#i tried my best my art style doesn’t have ears

[creator-indy]

Attack on ladox of their persona

#oc #ocart #art #drawing #indy’s art #artfight #other artists ocs #i tried my best my art style doesn’t have ears

[gaysindistress]

The Barnes Family - a Sad Girl ficlet

Summary: Doll and her grumpy mob boss husband go to a wedding where Bucky can't keep his comments to himself.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x reader

Warnings: cursing, mentions of spicy times

Word count: 1.4k

Taglist: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman @goldensunflowe-r   @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @iateall-yourcookies  @littlelizardlizzie @alana4610 @kandis-mom @beware-my-thorns @ozwriterchick @reader-without-a-story @unaxv @wh0reforbucknasty @cjand10​  @vickie5446 @katymae12344 @callsign-athena @openup-yourmind​

master-list

sad girl masterlist

a/n: I went to a wedding and thought about Doll and Bucky from Sad Girl so I had to write one last thing about them.

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

“I want to start off this ceremony the right way; with a prayer to our father who art thou in heaven.”

Bucky clears his throat and fidgets in his chair as the prayer begins. To his left, Doll whacks him on the thigh. 

“What was that for?” He asks as he grabs her hand to stop her from doing it again. 

She rolls her eyes at him and points to the pastor and the couple in front, “we’re supposed to be praying.” 

“And?”

“And you need to stop talking.”

He goes to say something that would make God blush but she digs her nails into his knee as her final warning. 

The crowd around them say Amen as Doll tries to rein in her giant of a man from losing his composure. The pastor drones on about how marriage is a joyous occasiokn that makes a couple whole. Littered throughout his speech are mentions of how women are made for men and are to serve them to the best of their ability. He goes on and on about the story of Adam and Eve, especially the part where Eve was created from Adam’s rib and how that made her indebted to him. 

Bucky lets out a disbelieving snort when the pastor gets to the vows which are again, filled with the idea that the groom is about to get an inhouse servant. Doll shoots him a pointed look but it doesn’t reach her mouth. She’s trying to hold in her own laugh but there are people starting to turn around and glare at them. 

“Bucky I swear to…”

He leans over to whisper into her ear, “It better not be God. I don’t think he would appreciate that.”

“Stop talking or…”

He interrupts her again, “Or what?”

When she doesn’t respond and instead lets her eyes scan his face, a smirk grows and dares her to contiune with her threat. She’s smarter than that and knows when to play into his little game but right now she decides to play her own. The hand that he’s holding to his knee slips out and reaches up to brush over the stubble that’s grown during the last few months. Since finding out that she’s pregnant, he’s started to embrace a more causal look aka letting his beard and hair grow out more. Several mornings he will wake her up and ask for her help with styling it. Today, though, he opted to get his hair cut and returning to his traditional short hair that has her legs given out when she saw him walk out of the bathroom. 

“The house is empty,” she tells him, briefly looking back to the grand estate house that sits behind them. 

Bucky turns to look and catches the hidden meaning behind her words, “Now THAT is something God would definitely not appreciate.”

“Why not?” Doll shrugs her shoulders and lets her hand drop so she can face the front again, “We’re married and I’m already pregnant. I think he would WANT us to have sex.” 

Cheering from the people around them lets them know that the ceremony is about to end. The happy couple smiles widely and shakes their joined hands together as they walk down the aisle. Bucky and Doll stand to clap while he whispers one last thing, “In that case, we should fuck in front of the arch.”

Doll giggles at him and follows the other guests towards the reception area with him trailing after her like a puppy. The mother of the bride stops Doll on her way towards the house to congratulate them on their marriage and baby. 

“Oh Y/N it’s been so long since the last time. How is everyone? How’s Morgan?” the older woman drops her voice at the mention of Morgan but maintains a bright smile. 

“Morgan is good. She’s with her aunt right now but she’s doing really good.”

“Oh good, good. We were all worried about her after you know…”

Bucky speaks up from behind Doll, “That’s funny.”

She gives him a confused look.

“Considering that I’ve never met you before today and I should have if you were that worried about her.”

The woman gasps at his comment and Doll chokes down a chuckle, “It was nice to see you, Amanda. We’ll check up another time.” 

With that, Doll leads her sassy husband away and leaves Amanda in shock with his forwardness. Bucky grumbles something about how two faced these people are and how he can’t wait to leave. She finds their table and takes a seat all the while he’s still grumbling about whatever he can. 

“We can leave after the dances. We’ll blame it on Morgan and say she called us, asking if we could come home,” Doll says to him. 

“If anyone else comes up to me, I’m not talking to them. I can’t stand these people.”

“Fair enough. They’re all Pepper’s friends anyways,” she pauses, staring over his shoulder, “Fuck David is coming over.”

“Who’s David?” he starts, turning to look, “Are you on first names basis with the pastor? Is there something that you want to tell me?”

“I’ll explain it later,” she mumbles and stands to greet the pastor, “David how are you?”

“Y/N! How are you?” David, the pastor, says too enthusically for Bucky’s liking. 

“I’m good, how are you?” She fakes a smile and recoils when he pulls Doll into a hug which has Bucky standing immediately. 

“Let’s talk about you,” he holds her out by her arms, “How far along are you? I didn’t even know you were married.”

“Yeah, Hi I’m her husband,” Bucky wraps a protective arm around her waist and pulls her away from David. He doesn’t offer his hand to shake and instead settles for a death glare. 

David launches into a 3 minute long rant about nothing and everything all at once. The entire time he’s focsued solely on Doll and seems aloof to the murderous stare that Bucky is leveling at him. Eventually he starts in on how he’s upset that he wasn’t invited to their wedding.

“I’m going to have to stop you there David. I don’t know you and you’re making my wife very uncomfortable so why would we have invited you?” Bucky poses to David and checks his watch when he tries to defend himself, “Doll I think it’s time we leave.” 

“Of course,” she is more than happy to gather her clutch and get as far away as she can from David. 

“Have the evening you deserve,” Bucky bids his less than kind bye and leads his wife anywhere but there. 

“You could be nicer,” she tells him, smiling at the guests that pass by them. 

“Then I would be lying,” he remarks back, “To the arch?”

“We are not having sex in front of everyone.” “Why not? There’s nothing more natural than a married couple showing their love for each other.”

She playfully hits him on the shoulder, “I promise once we get home then I’ll let you go wild.”

“Come on there’s no fun in that.”

“Are you trying to say that sex with me is not fun?” He narrows his eyes at her, “I never said that and while we’re at why don’t you tell me how you know David?” “He’s the son of one of Pepper’s friends. She tried to set us up so many times but for obvious reasons I found a way out everytime.” He hums in understanding and digs into his slack’s pocket to unlock the car. Holding the door open for her, Bucky helps Doll in and sneaks a playful slap on her but which earns him an equally as playful smack to his hand.

“It’s right there. You can’t expect me to not give it some love.” “Get your ass in the car and you might get lucky.”

“Yes ma’am,” he salutes her and jogs around to the other side so he can climb in as well. When the engine roars to life, he puts his hand on her thigh and drives them away from the hypocritical and boring wedding they just left. Doll moves his hand up onto her stomach and presses it against it so he can feel their baby move.

“Did you feel that? She’s been moving around so much this evening.”

“Little Winnifred is getting so big.”

She had been moving his hand around to get a better feel but freezes at the name that slips out, “Winnifred?”

He looks over quickly, “It was my mom’s name.”

She hums and starts moving his hand again, “What about Jade Winnifred Barnes?”

“Baby Jade,” he repeats the name over and over again as they drive down the driveway, “The Barnes Family: James, Y/N, Morgan, and Jade.”

“Bucky, Y/N, Morgan, and Jade,” she corrects him. 

“I like the sounds of that.”

#bucky barnes imagine #mob au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #sad girl bucky barnes #marvel imagine #bucky barnes reader insert

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

21 - Deep in my Heart, There’s a Trembling Question

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr / lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: bullying, name calling, misgendering/incorrect use of pronouns

Year: 1995

“Papa, daddy, can I help you garden?” Bobby asked.

“Of course, sweetie, why don’t you help me pick some weeds,” Eddie said.

He explained to her what the weeds looked like and how to properly pull them up from the ground. He sent her over to the edge of the fence to pick up some where there were no flowers, so she wouldn’t accidentally pull up any of Steve’s perennials. 

Steve went back to watering the lawn as Eddie laid some mulch near the deck. Bobby was singing and humming to herself as she pulled up the weeds and its surrounding grass. As she worked her way down the fence, the neighbor’s kids, and their friends, stormed into the backyard. Bobby politely waved hello before returning to the yard work.

As she continued plucking up blades of grass, she heard the kids taunting her. She pouted and tried ignoring them the best she could, but their torments only got louder and louder as they approached the fence.

“What’re you doing?” The neighbor boy asked.

“Gardening,” Bobby smiled.

“No, you’re just pulling grass.”

“No, my daddy and papa said I’m pulling weeds.”

“Dad and papa? You mean dad and mama?”

“No… daddy and papa…” She pointed to her fathers by the deck.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Mom? I don’t have a mom.”

“Everyone has a mom.”

“I don’t…”

“Freak!” One laughed.

“I’m not a freak,” she teared up.

“Cry baby!” Another taunted.

“Go cry to your mommy, weirdo!”

“I don’t have a mommy,” Bobby sniffed. “I have a daddy and a papa…”

“So you have two homos as parents,” one laughed. “Go cry to your homos.”

Not knowing what the boy’s words meant, Bobby wiped her runny nose on her mustard yellow sweater, and ran over to Eddie. She tapped him on the shoulder to pull his attention away from the flower beds.

“Hey, bug, what’s up? You all done with the weeds?”

“Papa,” she sniffed.

“Oh, my goodness, you’re crying.” He brushed the excess dirt off his hands before pulling Bobby into a tight hug. “What’s wrong? What happened? You bump your knee again?”

“No…” She wiped a tear off her cheek as Eddie pinched her nose go collect all the excess snot (wiping it into the lawn).

“Then what happened?” He looked at his sad daughter, pushing her hair behind her ears as she cried.

“Mrs. Smith’s son–”

“Eric?”

“Mhmm, Eric was calling me names and told me to go cry to my mommy, but I told him I didn’t have a mommy, then he called you and daddy something, and he said I wasn’t doing the weeds right, and–” She ran on in one breath.

“Whoa, Bobbs, slow down,” Eddie said. “First of all, you don’t need a mommy, okay? You have two loving daddies and that’s what matters, okay? Second, ignore them when they call daddy and I names, okay? It’s not important and it doesn’t hurt us, so it shouldn’t hurt you. They’re just being mean.”

“Yeah, but–”

“Bee–”

“Papa!” she interrupted. “They called you names!”

“Alright, I tried being nice about this. You want revenge? Full blown horror movie style?” She eagerly nodded. “Let’s go. Don’t tell dad.”

The two snuck into the house as Steve continued to work his way throughout the lawn. Eddie dug through their stowed away Halloween decorations for something to scare the neighborhood kids.

“Clean your face off, bug,” Eddie muttered as he grabbed a damp washcloth. He properly cleaned her face before sliding on a Jason Voorhies mask. “Give ‘em hell, kiddo.”

Eddie made his way to the backyard and watched Bobby chase after Eric and his friends. Steve’s attention was finally torn from the yard work when he heard all the children screaming. He saw his little one chasing several boys with a fake machete and a serial killer mask.

“Edward!” Steve yelled as he stormed the deck.

“Yes, Steven?”

“Are you responsible for that?”

“Possibly.”

“Christ,” he sighed.

“I’m not stopping it.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

They two let Bobby run around a bit longer before Mrs. Smith scolded Eddie and Steve for letting their child do such a thing. The two snickered to each other before calling Bobby back over to the yard.

“Are you two really laughing? She traumatized my son!” Mrs. Smith yelled.

“Oh, shut it, your son started it,” Eddie scoffed. “Next time, raise your son to not call our daughter names. Alright?”

“Eric, is that true? Were you calling Bobby names?”

“No,” he lied.

“My daughter is a tough girl who doesn’t cry at much. Whatever your son said really upset her,” Eddie said.

“And you called my daddies names!” Bobby added.

“And you called us names,” Eddie reiterated.

“Eric, in the house, now!” Her son cowered before dragging his feet inside. “Sorry for disturbing you all. Just, next time, Bobby, please don’t charge my son with a fake knife, okay?” She nodded in response. “Thank you, dear.”

A couple weeks went by and Eric hadn’t bothered Bobby since—or so the boys had thought. One afternoon, as the two were getting ready to head out and pick her up from school, the home phone rang. Eddie, being in the middle of writing a song, didn’t even hear it, so Steve wandered off to the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello?” Steve answered.

“Hi, may I speak with either Steve or Eddie Harrington?”

“This is Steve, how can I help you?”

“I’m principal Gibbons, I’m calling to inform you of an incident that occurred earlier today.”

“An incident? Is Bobby okay?”

“Yes, Bobby is fine, Mr. Harrington. It’s just…” Principal Gibbons sighed. “Bobby has been displaying some violent behaviors lately.”

“I’m sorry, what? That doesn’t sound like my little girl.” Steve shook his head in disbelief.

“Mr. Harrington–”

“Please, call me Steve—Mr. Harrington is my father, and I’m trying very hard to be nothing like him.”

“Apologies, Steve. Anyways, she got into a fight earlier today.”

“She what‽” he yelled.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie called.

“Bobby just got in a fight at school.”

“Did she win?”

“Ed–”

“Did she win? It’s a simple question, Steve.”

“I’m not asking if she won! Christ, forgive my spouse.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll be right down.” Steve hung up the phone and threw his jacket on. “Ed, come on.”

“We’re going now?”

“Yes, Edward, we are. Our daughter got into a fight, lord knows if she’s hurt! We need to go, now!”

Steve dragged Eddie to the car and sped off to Bobby’s school. They swung into the parking lot and ran in to meet with the principal. They found Bobby sitting outside the office, glancing at the floor, kicking her feet back and forth.

“Bobbs, what happened?” Steve asked, kneeling to meet her gaze.

“Did you win?” Eddie asked.

“Not the time!” Steve grit his teeth. “Bobby, I thought we raised you better than this. What happened?”

“Eric…” she whimpered. “He called me names again, then called you guys names, and then he said that papa is actually my mommy and I got mad and hit him…” She rushed out in a single breath, as she often did when she was anxious. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

Steve sighed in defeat as he pulled his daughter in for a hug. He gently rubbed her back as he heard Bobby holding in tears, sniffing back her emotions.

“You can cry, Bobbs, it’s okay,” Steve whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm…”

“He didn’t hit you back or pull your hair or anything, right?”

“No, daddy.”

“So you won!” Eddie threw his arms up in celebration.

“Yeah,” She giggled, wiping her eyes.

“We’ll talk to Mrs. Smith—Eric can’t keep doing this to you.”

“Harringtons,” Principal Gibbons called.

“Come on.”

Steve extended his hand to Bobby as the family walked into the office. Everyone got settled in the office as the principal prepped the paperwork.

“So, Mrs. Smith is threatening to press charges.”

“Whoa, what? No, absolutely not. Eric was the instigator here. Bobby was only standing up for herself and her family.”

“That’s not what Mrs. Smith and her son said.”

“I trust my daughter first and foremost. It wouldn’t be the first time Eric has started something like this, either. The Smith’s are our neighbors and Eric has a history of taunting Bobby. I can’t say I blame her for finally snapping.”

“Okay, Bobby, what did Eric say that started the fight?”

“He called me a ‘freak of nature’, said I have ‘homos for parents’, and that my papa is actually my mommy…”

“Eddie, Steve… we brought this concern up to you two when you were enrolling her.”

“But why should our lives have to impact hers? Yes, I’m a trans man and yeah, we’re two guys that are married, but that shouldn’t affect Bobby’s life. Especially her education. This is supposed to be a place of acceptance and learning, but instead you’re turning it into a place where people can openly bully her and then have her get punished for sticking up for herself. It’s not fair, Gibbons,” Eddie sneered. “People can call my husband and I all the names they want, but the second they bring Bobby into it, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“Mrs. Harrington–”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Eddie, please,” Steve urged.

“Stay out of this, Steve. Gibbons, we love our daughter and we value her safety and well being more than anything in the world. Her mental health falls into that, understand? She is a good, sweet kid who doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment. I will be damned if she stays at a school where the staff openly allow her to be bullied, and one where I’m openly misgendered.”

“Eddie, it was an honest mistake,” Gibbons backtracked.

“Save it, alright? Let’s go.”

Eddie swung Bobby’s backpack over his shoulder and led her out of the room. By the time he was out the front door, Steve stood up and leaned over Principal Gibbon’s desk.

“With all due respect, Miranda, you don’t get to treat my family like this. Understand? Bobby is the sweetest child I have ever met—Eddie and I work hard to be sure of it. She would never hurt someone else without good reason. Hell, this is the first time she’s ever hurt anyone at all. She’s just a little girl who loves her family, especially her papa. She would follow him to the ends of the earth, and I couldn’t be more proud. I love my family and I’m proud of who we all are. How dare you think you can treat us like this.” Steve straightened himself out before heading to the door. “Bobby will be withdrawn as soon as we find a replacement school. One that accepts us, Gibbons. And if you even think about disciplining my daughter and not Carol’s hellion, then you’re going to have a much bigger problem on your hands. Understood?” She nodded and gulped back any response. “Good.”

Steve slammed the door and joined his family at their car. He ran his hand up and down Eddie’s back as he buckled Bobby into her car seat. He leaned over, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“We’re proud of you, bug,” he smiled.

“Yeah, really proud,” Eddie added. “What you did was super brave. I know I couldn’t’ve done what you did. Hell, I couldn’t even tell people I was a man until I was nineteen.”

“Wait, what?” Bobby asked.

“What’s up?” Eddie straightened out her jacket and rested against the door.

“You had to tell people you were a man? Do I have to tell people I’m a girl?”

“What do you mean, honey?”

“Do we have to tell people what we are?”

“Oh… I think I know what she’s getting at,” Steve said. “Bug… okay, I’ll… we’ll… let’s talk when we get home.”

Steve rushed the family home and ushered Bobby into the living room, where he sat her between himself and Eddie.

“So, bug,” Steve started. “Papa is your papa, but, at one point in his life, he wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Bobby, I wasn’t always a papa,” Eddie said. He looked to Steve and took a deep sigh. “I used to, technically, be a mommy.”

“How? You’re a boy.”

“You’re right, I am, but I was born a girl, and legally, I still technically am—it’s how daddy and I were able to get married. My name wasn’t always Eddie, sweetheart. I was born as Eden… not Eddie.”

“So, does that mean I’ll become a boy too?”

“Not necessarily,” Eddie chuckled. “I was always a boy, but I was stuck in a girl’s body. Now, through the help of some very nice doctors, and daddy’s support, I’m a boy in a boy’s body.”

“Oh… okay.”

“I’m still papa, and I always will be, but the whole reason you got here was because I was born as a mommy. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, papa, I do.”

“Okay… just know, there’s nothing wrong with who I am, and there’s nothing wrong with daddy and I loving each other. We’re all born as who we are and we can’t change that.”

“And at the end of the day,” Steve added, “we will always love each other, and we’ll always love you. Okay? We’re a little different than most families, but we’re happy and love one another… and that’s all that matters.”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie st4 #eddie stranger things #gay #st4 #lgbtq #lgbt pride #joe kerry #joseph quinn #steddie #happy #pride #steve x eddie #love #maya hawke #netflix #robin buckley #parent steddie #steddie dads #transgender #trans eddie munson

[punk-in-docs]

Ok ok ok I cannot stop thinking about the dynamic of Eddie x Pencils when they’re in their new fluffy lovey relationship. Possibly even Eddie being jealous AF cause all his friends just love hanging out with her (maybe a little too much) I just love them together. I can see Eddie being all screechy/shrieky cause he’s not getting one on one time and it’s starting to piss him off! Love those two sm!

