supposed to break each other's hearts? Over a man I haven't loved in years? A man with whom I've only stayed for the sake of convenience?"

Aki sighed quietly, calling your name, but you didn't listen.

"I'm tired of running away from the truth, Aki. You were the one who showed me that," You continued. "I love you, and I think I'd be completely miserable if I lived without you."

"But you'd be at peace. You'd have a house and a life in Kyoto, still," He remarked.

"You've consumed every inch of my peace. How can I give you your peace?" You quoted him. "Is that not what you told me? You don't want to stop seeing me, do you?"

"No, I don't," He said. "I'd be depressed beyond reprieve, but I'd do it if it meant you could be happy."

Finally, you rolled over, folding your arms over his chest, laying your head down over his heart — peering up at him through a fond gaze, "I'm happy with you, Aki. I don't want anything else."

There was an issue — of course. The issue being the dissolution of your marriage with your husband. But, still, the two of you danced around the truth.

"You shouldn't say things like that to me," He added quietly, "I'll hide you away in here forever."

You laughed softly, quietly, like you couldn't help but yearn for exactly that. "And, what? I should leave everything behind to stay here with you?"

To your surprise, however, he did not seem to be joking – not in the least. "Yeah," He deadpanned, "Would that be so bad?"

You sighed deeply, your fingers absently toying with the soft, rumpled covers of Aki's bed. The room had been bathed in a warm, golden light from the bedside lamp. The weight of contemplating a divorce hung heavily on you—images of an uncertain future and financial instability looming large in your mind.

"I'd have nothing if we divorced. I think that's the main reason I haven't done it by now. We never signed a prenup, so..." Your voice trailed off, the enormity of it all pressing down on you. "I'd be in shambles."

Aki shifted next to you, his gaze softening as he absorbed your words. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm in a gesture meant to soothe. "But you could start over. We could start over. You're miserable with him. You know that, right?"

"You're too young to understand," You sighed.

"All that for a five year age gap is kind of crazy," He retorted. "Help me understand, then – why won't you put yourself first, for once?"

You looked away, your eyes reflecting the anxiety you felt. "I would lose the house, Aki... and everything I've worked for... it's not just about me."

"The apartment down the hall is up for lease, I've heard. It's not exactly the same as your house, but it could be a start," Aki tilted his head slightly, trying to offer a comforting smile. "We could make it work."

You considered his words – the idea of a new beginning didn't sound all too bad. Slowly, a tentative smile started to spread across your face. You met Aki's gaze, and he returned your smile with one that was gentle and understanding – like he always was.

Finally, you shifted your position, rolling over to straddle Aki's waist, sitting in his lap. You reached down, gently plucking the magazine from his hands, and intertwined your fingers with his.

"You love me," You said giddily, grinning ear to ear like a lovestruck fool.

God, now that you heard him say it, you wanted to hear it again.

Just to make sure that it was real.

And he looked up at you through tired, pretty blue eyes, like you had hung the stars in the sky yourself. Like you were everything to him. "Yes."

"Only me," You continued.

To which he answered breathlessly, "Yes."

"And you're happy with me?" You went on, "You're not just saying that to get my hopes up?"

"Yes," He answered. "Happier than I've ever been."

You knew it was dangerous to indulge yourself so shamelessly in his affections. He loved you and you loved him – there was only one thing holding you back from being his and his entirely...Your marriage of convenience.

"And you," He asked. "Do you love me? Only me?"

"Of course," You answered. It should have been more difficult of an admission than it was. In reality, you hadn't loved anyone in years. "I haven't been able to fuck anyone else since you came around. That's how much I love you."

"You're not special," He tutted. "I can't even get off unless I'm thinking about you and that pretty face of yours. You know that?"

"I get that. I know you love me," You smiled. "But how much?"

Aki's hands slid up your legs, gripping your thighs. Slowly, he aided you in rocking back, then forth – until you took notice of the sudden hardness pressing into your core from below. He quirked a brow, "This much."

You widened your eyes, dragging your tongue over the front of your teeth. If that's the case, then that's a lot. You played into it, of course. You pulled the hem of his oversized sweater up and over your hips so that you could rut against him. The lace of your panties created a friction so delicious that your next words came out as a shudder, "This much?"