🕷 Green is the Colour 🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader

6.6k words

Summary: EDDIE X PENCILS RIDE AGAIN - listen I’ve been thinking about this ask for two days and I thought what if- what if everyone else loves pencils so much and rudely robs Eddie of her time and the fallout of the kids being all steal ya girl- poor Eddie-

“I swear man, I’m about to start plastering her poster on telephone poles and milk cartons. It’s getting pretty freakin’ dire over here.” Eddie speaks as he presides over the squares of the board splayed before him.

Friday night. Doused under the blooming tulip bulbs of the Hellfire club room. Shadows spot the room where the dramatic lights can’t scrape. Swimming sea blue and fiery Sahara amber.

The candles are lit. Jerky flames flicker their licks of light. Stage set. Atmosphere geared up for the adventure and the conflict that may come. The dice are gathered. Board awaits. Poised for another one of Eddie’s imaginative campaigns.

Some would say sadistic- he would say mildly warped at best.

Folks were still strolling in from end of class. Numbers not assembled to full platoon yet.

Gareth, Jeff, Sinclair, and Matt are the first ones to rock up. Still waiting on his other tardy freshmen. They sit at the table. Drink sodas. Scarf down the snacks Gareth bought cause it was his turn. Cheetos, red vines, pretzels, and Reece’s pieces.

Eddie chucks himself back in his throne. Sits with his heels popped on the table edge. They sit and slowly kill time. He listens to them munch chips loudly, bicker over dumb shit, and somehow, the conversation had turned its attentions onto you-

His pencils. His maiden. The Art to his Garfunkel. Only much, much, hotter.

Gareth chucks Eddie a Reece’s cup. He catches it one handed - but there’s no celebratory fist pump. No jerking smile. He doesn’t scoff it down in three seconds like his usual bottomless-pit style when it came to candy.

He’s subdued. Something irks at him. Like a thread he can’t find the end of. He taps the edge of the table.

“So you haven’t seen your girl in a while then huh?” Jeff asks in reply to Eddie’s statement about milk cartons. A sloped smile on, as he snaps open a Pepsi can.

“Nada.” Eddie answered. “It’s really starting to grind my gears.”

You ate lunch at their table some days. Were welcome to, in fact. Sought after. Your absence is noted on the days you don’t, with curiosity and longing.

You caught a ride with Eddie to school. Mixing with them with no hint of awkwardness, and arguing about which was better, Sabbath or Motörhead.

I’m sorry but Motörhead rules in my book. Have you heard Lemmy play? Like c’mon open those ears kiddos. You know Ozzy wanted originally wanted to call ‘Iron Man?’ Metal bloke. C’mon.

As Eddie walked into school with his arm slung around your shoulders. You were still arguing with Jeff about it. He couldn’t get a word in. Once you start arguing about music you cannot be placated.

Alright, alright then can we at least agree that Twisted Sister is better than Bowie, Jeff tried in vain to argue.

You turn to your boyfriend. Clutching your pearls. Choking on the crazy statement.

Edward the children are delusional. What have you been feeding them? LSD?

He cackled all the way to class.

You got in on their jokes. Poked fun with them at the jocks. Correct their English homework when they get spelling mistakes, cause you happened to walk that class last year and got an A+.

Dustin honey, you spelt transcendence wrong. As you rubbed out his mistake with him with the end of your pencil eraser and filled it in. Told him to put his argument in the first paragraph to give it more punch up top. Science he got, lit essays were hard.

Your girlfriend is a freakin genius, man.

You think I don’t know that? C’mon you think I couldn’t pull the brainiest, hottest chick around? Please? I’m beating off chicks with a stick over here. Comes that devil Munson grin.

You patted his chest. Do I need to put a tongue depressor in your mouth? Are you getting hallucinations again?

C’mon pencils that was one time after a bad trip.

You’re slowly growing into familiarity in the social circles Eddie turns in.

Not like you could be apart for long. You two were inseparable and grossly in love. The making out was frankly, sickening, in its duration, frequency, and volume. Like something strummed right out a carpenter song. Heart throbbing teen love. And oh, it’s clutches were fierce.

That was, when he could lay eyes and hands on you. Which hadn’t happened now for four hellish, crawling days. Time is being waded through treacle for him.

It’s making Eddie fucking itch.

“Maybe I should file a police report.” He jokes. But in all seriousness, it’s actually crossed his funky little mind.

“I think I saw her earlier. She was out in the lot helping that Mayfield kid. Putting stickers on her skateboard or something.” Gareth told him.

“Not you too, red.” Eddie sighs muzzily as he crashes his head back to his seat in despair. Arms flailing out. Pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Does everyone in this school get a bigger slice of her than I do? Oh you know. I’m only her boyfriend for fucks sake.” He whines.

“She is pretty cool though.” Matt piped up. “Even by our admittedly limited standards.”

Eddie side shoots him a acid glare that says ‘yeah, no shit.’

“She busy with schoolwork or what?” Sinclair asks.

Eddie flails his hands. A mock attempt at trying to assuage his lovesick heart.

“I guess. I mean she does looovvve to stick her head in the books that one. Or she’s always sketching away. I know she had a history paper at the start of the week she had to stay home and work on but seriously, I’m dying of vicious neglect over here.” He makes a clawed hand over his heart like it’s gonna slowly squeeze to a stop.

“Yeah, it’s like we’ve gone what? Three lunch times now without seeing you guys noisily attached to each other’s faces.” Sinclair the elder, chuckles.

Eddie lobs a Reece’s piece at his head. “Ow. Hey?”

“That was called for. You know it. Pain is a part of life.” Eddie frowns at him.

“You’re just snippy cause you haven’t sucked face in so long.” Sinclair pointed out.

“I wonder if she remembers what I look like.” Eddie dreamt dazed. Staring at the ceiling so wistfully. Always so dramatic.

“It’s Friday night. I’m sure she’ll be free.” Jeff tries to play the kind and hopeful card.

“She better. Or else I’m not joking about that milk carton idea.” He wags an over accessorised finger in warning.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gareth placates as he chews on a red vine.

The bang of the doors has Eddie’s eyes slamming across. Ready to beat seven shades of shit out the tardy pair. Hellfires club rules were absolute: Eddie was known to take his rules seriously. To the death.

Henderson and Wheeler come careening through the doors. Wary of the lateness of the hour. Incurring the Munson wrath.

“Hey, don’t mind us.” Dustin says as they throw themselves into their usual seats and grab their things.

“Sorry we’re late. Got- held up.” Wheeler explained as he rooted elbow deep in his bag.

“Oo red vines. Gimme.” Dustin screeches. Mike snatches for the Cheetos packet.

“It’s ok man. We were just talking about Eddie and how he hasn’t seen pencils in like, forever. It’s driving him nuts.”

Silence. Thick as soup. You could sip it.

Eddie drags his eyes up and catches the way Wheeler flicks his eyes across to Henderson. Who has suddenly clammed right the hell up. Sat there holding a red vine.

Henderson usually trilled on and on like tweetie pie. Something was definitely up. All was not right in whosville. Boy better not bother with poker. Not with a giveaway face like that.

Those whiskey dark Munson eyes never missed a thing. Dagger tips that scratch into his two young opponents.

Henderson knows they’re being scrutinised. The way that crazy mane of Eddie’s flicks where he tilts his head at the two of them.

He braces his arms suddenly on the throne and sits up to crouch on his heels. Dustin and Mike actually flinch.

Their terrifying rabid DM coming level like a metal perching gargoyle. Really, Hellfire wasn’t Hellfire without Eddie scrambling around or climbing on shit.

“Something to say there, gentlemen?” He pressed. Sawtoothed edge to his voice that grates. Cuts skin. He claps his hands together.

“No. No. Nothing man.” Henderson spits out. His knuckles are white on the edge of the table.

At the same time of Wheeler’s “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

They’re prickling with sweat along the hairline. Hands fidgeting with their back pack straps. Plus, the inevitable fact that Eddie’s dark-cold stares are among the most intense things ever known to man. Arctic frostbite skimmed off a razor cold ocean could cut less.

Through narrowed whiskey eyes. “Have a seat.” He bit out each word.

Dustin tried to make small talk as he unzipped his bag. Got his character sheets. Very loudly excited over the prospect of snacks. Loved everything. Everyone looks good tonight. Everyone’s good. Good, man. Cool.

Wheeler just kept his mouth shut. Eddies eyes burned holes in the both of them like bleach.

“Why so late.” Eddie asks punchily. Creeping accusation hangs heavy on his tone.

“Uhhhhh. We-“

“We, why are we uh, late? Mike do you- recall.”

Eddies white knuckles crack together. His teeth will soon be dust.

“We… ran into Mr Clark. He started chatting about- science and, shit. You know, other stuff.” Mike got out.

Eddies bullshit-o-meter was creeping into the red. Hazards flashing. Alarm bells wailing. The rest of the guys at the table are side eyeing each other with drawn back smiles. Biting lips to stem laughter.

“Name the stuff.” He grins. So wide. Too wide. Scary wide. Calling the bluff.

Mike gulps. Dustin’s mouth gaped and no words came out.

“Man-I-think--I-think-we-should-just-tell-him.” Dustin whispers out the side of his mouth. Turning to Wheeler who was crumbling under the famous Munson poison stroked gaze.

“I feel like a rat.” Wheeler explains.

“Funny. Cause In about five seconds I’m gonna feed you to an entire army of rabid rats unless you spill, and tell me what the shit is going on.”

“We, have an advanced calculus test on Monday.” Dustin piped up.

“And?” Eddie urged snappy.

“And, uh, we needed some help and luckily, you know this really awesome someone, very selflessly offered us some assistance in furthering our education. Which is really nice of them, when-when you think about it” Dustin yammered.

Eddie nodded. Sucking in a deep breath. Eyes darting back and forth on them.

“This someone-“ He started.

“Man I told you he’d be wicked pissed.” Wheeler snuck out the side of his mouth at Henderson.

“Shut-the-hell-up. It was your idea.” Dustin hissed between clenched teeth.

“Describe them to me.” Eddie waved his hand in a curling motion.

“Who?”

“This selfless being who helped you. Describe them.” Eddie’s eyes threaded with steel.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

They blink owlishly at him. Mouths slack like guppy fish.

“Medium height. Hair. Uh, Eyes.”

“Do they also have feet and teeth, cause that’s not narrowing down any of the general populous for me.” He bitches at them.

“Studies art. Likes all kinds of cool music. Works in the record store. Loves Billy Idol. Bout yay big-“ Wheeler explains. Holding his hand up to roughly your height.

“You probably… know who we’re talking about… now.” Dustin summed up with a closed fist nervously waving in the air. Smoothing his clammy hands down to the table top.

Eddie slumps back to his chair. Rubs his fingers into his temples. A storm of pins starting to thunder at the roof of his skull. Like top pitch Slayer shredding screams in his ears. It’s deafening. Pins and needles plucking in his brain.

“Let me get this straight-“ He announced with the usual Dungeon Master fanfare from his ornate throne. Voice booming in the quiet of the echoing room.

He crosses his arms. Rattle of his chain bracelet. Clack of those rings as he swirls a finger in the air trying to pluck at the right words.

“I couldn’t lay eyes on my own girlfriend for the entirety of my week. I don’t see her at lunch. Or after school. Not a peep. I look everywhere for her today. And I mean everywhere man, and now you’re sitting there, telling me, she was helping you pipsqueaks, finish your calculus paper?”

He leans forwards and stabs his finger into the tabletop. The whole thing quakes. Storm Munson hitting hard. Expect casualties.

Wheeler looks at his shoes. Dustin nods nervously.

“That’s hmm, about uh right. Yeah-“

“You are skating thin thin ice my friends.” Eddie warns.

“Whilst we’re on the subject, I suppose I should mention, I uh, did invite her over to watch band practice tomorrow night. She said she’d bring cookies.” Gareth revealed.

“Awhh neat score man. What kind?” Matt asks.

“White chocolate and raspberry.” He grinned.

“Oh my god.” Jeff giggles in glee. Fist pumping.

Eddies fit to tear his hair out.

Wondering how long he would have to spend in prison for the completely spontaneous and cold-blooded murder of his entire DnD club.

He wonders if he could make it worth it. Or to the border-

“I can’t believe I have to share my girlfriend with all of Hawkins and now I have to try and compete with you morons? Unbelievable.” He mumbled to himself.

“Are we gonna start this campaign or what?” Gareth asks. “As you say, we don’t come here to chit-chat. We’re here to play.” He pushes his hand on the table before him in emphasis.

“You’re lucky I don’t banish you.” Eddie snaps. Eyes crazed.

“Banish me? Wait. Like in real life. Or the game?”

Eddie stares at him for a second too long. Raps knuckles on the table.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Gareth shrinks in his seat.

“C’mon man take it easy. Nothing wrong with everyone liking her. Surely that’s a compliment right?” Jeff tries to argue.

“Oh yeah. I’m feeling the benefits right here. Hey, if I need any help scheduling a date with my girlfriend anytime soon I’ll just ask one of you bozo’s. She free tonight, how about next Thursday?” He jokes around. All jocular and pissy.

“Nah man, she said she was going home tonight to-“ Dustin began but tapered off when Eddie shot his famous ‘really’ look. Deadly.

“…study for chem lab.” He finished slowly. “But she said to say she’d call you…. After… Hellfire.”

Eddies committing war crimes in his head. Truly.

“I detest you all so much. Let’s start please, before I-“ He clenches his hands and cracks his knuckles. Takes a deep breath.

“So, we start in the wild plains of-“ Eddie explains. Voice slipping into hushed storytelling mode.

“Hey, does she play DND?” Gareth interrupts, with something that definitely looks similar to flirtatious. Big big smirk.

Eddie glares. It’s steeped in all kinds of poison.

He reaches across and flicks over Gareth’s figurine. It clatters to the floor.

“Oops. Look at that. Bad storm.“

~

The sun dips low over the low slanted street of houses as you walk up the smooth tarmac of Gareth’s drive towards the Garage. The Fall night pricks unkind at your back and churns your breath silver.

Through the trees on the horizon the sky is stroked into layered slices of punchy lilac and petal pink. Black trees loom thick from the woods like prickly pine sentinels.

You’re lugging a tugging heavy bag crooked on one arm, and a whole plate of cookies in the other. Rocky road and raspberry and white chocolate. Teenage boys ate like a ravenous pack of wolves half starved.

You smile as you come to the muffled metal wall of sound thrashing it’s rhythm the other side of that garage. The crash of drums. The bass. The cry of that warlock you recognise so well.

Hands not free, you rap awkwardly on the clanging door with your elbow. You ick when your banging disturbs some rain drips that scatter off the overhang and drips chilly down your collar.

You gaze up as an eruption happens the other side of that door. You smile at hearing the music come crashing resoundingly to a clunky screech and stop. The pitchy whine of the amps and microphones.

Voices blare over the din. You hear the rush of footsteps. Sneakers scraping over the tarmac. You know exactly whose-

The garage door clunks up so fast with a fierce rattle. Rolling from the other side. Showing you in slow degrees, the red drum set. The mic stands. Rust square of carpet. The corroded coffin sign emblazoned proud on the wall.

Cords snaked everywhere. Boxy amps and all those metal posters Gareth tacked around the place. Half of them were from you. You bought him two more today from work that Sal let you snag.

You hear Eddie’s shrieky shouts rattle at the door. “Back off. Hey, hey hey hey, back off. My girlfriend, man. Mine.”

“Hey guys- uhfff“

A gut punch of a sudden attack crashes into you because your boyfriend ducks under the partially open door, and full body tackles you. Like the scurrying menace of a jangly golden retriever that he is. Beloved guitar slung right around his back. He toddles you backwards down the wet driveway.

You hold your arms out either side with the cookies in one, and your bag in the other as he limpets like lichen. He bends his knees and scoops you up off the floor. For a skinny guy he was freakishly strong when he had to be. Your sneaker toes scuff and drag the rain sheened tarmac.

Wiry leather arms enclosing you. But they’re strong too, clutching you to a firm warm chest draped in a black Zeppelin tee. His mouth at your neck. Apple smelling hair tangled in your mouth. Elbow hooked around your head.

You hum a smile. Cause it’s just entirely wrapping you up. Leather and bar soap. Red smoke smacking into you. Eddie. He’s burying you alive in one of his all encompassing hugs that you just burrow yourself into. Warm t shirt body surrounded by the outer colder layers of denim and leather.

You knock your head to rest into his. Whole body fluttering with the giddiness of being near again.

Eddies hooked his arm around your neck like he’s keeping you there, hostage.

Sweat damp bangs and burning off so much manic energy, and a smile splitting his lips. Waterfall spill of curls cupping that face. Making a frame out of those intense espresso dark eyes.

“Missed you.” He rumbles as he rubs his cheek on your hair. Delighting in the smell of you in his nose. Coconut and perfume. You, soft and real under his hands and you’re here- listening to the slow dub-dub of his heart as he holds you closer than was physically possible. If you were any closer you’d be on the other side of him.

“Never would have guessed-“ You smart at him. But you can’t crow too loud. Your stomach is cartwheeling. This boy has you so soft. It had been an interminably miserable week without him. Like being sat in the darkness for a week without your spots of golden sun.

“Missed you too, Munson.” You peck a kiss back on the side of his head. “You gonna put me down anytime soon?”

“Unlikely.” Is his answer. If anything he wraps around you tighter. Squeezes the stuffing out of you like a crushing boa. Like he could crush you up and snort you. Swallow you. Anything- still wouldn’t be close enough.

He does put you down. Mainly so he can cup your face and shove his lips onto yours. Warm hands on your cheeks tugging you to a messy kiss. He presses every ounce of yearning into it. Pours it into you via those pillowy lips.

“Gotta stop that annoying school habit. Y’know. It’s really getting in the way of my quality one-on-one pencils time.” He says with the tip of his nose brushing into yours. Stroking your hair back off your neck.

“Fine. It goes. Tomorrow.” You smirk back.

Tipping in so he can kiss you again. You smooch him all slow. He leans into it. Humming a moan that sends a reactive zing up your spine. You want to grab at his denim back and kiss him some more but your hands are annoyingly full. He sucks on your lower lip and scraped teeth, your breath skips.

“Please for the love of god, keep it PG.” Gareth calls out. Sat at his drums still. Twirling his sticks in hand as the band stands and watches Eddie kiss and kiss, and twirl you around in the cold stained twilight air. How it brushed you both in cloaking purple.

“We don’t need to see that.” Matt piped up. Looking down at his guitar.

“Man, you ruin all my fun.” Eddie grins back at his friends. Slinging his accessorised fingers into your belt loops. Reeling you inside.

“Can you take these before my arms freakin fall off?” You laugh to Eddie.

“For me? Shucks.” He takes the cookie plate off you. Of course he does.

“Don’t scarf them all down to yourself like last time.” Matt pleads.

“Or lick them all.” Jeff adds.

Eddie is already tearing the saran wrap off and shoving a rocky road cookie right into his mouth. The whole thing. Opens his mouth as he chews making his signature demon face. Charming.

Covering his shirt in a waterfall of dark chocolate crumbs. You kindly brush them off him as you step past.

“Sounded good guys. Another Judas Priest cover?” You ask as you come inside and dump your bag down by the ratty old couch off to the far side.