His lashes fluttered, pretty eyes threatening to shut – but he kept them open, like he wanted to commit every second of this moment to memory. "Yes."

You rubbed yourself along the length of the bulge in his sweatpants slowly, tantalizingly – "This much?"

He released the prettiest little trembling sigh, "Yes..."

"This much?" You leaned down a little further. Your hands braced themselves on his chest, sliding down to his abs, then back up again – all while you lowered yourself a little closer to his face, rutted against him a little harder, just the way he liked it.

"Yes," He whimpered faintly, weakly. When you brought your face a little lower, a little closer to his, you could see the faint hue of pink that painted his cheeks.

Unable to wait a moment longer, you touched your noses together, lips only inches apart.

"This much?" You breathed. Going a little faster now – all but riding the tent in his sweats – you felt your legs begin to tremble. "And this much? And this much?"

"Ah..." He panted, "Yes, yes, yes."

His eyes struggled to meet yours – you liked the sense of control it gave you. It made your mind run wild with desire, knowing he trusted you enough to let you have him like this. To let you take the reins. Just before your lips touched, you brought your bloody thumb up to his mouth.

Then, carefully, you painted the faintest trace of red on his lower lip. He froze – holding his breath, anticipating your next move.

You traced your tongue carefully over his lower lip, kissing his lips clean – licking up what was left. It was depraved and dirty and downright distasteful... but, fuck...

It was so hot.

Clearly, Aki shared your sentiment, because before you could pull away he was gripping the back of your neck and bringing you closer to him, slipping his tongue into your mouth while it was still open – stealing a dirty kiss from you. His lips were insistent against yours, desperate, even – tasting like mint with the faintest hint of blood.

With a blissful groan, he departed from your lips, kissing his way down your neck while he rocked your hips back and forth. The friction was just enough to have you moaning in tandem, falling into him.

His tongue was hot against your skin, pulling it into his mouth to suck gently on it – gentle enough that he wouldn't leave marks, hard enough that you were gripping his biceps for support.

You craned your head up toward the ceiling to give him more room to continue his onslaught down the valley of your neck, down your clavicle.

You brought your hands down to the waistband of Aki's sweatpants, where he was practically straining against the fabric. "Need you, Aki, please."

He let you wrangle his pants down just far enough to free him (no, he hadn't bothered to put on a pair of boxers after his shower) – just far enough to let his aching erection spring out. His fingers looped beneath the fabric of your panties with practiced ease, and he pushed them to the side.

"Right now?" He asked. "Like this?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck. Need you, too, baby."

You wasted absolutely no time in lining his tip up with your entrance and sinking down on him. With little to no prep involved prior, it was a bit of a stretch – you could feel his length splitting you open, but, shit...

It felt so fucking good to have him inside of you. You fell forward onto him, letting him set the pace.

He let out the sexiest little gasp, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You won't get tired of me?" You asked, rising up and then sinking back down after a moment of adjustment. Up once more, then down once more, and you could feel the pain subsiding. "Of... of this?"

"Never," He gritted out, gripping your hips a little harder. He bounced you up and down a little faster, a little harder – and that little change in speed was all it took to have the both of you gasping. He moaned, "So perfect. Fuckin' love it."

You giggled, "So this is love?"

Trailing off, you gasped, a smile forming on your tender lips. It wasn't the years you had spent with your husband, arguing over money and food and everything else. It wasn't distasteful comments about your body, or a harsh sting on your cheek followed by a half-assed apology. It wasn't a broken promise of "I do," or a life in Kyoto. It was this.

Aki's response came in the form of a muffled whine of, "Yes," against your sensitive neck.

"This..." You grinned.

This was love.

You could get used to it.

You rustled from your sleep late in the evening. Nose twitching, you nuzzled your face into the warm surface your head was laid upon – warm, bare skin beneath you. Aki's chest was a milky white valley – between the pectorals of which you pressed a lazy kiss. He stirred, only slightly, and didn't wake.

A grumble of your stomach prompted you to sigh before slipping out of his grasp, out of the fortress his strong arms made around your head. His biceps were so plump that you almost wished you could sink your teeth into them, mark him as yours.

But, alas, duty calls.

You slid out of the bed slowly, being careful not to wake your lover in the process. His sweater slipped down your waist, pooled around your thighs, and your bare feet touched the floor of his bedroom as you padded towards the door.

You cast one last glance to the bed before you left. Aki was sound asleep, face turned to the side, inky black hair tousled and spread over the pillow. His pink lips were open just enough for quiet snores to escape. As if he sensed your absence, he grumbled something incoherent in his sleep, and rolled over onto his side. He wrapped an arm around the pillow – where you had been lying only a moment earlier – and snuggled into it.

God, he was so fucking cute – he was going to be the death of you.

A smile teased the corners of your lips. With no great deal of satisfaction, you cracked the door open – checking your surroundings before slipping into the living room. You tip-toed over the wooden floorboards (as if that would make a difference) and into the kitchen, pawing at the fridge until it opened.

You squinted into the refrigerator light, trying to scan its contents for a good snack. Let's see... Lettuce, Leftovers, Vegetables...

Berries! You grinned, reaching for the little package of strawberries. It looked like it was pretty new – surely he wouldn't notice a few missing... right?

If he did, he certainly didn't seem like he would care.

So you shut the fridge just as quietly as you had opened it. You nearly lept right out of your skin when you noticed something standing behind the door – someone.

It was the ginger boy from the party – Denji – and he was looking at you like he was just as confused as you were, standing only a little taller than you in Cookie Monster pajama pants and an old-looking undershirt.

What time is it? His roommates were supposed to be at training today!

He raked his eyes over your appearance, following the path of your bare legs up to your sweater, then up to your face again. Finally, he commented, "I didn't know Hayakawa Captain had a girlfriend."

You were fucking mortified. So much for being on the down low, right?

Swallowing, you replied, "I'm not–"

"Wait a sec, aren't you that girl from the party?" He squinted at you.

Shit. Shit. Double Shit.

"Uh..." You laughed awkwardly, toying with the hem of Aki's sweater. You knew you probably made for a remarkable sight – messy hair, bare feet, wearing nothing but his Captain (and roommate's) sweater. "What party?"

Public Safety loved to party. He wouldn't remember you from one night alone, would he?

"The one where Himeno got shitfaced? Wait, I don't think that narrows it down by much..." He pursed his lips, tapping his chin in thought while he scrutinized you, "It had to have been, like, a month ago, now. She started crying and then she got real wasted and puked on my shoes... She said she was real pissed at Hayakawa and his little girlfriend. That's you, right?"

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. You didn't know what was more mortifying – the idea that he knew you were sleeping with his captain, or the idea that Himeno was telling him about you.

If your flustered appearance didn't give it away (or the way you froze like a deer in headlights when he said that), your words definitely did. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

That sounds like something someone would say if they most definitely did know what someone was talking about, you thought.

What the hell was he doing out here this late, anyway? It wasn't fair.

"Youuu... sure...?" He asked, squinting at you a little harder. You were one question away from breaking a sweat, "'Cause he's been acting real fishy lately, and I heard noises coming from his room when I came back a few hours ago."

You were going to murder him and yourself a moment later. He said they wouldn't come home.

"I thought you were supposed to be at training?" You whisper-shouted back at him. "What noises could you possibly have heard?"

"We wrapped up early," He remarked, like that should have been obvious. "And, I dunno, but it sounded like someone was being murdered in there. Himeno said he had a "little girlfriend", and I don't see him around many women, so..." Snapping his fingers, he pointed them at you, "You're her. You're his secret girlfriend, right? I've been working on my detective skills, you know. I can tell these things about people."

You could do nothing but gape at him, utterly gobsmacked at two different things – Firstly, that this interaction was even happening, and, secondly, that he had managed to sniff you out so easily.

"Unless you're not," He trailed off – seemingly lost in thought, again, as he gazed up at the ceiling, scratching his chin, "You know, I heard him in the bathroom with someone the other day. Is that something you're aware of? I don't want to assume, but I figured you should know. He could be cheating on you."

Again, you couldn't form a suitable answer, mouth open. Still – because you were hungry – you plucked a strawberry from the container, inching your hand slowly towards your mouth.

"What are you doing?" A voice cut into the tense silence between you and the orange-haired boy – who, from your understanding, was no older than 16. The two of you jumped apart.