“We’ve almost got enough new covers for a set“

“Next gig at the hideout is in two weeks, right?” You asked. You recall Eddie telling you over the phone.

“Yup. And we wanna have a couple of new songs rehearsed by then.” Jeff says. Nervously trailing his hands over his guitar strap. Shuffling his feet on the squashy carpet.

“Nice one.” You comment. “Can’t go wrong with Judas Priest. Though you know in my opinion you should totally throw a little Blondie in there. Crowd pleaser.”

They all groan in unison.

“You always say that. Or Talking Heads. You’re unnaturally obsessed.”

“Debbie Harry is such a babe though, man.” Gareth sticks his tongue out.

“Really?” You ask as you stand and chew a cookie. “This coming from the boy who has the Kim Wilde poster up in his bedroom.”

“That’s not mine. It was my sisters.”

“Crawled it’s way into your room did it?” Eddie winked at you. Beaming. Leaning against the couch arm.

“I hate you guys.” Gareth decided.

You round back and confiscate the cookie plate off Eddie and hand them round. He snatches off what he can before they’re ripped away. Noisily sucking chocolate off his fingers.

The guys cluster around to get one. About time they stopped for a break and a snack anyhow. He’s all set to pout at you until:

“I also have a Six pack in my bag.”

Eddie’s smile whips back around tenfold. “God, you’re a babe.” He sticks his lips to your temple with a disgusting wet smooch. All lips and spit.

“Awh c’mon.” Gareth opened his arms wide. Disappointed at the lack of the beer being shared around.

“It’s band practice not a kegger.” You pointed out. “Besides I brought Pepsi and spent half an hour of my day making cookies for you guys. I’m not totally evil.”

That was met with a chorus of disgruntled mumbles and grunts.

“Evil pencils.” Eddie whirled in close and hissed naughtily in your ear. His breath on your neck made goosebumps break across your skin.

“I’m sorry. When did you all turn 21? I must have missed the party invites.” You smile at them with your arms crossed. Stroking your hand over Eddie’s arm, as you made sure they all got a cookie.

He made a ‘suck it’ face to his band mates as he cracked open a cold one.

“You’re 18 and Eddie’s 20.” Matt unhelpfully pointed out with a grin.

“Watch your mouth when you talk to your elders.” Eddie pasted his chest to your back as you handed the plate around. A ring clad hand flashes for another one. White chocolate and raspberry was his weakness after all.

“You can’t have all the cookies and a beer. Not fair man.”

“Pencils baked the cookies. Guys. Pencils is my girl. Which means that the cookies are mine too. SO, you only partake if I decide to let you, idiots.”

“So, if she’s hanging out here with us in band time, does that make her our groupie?” Gareth asks cleverly. Waving the cookie in his hand around, gesticulating.

Eddies hand reaches over and lightly flicks the curly hair near where the top of Gareth’s ear should be.

“Hey.” He winced and cupped the side of his head.

“Any more groupie talk and one of those drumsticks is going up your nose, man.” Eddie warns. Gareth did love sticking his neck out

“I’ve got two posters in my bag drummer boy, don’t make me take them back to Sal.” You threaten with a grin. Eddie is making devil eyes at him.

“What’s the score?” Eddie asked you. Hands linked around your waist. Just enjoying the way he could sway bodily into you. Chin nesting on your shoulder. Cold beer within reach. And his guitar. His perfect Saturday night was set. His two favourite chicks.

“Scorpions live tour 85’ and, a Sabbath poster from the 1980 tour Live at Last.”

“Comment rescinded, Mi’lady.” Gareth decides as you chucked him over the shiny rolls of paper.

“I’m keeping you geeks in posters and new tapes here. You should build a monument to me. Fifty feet tall.” You joke as you grab a beer.

You toss the nearly empty cookie plate down on the coffee table and fold your legs up to sit criss-cross on the old orange couch with its sagging cushions and patchwork blanket thrown over the zig-zag floral pattern.

Eddie tips his head back to look across at you. Slumps down the arm to crash next to you. “We will dance around it naked, light a fire, and beat our chests whilst howling at the moon.” He smirks with mischief skated eyes.

You crash your sloshing beer can to his. “There’s the devotion I so crave.” You admire him being close by - at last - brushing the salty sticky bangs off his head with your fingertips.

“The very least I could do. You keep these bozos happy. You keep me in beer and kisses and…” He lowers his voice and sneaks his head closer to your ear to whisper “other much dirtier things.”

You smile. Letting your head fall back to the couch cushions. Eddie’s full out and out beam catching yours. Laying his head down to this saggy couch. Slotted right next to yours.

Heaven really as a place on earth. He’s sat here gazing into your eyes like they’re a new fascinating form of glittery stars.

“It’s been a long week without you, Munson.” You tell him with a note of gladness taking up your whole throat. It was a relentless flurry heartache, of school, work, homework heaps and heaps. Too much. You feel stretched thin and brittle as burnt twine.

“Those little puffy baggies under your eyes are a dead giveaway, pencils.” He thumbs below your eyes, squishing down softly at the bags that seem darker and more black-purple than usual.

“Insane workload this week. Rudely kept me from seeing my favourite metal head.” You said with sulk.

“I can remedy that.” He twists to set his beer down on the floor. Returns with hands free to tuck you close. Hand slipping around the back of your waist. Splaying you to his chest. Plucking a deep inhaling kiss into the nest of your sweetly tropical scented hair.

“M’here now. You’re here. The world is set right again.” He comforts.

You smile and welcome the touch. Hand on his soft stomach. Grounding yourself in the barely soft pudge of his tummy through his shirt. Sat hip-to-hip at last with your menace of a metal head. Breathing in worn leather and smoky reds and it’s like he’s your jagged little rock n’ roll touchstone for normality. You can sink into relaxation now he’s here by your side.

“Apparantly you were really mean to whole of Hellfire yesterday.” You asked with humour traced on your mouth.

“That’s subjective. I can be a fair DM.”

“Mhmm? Apparently you banished Gareth.”

“He was being annoying.”

“You made him cry.”

“Who told you that?” He fidgeted. That meant it was true.

“My little birds and spies.” You mocked in a witches cackle.

“That’s concerning.” He commented.

“Lucas chatted to Red about it. She tells me all the goings on.” You inform him.

“Dammit, red.” He cursed with a silly grin.

“Why were you being mean?” You coaxed out like he was a toddler throwing a tantrum over someone touching his favourite hot red fire truck.

He slung his eyes up to yours. All dewy lashes and bambi. “Because-“ he starts with stroppy inflection. His arm unconsciously squeezed you in closer.

“They’re stealing you off me. If I can’t find you, you’re in the library helping Henderson and Wheeler with their homework. I come to see you at work and you’ve got this gaggle of meddlesome kids I have to bat away to get a look in. I find you at lunch and you’re monopolised drawing npc’s for Hellfire club or band posters for our next gig.”

You can’t help smiling. Oh, Eddie.

“Here, I didn’t even ask you here tonight. Gareth did. You brought cookies for them all and posters for the little shithead. You ask Jeff about his mom and his brothers broken friggin leg, and Matt’s asthma.”

“Is his brothers leg any better?” You check.

Eddie grits his teeth.

“He broke it at the football try outs. He so wanted to make the team. It was very traumatic.” You added openly.

“I just wasn’t counting on having to share you around with the entirety of Hawkins High.” He shakes his head. His hair goes all flicky. Something sad skates across his eyes.

You parse his sullen words through a filter:

One day you might chose them over me. And I wouldn’t blame you if you did.

“Munson?” You say seriously. He sulks but catches your gaze. “What?”

You answer by cupping his chin and lean in to smooch him real slow. The way he likes. He can’t stand half ass cold little pecks on the cheek. What have we been married for forty years- fuckin C’mere I’ll show you a kiss, pencils. Propriety be damned.

Eddies way was always to devour whole. All or nothing.

You hold onto his face even when you pull back. Lips all kiss stung. His eyes are all yummy and dark chocolate heavy. He’s dazed already.

“I don’t mind the babysitting. They’re cool kids. They adore the absolute shit out of you, and I’m glad they don’t despise me. And this goes without saying but I only have one rockstar in my life. That’s always gonna be you, baby. Period.” You tell him. Rubbing your thumb across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks all dopey. Puppy grin on his big silly mouth.

“Fuck yeah.” You grin. Eddie kisses you so hard it tips you sideways.

You laugh and it’s mumbled and crushed onto his lips. His sneakered foot flails out and catches his beer. Whips it over. Hoppy bud lite spilling everywhere.

His band mates clamour over the new sight of you both slanted horizontal on the couch. Eddie piling on top of you and some definitely sloppy making out happening.

“Heyyy-“ they all shout. “No dear god, please stop.” Like you’re a couple of dogs they’re trying to stop from humping.

“No no. We don’t have time for you guys to be horizontal right now. We have band practice!”

Eddie ignores them. Selective Munson hearing.

“Come over after this?” He asks with a low tone that you definitely catch onto the very sultry meaning of.

“Unchaperoned? Brazen. I’ll be ruined.” You tease.

“I’ll make the ruination very worth your while.” He picks the back of your hand up and kisses it all soppy and daft.

“Don’t you always.” You smile. Biting your lip. He’s simping hard when he nuzzles into your neck and lays out his arguments. Giving you those huge sad baby cow eyes.

“I’ve got a list of reasons you should accompany me home.”

“What are they, pretty boy?” You ask. Tucking hair behind his ear before it sticks to his lips.

“Number one, You just called me pretty…” He held up as his hand as he ticked off his reasons.

“Number two, you’ve got a really nice butt. Really. It’s like, super cute.”

“Thank you. Number three?”

“Wayne’s missed you. Asking me every damn day when I’m bringing you over again and you know I don’t like to disappoint.”

“Of course.”

“Number four, there is a spider in my room that looks like it might eat me. And I need a witness in case it tries something.”

“I’ll have to consider that.” You negotiated. But truth be told you made your mind up hours ago.

“I might consider it. Even if only for the express reason of spider protection. Not for any other reason whatsoever.”

He nods solemnly. “Mhmm yeah. I’m just trying to be safety monitor you know? Safety in numbers.” He says as he slides his hand up your sweater. Brushing over your stomach. You hold his hand over you.

“I like your thinking.” You tell him. He seals a lush kiss at your lips. Playing around with you.

Eddie parts from you with a sticky smooch. Licking lips. Your fingers tunnelled into the back of his hair. Lost in the sea of wild curly black. “Later, rockstar.” You bite your lip.

He blushed so much at your praise. That’s one other gorgeous thing. The amount of compliments you can pour into this boys ear in whispered praise or dirty filth: he lights up with the giddiness of it every time. Bulb bright. Megawatt.

He scrambled up and off you. “Alright, alright you little shrimps-“ He hissed moans and groans where he hauled himself up, and away, after smacking a wet kiss to your cheek that lingered.

“Where were we huh?” He crowds in and peers at the scribble of their set list. Leaning over to take a look.

You mop up the spilt beer with the too big sleeves of your sweater. Dabbing the floor. Gareth’s mom wouldn’t care for the garage being left smelling like a frat house.

You put the can back into the table. Laughing to yourself as they start to bicker over what song should be next.

Jeff sidles over to you all nervous as you’re knelt on the cold floor. “Can I beg a favour?”

He gets a pretty mangled tape out of his pocket. “Player in the car chewed it up on the way over. I know you have the touch.”

“Indeed I do.” You wipe your beer hands over your jeans and shimmy your fingers and take it off him with a curling grin. Slipping a Bobby pin out your front jeans pocket. “Leave it with me kid.”

You look down at the Corey Hart tape. Hook a brow. “Sunglasses at night, Jeff?”

“It’s my moms.” He offers all jittery. Hands sliding into his pockets. You nod. Carefully handling the shiny tape that needed rewinding.

“That’s what I say to Eddie about the Bryan Ferry and ABC I have shoved under my car seat and if you dare tell him- I will kill you ten different ways.” You grin with narrowed eyes. “Everyone’s allowed a guilty pleasure.”

“Secrets safe with me. You’re awesome.” He lisped bashfully, before joining the rest of his band. Who were now breaking out into a full blown argument now. The air fragrant with it. Thick shouts and interjections layered over each other. Everyone rising over each other to be the loudest.

Eddie is, of course, winning. Shaking his mad head and snatching the red sharpie and scrubbing over Gareth’s writing and almost running the pen over his fingertip on the page.

Stuffing another cookie in his mouth. They’re clamouring louder and louder. He’s spitting crumbs everywhere and now it’s turning into “Ew, gross dude.”

You shake your head and settle on the couch cross legged, sipping back cold beer occasionally, and patiently put Jeff’s poor mangled tape back to rights.

“You’re coming right?” Floats over to you. You break your concentration and look up. Gareth is talking to you.

“To what? You ask. Feeling behind and dumb.

“Our gig at the Hideout. It’s totally your thing.” Gareth flirts.

“Mmm audience of six drunks. I promise to be there and to misbehave.” You say methodically as you focus back on the cassette.

Eddies giving his best Billy Idol attitude glare at Gareth’s head. “Did you just invite my girlfriend to our gig?”

“What? She’d totally be into it.” He defends.

“Nothing wrong with getting some babes in the audience, right?” You shrugged, looking over at Eddie with a snappy wink.

“Exactly.” Gareth answers. A touch too flirty.

Eddie inhaled deep in rage as he snatched his own drumstick off him. “This is going up your nose, now.” He snapped.

Gareth wound around the drum set and Eddie gave chase. You watched them loop the damn thing ten times whilst Eddie shrieked at him and aimed random things at his stupid curly head. Half a cookie. An Iron Maiden cassette tape. Empty Pepsi can.

Symbols clash where they sprint past. Dodging cords underfoot. “Interfering son of a- MY girlfriend. You hear me, MINE, you lil shit.”

You stayed in your corner. Saturday night now apparently in full swing. Shaking your head as you smiled. Boys.

~

The crickets are creaking and the stars were vivid, winking so bright, when you and Eddie step out the garage door, and into the relentless night air. Thick and cool. So smooth you could sip it like a dirty martini.

It pricks bumps up your arms as he slings his metal clad fingers through yours, and lopes along with you. Band stuff corralled messily into the back of his beaten old van.

He stops when he scans the street. Shoes scuffing the sheet of tarmac.

“Huh.”

He flicks his eyes around. You lurch ahead of him. His hand still stuck wrapped in yours.

“Something up?” You ask.

There’s a glint of promiscuity in your eyes. It’s a menacing conspiratorial look. One that you’ve studied and poached off him, no doubt.

“Lack of a certain Capri sat on the curb out here, pencils.” He looks around. Making sure his eyes don’t deceive him.

You grin. “Yeah huh. How strange.”

He comes level to you. Twirls you into his chest. Arms linked around your middle. Those pillowy lips grazing the top of your jaw. Clever Pencils.

“Guess l’ll have to stay over now.” You accept. One hand over his. The other holding your overnight bag you’d assembled hours before.

“Seems that way.” He flirts all grinning, as he waddles you down the drive. Inside he’s fist pumping and yowling at the top of his lungs.

He pitched for you again. Leaning down and shouldering into you. Biting his lip all cheeky as he growls out a sound as he flips you over his shoulder. Carrying you with your legs dangling down at his back.

“I win. Pencils. I win. Suck it kiddos. How you like me now.” He says as he clumsily runs with you down the drive.

“Eddie!” You shrill. He slaps your ass. Makes an Mmmm sound as he does.

“I got your juicy ass now baby. I ain’t sharing anymore.”

Your laughs and shrieks and his cackles echoing in his ears all the way.

~

May I also just say the feedback from this series is a fever dream cause you’re all SUCH BABES and you’re so nice leaving such lovely comments and interacting. I’m truly so grateful-as ever my thanks must be given to @wayward-rose for listening to me chat all things about Eddie a lot. Luv ya babes.

My taglist for the JQ babes; @ceriseheaven @indouloureux @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @starbxcks @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns @gvtosbith @munsonswhore86 @munsonlov3r @lunatictardis @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-tittie @anaisweird @cerinthussulpicia @cinnamoncunt @thincrusttheworks @manicpixiedreamcurl @therosietoesy @fanficappreciationblog @thicksexxualtension @tvserie-s-world @sharp-and-swift @dadsbongos @2clones-1kamino @edsforehead @chcolateeyelver @seven-glass-kids @forever-is-not-for-everyone @creme-bruhlee @bkish @wayward-rose @wyverntatty @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @churchmuffins @chickpeadumpsterfire @choke-me-levi @prozacandnicotine @xeddiesbattattsx @s-u-t @alyssaaaaa-r

#eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson x reader #eddie my boy #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x oc #eddie x pencils #jealous eddie #jealousy #everyone trying to steal his girl #poor eddie #eddie my beloved #i would die for this man #punkwrites

[moltengoldveins]

That TCU post…that is truly one of, if not the greatest thing I’ve ever seen come out of this fandom. I tried my own hand a while back at writing “the dsmp but taken seriously”; gave it a name and a playlist but didn’t really write much before I went back to my other projects. If you ever have the motivation to do more with that outline I’d be honored to be a co-writer or help out in any way, or if you want you could just use my title as a name for the series: A Ballad of Broken Dreams.

holy crap op this is so sweet. Thank you so much. I’m… wow ok. That. Wow. Thank you. That’s legitimately so kind and I’m so glad you enjoyed it XD. Id also Love to see your playlist and your thoughts behind the songs if you’re down?! That sounds awesome :D

funnily enough, I’ve had a drafted outline for this heccin thing running around in my head since the Butcher Army arc. Right around when SAD-ist dropped her animatic, I simultaneously realized ‘oh wow, I Adore this concept’ and ‘oh wow, I Highly doubt the CCs are gonna manage to do this the way I’d want to see it’ and lo and behold: I was correct. So painfully correct. (There were also People Involved whom I had Really Bad Feelings About from very early on that, sure enough, turned out to be exactly what i thought they were, rip) So the Emduo prequels, Icarus heccin Dying, and the end of Axe of Peace have been around for Ages.

I’d honestly love to do more with this concept, (i am designing movie posters as we speak) but due to Chronic Illness Pog I’m in a rather unstable financial situation? And don’t have a ton of free time for art. Any big projects are gonna take a While, or id need to find a way to use it or something adjacent to fund, y’know, Rent. That being said, I’m definitely writing the emduo prequels, both as movie scripts and as novels, as those are the films focused on, yknow, My Bois. I also think it’d be hilarious to release the novels and then the scripts and watch people Loose Their Minds over the ‘inaccurate adaptation >>:(‘

I’d absolutely love to work with other people in the fandom on this stuff, though I’ve never been the best at directly co-writing (my writing method and style is painfully specific (ie needlessly poetic) and I’m very autistic: I don’t like it when people touch that Specific Thing) but literally anything else? Im open ears. I love collabs.

and finally, I adore your name for the series, (excellent word choice there /srs, it fits perfectly with the symbolism of the whole story) and I think it works really Really well for the actual DSMP, but if I’m entirely honest… I’m not sure it fits the TCU? Like genuinely I’m so grateful for the suggestion, I love when people offer ideas and bounce things around like that. But one of the main things I tried to do with this concept was work out how the story could actually end Well. A deep-seated belief in the good-but-fallen nature of man, the importance of hope, and the inevitability of redemption kinda comes part and parcel with the whole Being-A-Christian Thing (if it doesn’t, you’re missing the Whole Point Of The Bible) and while the actual DSMP may have ended in broken dreams… this doesn’t. That was my first thought when writing that outline: This Is Going To End Well. Not for wish-fulfillment reasons, not because I’m naive or I don’t like bad endings, but because fundamentally, everything sad is a lie, and if the story has ended in tragedy, it hasn’t ended yet.

If I had to pick a series name now, I’m not sure what I’d pick. A part of me balks at referencing anything popularized by Our Local Redacted, but ‘unfinished symphony’ wasn’t his in the first place, it was from Hamilton. “The Finished Symphony” has a cool ring to it? I dunno. If anyone else has ideas please feel free to toss them in here aight, I’m not settling on anything for a While.

Anyways, thanks for Ted talking with me, drink water 💜

#TCU #Sure hope that tag isn’t already used for anything horrible I don’t know about XD #Technoblade Cinematic Universe #Asks #I’ve never really answered an ask before this is new and exciting #Op sorry for co-opting your ask to rant about the goodness of life and the importance of redemption for a sec there #Well I’m not Sorry sorry but you get my meaning XD #technoblade #dsmp #dsmp au #antarctic empire #emduo

[m0r1bund]

Hi. It’s been 3 months. I am still alive, I have just been busy with… stuff… and things… haha… a…

This is not The Thing that i have been busy with, but it is A Thing that i have been using as a siesta from The Thing. You are getting my no-effort warhamster art, because everything else is firing on all cylinders right now. And boy am i more of a no-cylinders kind of gal.

This is Frey and the Oracle of Caeres. They are very messy and also in nemeses with each other. I should probably stop making up gay people who are in nemeses with each other, because the messaging and social commentary about the Empire is suffering. But here we are.

Long image descriptions and essays about made-up gay people under the cut. Read on below or at m0r1bund.com ▶︎

[Image: A sketch page of Frey and the Oracle of Caeres. The Oracle is a rather distinguished-looking individual with a sharp profile, perpetually lidded eyes, and a knowing smile. His lips are painted red, with a single streak running from his lower lip to his chin. Her hair falls past her shoulders in loose curls, while her embroidered galero casts deep shadows over her face that are only vaguely sinister. He wears circle-rimmed glasses that hide his eyes when the light catches them right, and a long, loose cloak that obscures his silhouette. Under it, her double-breasted overcoat is tailored to her svelte frame and broad shoulders. She has no business being as tall as she is, and carries herself completely secure in the knowledge that everyone around her knows this.        

Frey is a severe-looking mechanic who is rough around the edges, and really is quite full of edges in general. She has strong features and a tall nose, and her hair is styled in a messy undercut, with her bangs bleached white. They fall over her eyes in such a way that she looks chronically pissed. She wears her old mechanic’s jacket with its sleeves cut off, the ragged edges framing her strong shoulders and lean, muscled arms. She’s on the smaller side overall, though. The rest of her uniform has seen better days, and in many places has been defaced so that the Imperial cog symbol is broken or obscured. She totes around a revolver with a shiv taped to it, because of course she does.

The two are drawn butting heads over this or that. In one scene, Frey holds up the Oracle at gunpoint, just after executing the poor sap who was sitting at his desk. The blood spray doesn’t faze the Oracle, and neither does the revolver. She seems inconvenienced at best by the thought of getting this all cleaned up later.

In another vignette, Frey is locked behind bars in a dingy little cell (perhaps for sending that man into an early retirement.) Her arms and legs are bound, though she tries to gnaw the ropes off her wrists. Suddenly, a ring of keys comes soaring through the bars and into her lap. She jumps, and looks up. The Oracle gazes down at her through lidded eyes, her expression unreadable. She walks away before Frey realizes that the keys don’t exactly help her current “no hands” predicament, though.

Another scene shows Frey and the Oracle sitting across from one another. The Oracle holds Frey’s wrist in his hand, so that he can daub perfume on it.

He says “It has notes of jasmine and bergamot. I think you’ll find it too delicate for your tastes, though.”

Frey is distraught. She came here to kill him, and this is not how she imagined it would go. She’s probably revisiting the thought in another doodle, where the Oracle leans over her shoulder and gets uncomfortably close to whisper something in her ear.

Finally, there’s a teeny scribble of an even teenier Frey climbing through the Oracle’s arched window with a shiv in hand. She is furious and singular of purpose, even if she does not seem to know what that purpose is. The labels above her head read “Mistaking attraction for rage” and “mistaking rage for attraction,” with arrows pointing to her. The Oracle just sits in the foreground and reads, smiling placidly, apparently oblivious. The label next to her reads “ambiently infatuated,” with an arrow pointing to her.]

◆

Content Warning: Blood, injury, death, messy relationships, abuses of power, typical Empire fuckery.

◆  

The Caeres, Kairos, The Oracle of Caeres, The Sacer Vates, the Oracle, the Seer, whatever. Our mans is all titles and no names that the living can remember.

Mercurial and mysterious, the Caeres creates no “Great Works” of his own, as far as anyone can tell. She commands no armies and governs no territories, and no one alive today remembers who she is, where she came from, or how long she’s been with the Archive. Most people don’t even know what office she occupies, because—like most Archivists—she hardly ever works.

Unlike most Archivists, the Caeres doesn’t spend his free time quibbling with his peers for power. The running joke in the Archive is that “the one person we see less than the God-King Himself is the Oracle of Caeres.” He only makes an appearance when he is needed, though these interventions typically don’t make sense until after the fact.

She is someone who holds many cards but plays very few. When she does, she would rather give others the glory of making history by ‘massaging fate’-- passing on a secret message, a forgotten relic, a key piece of intel, and so on. The annals of the Imperial Archive all have her touch on them somewhere. When Kairos can’t be found, one can only imagine that they are out there, somewhere, watching and waiting while their delicate machinations unfold.

The other Archivists recognize her power, and often consult with her behind one another’s backs on matters of politics, military strategy, and petty blackmail. But the Seer gives no innocent answers– if he gives them at all. Most people come away from their meetings with a poem or a proverb, and no meaningful directions for where to go next.

When he does offer more than pretty words, one can’t help but feel like they’re being used as pawns in a much larger game. The Seer does not lie; he gives counsel that is sound on paper and in practice. He has made kings, moved mountains, and brought empires to their knees. And yet she has ways of turning the sweetest success to ash in the victor’s mouth. Some chase headlong after their ambitions, only to become locked in bitter wars of attrition, while others win pyrrhic victories and lose it all. Others yet will live their whole lives owing their good fortune to the Oracle of Caeres, and only years after their death will anyone realize the significance of his involvement. Most are just left wondering what, exactly, the Oracle has in mind for them…

◆

Frey is the unwilling martyr (can any martyr be said to be willing?) of an industrial hellscape manufactory world. She used to be a mechanic, a forgettable cog in the manufactory’s labor machine. She wasn’t singled out because she was particularly disobedient, nor was she distinguished among her peers as gifted, respectable, or charismatic; she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Dissent brewed in the manufactory, as it always does, in places where the straw boss can’t see. But by the time the manufactory’s Foreman caught wind of the rebellion, it was too late. He sought out the Oracle of Caeres for advice, desperate to get his colony back under control before the Powers That Be took notice and got him under control.

The Oracle was not interested in resolving petty administrative disputes. She blew him off with a nonsense prophecy: the Foreman could crush the rebellion, but only if he could find its head and cut it off. “You’ll know the false idol by her mark: yea high, dark hair, brown eyes, work-related injury scar on her right shoulder,“ or something like that. He made up a description of a rebel leader that was so specific and yet so statistically average that it should have been impossible to find… Or so he thought.

It came as something of a surprise to Frey, then, when the orderlies dragged her out of the ironworks and brought her before the Foreman. She had every mark the Oracle said she would–everything but the scar. Delirious with fear and frustrated out of his mind, the Foreman decided that if he could not find his figurehead, then he would have to create her.

Frey gained a scar that day, and lost everything. The awful spectacle was like a spark to a powder keg. The works went up in flames, as the factory floor descended on the Foreman.

Frey was not thinking about anything but her own survival when she crawled out of the wreckage, days later. She disappeared. Ironically, the rebellion was crushed, in the end–it lost its figurehead–but perhaps not in the way that the Foreman had imagined.

For her part, Frey isn’t interested in being made into something that she’s not. She left home bitter, lost, and angry with the hand that she was dealt. The Foreman might have been taken care of, but, it seems, there’s still another who hasn’t answered for what they did to her...

◆

#listen to me. listen to Me. i do not control the rate at which i complete tasks that I am under an NDA with myself on #nor do i control the rate at which i make new awful people that live rent free in my brain #chief and the r.a. tag #The Oracle of Caeres tag #Frey tag #content warning: death #content warning: blood #content warning: injury #content warning: abuse of power #content warning: messy. MESSY.

[scp230kinnie]

do you mind if i ask for some general hcs for your characterization of draven kondraki

maybe even some boyfriend hcs perchance... :]

ABSOLUTELY YES HELLO

IVE LIKE NEVER ACTUALLY SEEN ANYONE TALK ABOUT HIM BUT YES

Also once again for all the asks and submissions I am getting to all of them don’t worry 😻

Now I introduce to you

Draven Kondraki Headcanons

(General and relationship)

Characters: Draven Kondraki, mentions of foundation personnel

Warnings: cringe, gender neutral, blood & death & SCPs

ART NOT MINE !! ALL CREDITS TO ORIGINAL OWNER

General Headcanons

Being the son of one of the best, he is therefore very respected over at the foundation

He looks like he listend to slipknot tbh

His favorite band is Pierce the veil but he’s never gone to a concert, his dad won’t let him

Same

I’m gonna hc that he’s around 16-19 lol

He def smokes and he gets it from his father

AN AMAZING COOK AND BAKER FR

Looks like he would dye like bits of his hair bright colours

He tries to act chill and nonchalant but he’s not

If someone were to let him talk about something, he would for hours

He tries to convince clef to get Spotify premium because it’s the “best thing he’s ever done”

Nope

He drinks BLACK COFFEE

no sugar or creamer or anything

Also gets it from his dad

He drinks Mountain Dew for sure

He probably smells like a mix of cigarette smoke mixed with the smell of the morning after it rains

He paints his nails

Bro probably claims to be famous on tiktok but he probably has a private account with 31 followers

He’s got good style

He is also really good at interior design and knows where things should go

He KNOWS his way around the foundation

You will never get lost there with him he’s like a living map

He loves his dad no matter what like even if they fight and stuff he’s not generally one of those rebellious kids

Also not an angel child but still

My guy does not know how to dance

Relationship Headcanons

Let’s pretend he’s not dating Talloran okay

Okay

He’s canonically bi so HE WOULD LOVE YOU NO MATTER WHAT GENDER YOU ARE

Wear his clothes and he folds IMMEDIATELY

Loves that fr

Fav place to kiss is ur lips and forehead 💍

He likes to hold ur hands even tho his are always cold

Not the biggest fan of PDA but still probably will if you want

So much cuddles in private tho 🫶

He doesn’t like getting into fights with you but he would probably be really petty if you guys were in one

Sleeping on the couch and stuff 😭

Talks his dads ear off about you

Paint his nails and he’ll paint yours duh

If you also smoke he would be hypocritical and tell you to stop over him

If you were to write him letters, he would save every single one no joke

His love language is words of affirmation

He just loves to hear you say he’s doing a good job

He is almost never jealous but when he is he’s also really petty

He’ll go up to you while ur talking with another person and kiss you in front of them and hold ur waist n stuff

Then he’d like complain

He’ll forget about it dw

If you ever get hurt he will PANIC

Like examines your injuries makes sure nothings broken or cut too deep and helps fix you up

If someone he’s close to recently passed away I feel like he would get kinda distant for a bit

Just help him thru it 💪

He straight up MAKES YOU like his TikTok’s

LMFAO

His doesn’t really have any couple nicknames for you, just some variation of your name will do

His singing voice is so sweet. He doesn’t like to sing, but if you’re having a nightmare or something he will sing you back to sleep so gently I can’t even

He’s not usually around a lot so he likes to call you and just hear your voice

He also loves to see you smile

He memorized all of your orders in different restaurants and coffee shops so he can get you things

His dad knows ur dating and likes to tease him lol

Shows you his baby pictures LMAO

His dad does care about you tho, cuz he knows if anything happened to you, Draven would be devastated

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him

Sorry this was kinda rushed it’s 3 in the morning

Idk why I always choose to write late at night

I also don’t know too much about this character I read a bit of the stories and got a general idea, but otherwise this is what I came up with

Hope you enjoyed

Everyone leave more requests pls

#fluff #headcanons #scp #scp foundation #hcs #draven #kondraki #draven kondraki #draven Kondraki fluff #draven Kondraki x Reader #draven Kondraki Headcanons #SCP x reader #tumblr #scp230kinnie

[quibbs126]

*sigh* I tried to use a Cookie Run gacha maker thing to make it look all nice, but I just couldn’t get it to work, both on my iPad and my computer. But regardless, I thought I’d make this look as nice as I could

So some time ago, I decided I wanted to try and make the Evoland 2 characters in the Cookie Run style, and I wanted to start with my favorite character, Menos

This is him (also note, while this is from the art book, some of the information here is inaccurate, mostly the first paragraph. The second paragraph’s accurate though. I suspect there were some story changes after the artbook was finished)

I’m gonna be fully transparent with y’all, I did this so I could try and attract my Cookie Run audience and maybe get them interested like “oh hey these designs are neat, what game are they from?” and maybe then lure them into playing Evoland 2. Listen, it’s my favorite game, and there is like, no audience for it. There is BARELY any content for this game on here and I am DESPERATE. I need people to play it, it’s a good game, and I need people to talk to about this game, but I can’t because no one’s played it or heard of it, and the things about the game I want to talk about and discuss are things that are major spoilers for the game, so I can’t talk about them. It’s a rough existence

*ahem* sorry, I got carried away. I’ll shill more for the game later, but let me just explain this

I made him a porcelain berry, aka Amur peppervine, since they have bright blues and purples like him. I went with Peppervine since it sounded tougher than Porcelain Berry. Also peppers tend to be associated with fire in Cookie Run, and he does have sort of fire based powers. Well really it’s just a ground pound with fire at the end. It’s useful though

I think I’m gonna make all the Demons berries/fruits (I say fruits because there’s already Cherry and Plum), mostly since they’re the best substitute for their bright colors. Also Menos is a Demon. But they don’t like, come from the underworld or anything, they just exist in the world. Honestly they’re pretty chill people, way more than the humans

Porcelain berries:

I mainly used Capsaicin and Purple Yam as my references, given the similar body shapes and Capsaicin’s horns

I was also planning to make his eye outline black, with the main color being yellow and the slits black, since some people make the black outline black sclera, but it just didn’t look right, so I made it white instead and did all the other things

I had so much trouble with the chain around his neck, since he doesn’t have an official reference, and all official art I can find changes it slightly. It’s pretty annoying. I just ended up sticking with the one in the promo art

Menos looks weird without his nose and ears

Now let me just ramble about Menos

I love this dude so much. Like, he’s just an endearing character, and in my opinion, way better than Fina (green haired girl). Fina can be a bit of a brat sometimes and while yeah, I get that she’s the youngest and I think a teenager, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get on my nerves. Anyways, Fina aside, Menos on the other hand is very polite. He always calls Fina “Miss Fina” and does the same with Velvet, and for Kuro, well I suppose first I need to give context. So you first meet Menos in this gladiatorial arena that we just stumble into while escaping prison (and that he’s being forced to participate in by the way), and because we don’t want to give ourselves away, we give ourselves a fake name out of the options presented to us. I personally always go with Mega Clink because of the Evoland 1 reference (the Evoland 1 protagonist is Clink). And see, Menos will always call you by that name you pick, no matter what. Other party members say our name, but he’s just adamant to call you that. I don’t know why he does it, but he does it with complete seriousness and I just find it funny.

But honestly, when I first played the game, I had an obsession with this guy. What first got me to pay attention to this guy is when you escape the arena and collect gravity, you fall into a pit and Menos laments the fact that he will now never see his son again. When he said that, I was like “you have a son? I will help you, I must reunite you two” and that’s where it began. Then we get to where we’re going and meet his son, but then [EVOLAND 2 SPOILERS] happens and I’m like “No! Menos no!” And after that point I was determined to reunite him with his family once again and save his people and just let him be happy because honestly? The demons, nor Menos, do not deserve what happens to them in the story. Like, Menos is not a bad guy by any means, his only flaw is that he can get irrational when it comes to the things he cares about, like saving his people, which honestly I can understand. He’s incredibly polite and understanding towards us when we meet, especially considering the fact that his people are in a war against humans and he was just captured by humans and forced to fight in their gladiatorial arena. And if he does get mad at Fina because of her beliefs about Demons (she’s grown up being told they’re the enemy), he’ll calm down and apologize for it. I mean I guess it makes sense, considering he’s the oldest of the group and by proxy probably the most mature, but still

There’s a point in the game where you get separated from Menos, and when I had been released from the story to go on whatever path (there were multiple paths to go) to continue, I immediately went “I’M COMING FOR YOU MENOS!” and veered straight to where I knew he was. He was my hyperfixation character

Anyways, sorry I’ve rambled, but I hope you at least like this art. And please check out Evoland 2. Please. It’s an RPG you can find on Steam, Switch, or PS4. You don’t need to play the first game to understand this one, they’re two completely separate games that just both use the motif of evolving game aesthetics, Evoland 2 using it for time travel. But even then, the first game’s like 2 hours long, 4 to 100% it. Evoland 2’s more around 17 hours to finish, 20 to 100%. I need people to talk to about this game please

Oh yeah also, here’s a simpler version of the drawing I did

#please play Evoland 2 okay? I know I’m shilling but it’s a good game #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #evoland #evoland 2 #menos #my art #also I planned to draw all 4 party members #I just wasn’t sure what to do for everyone else so I just stuck with Menos

[cadaverdolls]

Greetings everyone!! The new doll is here!

This PC is that of @yetiwang2000 (idk why but the blog doesn’t show up when I look it up, can only get to it via @ s on others post).

The sharp art style and personality of the character was what had me interested.

I tried my best but the hair didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to. It’s ok though, learning is always happening.

Doll break down below.

For the hair, I feel like doing something a little unique. Either super long fur which you style into shape (like hair) or short fur then cut the fabric into the shape. You could do that with doll hair, but often times doll hair is very silky and not as fluffy and puffy as fur would be. For all the other hair that have gradient same for this one I don’t know what a doll manufacturer would do, but it’s probably a case by case basis on whether or not somebody would do this for a doll. For the tail, it’s more unique than the ones I’ve done in the past as since it’s skinnier, because of that you could do a wire tail. Basically taking a piece of wire and sewing fabric around it. More pose-able, but there’s a risk of the wire breaking and also you have to figure out how to keep it in place in the body. I drew the scar is very thin, but they would have to be thicker if you wanted them to be embroidered. If that’s not what you want then a fabric marker would probably be the better options since as I said in previous post, it makes it a lot more customizable when you get the doll. Custom ear shapes will probably cost more but I’ve seen a lot of variants in animal ears so I don’t believe pointed ears will be that much of an issue. Just find the people that can do it.

Drawing wise, I put this on the back burner for a bit. I was peeling the skin off my fingers and generally had midterms going on so yeah. I probably the one thing I would want to improve on are the scars and hair since they’re not exactly coming out the way I imagine them to be. I need to get better with the blushing and shading around scars since I’m not used to it and for the hair I feel I didn’t add enough dimension to it. Also, I tried doing boobs again, but I don’t know if they look good on the plushy or they be 3d or just embroidery.

#plushie gun

[wormymenace101]

Penny’s box school haunting/school of fancies 1/12 bjds!

Okay so first things first, the price!

I paid 8 USD for Cang Er (snow leopard)

I paid 13 USD for Amber (tiger)

And while she isn’t in the pictures above (for a reason) I paid 13 USD for Xiao You (bunny) as well

I got amber and xiao you as blind-boxes, but I got cang er confirmed (open box) from taobao!