Aki stood in the hallway, eyeing you and Denji up wearily. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed – literally – with his hair still a little disheveled over his neck and in his face, donning nothing but a pair of sweatpants to match the shirt you were wearing.

We're cooked, you thought.

Then, immediately letting your gaze wander over his chiseled physique, you thought, He looks so fucking good without a shirt on.

The sound of his voice shook you from your horny reverie. He had called your name, or something like that, considering that he was looking right at you.

You tilted your head, popping the strawberry into your mouth, "Hmm?"

Aki's lips were pressed into that serious pout he always seemed to wear around his coworkers – something so different from how he normally was around you, something that you had to get used to, "I asked if he was bothering you."

"Oh." You swallowed the mouthful of strawberry you were chewing. Glancing between him and his ginger detective roommate, you muttered, "No.. No, he's just– He was just getting a snack."

His expression softened immediately. Still, he leaned against the kitchen counter, saying, "Come back to bed."

Well, shit, there goes my alibi, You gnawed on the inside of your cheek. He made it sound so tempting.

So, opening the refrigerator door and tucking the container of strawberries away on the shelf, you squeezed past Denji, murmuring a quick, "Good night."

Then you followed Aki back to his room, leaving the poor boy speechless in the kitchen.

The next morning, Aki was already up when you stirred, the soft sound of bowls clinking and the rhythmic whisking of something filling the quiet morning ambience. The smell of something sweet drifte d in from the kitchen, pulling you out of bed.

Snagging your purse off of the floor, you slipped into the bathroom, your feet padding softly against the cold floor. Without thinking, you reached for Aki's blue toothbrush again—the one you'd claimed yesterday, and the time before that. There was something oddly comforting about using his things.

There was also something sort of ironic about the way you hesitated before using it — like you hadn't swallowed a load of his kids before, like this was overstepping.

As you brushed your teeth, your thoughts floated back to last night—the weight of his arms around you, the way his hands had roamed your body like they belonged there. Your confession had been a surprise. His confession had been hushed whispers of, "I love you. So perfect. All for me," against your skin, a sinful croon of your name while he fell apart beneath your touch.

You winced slightly at the ache in your lower back, a reminder of how tangled the two of you had been in the sheets. That ache was a small price to pay.

Spitting into the sink, you wiped your face and took a handful of water into your mouth. Then, reaching into your purse, you produced your little Birth Control tin, popping one of the tiny white pills into your mouth.

You wandered back out into the living room a minute or two later, drawn by the smell of what you assumed was breakfast. Aki was standing at the kitchen counter, his back to you, shoulders relaxed beneath one of his signature sweaters— one that, despite how soft and oversized it looked, did nothing to hide his lean form, the muscled slopes of his shoulders. You watched him for a moment, admiring the way he moved so easily in his space, the domesticity of it all.

You walked up behind him without a word, slipping your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against the hard plane of his back. Your hands trailed lazily over his abdomen, feeling the firm lines of his muscles through the fabric of his sweater. You couldn't help but smile to yourself; he was so deceptively toned beneath all those layers, the kind of strength that made you second-guess not divorcing your husband sooner.

"Hey, troublemaker," he said softly, his voice warm and teasing, like he knew you were up to something just by the way you touched him. He didn't even flinch at your sudden embrace, just leaned into you as if he had been expecting you.

You buried your nose between his shoulder blades, breathing him in. That familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of pancake batter—it was such a simple combination, but it made your heart ache in the best way. His hair was tied up in that silly little topknot again, and on anyone else it would have looked completely ridiculous. He smelled like everything good and familiar, like something you didn't even realize you needed.

He set the bowl of pancake batter down and turned slightly, his hand finding your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to show you exactly how much he wanted you. The kiss was languid, sensual, made your knees a little weak and left you dizzy in the best way. You could taste the sweetness of his affection, the way he held you like you were something precious.

In that moment, it hit you—you really were in love.

You didn't need to second-guess it. This wasn't like anything you had before. The ease, the quiet bliss of being here with him, in this little bubble you'd both created—it was something you had never known with your husband.

That marriage had been full of noise and expectations, but this... this was peace.

This was love.

And standing there, with Aki's arms around you and the smell of pancakes in the air, you knew you didn't want to let this feeling go.