What I like about them:

-well made outfits

-the bodies seem to be sturdy and feel nice! (For my fellow sensory doll enjoyers)

-hair doesn’t fall off easily like a lot of other molded hair dolls!

-the art style of the eyes!

-you can exchange and swap parts between all of them, and not just this series, but others as well!

-overall very cute!

What I don’t like about them:

-tails fall off incredibly easily

-ears don’t seem to fit the head properly

-out of the box stringing is kind of loose, not strong enough to hold a pose well or stand well without tweaking

-shoes easily fall off even with socks, making it a bit risky to take them around with you

Xiao You problem:

This doll has caused me an insane amount of migranes, she smells genuinely horrible, and it’s because of her hair.

While watching reviews of this line people always praised how her hair was the best feeling out of all the other dolls, so I was excited when I unboxed her! Until I wasn’t :(

I tried EVERYTHING to get rid of the smell, baking soda, soap, hot water, cold water, sun, a combination of all of those, and absolutely nothing helped, the hair smells like straight up chemicals and I can’t even get close to her without feeling sick, which is such a shame because she’s so adorable!

I did try contacting the seller and they just said to ventilate her, which is exactly what I’ve been doing, so I gave up on that, I don’t know what more I could do to get rid of the smell, but I have exhausted my options for now.

—————————————————————————

In conclusion:

Are they adorable? Yes!

Would I buy more penny’s box dolls? Yes!!

Would I buy more from this specific series??? Nooo but thats just because I already have half the dolls in the series!

As long as the xiao you thing isn’t a common occurrence, these dolls are not worth what I paid and more! And I doubt it is considering the fact that I haven’t seen others complain!

Favorite:

Cang Er!!!

#1/12 bjd #small bjd #penny’s box #school of fancies #school haunting

[goatakiart]

Please don't forget me (Part 1)

(Mirage x Reader)

Arts by me ❤️

Warning! (Adult themes, triggering topics, blood, alcohol etc.)

Mc Design (for the fanfic arts)

It's my first fanfiction, I made it with love. Please enjoy! ^^

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It’s been two years since she joined the “bloodsports”.

Two years of fighting and war, but also immaculate friendships.

There’s drama, relationships and bonds,but it’s still all part of a chaotic battlefield, in her head she kept trying to think “it’s just sports……….right?”.

She could get along with others easily, didn’t go too personal on her talks, but one guy did catch her eye constantly, Mirage. He was always alone, never got into any squads and still tried to be fun, everyone liked him, he was the star of the show. However if she asked about him not many talked about what’s going on, they avoided the topic, perhaps he didn’t want her to know about him.

She tried to become his squad more than once, she tried to talk to him a million times, either way he seemed nervous and avoided her at any cost.

She ended up giving up in some months. Maybe she bothered him with her presence, she thought. Also, she didn’t want to make him feel even more uncomfortable.

It’s been two years since she got into The Apex Games.

One day, she was walking around the area after finishing a tough battle.

She saw a bright place from far away, her curiosity sparks and she find herself walking towards it.

She is getting closer and closer. It took some time to reach a point where she could actually see more clear, “What the hell is that?”

Is it a ship? Why can she hear music?

She walks closer in caution, the evening sun is falling creating an orange shade on the bright ship, after much thought she decides to get in.

“Huh??” she sees a man, no, many men, wait no—- it’s the same person—-clones?

It’s Mirage. Drinking his ass off and dancing, by himself.

Mc is clearly still annoyed with his behavior from the previous years, but her curiosity gets the best of her again, still her greeting comes off as rude.

“Who in their right mind parties alone?”

It definitely came off as rude.

He seems shocked to see her and suddenly his easygoing behaviour goes away, again becoming nervous and that pisses mc off.

“O-oh hello, well I’m not alone you see!” He says as he hugs one of his clones by the back of their neck.

She raises an eyebrow, walking forward, he seemingly walks backwards but still offers her a drink.

“I don’t often get costumers.” he says with this stupid awkward stuttering “What would you l-like to drink? I got everything a woman might like, oh wait that sounds bad...” *he puts his palm on his forehead in embarrassment “Anyway I got all the drinks here, I mean this is a bar, why wouldn’t I? ” He chuckles nervously.

Her annoyance wears off little by little as she hears his silly little monologue trying not to laugh but a smile reveals it's way out. “I would like some Devil Springs Vodka then.” She says looking at him in the eye and smirking, a little mockingly I might add.

He blinks, leading up to a stare with his eyes wide open “Wow there! Maybe you should go for something less hardcore?”

She raises an eyebrow again, this time in amusement, she leans on the bar in front of him as he is on the bartender side. “Why? You suddenly care about my well-being?” He backs off flustered and looks away “I-I mean tomorrow we should fight, you wanna be hangover??” He pretends to be looking at the drinks. She laughs at his behaviour “Okay then, what my cute bartender would suggest for the night before the fight?” Mirage doesn’t turn to look at her, she notices his ears becoming red, he takes a little time to reply, however she doesn't break the silence immediately while she's watching in amusement “I’ll have a glass of wine of your choice then.” She rests her cheek on her palm, waiting for a reaction.

“Wine, yes, okay, that’s fine.” he replies after some time in panic looking for the bottle, he brings up a bottle of Chateau Lafite 1787.

She can’t mock him this time, he definitely knows his drinks.

“Where did you find this, Mirage??” she's shocked he brings up one of the most luxurious wines there is. He relaxes a little as he poors some of the wine on a glass for her and then for him “I’m broke for a reason."

They look at each other, trying to hold it in, but they end up both laughing at the same time. “Well that’s certainly a good reason to be broke. However, I think you should blame that huge ship of yours!” She exclaims, still laughing as she's also pointing on Mirage's huge painting of himself. He doesn't reply but gives her a warm smile, she can’t help but feel a little tickly inside, he's raising his glass giving her the hint to clink their glasses together, she raises her glass too. “Cheers!” They both say, and they start drinking as the colors of the evening fade, the night falls, and the ship becomes brighter than ever.

#mirage #apex mirage #apex fanfic #mirage apex legends #fanfiction #romance #fanartist #apex fanart #fanart #fanfiction series #fanfiction writer #art #apex wattson #apex fuse #fanfiction art #manga artist #anime artist #instaart #instagram artist #fanfic #romance fanfiction #Spotify #mirage x reader

[sulcrafatejackets]

Grandmother you’re absolutely right that the best idea here is to do nothing because I know that these people have tried to drag me through the mud and they go to the lengths of using drugs and I feel like a small child again all of a sudden why? Because what I want is to have a lot of people killed for what they do to children… I know some of this filth goes all the way across the ocean but at the same time Catherine had a choice the entire time she’s been county attorney she has had a choice to grab some balls she doesn’t have a choice to grab some balls is that it? I bet you that’s it because she’s unable to upload testicle information?

She is right I need to do less and be very very stylish about the situation because I don’t think that Catherine really meant to act like such a gossipy Gus to me yesterday

#I can fix that #kiss and Kate Barlow #well #style #small town gossip #provincial minds #I Unable to Upload #That’sThatLastOneThat’sNotMeWhoeverDidThatThat’sCoolThough

#RememberIntegrity

Remember crediting also

I feel like all those people who were like credit this we’re just being like really evil to me on live journal when I was a kid but at the same time you know just be careful to not be crossing any ego boundaries that you can’t fix later on because it is a serious serious crime to plagiarize it’s kinda like that pill on my road where like even if you didn’t know that you did a thing wrong it doesn’t mean that you don’t pay for it… I was making a reference to the corrupt American justice system

Well art and literature and Gif images and all of this

These things are important but I want to address Jeff sharp for a second because he’s an asshole now he’s more than an asshole and Jeff I don’t think that your jokes are funny at all I think that you were one of the dumbest man I have ever met in my life.

I think that even lawyers should be credited for their work if they actually do it but I’ve yet to meet a lawyer who has a lot of integrity I’ve yet to meet a lawyer with any integrity actually

— I don’t know for sure but I think that John called me this morning is that true am I losing my mind I feel like I’ve heard John‘s voice or something maybe I just had a dream it’s completely bizarre don’t gaslight me don’t like I’m gonna fucking murder you yeah oh Catherine excuse me close your white woman ears you don’t want to hear Asian people fighting OK cause I’m threatening John oh my gosh David Rigney I’m gonna fucking kill John OK with that be OK with you David?

David’s like you know what just do whatever you wanna do it’s OK thank you David for being compassionate it’s really hard to get compassion from some of y’all sometimes anyways now I’m gonna go kill John

SMH Asian fighting damn stupid Asian people

I need to remember though that it could be somebody kind of like him also because I’m sure that behind John Rigney is probably a lot more ass hats than I realized you got a listen and kind of closely and you feel really embarrassed when you don’t

Do you guys remember when It used to be funny to do this now it just feels like shit

Anyway I told him fuck off like a creditor somebody a lot older than Kathryn a lot older than Kathryn runs a lot of stuff you know some of these doctors in the background some of them are 105 and older

#Jeff sharp #Dennis willcutt #Nancy Willcutt #Catherine knows you lol #Hey Catherine who knows them better

[lavishedinjimin]

Muse -> kth (art students! au)

— synopsis: Out of all the things in the world, one final project at the end of the semester was the least of your expectations. What you didn’t expect, though, was partnering up with Kim Taehyung, the most respected senior artist on campus. But what the—he wants to do what with you?!

↳ pairing: taehyung x f. reader

↳ genre: f2l, smut

↳ rating: 18+

↳ word count: 17.4k

↳ warnings: dom/sub themes, virgin/corruption kink, unprotected sex, slight size kink, degradation, oral sex (m and f receiving), breeding, name-calling, faceslapping, ragdoll y/n lol kidding, Taehyung doesn’t care that OC’s a virgin, if you get what I mean, everything consensual

Reminder: Before you read, I just want to say that I am nowhere near an art student so some pointers, terms, or subjects that are stated on this fanfic might be incorrect or misused. I tried to fact-check to the best of my abilities haha! Enjoy!

Giving the portfolio back to your possession, he speaks at the same time: “It’s still a suggestion after all. You can tell me yours if you have one.”

You chuckle at that. Little did he know that your mind was too busy overthinking how things stacked up instead of brainstorming an idea. Since you feel more comfortable with him than before, you tell the truth.

“I have absolutely no idea,” you snicker. 

“Yeah?” he smirks, nodding his head once. “I hate to say this, but this is the only concept I’ve got as well.” Taehyung sits down crossed-legged beside you on the bed, tapping his fingers on his pile of nude portraits. 

“Then I’ve got no choice but to say yes.” 

Taehyung feels his heart thump rapidly in his chest. 

You sat silently at the very back of the lecture hall, sipping on your Iced Americano as you doodled aimlessly at the back of your sketchpad, listening to music through your headphones. The room was still empty, being one of the few ones to arrive early.

“Y/n!”

You jump when a hand suddenly smacks your desk, looking up to see who it was.

Lee Yeseul. You were tempted to roll your eyes at her, but you knew better. She leans at the back of someone’s chair, staring down at you with her signature annoying smirk. She touches her ears, wanting you to remove your headphones. Not complying with her demand, you continue to draw, completely disregarding her. You do not want to waste your time dealing with a bitch that wants attention.

Yeseul grunts in annoyance as she steps forward, removing the device away from your head.

You groan from her aggressiveness. “Hey! What the—” She throws your headphones on your desk.

She scoffs, “I was trying to talk to you, loser.”

You send her a glare, “I thought people like you don’t talk to losers like me.”

Yeseul was – as cringy as it may sound – your typical, spoiled brat in her class who bullies everyone for her gratification. She thinks that she’s the best artist on this campus and always discourages everyone below her. She’s a senior artist, and you were still a freshman. Plus, you are always unaccompanied and private, making you the perfect target. But you were smarter than other people. You didn’t give her the reaction and satisfaction that she needs, shrugging her away when she tries to make a move on you.

Adding to that, you liked to be alone. You like to think and create paintings on your own time and own style. You focused more on uniqueness and making your own color and design, while others just wanted their painting to be pretty.

“Leave me alone, Yeseul. You’re wasting your time.”

She laughs, tucking a strand of her ashy-brown hair behind her ear. “Whatever, Y/n. I think you’re the one who’s wasting their time drawing.”

Is she actually serious?

“Dumbass,” you mutter under your breath, not enough for Yeseul to hear. You still don’t look at her as you continue your little portrait of Captain America. “I think you’re forgetting that we’re both an art student, Yeseul. Get away from me and go hang out with your boyfriends or something.”

You hear her gasp, clearly struck by your words. Yeseul hasn’t got a boyfriend which was the point of your remark. She always tries so hard to seduce every senior artist, but everyone was clever enough to focus on their projects rather than deal with an annoying child like her.

“Oh, Y/n. You wished you never said that.” She spoke with a deep and slow voice, trying to intimidate you.

You chuckle as you place your headphones back, “Oooh, scary.”

Before she could even retort, you notice that your professor has come inside the room and you quickly discard your headset and shove it inside your bag. Yeseul scurries to her seat in the front row as other colleagues pack the room.

Normally, the freshman and senior artists would have their separate rooms and schedules, but earlier today, the head professor of the Arts District had announced all students to gather inside the hall. You didn’t know the reason why, or what she had planned.

“Everyone, take a seat please,” the professor beamed with a kind smile.

Unexpectedly, loud laughter resonates around the room as a group of boys suddenly enter, not noticing the professor in front of them.

“I swear, she looked like a deer in headlights when I said those words to her. Ten out of ten would do it again.” One of them says out loud, eyes disappearing from smiling too much. You chuckle in your seat as you sip on your coffee.

“Boys.”

They all jumped simultaneously, turning towards the professor’s direction where she had her hands on her hips, clearly pissed. They bowed at her, stating their apologies.

“Kim Taehyung, still hanging out with these kids? I thought you’re better than that.”

Kim Taehyung, the top senior artist. All A’s, immaculate artworks. 

He has the highest scores out of everyone, his artwork better than all of the Fine Arts students. Tons of students really look up to him and almost praise him for his paintings. Not only that, but he was also Yeseul’s target. You flick your eyes in her direction, watching how she rests her chin on her right palm, staring at Taehyung in awe.

But in all honesty, Taehyung had the looks. He has slightly wavy hair, his dark brown eyes similar to the color of your Americano. His face was shaped perfectly like it was created by Aphrodite herself. You figure that he also likes to work out, his broad chest and shoulders were undoubtedly eye-catching as well. You lick your lips unknowingly.

He wasn’t a troublemaker, as you recall, though he only hangs out with such people. Whenever you see his artwork posted around the campus, it encourages you to put more effort into your work. He was just like you. He’s not following anyone’s lead, and he knows what he likes. He knows how to stand out effortlessly, and his paintings are one of a kind.

And still, there was not a single molecule in your system that had the courage for you to talk to him. No matter how kind and approachable he seems to be, you were still shy – and he was still intimidating. Not to mention his friends. You never had a good past with some seniors anyway – some of them had a mindset that all freshmen should ‘get on their level’ before they would talk to them. All of it was a bunch of nonsense.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything in reply to the professor, instead, he bows. All seven of them sat a few rows in front of you. You caught sight of Yeseul’s dirty look towards you. 

She’s so immature.

“Anyway, all of you are probably wondering why I brought you here.” You don’t notice that your coffee is already empty until you only hear slurping sounds, your straw trying to get more of the liquid. Frowning, you slumped your body on the chair as you listened.

The professor suddenly brings out a folder, making your intrusiveness grow wider. “I have paired every one of you to work on a year-end project for portraiture.”

You could’ve sworn you felt your heart drop to the ground.

“Each freshman will be paired with one senior, and the two must decide who will do the work.”

You hear recurring gasps and groans; agreeing to your thoughts. “That’s bullshit,” you heard someone grumble under their breath.

“Everyone, let me clarify. Since my class focuses on portraitures, one of you will draw, and the other one will be your muse. But I still should see the collaboration of ideas here.”

“No way, madam.” One of Taehyung’s friends quickly speaks as he stands up, making their group laugh, and pull him back down to his seat, patting his back.

“Yes way, Mr. Kim Seokjin. I want everyone to trust me with their partners. I know each of my students and I’ve paired everyone based on the similarities of your portfolio. This is to build everyone’s ability to work with a fellow artist, and to share ideas.”

You snort as she mentions all the things you hate the most.

“The pair who has the highest score will have their painting displayed inside the Fine Arts Exhibition building.” Your eyes enlarge, irises sparkling in abrupt desire.

The Exhibition! 

You’ve tried so hard to get one of your art exhibited inside that place. It was where some lucky students’ creations will be shown if their professors liked their work specifically, or if it stood out to them. It was almost rare for professors to choose art made by a freshman, but you wanted to change that. You received hope for this project all of the sudden, and the Fine Arts Exhibition was the only thing that’s currently driving you to your goal.

“And by the way, there are no limits for this project. Any concept, any art style is appreciated – as always.” 

Your professor was already announcing partners, and your heart was thumping too fast for your liking. You bite your lip from the horrible atmosphere, your palms getting sweaty. You acknowledge a lot of sighs and grunts when they hear their partners, and you just wish that you’ll get someone assiduous enough.

“Kim Namjoon with Sing Junghoon, Park Jimin with Yong Hyesa, Kim Taehyung with…” you didn’t know you were holding your breath as she flips the page.

The world feels like it was in slow motion.

“Kim Taehyung with Y/n.”

Silence fell inside the room once you heard your name fall unexpectedly from your professor’s lips. You hear a couple of murmurs and whispers as Taehyung swivels around to look at you. His eyes meet with your wide ones in complete shock. Taehyung’s face was not as different as yours; his mouth was slightly open and his eyes big. A couple of his friends look at you as well, making your face warm in embarrassment.

No fucking way.

“You really think that you could work with her?” Park Jimin asked, still scanning the utter turmoil that Taehyung was in. Taehyung doesn’t reply as he keeps his eyes on you, eating your lunch with your friends. He sees how you weren’t keeping track of what your friends were even saying from being so immersed in your meal. Taehyung watches you flip your hair to one side of your shoulder.

“Hey,” Jimin nudges his shoulder.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Jimin scoffs, “I asked you how you are supposed to work with a girl like her.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he lets out a sarcastic chuckle, still keeping an eye on you. One of your friends suddenly snatches a piece of meat from your plate and runs away with it, instantly plopping it inside her mouth. You don’t even bother scolding her for it.  

Taehyung tilts his head to the side and clicks his tongue. “I don’t know, man. But we’ll see. I’ll figure her out.”

He turns to Seokjin, who was looking at him suspiciously. “Stop staring her down like she’s a piece of meat. What are you thinking about?”

“So how are you with you and Lee Minseo?”

Seokjin laughs at his attempt, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re not so smooth, Taehyung. Anyway, Minseo and I have talked about it already. We’re meeting up tomorrow.”

Taehyung frowns, slightly jealous of his friend. Seokjin already has everything planned out when he doesn’t, and it was a first for him.

Normally, Taehyung was always the first one to have everything arranged. But he just doesn’t know anything about you besides being so introverted and shy. “You, go approach her, immediately.”

He turns to Seokjin while his eyes narrow, “Right now?”

“Yeah. Don’t you wanna finish this project as soon as possible? Taehyung, you have to know who you’re working with first. Y/n probably won’t make the first move, and I know that you know that.”  

Taehyung runs his tongue along his bottom lip, observing how you were nodding and smiling at your small group. He hasn’t seen any of your artwork yet, and he was curious.