"Hi. You sleep okay?" you asked, slipping your hands under the hem of his sweater, your fingers pressing against the warmth of his muscular back. You felt the subtle shift of his body under your touch, the way his breath caught for just a second.

"Better than okay," he replied, his voice still rough from sleep. "I don't even remember dreaming."

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Aww... did I put you to sleep?" The words came out soft, playful, with a teasing edge that hung in the air.

He chuckled, a deep, velvety sound that sent a ripple through your body. "That's rich coming from the one who came so hard she passed out last night."

Your cheeks flushed instantly, the memory making heat rise in your face as you buried it against his chest, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. His sweater smelled like him—warm, clean, and just a little bit of that cologne you couldn't get enough of.

After a moment, you tilted your head, peeking up at him through your lashes. Your hands moved beneath his sweater again, this time slowly exploring the firm ridges of his abs. He was a Greek god, he really was.

You could feel him tense, the muscles under your touch shifting with every slight movement of your fingers as they trailed down his abdomen, brushing lightly with your knuckles. You hummed, the sound vibrating softly in your throat. "Hmm... should I make it up to you?"

Aki's eyes dropped to yours, and you saw the change immediately—his face grew warm, the faintest hint of pink rising on his cheeks as his pupils widened. "Make what up to me?" he asked, his voice lower now, like he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer or if he was bracing for it.

Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, the fabric snapping back against his skin with a soft, sharp sound. He let out a quiet grunt in response, and the sound sent a surge of satisfaction through you.

"You're a little minx today, aren't you?" he teased, though his voice was laced with something deeper, his smirk betraying just how affected he was.

You just smiled up at him, your fingers lingering at the waistband, daring him to see where the moment would take you next.

"What can I say? I'm an early riser," you teased, your finger trailing downward over his sweatpants, over the tent that was beginning to form where your fingers ghosted over them. The way his breath hitched, followed by a flustered laugh, made you grin.

You tugged at the strings of his sweatpants, mischief dancing in your eyes. "And I think someone else is too."

Aki's gaze darted between the stove, where the pancakes were almost ready to be poured, and the closed bedroom doors, behind which his roommates were still fast asleep. His brow furrowed as if he were contemplating something serious, but the playful glint in his eyes hadn't left.

"You're insatiable," he said, though his voice held just the faintest tremor of doubt. "Not like this. Not in the kitchen."

"You're thinking about it?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why? Craving something sweet?"

"Always, pretty girl," he murmured, his tone soft but filled with heat. "But don't tempt me."

"Why not?" you challenged, leaning in just a little closer. "Who was it that said to give in to temptation and not run from the truth? Why stop now?"

Aki's smirk deepened as he slid one hand around your waist, his fingers grazing the small of your back. "Because my temptations involve me hiking that little sweater up and fucking you right there on the table until the neighbors call the cops," he whispered, his lips barely brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Behave."

Yes, sir.

Just before you could retort, you heard the soft creak of a door opening. In an instant, both of you pulled away from each other, the space between you filled with unspoken tension. Eventually, a familiar head of ginger hair popped into the kitchen, tired eyes barely open, pants hanging low on his hips.

"Morning," Denji yawned.

Aki's words left you breathless, still. You cast him an uncertain glance. He smirked – barely there, of course, but just enough to tell you that your conversation wasn't over. Then, he turned back to the stove.

Denji reached for the fridge, grabbing a bottle of Orange Juice.

"You making pancakes over there?" The younger of the two boys asked, pulling a seat out from beneath the kitchen table and plopping down – clearly unwilling to bring up the whole issue of whatever the fuck happened last night.

This entire situation is unreal.

"Yeah," Aki answered. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it either. Instead, he poured some batter onto the pan.

Awkwardly, you inched towards the seat at the table across from him. You sat down and folded your hands on the table. He eyed you up curiously, like wasn't sure if last night had been a dream. You avoided his gaze, looking down at your lap.

Suddenly, you felt conscious of your appearance — was your hair disheveled? Had he left marks on your neck? Did Denji have some sort of superpower that allowed him to see through your sweater and see the bruises Aki's strong hands had left on your hips the night before?

A few silent minutes passed, during which neither of you three brought up the elephant in the room. A moment longer, and you were joined by Aki's other nightmare roommate — a short girl with pink hair, sharp teeth, and red little horns protruding from the top of her head.