Maybe it was just like his: distinct and unique. The kind where there’s no specific explanation to it, for it was open to interpretation. The words of your professor repeat inside Taehyung’s mind, and his body suddenly fills with optimism.

Seokjin laughs at him. He sees how Taehyung’s face changes with determination, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “Go, Taehyung.”

He smirks as he slings his bag around his shoulders.

Who are you, and what do you like, Y/n?

“Why are you not excited about this, Y/n? You’ve partnered up with Kim Taehyung! Your work will end up inside the exhibition for sure!” Seoyun, one of the few people that you were friends with says with a huge smile on her face. You look down, blushing. You don’t know why but every time someone mentions his name, you immediately turn shy.

“I don’t exactly know how I’m supposed to feel, Seoyun.”

“Y/n, seriously, you’re so lucky. He’s the top student, and he’s also very tall and hot!”

You blush at Hayoon’s statement.

“But I mean, I understand that you’re shy to come up to him, but it’s for a project, Y/n. Don’t you wanna do this for the exhibition?”

You frown, “I do, but I just…I don’t know. Maybe I’ll try to talk to him someday when I get the confidence. Maybe.”

“Y/n…” Seoyun warns your name out loud, her eyes focused somewhere behind you. “I think that someday is today.”

“Nope. Perhaps tomorrow.”

Seoyun panics and grits her teeth as she speaks, “No, I mean, like right now!” 

You crease your eyebrows at her, “What do you mean?”

Your eyes followed where Seoyun was looking at and you turned around, almost shitting your pants as you saw the one and only Kim Taehyung behind you, smiling as he grips his bag straps. Your mouth opens as you try to speak, but nothing comes out. He was wearing a black button-up tucked inside black slacks. His hair is slightly wavy and long that covers the top of his eyes. His appearance up close immediately took your breath away.

“Hey, Y/n,” he smiled, eyes narrowing a little as he flashed you a cute heart-like smile. You could’ve sworn you heard your friends squeal just a little.

But you, on the other hand, start to panic. Were you supposed to stand up and greet him? Or should you just sit there and smile without being too obvious of your feelings? You remove your gaze from him and look down on the cemented floor as you try to find your words. 

“Hi,” you peek up at him. 

You can feel Hayoon stepping on your foot, making you screech quietly. She gives you a look that says ‘get a grip!’, and you try your best not to fuck up.

Taehyung chuckles silently and steps forward, making your heart race. He sits on the space next to you, letting his bag rest on the floor of the cafeteria.

You were too close to him at this moment. He never lost his eye contact with you – which made your chest pound rapidly. You nervously tap your foot on the ground, your friends clearly aware of your behavior.

“Do you girls mind if I sit here for a moment?”

They nod at his request, yet you were still there, sitting in shock and not saying anything. You let your hair fall to cover the sides of your face so that Taehyung can’t surely see you. 

“So, how’s everyone’s day?” Taehyung asks, turning his attention to the two other girls. They instantly reply.

“You just made it better,” Hayoon beams, leaning her head on her right palm. The way she was scanning him up and down was just too obvious. Taehyung only nods with a smile.

If other people saw what was happening right now; Kim Taehyung, sitting with three other girls during lunch break, would probably assume things instantly. You already sense people burning holes at your back.

“Y/n?” Taehyung’s voice suddenly says right in your ear while your body jumps in surprise. He laughs a little at your reaction.

“Don’t worry about her, Taehyung. She’s probably just speechless.” You narrow your eyes as you give a death glare to Seoyun. Taehyung’s lips curve into a smirk as he looks down. His hair falls right in front of his eyes and it almost gives you a small instinct to brush it away from his face.

“So Y/n, I came here to ask you something,” Taehyung speaks as he scoots closer to you. You gulp at the sudden proximity, wanting to move away from him but you were afraid to look rude. You don’t reply, so Taehyung just continues. “Do you want to meet up after your schedule? You know, talk about the project?”

You hang your head low as you try to find the correct words. Of course, you want to get this project done as soon as possible, but just being with Taehyung was too much for you to handle – or that’s what you think anyway.

“Of course she does!” Hayoon exclaims first but Seoyun stops her furthermore.

“Hey,” he whispers beside you. Taehyung wishes to place his hand on your shoulder to assure you, but he stops himself. Taehyung finds yourself so endearing, even if you weren’t saying much. He’s already so engrossed by you, but heck – he still doesn’t know much about you.

He admits to himself that you’re cute.

“What do you think? I mean, if you want we can talk tomorrow. I’ll give you your time if you’re not comfortable with today and I’m sure I can—”

“No! No, um. We can meet today.” You cut him off immediately, finally using your voice again. You knew that both of you wanted to finish this project quickly, so you don’t want to lose any more time. Taehyung flashes you a gorgeous smile as he lifts a hand in front of you for a handshake.

“Great! Let’s meet up at the main gate later when you’re done with everything.”

You shyly reach out to him and you clasp your hands together, his slender hand bigger in comparison to yours. “Nice to meet you Y/n.”

You force out a small smile at him, “You too, Taehyung.”

Your hands stay together for a few seconds before he retrieves his hand back with a little smile. He grabs his bag and finally stands up, “Nice talking to you, ladies.” He gives a final smile and walks away.

You look behind you, keeping your eyes on him, and watch how he brushes his hair with his right hand, throwing his head back.

Park Jimin, who is also one of his friends, was waiting for him and he gives Taehyung a fist bump. Jimin suddenly locks eyes with you and gives you an unsuspecting wink. Your eyes become big and you quickly look away, turning your attention back to the girls who were looking at you with a wide grin. 

You let out a deep sigh, your mind running with numerous thoughts. You were always like this; you tend to overanalyze things. The term ‘go with the flow’ wasn’t always a strong pursuit when it comes to you. There were times where you wanted to change this personality of yours and live life in the present, to stop yourself from thinking way too deep in the future, but change is difficult. You admit that you have problems with self-confidence, and you hope that you could change that.

Especially being partners with Taehyung. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him.

This is one of the reasons why you paint. It was always a contrivance to express your personality when your own words and actions couldn’t. You just bring out a canvas and some tools, and you can communicate your emotions.

You hope Taehyung won’t see you as weird. You hope he’d understand you.

Main gate. Main gate.

Did he already arrive? Or do I have to wait for him?

What if he doesn’t come and I just made a fool of myself?

Is it even three o’clock?

You bite your lip as you check your watch, and yes, it was exactly three o’clock.

What if I’m too early?

You groan at all of the thoughts that have been eating your mind. You grip the bag straps tighter as you keep walking towards the main gate where Taehyung told you to meet up. You hope that he’ll already be there because you didn’t want to wait at all.

“Y/n! Wait up!”

Oh, God. You knew who that voice belonged to.

You turn around and see a familiar ashy-brown hair, smiling at you. “What do you need, Yeseul?” You mutter.

She comes up beside you and smiles like she wasn’t just saying shit to you earlier at the lecture hall. “Where are you going?”

“The main gate,” you reply monotonously.

“Oh! Me too! Let’s walk together.” You sigh quietly, not loud enough that she could hear. You can already guess what she originally planned, and you were not prepared for it.

“How’s it like being partnered with Taehyung?”

You gulp, avoiding eye contact. You don’t say anything as you keep walking. “You’re one lucky freshman, Y/n. Are you and him close already?”

Lucky. You heard that word a million times today.

You shake your head, “I don’t know. I’m supposed to meet up with him now to talk about the project.”

“Oh,” she scoffs, “but I just saw him a few minutes ago! He’s still hanging out with his friends. They’re at –” Before she can finish her sentence, a voice calls out your name and you turn around, somewhat smiling in relief when you spot Taehyung, running up to you with a smile on his face.

Yeseul looks at Taehyung and then back to you, clenching her jaw. You wanted to laugh at her, but you prevent yourself from doing so.

Taehyung comes up to you with two Iced Americanos, “I figured that you love these.” You shyly look away from him while a smile creeps up your face, feeling your cheeks turn scarlet.

“You didn’t have to. I-I’ll pay you back!”

“No, please. It’s a gift from me.”

Your heart melts from his simple action, although you remember that Yeseul was still right beside you. She sneers at the both of you, “Wow, am I disturbing something?”

Taehyung turns his head in her direction, “Yes, you are.”

Ding, ding, ding! Knockdown!

Yeseul rolls her eyes and proceeds to walk away, but she was still looking at Taehyung, “Tae! Maybe you should buy me a coffee next time.” Taehyung chuckles as a reply, letting her walk away without replying. He looks back at you, “Sorry about that.”

Shaking your head immediately, you spoke, “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about. She’s crazy.”

“I know she hates you.”

“You do? How?” You lift an eyebrow at him, and he smiles pathetically at you.

“She always talks about people she hates during class when the professor’s not around. It’s sad, honestly.”

‘Wow, she’s really living like that?’ You think to yourself.

Shrugging your shoulders, you say, “Well, she likes you.”

Taehyung laughs quietly, “I’m not into girls like her, Y/n.”

“Oh,” you awkwardly chuckle, “okay.”

Then what are you into, Taehyung?

You almost wanted to slap yourself from that stupid thought.

“Let’s go?”

“Okay.”

Both of you proceed to walk towards the main gate, not knowing where he was planning to take you. Once you are out of the campus, he leads you to a shaded seating area where he and his friends would usually hang out.

He sits down and motions you to sit across from him. You obey, placing your tote bag beside you, a wooden table separating the two of you. 

Nervousness came to visit you again. 

Taehyung smiles, “So…” he takes a sip on his coffee, and you instinctively do the same. “How did you feel when they said that we were doing a project?”

You chuckle, looking away from him as you still couldn’t stare at his eyes for any longer than five seconds. “I…I was expecting it to be individual work. But when she said that we’d be pairing up with seniors, I was lowkey disappointed.”

He smirks at you, leaning his head on one hand. His strong gaze was directly on yours and you found it hard to speak when he was staring at you like that. You didn’t have much experience talking with boys, and everything was a new occurrence for you.

“What? Why?” He seems so intrigued, which pushes you to continue. 

“Well, I’m not really into these group projects and pairs… and all that. It might seem kind of shit to you but it’s just what I prefer.”

“No, it’s alright,” he waves his hand in front of him, “You can say anything and I’ll listen. I know people who are like you as well. They would rather work by themselves so they can work freely, is that it?”

You grin at him, the feeling of being understood satisfies your heart. “Exactly. It’s not like I hate people, or I don’t value their opinion or ideas. But if there was an option of working individually instead of with another person then I’d go by myself.”

Before you can forget, you seize your collection of paintings from your tote bag so that he can take a look at your artwork and style, handing it to him with a little smile. He gladly accepts the thick, black portfolio and puts it inside his own bag.

The corner of his mouth lifts, leaning his body forward as he rests his forearms on the table. There was a certain glint in his eyes that you can’t seem to comprehend. “Let’s say there was an option to go solo on this project, would you leave me?”  

Fuck. You don’t know how to answer that question.

You weren’t sure of your thoughts, too. If you said yes, you probably sound like you didn’t want to work with him. But on the other hand, Taehyung enthralled you. You want to see how things will turn out if you work with him. His works had a unique statement that only Kim Taehyung could create. You want to see how both your ideas combined will come to life.

“Well?” He teases, obviously knowing what he’s doing to you. He likes the way your face gets flushed in shyness.  

“No,” you giggle.

“No?” A look of bewilderment covers his face. He was sure that you would’ve chosen to go solo. He smiles as he squints his eyes at you slightly, “And why’s that?”

“Because I want to work with you, and maybe…” you pause for a while to find the correct words to say, “and maybe get to know you a little more.”

His heart quickly warms up, feeling the satisfaction from your answer. He felt the same way with you – and he was excited to work with an artist who had the same interest as him, hopefully.

“So, do you have any ideas?” You asked. You didn’t brainstorm on anything yet and all that was in your mind was working with Kim Taehyung. He smiles and leans forward, combing his hair back. “I want to do something different, something that I’ve never tried before.”

You chuckle, “I thought you’ve tried everything already, Taehyung.”

His eyes turn into slits as he laughs, showing off his teeth, “Not everything, babe.”

Babe?

Your heart skips a beat as you gulp, feeling things that you aren’t supposed to feel.

“You see, there’s one type of painting that hasn’t been featured on the exhibition building yet. And you know what that is?” he asks, never losing eye contact.

“Uh…” you look up, trying to think as you imagine all the art displayed inside the exhibition. As you do so, Taehyung scans your face, taking a good look at you.

He wishes his plan goes well.

“I’m not so sure,” you smile lightly.

You crease your forehead when you notice that Taehyung was hesitating to say something, his eyes darting in different directions. The look on his face worried you. “Taehyung? What is it?” you lean forward in an attempt to make him feel at ease.

Your heart jumps when he finally locks his strong eyes with you once again.

“Nude.”

“WHAT?” you fume as you slam your hand down on the wooden table, abruptly standing up from your seat. Taehyung anticipated this reaction, so he was calm. “You want to do what?!”

“Y/n,” he starts, urging you to sit back on your seat, but you still stand your ground. Suddenly, you remember that one of you has to be a muse; oh my god—this is a portraiture project!

“Y/n, Y/n, hear me out,” he laughs quietly, watching all the blood rush through your face. “It will be fun!”

“I am so not getting undressed in front of you, Taehyung! I know you’re attractive, we both get it! Sure, you’re fucking hot! But I’m not! I won’t show my body to you! Especially not for this project! No!” You stomp your feet like a child, pacing left and right as Taehyung watches you with an endearing smile. He tilts his head to the side, placing his chin on the palm of his hand. He examines you, eyes running up and down your figure as your words of abrupt compliments repeated again and again in his mind. He didn’t even notice that he was biting his lips.

“Sit down.” He says firmly with a deep voice, making your stomach turn.

Maybe it’s the coffee.

Yeah.

It’s definitely the coffee.

You gulp as you did as you’re told. As if you can’t get any more bashful, you turn your head away from him.

“I’m sorry if it was too abrupt, Y/n.” he speaks with a monotone voice and you can feel the timbre in your fucking tummy. “But I just think a nude painting will be a good idea, it’ll be unique, Y/n. No one has ever created art like that before on our campus. It will be the first. There’s no way it wouldn’t be displayed in the exhibition.”

He sighs quietly when you don't buy his pursuit.

“Sorry, Y/n. I understand that you’re not up for it.”

Wow. Is he guilt-tripping?

You grab your bag whilst standing up again from your seat. You see the shock in his expression. “W-Where are you going?”

“Back to my dorm. I need to think.”

“Y/n, please, let’s try this again, okay? Just forget that I even suggested it—”

You clench your jaw, gazing at him one final time. “I said I’ll think about it, Kim Taehyung.” And at that, you turn your back to him and walk away to catch a bus ride home to your dorm, leaving Taehyung and your empty cup of coffee behind.

And… something else.

Taehyung hates the way he feels right now. As he slumps his body down on his bed, his body feels like it weighs a hundred times heavier. He admits that it was his fault; he shouldn’t have suggested that idea, especially to a person – to a girl that he wasn’t close with.

“I won’t show my body to you! No! Especially not for this project!”

Your words repeated inside his mind as if stabbing his idiotic brain. He picks up a pillow and groans loudly against it, closing his eyes in dismay.

“I know you’re attractive, we both get it! Sure, you’re fucking hot! But I’m not!”

Little did you know… little did you know that Kim Taehyung finds you attractive as well.

Cries of frustration leave his lips. The deadline of the project was next week and big activities like this should be planned out until tomorrow. God, what the hell is he supposed to do now?

Suddenly, his phone vibrates upon the pocket of his slacks. He picks it out and reads the I.D: Seokjin.

He rests his head against the pillow, answering his friend’s call. “Hello?”

“What happened? I saw Y/n fucking leaving you out there!” Seokjin laughs loudly, making Taehyung blush in embarrassment. “What the fuck happened with the two of you? It was like a freaking breakup scenario!”

“Hyung, stop laughing,” Taehyung sighs while rubbing his face with his other hand, “I messed up. I messed up so bad.”

Seokjin was still laughing at the other end of the call, cackling like a madman. Seokjin – knowing Taehyung – actually thought to himself that his plan would flourish. “Kim Taehyung, what the hell did you say?”

“Just… I just suggested an idea that she didn’t like.”

“Wow. That’s a first!” he snorts, “I can’t wait to tell the boys this one—”

“Seokjin, please. I don’t want to lose this.”

“You say that every time, Tae. And every time you fucking win.”

He thinks for a while, ignoring Seokjin’s voice for a short amount of time. His mind wanders off to somewhere else, going into a world of his thoughts.

“I don’t want to lose her.”

The line falls silent.

“Taehyung,” the older one says first, his voice now empathic, “what’s up?”

He doesn’t regret what he said, nor he doesn’t want to take it back. In his mind, Y/n was the prettiest girl he has ever laid eyes on. Sure, he did not notice her much before the announcement at the lecture hall, but at the exact moment they both laid their eyes with each other, he was starstruck by your beauty.

Taehyung’s idea of a nude portrait was initiated before the professor announced partners. He already had this vision even before he knew who his partner would be. If his partner were a man, there wouldn’t be a problem with that, he would still recommend the idea. But when Y/n’s name was called, he was deep down excited.

He, although, feels bad. You must have felt so flustered. He wishes he could turn back time and forget that he said that if your reaction was negative.

Taehyung understands your point of view though. He was a man that you don’t know, you two weren’t friends, you two weren’t close. He had only started talking to you today, and it was too abrupt for him to recommend something like this.

But despite the fact, he hopes that you won’t ditch him as his partner or go solo because he genuinely wants to work with you. Someone as mysterious and captivating as you shouldn’t be ignored and be overlooked.

“Taehyung, are you still there?” Seokjin’s voice snaps him out of the trail of thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? I think you zoned out.”

“Yup, I’m…I’m fine,” he takes a deep breath. “I’ll call you later, hyung. I need to do something.”

“Alright then,” Seokjin says, “See you.”

“See you.”

Taehyung throws his phone somewhere on the bed and is quick to rush to his bag that was on the floor.

He takes out your portfolio.

With careful hands, he feels his chest sinking. Why did he feel so upset? Flipping to the first page, a feeble smile paints his face as the first image was a picture of you.

He traces the image with his index finger, his smile growing bigger as he further examines your face.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself.

Taehyung traces your full name written in cursive at the bottom of the image. Was it weird to depict how someone’s name can fit a person’s character so much?

At the very corner of the page was your social media account, specifically your Instagram. Without thinking any further, he crosses his legs together and places the portfolio flat down in front of him on the mattress. Grabbing his phone, he types in your username.

“Oh wow,” he chuckles in delight, being more enchanted by your beauty. The pictures in your profile consisted more of your artwork, but the best artwork he saw was you.

Taehyung spends the remaining time of his afternoon examining and admiring your works. Mostly abstract and full of vibrant colors, just like his. Each one of your creations screamed your name. Your style was something else; and he truly believes that the two of you will make a great partner, giving and receiving tips and advice from each other.

It doesn’t matter that you’re still a freshman art student. Your art, in Taehyung’s opinion, is masterpieces that deserve a place in the exhibition.

The next morning at school, you purposely avoid Taehyung and his group with your head low as you walk past them, continuing the journey to your classroom.

Jimin nudges Taehung’s shoulder when he spots you. Quickly, you scurry away from them.

“Umm…” Jungkook starts, looking at Taehyung with a confused expression. “You two still aren’t close?”

“Yeah,” Jimin buts in, “the deadline is in 6 days. Remember Taehyung, this is a big-scale project.”

“It’s seven in the fucking morning,” Taehyung grunts, “Can you guys not rub it in my face that I did a horrible job with Y/n yesterday?”