She entered the kitchen with a proud shriek of, "Well risings, mortals! I smell sustenance."

When she noticed you, a look of confusion replaced her grin. She sat down at the table next to Denji and asked him, "Who is this human?"

And, just like that, the line is crossed.

Denji shrugged as Aki set a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He quirked a snarky little brow, glaring up at him, "Dunnno. Why don't you ask him?"

Power's lips were pressed into a confused little pout. She looked up at Aki as he walked behind her, but the moment she saw he was coming towards her with a plate, she kept her mouth shut. Four pancakes were heaped onto each of their dishes. The moment it hit the table, she reached for the fork and the knife and dug in.

Finally, Aki came around the table, offering you a plate of pancakes and an apologetic expression before taking a seat next to you. There were two pancakes on his plate, garnished with butter and honey.

You looked at him with wide eyes that flicked between him and his roommate, blinking extra hard, as if to say, Help me.

He sighed your name in response, "Meet Denji and Power, the two shitheads I live with."

Great. That wasn't helpful at all.

"Why are you not bowing?" The Power girl slammed her fist down against the table. "You are in the presence of greatness."

Denji didn't seem to care much to acknowledge her, ripping a piece off of his pancake and stuffing it into his mouth before saying, "You're bangin' the captain, right?"

Your mouth hung open. Aki tensed, furrowing his brows angrily, "Denji."

"What? You told me you weren't seeing anyone when I asked you, but I saw her come out of your room," Denji snapped back. He ripped another chunk out of his pancake, and stuffed his mouth again.

"We were having a... sleepover...?" You answered hesitantly, trying to make the situation better (and making it worse).

Denji pointed an accusatory finger at you, "Girls and boys don't have sleepovers."

Power shoved his arm, "Nonsense. Plenty of people do it."

Denji's head snapped towards her. He barked, "Yeah, plenty of people who are banging each other!"

You dropped your head into your hands, groaning into the table.

Aki handled the situation calmly, as he normally did, "She's my girlfriend."

And, just like that, your head was popping back up. Your wide eyes were on him immediately, heart pounding against your ribs like it was about to break loose. Girlfriend?

Then, a warmth spread over the back of your neck and your face, and you realized you weren't entirely opposed to being his girlfriend. Unless he was just putting up an act. In which case, you definitely weren't getting your hopes up — on paper, you were still married, anyway, right?

Right?

Denji and Power looked just as shocked as you did.

"You lying piece of shit!" Denji hissed. He turned to Power and added, "See? I told you! I knew it! He's been too lenient lately. Pay up."

Power crossed her arms. Mouth still full, she replied, "I refuse."

Denji leapt up from his seat, pointing at her now, "No way. You owe me a feel!"

Oh my god.

"There's a new pack of gum in the car," Aki sighed — visibly distressed by his roommates' behavior but noticeably unsurprised. Clearly this was no infrequent occurrence in his household.

The two of them perked up at that.

Aki continued, voice stern and notably father-like, "I'll give the both of you two pieces each if you keep your mouths shut."

Slowly, Denji lowered himself back into his seat. Power's angry face dropped, replaced by a wide-eyed frown, like that of a begging dog.

"Yes, sir," Denji answered obediently.

Power added, "At your service, My Liege."

"This doesn't leave the table. Got it?" Aki told the two of them. Carefully, he cut his pancakes into nine squares. He popped one onto a fork.

The two roommates nodded quickly.

Aki sighed, "Good. If you have any questions to ask her, do it politely."

Power was the first to ask, "Do you work with him?"

Finally having a chance to speak, you smiled softly, sheepishly, "Yeah. I'm new to Tokyo, though."

"Great. There will be plenty of time, then," She grinned, "I wish the two of you nothing but success in your mission to procreate!"

You choked on the mouthful of pancakes you were trying to swallow down. Before you could even comment on that wildly invasive statement, Denji answered with a question of his own.

"He said be respectful, dumbass," He tutted. He polished off the rest of his pancakes in (seemingly) a few ridiculously huge bites before he asked. "Is it true that women's boobs are measured with letter-sizes?" A pause, then he added, "How big are yours?"