As the group of boys goes their separate ways, Seokjin sticks by Taehyung’s side. The two make their way across the green campus field. “You can say it, you know,” Seokjin speaks. Taehyung lifts a brow at him.

“Say that you like her.”

Taehyung’s mouth curves into a smile, eyes narrowing. “It feels unfair. She fucking hates me.”

“So, you like her?”

He groans, “I do like her.” A blush creeps up his face, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck timidly, “I like her a lot.”

“Well, you reap what you sow. You better fix this before Y/n changes her mind and goes solo.”

But what Taehyung doesn’t know is that you truly have no plans to go solo.

You, on the other hand, were a mess last night. You wondered if Taehyung hates you, or if you looked like a fool yelling at him. But what’s more stupid is how the fuck you’re getting your portfolio back without it being awkward.

You couldn’t even at least spare him a glance earlier as you walked past him. How are you going to actually talk to him face-to-face?

Going to the café that you usually visit every day to buy your coffee, you were about to pay for your drink until two familiar faces ran up to you.

“Make those three cups!” Hayoon shouts and you immediately press your index finger against your lips, shushing her.

You turn your attention back to the lady behind the counter, “Three iced coffees please.”

“Sooooo?” Seoyun walks up behind you to massage your shoulders, easing the tension from your stressed muscles. “How did it go? You didn’t send us a text.”

“What, with Taehyung?” you say while your two friends follow you to sit at the nearest unoccupied table. They eagerly nod, excited for what you will say.

“Did you guys bond well?”

“At first, yes,” you say under your breath, avoiding eye contact as you do, “but, uh, he just said something I didn’t like.”

Hayoon and Seoyun gasp. They both look at each other before exclaiming, “What?!”

Seoyun brings his fist down on the table, “Did that motherfucker harass you—”

“No!” you quickly retort, shaking your head as your eyes fly to the other customers in the shop to see if they heard your friend’s harsh speculations.

Who's gonna tell your friends that Kim Taehyung suggested a fucking nude painting.

“I can’t say exactly what it was. But I need to talk to him today because I forgot I gave him my goddamn portfolio.” 

“Miss Y/n?” The bartender calls out your name, and Seoyun was kind enough to fetch it for you.

Hayoon was next to speak, “You guys aren’t getting along well?”

You shake your head ‘no’ as an answer.

“That isn’t good, Y/n. It’s either you both fix whatever happened or go solo. Would you rather go solo?”

“No.” You immediately say without any hesitation.

“Remember, Y/n. I feel like Taehyung is your golden ticket to the exhibition. Don’t waste the opportunity.”

Seoyun gives you and Hayoon your coffees before standing up.

After a little more banter, the three of you part ways, going to each of your respective destinations.

As the day went on, today felt like it was a thousand hours long. It was boring, and you thought that seeing Taehyung again would make things better.

No longer being mad at him for what happened yesterday, you had a goal to find him on this big campus. Students were either looking chill; calm and collected, or they’re speed-walking stressfully to their classes.

Though cliché as it may seem, art students are really competitive when an opportunity of their creation being displayed in the Fine Arts exhibition building comes to play. It makes them feel the gratification of a real artist.

You bet Taehyung has felt that a hundred times by now. His paintings being featured so many times in the exhibition really made him look superior and all-mighty, although his behavior did not reflect that at all.

He’s humble, unlike the other seniors.

Clutching your tote bag tighter to your side, you go to the senior’s building with the hope to find your partner.

As you step inside, instead of being greeted by a bunch of fourth years, right at the entrance was Yeseul getting too close with Taehyung.

She was putting her hands all over his chest, obviously making him feel uncomfortable by the look on Taehyung’s face. Why isn’t he pushing her away?

You grit your teeth together, storming your way towards them to rip Yeseul away from him; but she was quick to notice you.

“Oh, hello there, Y/n. Here to see your partner?” she snarks, wrapping her arms around Taehyung’s neck. She also dared to step closer to his body, almost inches away from touching. 

Oh no, she did not just do that.

You drop your bag to the floor, and in an immediate motion, you swing your arm up to her shoulder and shove her away from Taehyung. Her frail body jolts backward, almost losing her balance.

“Stay the fuck away from him.”

Taehyung’s eyes expand as his heart pumps rapidly. 

He did not expect that from you at all. 

“Wow, that’s fucking new!” Yeseul exclaims, “Y/n finally speaks! She speaks, everyone!” She looks around as if people are watching.

No one was watching. There was no one else inside the entrance hall other than the three of you.

“You see,” you were about to retaliate until Taehyung grabs your arm. You look at him for a quick second, ignoring the way his expression tells you to stop. “You see, Yeseul, I don’t waste my time with a pathetic girl like you. Always craving everyone’s attention. Do you think you're the shit? What if I tell you that everything thinks you're just a sad spoiled bitch that got into this school because of daddy, wasting his money by—”

“Y/n!” Taehyung retaliates. 

“Wasting his money by bullying other students instead of focusing on yourself? Just say you’re an attention whore and move on with your embarrassing life—”

“Y/n! Stop, let’s just go.” Taehyung says sharply as he immediately takes your bag from the floor with one hand as the other tightly clasps around your wrist. “Let’s go!” Taehyung yells before Yeseul can even process what you said to her.

But thank God a wave of courage dwelled up inside you to speak your mind and stand up for yourself from Yeseul’s bitchy nature.

Taehyung drags you out of the building, but your eyes never leave hers. “Fuck you.” You enunciate without sound after smiling like a little devil.

Nothing was more satisfying than seeing Yeseul finally speechless.

 It seems like you took out almost all of your energy on Yeseul because you nor Taehyung did not speak until he led you into a secluded alleyway in between two large concrete buildings. 

Unexpectedly, Taehyung uses both hands to hold onto your arms, leaning a bit down so that his eyes are at the same level as yours. 

“Why did you do that, hm?” he asks, scanning your entire face as if trying to figure it out himself. “Y/n?” 

Tilting your head to the side, you once again avoid looking directly at his eyes. You did not notice that you balled your fists beside you while the past image of Yeseul’s hands touching Taehyung comes to play. Your chest caves in and out, speechless. 

Taehyung then places his right hand on top of your head, patting your hair gently. “Talk to me.” 

Grunting, you finally look at him. “I hate her.” 

“Y/n—”

“I fucking hate her! I hate how she touched you! I hate that she has the fucking audacity to be all up on you! And I hate how you didn’t do anything to stop her!” Quickly, you press your hands against his broad chest and attempt to jolt him backward, but he is strong to stay still. 

“Shh, shh, Y/n,” Taehyung firmly holds your hand, catching your eyes fueled with bitterness. In an attempt to hide a smile, he purses his lips. “I’m… I’m sorry, yeah? I fucked up a ton. But you know what, Y/n?” 

“What?” you say with a sour tone. 

“I’m glad you finally stood up for yourself.” 

It was true. You felt a sense of relief once you’ve finally spoken your mind. Even though you said some horrible things to Yeseul, she deserved it. 

You take a deep sigh, resting your head on the concrete wall behind you. “You weren’t even pushing her away, Taehyung. What was she even doing with you?”

He bites the corner of his bottom lip when you aren't looking. He did not want to assume, but you sounded jealous. 

“Nothing, babe. She just suddenly came up to me.” 

You gawk up at him while a blush forms your cheeks. 

There it was again. Babe. 

Your eyes fly to his lips, then down to his chest, and finally to his pelvic area. Not even noticing that you’re staring way too hard, Taehyung coughs to get attention back. 

“Eyes up here, Y/n,” he speaks with a provoking tone. 

Slowly, Taehyung tauntingly smirks and you instantly feel butterflies in your lower stomach. 

“Uh, um…” you fake a laugh, “I just, I just need my portfolio back.” 

There was a seven-second silence with the two of you just staring at each other. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to talk. 

“I left it at my dorm—” 

“—You’re impossible, Kim Taehyung!” You gasp, about to walk away again but he was quick to stop you this time. 

“Come to my place, Y/n. Please? Let’s talk about the project there.” He pleads, his mouth almost creating a pout, “I’m serious. I really want to do this with you, Y/n. I don’t want you to walk away again.” 

All of those words from him, and you felt the same way. His hand crawls up your arm, causing little bumps to appear on your soft skin. Caressing your arm tenderly, Taehyung looks a bit sullen. 

“I’m really sorry about yesterday, for throwing you off like that.” 

“It’s okay,” you say genuinely. You have never seen Taehyung so upset like this. It was a strange sight to see, but you were happy that he’s willing to try all of this again. The feeling is mutual. “I’ll… I’ll go to your dorm.” 

That huge grin reappears on his face and it was enough for you to feel relieved and once again, charmed that he is your partner. 

Following Taehyung's lead to his room, the halls were gloomy and silent, almost as if his dormitory was haunted. “I know what you’re thinking,” Taehyung smirks, looking back at you. “Too quiet?” 

“Yeah.” You giggle. 

“Wait until it’s midnight and you hear people fucking. Walls here are too thin.” 

You do not know how to respond to that as you attempt to stop yourself from blushing too hard. 

Taehyung’s room was apparently at the very end of the hallway and there was still a long way to go. As you trail behind him, you can’t help but stare at his broad shoulders. He was wearing a simple gray tee, and the thin material of the shirt provides enough to see the structure of his upper body. 

He had to be working out. He was tall as well. Whenever you talk to each other, you always have to tilt your head upwards for his entire face to be visible to your vision. 

Taehyung, as if he knows that you’re looking at him, combs a hand through his hair while throwing his head back. He does this a lot as you notice. 

“We’re here!” He exclaims, rummaging through his bag to get his keys. While you wait patiently behind his figure, the door parallel from his room opens. 

It was Jimin. 

“Oh, hey Y/n!” He greets with big eyes, surely not expecting your presence. 

Taehyung whips his head around. “Jimin, hi.” He sends him a certain look which you cannot decipher its meaning. 

“What’s… what’re you guys doing?” He looks down at you and a smirk slowly emerges from his face. You instantly look away. 

“We’re meeting up for the project,” Taehyung says for you as he fumbles with the key to his door. “Obviously.” He quickly adds. 

Jimin hums and leans his body against his door, eyeing you from top to bottom. Even though you were not looking directly at him, he can sense your awkwardness.  

“That’s all?” 

“Oh my God, shut up,” Taehyung chuckles, finally pushing the door open. He sees that you were, once again, hiding your face by looking down on the polished floor. 

Unexpectedly, he lays a firm hand on your lower back and pushes you in his with a slight force. Somehow, that simple action caused butterflies; a fluttering feeling inside your stomach. Your eyes widen as he guides you inside his dorm room. 

Taehyung sends a quick look at Jimin who was smirking at him the whole time. “Literally shut your mouth.” 

“I’m older than you.” 

“At what?” Taehyung snorts, “three months?” 

“Okay, so? I was born three months before you. So respect me.”

He no longer replies and shuts the door behind him. You stiffly stand in the midst of his room, scanning the area around you. His room was nothing but plain. But what shocks you the most are the scattered watercolor paintings scattered all over his wooden floor. 

Nude paintings. 

As if Taehyung was just playing with paint a few hours ago, these drawings were dispersed around the area as if he wanted to show it off. 

You stay silent, bashful. 

“Oh,” he finally speaks as soon as he realizes the situation. Quickly, he moves in front of you, kneels, and starts collecting the mess of papers on the floor. “I-I’m sorry, I forgot to clean these all up—”

“They’re so beautiful,” you insinuate, voice small. 

Taehyung feels a warm feeling inside of him, cursing at himself for even blushing at your compliment. Usually, he would feel proud and confident when people admire his creations, but with you — he turns shy. He continues cleaning the floor, picking up the watercolor papers. “Thank you. I… uh, yeah.” 

“No really, Taehyung,” you shake your head, “Can I see? Please?” 

Turning to you, he gives you a sympathetic smile, diverting his attention away from your twinkling eyes. “They’re not supposed to be seen, Y/n.”

You sit down on his bed as determination takes over you. “Oh please? I’ve never seen anything like yours. Please, Taehyung?” you fake a pout, hoping that he’d give in. He stares at you with his mouth slightly parted, “Please? You’re still my partner after all.” 

He sighs deeply, holding the stack of papers in both hands. He kneels in front of you, sitting on the heels of his feet, and eventually gives it to you. 

Not taking his eyes off of you, he studies your expression. 

With the look on your face, your sparkling eyes, your eyebrows adjoining together, watching the corner of your mouth lifting into a smile, Taehyung watches you in absolute awe. 

“These…” you whisper to him as you can’t seem to take your eyes off of his collection. “These are so good, Taehyung.” 

The paintings were colorful; they seemed messy but you can clearly see the artistic view on them. Though you can clearly see an abundance of women’s butts and boobs and nipples — that was all beside the question. 

“Is this why you asked me to do a nude portrait?” 

Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He was expecting this question, although he still feels jittery. 

“Y/n,” he suddenly comes closer to you, “I’ve been having an interest in creating these types of paintings recently. I mean, a-as you can see here, I’ve been practicing.” Taehyung explains while releasing a quiet giggle. “I just thought it’ll be a good idea to, uh,” he gulps, “to make one… with you.” 

Taehyung tilts his head up at you, but before you could reply, he lays his hands on your knees. A shiver runs down your spine at this, wetting your lips. 

He looks so damn attractive up close. 

“Y/n, I want you to be my muse.” 

Taehyung’s eyes burn in desire, confidence building up in his system as he leans himself closer to you. He mutters the next words underneath his breath, “You’re beautiful, Y/n. So beautiful that I want to display your beauty to the whole fucking campus.”

Your body weakens. As the air between the two of you thickens, the whole world closing around you, you feel Taehyung run his hands up your thigh excruciatingly slow. With his eyes still locked on yours, time just stops and you allow yourself to get lost in his dark eyes. 

“You don’t have to hide, Y/n. You’re such a stunning lady, it’ll be an honor for anyone to have you as their muse. I am the lucky one, Y/n.” 

He speaks to you with such gentleness in his monotone, deep voice. Unintentionally, you bite down on your lower lip. Taehyung exhales a shuddered breath as he watches you. His eyes study your face, the distance between your eyebrows, eyes, he examines all the little things, even your impurities. 

For him, you were flawless. 

“You really do know what to say, huh?” you smile meekly, admiring him and his splendid soul. You feel so loved by him  – appreciated, even. 

“I’ve never been more sure of my words.” 

Taehyung gives you a final smile before standing up. You watch him walk over to his study desk where your portfolio lays. Letting out the breath that you were apparently holding in, you wipe your damp hands on your clothes. 

Giving the portfolio back to your possession, he speaks at the same time: “It’s still a suggestion after all. You can tell me yours if you have one.”

You chuckle at that. Little did he know that your mind was too busy overthinking how things stacked up instead of brainstorming an idea. Since you feel more comfortable with him than before, you tell the truth.

“I have absolutely no idea,” you snicker. 

“Yeah?” he smirks, nodding his head once. “I hate to say this, but this is the only concept I’ve got as well.” Taehyung sits down crossed-legged beside you on the bed, tapping his fingers on his pile of nude portraits. 

“Then I’ve got no choice but to say yes.” 

Taehyung feels his heart thump rapidly in his chest. 

It wasn’t like he was dying to see your body – no. His point was not to be a pervert. 

His point goes deeper than that. Taehyung thinks that this idea suits you and your aura perfectly. You were both dainty and mysterious at the same time, something about you is just so alluring and captivating. The way you look at him with those eyes of yours, you were like a magnet to him. 

Tempting, like he’d imagine the outcome of this painting. 

Taehyung’s left hand reaches out, hesitates and stops for a second, although it continues until his fingers lightly brush against your cheek. You smile, feeling soft from his gentle touch. He lightly tucks a strand of hair to the back of your ear. 

Those pesky butterflies just never go away, do they? 

“Besides, Taehyung, this is still a collaboration,” you abruptly stand up, facing him. A sudden burst of confidence shoots through your body as you hold his jaw in one hand. You giggle in amusement as you notice his eyes expand in shock. 

Leaning down to give him a provocative stare, you smirk, “You’re not the only one who has the say.” 

Watching him prod his tongue against his cheek causes your stomach to do backflips for the hundredth time today. He tempts you with his strong glare, gazing up at you with hooded eyes. 

He swiftly grasps your wrist, making you let go of his jaw. Raising his eyebrows, he replies with a bold tone, “I’m still superior to you, my little freshman.” 

You and Taehyung exchange numbers before you leave. You stand in between the doorframe, saying your goodbyes. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow at your place?” He reminds, his tall and slender figure towering in front of you. 

“Yup,” you say, grasping your portfolio in your arms. “I’ll be sure to text you my address.” 

Before you even have the opportunity to shut the door behind you, finally leaving his room, he refrains you from doing so. 

“Y/n?” 

Your heart rate quickens. 

Turning around, you whisper, “Yeah?” 

He shows off his handsome smile, that same smile he would put on whenever he receives an award onstage for his incredible work. 

“Your art is magnificent.” 

“He said what?!” Hayoon shrieks as you both walk to the main building. Seoyun wasn’t with the two of you because she was at her own partner’s house, working on the project. 

“He liked my art,” you say quietly, blushing as you reminisce about what happened yesterday. You remember his words, his alluring voice, the gentle yet strong gaze he was giving you, it all felt unreal. “He said it’s quote-unquote magnificent.” 

Hayoon gasps, putting a hand over her agape mouth. You laugh while staring at the pavement, clutching your portfolio tight. 

“What else happened? Did you guys—”

“—Y/n! Good to see you.” Your body jumps when a voice suddenly startles you. Looking up, you see the head professor of the arts district in front of you. She seems amused at your frightened reaction. 

“H-Hello, madam,” you politely smile, clearing your throat. 

The professor also greets Hayoon. 

“I’ve actually been wanting to have a little chat with you, Y/n.” She clasps her hands in front of her chest. “How are you and Kim Taehyung? Doing well together?” 

Hayoon purses her lips, looking away. 

“Um,” you laugh awkwardly, suddenly feeling hot. “We’re… we’re doing good.” 

“Any progress?” She inquires, raising a brow. 

“No, not yet,” you shake your head, “We’re going to meet up later though, finally start on the project.” 

The professor seems so engrossed in Taehyung. It became clearer to you that Taehyung was a bigger deal in this department than you thought. 

Her mouth lifts into a sly smirk, her warm eyes looking straight into yours, “I am looking forward to your collaboration with him, Y/n. You know,” she leans her body on one hip, “I trust my judgment with partnering the two of you together. Based on both of your work, I feel as though you and your senior will create an incredible piece of work. Don’t tell this to anyone…” she suddenly leans in to whisper. 

Your eyes turn to Hayoon, giving her a confused gaze. 

“I’m mostly looking forward to you and Kim Taehyung’s work.” 

And without saying anything further, she says a simple goodbye and walks away. 

She’s anticipating your artwork the most! How awkward can it be if she finds out that your planning to work on a nude fucking painting? 

“I- madam?” You immediately call out to her, spinning around. “You said that we are all free to paint whatever we want, right? As long as it’s a portrait?” 

“Exactly, miss Y/n. No further limitations than that.” 

As you say, madam. 

The knock on your door startles the living soul out of you. You release a mantra of “fuck’s” in your mind, shaving the last bit of your leg hairs as quickly as you can. 

“Coming!” you shout from your small bathroom, hoping that Taehyung would hear. You angle your right leg better, tip-toeing on the toilet seat. 

After a quick minute, you clean yourself up and get dressed. You did not know how to act since it was the first time a boy came over to your dorm. Puffing out a breath, you psych yourself up. 