"You little brat," Aki grumbled as he slammed his fork down on the table, "I'm gonna kick your ass."

An hour after breakfast had wrapped up, and Aki had left you to do the dishes, you left for the balcony — but not before reaching into the pocket of the suit jacket he had left neatly folded on the couch and stealing one of his beloved cigarettes and his lucky lighter.

You didn't know what had gotten into you lately. Yet, as you stepped outside and closed the sliding door behind you, you couldn't help the relieved sigh that left your lips the moment the cig was lit and in your mouth.

The cherry crackled as you pulled a long, drawn out hit from it — thinking briefly back to a point in time some six or seven years ago when you were still a young Public Safety officer with a cigarette dangling from her lips, and then to the night before, when Aki had blown the smoke into your mouth. You sighed, releasing the smoke with the slightest cough.

Of course, the peaceful moment was shattered the moment you felt your phone buzzing in the pocket of the basketball shorts Aki had lent you earlier, saying something about how Denji was "Shamelessly ogling your legs". They were long enough to touch the back of your calves. Of course, you imagined they fit him differently.

You plucked the little device out, flipping it open. The screen was illuminated by a call — with two concerns being raised. Firstly, your phone was only on 12%. Secondly, the person calling you was your husband.

Your heart dropped. In a moment, it was as if the tranquil morning had been shattered, leaving you with that feeling of dread you knew all too well. You hadn't spoken to him since the night before you had left for Tokyo.

You flipped the phone open, accepting the call. "Hey."

"Hey. How have you been?"

Fine, before he called. You didn't say that, though, instead pulling another puff of your cigarette. "I've been good."

There was a rather lengthy pause, after which your husband cleared his throat, "Look. I wanted to call you because I felt real bad about what happened before you left."

You couldn't possibly doubt him more. Still, you had spent the entirety of last night getting your guts rearranged by his superior. You figured you had outdone him. "Yeah? It's alright."

"No, it's not," He answered, much to your surprise, "I had no right to hit you. That was super out of line. I'm just... I've been stressed out with work and you being gone, and... I dunno, I..."

The line paused again. You took another hit.

"I can't shake this feeling about you in Tokyo. I feel like something's wrong," He finished.

Your stomach churned with unease. He was right, of course, but you couldn't let onto that – if it had taken him that long to notice, he couldn't really care. Hell, he hadn't called you since you left.

"Like what?" You replied with a noncommittal hum. You couldn't give less of a shit what he was feeling, to be completely fair and honest. He never cared what you were thinking?

"I don't know what. I know I said some rude things, but... I don't think that's an excuse for you to be ignoring me like this. I've been waiting for your call," He sighed. "Are you okay? Are we okay?"

You nearly burst out laughing at the sheer irony of it all. So now he cares?

He's far too late.

As if on cue, the sliding door opened. Faintly, you could hear Denji and Power shouting at each other in the background, followed by a set of quiet footsteps right behind you. The door shut. You didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Aki came up on you from behind, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He smelled of pancakes and laundry soap and cologne, a scent so divine that it had you relaxing into his touch instantly.

On the phone, your husband drew on, "Hello? You still there?"

You felt a warm kiss at the back of your neck, followed by another that landed a little higher, and then a little higher. Then he peppered a series of butterfly kisses to the sensitive skin there. You grinned, leaning into his touch while swatting him away all the same.

"Yeah," You answered, voice teetering on a giggle. Aki pulled you flush against his chest, arms squeezing you tight while he teased you with more butterfly kisses. "Sorry, I'm multitasking."

Aki's hands gripped your hips, pulling them back so that your ass was pressed right up against him. Then, he leaned down, nibbling softly at the skin near the corner of your jaw – then soothed over it with a lick of his warm, flattened tongue.

You bit back a laugh, pushing him away. Finally, he seceded, leaving you alone so that he could sit down on the chair on the balcony and watch you.

Your husband spoke up. You had almost forgotten he was there. In a few short words, he shattered your entire world;

"I'm being stationed in Tokyo."

a/n: ermmmmmmm... heyyyyy... how yall doin.... ok now look. don't hate me. you know after all that sugar i gave yall i had to throw in a curveball, cmon. (this is a notiddygothgf fanfic after all). dont be too mad, i'll be back shortly!!! the plot thickens from here. I wonder what will happen?? (jk i already know but id love to hear what YALL think will happen). (you know mama always makes it up to you bbs). THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR UNWAVERING SUPPORT! You guys and ur comments literally keep me going. Part of me never wants this story to end (which is crazy bc it was originally a one shot lmfao.). anyway not too much more, love yall!! ciao pookies! x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#shameless!#aki hayakawa #aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

Text

the met gala

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

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

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

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

previous part linked here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mika? What’s wrong?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you Eren?”

“Mikasa. Okay, I can ex-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi Eren. It’s Connie.”

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

“Hi Con.”

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah. Yeah, is she okay?”

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

“Not her.” Eren whispers.

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

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

Could always get you to talk.

“You tried Levi?”

“Yes.”

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

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

“Connie?”

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah man. Sure.”

Connie hangs up and the guilt eats at Eren.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ew, Eren. Don’t look at those.”

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

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

“You know, you still do that.”

“Do what?”

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

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

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

“Perfect. Wear this one.”

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

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

"You're no help." you whine.

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

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

“Love?”

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

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

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

“Lots. Cedric Diggory was my first love.”

“Oh? Really?”

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

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

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

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

“I was expecting you to say Slytherin.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that for?”

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

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

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

“Okay, Eren. Good?”

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

“Eren.”

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

“It should be illegal-”

Kiss.

“To look like this.”

Kiss.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

Kiss.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to drive me crazy, love.”

“Am not, Eren. It’s just a dress.”

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

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

“Hey. What is it?” he whispers.

“You said my name.”

“I say your name all the time.”

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

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

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

“I like how you say it. Y/N.”

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

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

“What’s that?”

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

“Ew, Eren. That was so corny.”

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

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

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

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Chelseaiswatching.” you murmur.

“Huh?”

“Chelsea is watching.” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now that you say it, it’s actually-”

“Too bad.”

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

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

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

“Basically. You’re my muse, Eren.”

“What’s the song called, Y/N?”

“Dress.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

“How many?”

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

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

“Ricky.”

“Yes, babe?”

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

“For fun! You smell really good.”

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

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

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

“Baby’s first Met Gala!”

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

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

“For?”

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

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

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

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

“What flavor is the cupcake?”

“Chocolate.”

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

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

“I only like the frosting of the cupcake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if Lana comes up to me?”

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

“And if Eren comes up to me?”

“I’ll give you a big kiss.”

“Ew. Don’t do that.”

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

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

Are you and Ricky official?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh god.”

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

“Ten bucks it’s Gojo.”

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

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

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

“You owe me ten bucks.”

“I never agreed to that, Ricky.”

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

“Oh?”

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

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

“Y/N. You look gorgeous!”

“Thank you! So do you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think it’s flattering.”

“Really?”

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

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

“Ricky.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? That cat isn’t real?”

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

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

"Jean."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nudge Megumi in the side.

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

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

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

“Yuuji losing.” you all respond in unison.

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

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

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

“He did.” they all respond in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very good friends.” you respond.

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

“Ouch, Ricky. Get off.”

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

“What’s your problem?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi. I’m Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

“What do you want, doll?”

“Nothing. I got bored.”

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

“Shit. My bad, doll. That’s mine.”

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

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

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

“Sukuna. How’d you know?” you ask.

“Eren told me.”

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

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

“We talk. It’s just not pleasant.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay?” you respond.

“Okay? That’s it, Y/N?”

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

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

“Are you performing?” Sukuna asks.

“Yeah. With Marco, right before Eren.”

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

You smack him hard on the shoulder.

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that simple, Sukuna.”

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

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

“God. You’re pathetic.”

“And you’re an asshole, Sukuna.”

“Do you want to kiss now?”

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

“You never change, do you Sukuna?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi everyone. My name is Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

levi: We love the record, kid.

you: it's been out for five seconds.

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

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

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

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

“What’s this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you can't help these sort of things.

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

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

You breathe a sigh of relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

“That was me.” he responds, again.

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

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

"Ricky."

He closes off the window and walks away all together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

He picks up on the first ring.

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

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

“Eren?” you ask, voice breaking.

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

“I need your help.”

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

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

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

“I need you to come get me, Eren.”

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

next part linked here

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