Twisting the doorknob open, you greet him. “Hey—!” 

Good fucking luck to me. 

Taehyung looks so good. He shakes away the hair that slightly covers the top of his eyes so that he can get a better look at you. He was wearing a simple white tee and sweatpants, yet you can absolutely see his prominent body through the thin material. Taehyung carries a large white canvas stuck between his arm and waist, a bag over his shoulder. 

He scans your body, eyes raking you up and down. 

The tension between the two of you instantly thickens. 

“Hello, my little freshman.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“I’ll call you whatever I want.” He speaks with an authoritarian tone, suddenly sounding serious and sharp as ever. You let him inside your room where you already set up a tarp on the ground. He sees that you have already arranged the living room, clearing the living room from all the unnecessary furniture. 

“So, let’s start?” he voices out without looking at you. He finds your easel and places the canvas on it. 

We’re suddenly rushing everything? 

He sees that you weren’t talking, once again, so he looks at you expectantly with a quirked eyebrow. The expression on his face made you feel small and intimidated. 

“I don’t know where to start,” you barely say through a whisper, fiddling with your clothes. 

His eyes narrow, tipping his head to the side a little bit, “Right.” 

You feel severely embarrassed. 

A good-looking guy in front of you, eating you up with his eyes like you’re a meal. You shuffle your foot against the ground, unable to form any words. 

Suddenly, he strides forward to you. You try to hide the way your body just instantly stiffens, but it is impossible. Your body reacts without your permission, goosebumps appearing when Taehyung places his hand on top of your head. 

He gives your head a couple of pats, stroking your hair right after. Taehyung leans down until his face is almost parallel to yours. His mouth grows into a little smirk. “My bad,” he mutters with a husky tone, “I forgot who I was working with.” 

Your mouth goes dry. What was that supposed to mean? 

Taehyung sits down on the floor, legs crossed. You copy him. 

“First of all,” he leads the conversation, which you thank the heavens for, “I feel responsible for your comfortability, Y/n.” 

Oh God, it’s starting. 

“You have to trust me, okay? I want to keep the professionalism between us when we,” he gulps, “when we start this. And by that I mean when you take your clothes off.” 

“Taehyung…” 

He ignores you, “I want this to be somewhat similar to the watercolor paintings you saw yesterday.” 

You muster up the courage to speak, hoping that your voice won’t fail you. “You mean, something contemporary?” 

He smiles, a proud look on his face. “Exactly. The painting won’t show your vagina, of course,” he nonchalantly says while standing up. How can he speak as if this is a completely normal conversation? “But, if you like, we can show a bit of your breasts.” 

“Sure,” you barely formed the word. 

“Great,” he fiddles with his equipment, setting up the scenario. “Take your time, Y/n. We have all the time in the world right now.” 

Taehyung watches you at a distance from his peripheral vision. He sees you taking off your shirt. 

He shakes his head, forcing himself to stay focused. “Do you,” he clears his throat, “do you have anything in mind, color-palette wise?” 

“Neutral colors.” 

After that, you take off your shorts. The only clothing left was your undergarments. 

Lace. 

You feel like you were giving him a striptease. The air kisses your skin as you become more exposed to him. 

You find it unfair; you’re going to get naked and he isn’t. 

“Feeling okay?” He asks, and you just respond with a quick nod of your head. 

“Um, do I take these off too?” you ask, referring to your bra and panties. Even though you already know the answer, you just want to make sure. 

Your heart jumps when you catch a glimpse of him biting his lower lip. Taehyung feels the need to get used to looking at your body because he’s going to do that for the next few hours or so. But he can’t stop staring at you. 

You exhibit breathtaking beauty. 

“Yes,” he answers while he applies a layer of white paint on the canvas. You watch him work his hands up and down, observing all his movements. 

A different aura replaces him all of a sudden. He was doing the bare minimum but he looked so sublime. 

But you stand there, not moving a muscle. You heard him loud and clear, although you can't seem to undress. 

Taehyung chuckles, still painting the canvas, “You want me to help you?” 

“What?” you blurt in shock from his sudden nerve. 

With that, he lays his eyes on you, unwavering. “You want me to undress you?” 

In a quick motion, Taehyung drops his brush and walks to you. You can immediately hear your heart pounding in your ears as he closes the distance between the two of you. “Taehyung…” you murmur, almost whimpering. 

The noise you made undoubtedly excites him even more. 

“Yea?” he says softly, “does my muse need help to get undressed?” 

Your body melts then and there.

Unknowingly, you nod. 

Taehyung watches your pupils dilate as you look up at him. You were driving him wild with just the way you were staring at him. 

“Is it okay to put my hands on you?” 

You blush at that, finding it cute that he asked for permission. “Of course.” 

Taehyung doesn't hesitate to put his big hands on your hips, feeling the material of your lace panties. He hisses, clicking his tongue. “Damn, babe,” he bites his lip again, “I know you’re shy, and I like it that you’re shy...” the pads of his fingertips tap against your skin, teasing you, “But for us to continue with this project, you have to let me see your body. You have to be comfortable with me, m’kay?” 

“But,” you hesitate for a moment, looking anywhere aside his eyes. “You’ll be the first one.” 

Taehyung creases his forehead in confusion, stepping closer until your body touches. “Y/n, you mean that,” he stops the urge to let out even the faintest of groans, “You’ve never done t-this with anyone before?” 

He looks at you with such care, not even a single spot of judgment written on his face. You don't even notice that his hands are crawling up and down your waist, caressing your body so softly until you feel those familiar cold shivers. 

You pry your eyes away, muttering a shy “yes”. 

The shine in Taehyung’s eyes diminishes, replacing it with a darker, more lustful shade. He holds your chin up with brute force, sick of you looking away from him. 

He didn’t expect to feel this way. So prevalent and in control of your own body, he feels a surge of power rush through him as he notices your face flush. “I hope you know you can’t back out now, baby.” 

“Take off your bra,” he states simply with unwavering eye contact. He was looking down at you passing the bridge of his nose, mouth slightly agape. 

He could’ve sworn he heard another whimper. 

Fuck, did that sound drives him crazier.

With his hands still on your waist, you lift your arms and reach behind you, your clammy hands unclasping your bra. 

Taehyung wasn’t apprehensive to stare at you anymore. He’s way past that. Not when you’re looking at him so innocently like that, your pretty eyes trying their best to gaze at him – he doesn’t care anymore. All he wants to do was fucking get this painting done and possibly fuck you. 

You slip the straps off of your body, dropping the garment on the floor. 

He unconsciously bites his lip, your breasts on display for him, like art in a museum. He chuckles when you let out a whine. 

“Why are they hard?” he teases, referring to your erect nipples. 

You did not know if his question was rhetorical or not. He steps away a little so that you can slip off your panties as well – and to have a better look at you. 

Is it normal for people to feel this way? 

Your body shudders from his cold stare, waiting for a signal to remove your underwear. Taehyung steps behind the canvas, eyes still on you. “Go on, I'm waiting baby.” 

That pet-name will be the death of you.

You hook your thumbs inside your garter and swiftly pull your panties down your legs. Lowering your head, you step out from the pool you made on the floor and toss it to the side. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, tucking a small strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Like what?” 

“You’re basically eye-fucking me.” 

“Don’t you want that?” he grins cockily. His unexpected surge of confidence and the new atmosphere he has created in the room were making you breathless. 

You don’t reply, instead, you ask him what position he wants you to be in. 

“Probably on your hands and knees, but that’ll be too inappropriate.” 

“Taehyung—” 

“I’m kidding.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as he directs you in a position on the floor. You sit back on your heels, arms resting above a wooden desk prop he wanted to include in the portrait. 

“Look at me.” 

The view you give him; your body’s side profile and your big, pure eyes, was enough for his cock to grow hard beneath his sweatpants. He curses, enticed by how beautiful and hot you are. 

Taehyung grabs his paint palette, giving you one final examination before swiftly painting the background on the blank canvas. 

“I can see that you’re holding your breath,” Taehyung says after a minute, “Relax, babe. You’re with me. You don’t have to worry.” 

It’s fucking happening. 

He was actually going to painting you naked. NAKED. Tits and butt out for the whole campus to see.  

You were hoping that once this painting is finished, no one will judge you nor Taehyung. You pray that they’re open-minded enough to accept a fucking nude portrait. 

Suddenly, an itch crawls upon your shoulders, and the urge to scratch it grows closer and closer. You scrunch your nose, waiting for the perfect time to do it. 

When Taehyung was more focused on the canvas, you remove your arm from its original position so that you can scratch your shoulder. 

He didn’t notice — yes! 

“It’s only been five minutes and you’re already itching?” he snorts, “want me to scratch your itches for you so you don’t have to move?” 

You roll your eyes, “That’s so weird.” 

“Whatever, Y/n. We can take five-minute breaks every twenty. What do you think? You won't be sitting there the whole time, I just need to do the background, a rough outline, and a sketch of you and we can take turns painting the rest after that.” 

You exhale a satisfied breath. “Oh thank God.” 

“Just don’t move so much.” 

What Taehyung wanted to capture was the innocence of your gaze despite the raw nudity of the painting. He was eager to deliver that there is always purity, gentleness, and chastity in a world painted in red. 

And you were being the most perfect muse he could ever have. 

Just like the painting: ‘The Girl with a Pearl Earring,’ Johannes Vermeer illustrated a mellow, warm aura surrounding the girl with such beguiling eyes, capturing everyone’s attention. 

Taehyung yearns to have that same effect with you as his model. 

“Y/n,” Taehyung accidentally says too adamantly, your shoulders flinching as an effect. “Keep your eyes on me. Got it?” 

“Why?” You ask, “Isn’t my nudity the focal point here?” you pronounce sarcastically, but your partner did not grasp that. 

“Not really,” he shakes his head, “you’ll see, baby.” 

You click your tongue, “Don’t call me that unless you’re planning to do something else to me, Kim Taehyung.” 

“Mmm,” he hums, running his tongue against his lower lip. He stops painting for a second, resting one hand on his hip. “That’s a bold statement right there.” 

“You’re not denying it?” your eyes enlarge, that small, weak feeling beginning to reappear once more. 

Without a response, he proceeds to his artwork with a smug grin. As he draws your body’s outline, applying shades here and there, depicting how the sun shines against your soft, supple skin, he tries his hardest to be focused. 

Every time he would glance your way, your eyes would immediately lock onto his. He doesn’t know if you do it on purpose, but those innocent eyes, he’s struggling because of them. 

You look at him so sweetly with such a pure look, despite the position you’re in. 

“What do you want, Taehyung?” 

He tilts his head, questioning, “Hm?” 

“What’s with that face? Do you… d-do you want me to do something else? Is there anything I should do to—”

“All I want is your lips against mine right now, Y/n.” 

How are you supposed to respond to that? Your throat goes dry, eyes instantly looking away from his gaze that suddenly turned dark. 

Suddenly, you hear the paintbrush drop down to the floor, footsteps coming closer to you. You hitch your breath when Taehyung crouches down in front of your body, placing two large hands on your skin. 

“Look at me, baby. Look at me the way you do with those pretty eyes.” 

Taehyung fakes a patronizing pout, holding your chin with two fingers. “There we go, you look so fucking beautiful like this. I couldn’t help myself back there, Y/n.”

“What happened to professionalism, Taehyung?” You muster up the courage to say, although with a small tone, you still made your point across. 

“Fuck that.” 

Without wasting a single second, Taehyung holds your head in his hands and presses his lips against yours. Feeling each other’s warmth and presence, you don’t stop him. You sit straight as Taehyung’s right hand slides up and down your back. 

“Kiss me, baby,” he mutters, “kiss me.”

There was nothing to lose, the painting was long forgotten as you press your forehead against his, deepening the kiss. Taehyung smirks from your neediness, your hands trying to find a place to stay. 

He runs a hand through your hair, massaging your scalp softly. You feel butterflies in your stomach when he groans, that deep yet hoarse sound arouses you even more. The hand that was in your scalp tightens, grabbing a bundle of your hair as he roughly pulls it back. 

You let out a moan, not intending to. 

Taehyung uses this opportunity to kiss you harder, sliding his tongue in. You whimper against the kiss, eyebrows furrowing, feeling him explore every single inch of you. 

Taehyung presses his body against yours, making you lay down on the floor with him on top of you. With his legs on either side of your body, he holds you in a trap. 

He feels his primal urge seething through his veins, gazing down at you with a heavy breath. He scans his eyes down your naked body, his tongue aching to lick every part of you, to claim you. 

You blush from his rugged stare, tilting your head to the side. You absolutely did not want him to see how flushed you’ve become. 

He releases a grunt as he places his hands on your hips, slowly going north. He feels the goosebumps caused by his touch, making him smile. “Is it too straightforward to say that your innocence turns me on?” 

You bite your lip, not wanting to speak. Your body already spoke measures and he can see your lust. 

“If you keep staring at me like that,” he leans his head lower until you can feel his breath fanning against your collarbones. He merely closes his eyes, “I might fucking ruin you.” 

“Then do it.” 

Taehyung hears you loud and clear, and he chuckles. Without expecting it at all, he reaches up to wrap his hand around your throat, squeezing gently. Your eyes expand, appalled as you emit a little mewl.  

“Tsk, tsk,” he licks his lips, feeling his underwear tighten beneath his sweatpants, “What is it with these innocent girls, huh? Always acting so naughty even though people barely lay a finger on them.” He watches your breathing getting heavier, your nipples getting harder as the air caresses your sweet skin. “Do you want me to touch you down there?” 

You bite your lip, nodding your head. 

Taehyung coos, “Good girl. But tell me with your words. Let me ask you again, Y/n. Do I have your full consent?” 

“Yes.” 

“Baby, you don’t know how badly I want this. I’m going to use you, I’m going to control your body as if it’s a toy. Do you want that? I won’t be done here if I don’t see you crying and begging me to stop.” 

“Taehyung,” you whisper, wiggling your hips in need, “yes, I want it. I want you.” 

Not even three seconds after you’ve said yes, Taehyung took the advantage to immediately press his lips against your neck, sucking and biting like an animal. You throw your head back in awe, feeling his warm hands gripping your breasts. 

He groans, giving your neck purple and red marks. “Already a whimpering mess,” he licks the skin below your left ear after noticing that it was a sweet spot of yours. You lift your hands up to wrap around him, but he was quick to put them together in one hand and pin your wrists above your head. 

“If you wanna touch me, you gotta beg,” he raises his brow, “do you wanna be a pathetic little girl and beg?” 

Teasing you, he runs his fingers down the valley of your breasts, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. His eye contact does not waver until his hand is inches above your needy, wet cunt. 

“I love every single part of you, Y/n. The whole campus would be so jealous of me,” he winks at you with a menacing look, trying to lighten the situation up. 

“May I kiss you down here?” He barely says in between a low moan as his hand starts playing with your slick folds. “Please let me,” his eyebrows creases, “let me fucking taste this pussy.” 

Your stomach jumps at his cruel words, biting your lip to stop yourself from letting out an embarrassing moan. With a single nod, he dives in. 

And doesn’t go easy on you at all. 

“Oohh shi—” you squeal, hand flying to grab his hair right when his tongue dances against your sensitive clit. He looks up at you, analyzing your reactions. His wet tongue flicks against your bud, hands firmly holding your hips apart. 

Taehyung ruthlessly licks you like he hasn’t eaten a meal in ages. Truth be told, in his head, he forgot he was dealing with a cute little virgin pussy. He was too focused on his pleasure, too focused on the noises you made.

“Please, oh my God, s-slow down!” you yelp, trying to squeeze your legs shut, but he pries them open. 

He picks his head up for a moment to say, “Do that one more time, or else I’m not gonna let you sit down for days.” 

It took you a second to figure out what he means by that. And when you do – you feel yourself getting deeper into a subspace, something you have never experienced before. You feel ten times lighter, all with the help of Taehyung’s strong stare as if he’s turning into a different person.

A slow smirk dwells on his face. He holds your cheek in one hand, stroking you gently. 

“I love the look in your eyes, baby,” he murmurs, “so mesmerizing.” He distracts you with his words, making you lost in his dark irises. 

It was until he unexpectedly plunges a finger inside your soaking cunt, earning a loud gasp. Your back arched painfully, throwing your head back and Taehyung stopped himself from giggling too loud. 

“There, there,” he shushes, putting his lips against your neck, “You can take it, baby. Hm? It’s just one finger.” 

You hold onto his wrist, pleading at him with round eyes, “Please,” you mewl, “I h-haven’t – mmphh – done anything like this before!” 

“I know, baby, and it’s so fucking fun to torture you like this. Corrupt your innocence like this…” he slowly pumps his digit in and out, your wetness coating his slender finger. “I can’t even explain how good it feels for me.” 

Taehyung might sound arrogant, condescending even. Although he knows that this turns you on as well, he can see the way you were submitting to him. 

He feels your walls clench around him, making him hiss. “So tight, goodness. Gonna stretch that tight fucking cunt so good, so good around my thick cock. Uh-huh, you want that?” 

When he thinks you’re ready, he inserts another finger in. This time, he pumps his fingers in and out at a fast, steady pace. He hits your sweet spots so well, making you feel euphoric. Your eyes roll back, and Taehyung’s dick twitches. 

“That’s right,” he sighs, “stretch this little virgin pussy out for me, mhmm?” 

Taehyung does slight scissoring movements with his fingers then switching to repeated ‘come-hither’ motions. Your moans effortlessly flow out of your mouth, not ever thinking to yourself that you can create those types of sounds. 

“How does that feel baby, hm?” he licks his lip with his tongue, skilled fingers pumping in and out, stroking your g-spot. His ears perk up at the sound of you whimpering after he hits just the right place inside of you. “Oh yeah,” Taehyung chuckles, “that’s my spot. That’s the spot right there.” 

Your legs quiver, feeling a tightness in your lower stomach but you don’t say anything to him. Were you about to cum? Is this how you’re supposed to feel? 

But Taehyung knows. Taehyung can sense everything from you. He keeps his pace steady and is consistent to rub your good spot until your body experiences a gushing wave of bliss. 

Your sweet, hot moans fill his ears and it was enough to drive him crazy, his fingers soaked in your cum. 

“Good job, baby,” he snickers, caressing your stomach, “You came so good, so pretty for me.”

You feel so shy right after, though. Immediately, you raise your arms up to your face to cover your blushing cheeks, squealing. 

“Aww, baby, baby,” he chuckles warmly, “Why are you shy? You just came around my fucking fingers, Y/n. Don’t be embarrassed about that.” Taehyung uses a taunting voice, carefully moving your arms away. 

“You know what will help you get rid of that shyness of yours, huh?” he asks while standing up. Your eyes go wide as you watch his long, slender fingers playing with the waistbands of his sweatpants. 

You shake your head ‘no’ as an answer. 

“Kneel and take my cock out.” 

“But…” you gulp, “I’ve never—”

Taehyung leans down and tugs you by the hair, forcing you to sit up. He growls and drags you to a kneeling position. You wince and yelp from how hard he was grabbing your hair. 

“Did I say you can retaliate, huh? Slut?” Without any warning, he slaps your left cheek. The slap resonated throughout the quiet room, your cheek heating up from the blow. You wince in pain, about to rub your cheek to soothe the skin, but he was quicker to land another harsh slap. 

“You’re crying? Aw, so fucking pathetic. Maybe if you’ll do as I fucking say, I wouldn’t have to ruin your pretty face.” 

Taehyung feels like a different person. He stands tall before you, dripping in pure dominance. He watches your lips forming a pout, your hands finding their place on your thighs. Even with a bruised cheek and watery eyes, you still looked beautiful, and he loved the thought that you’re only like this for him.

“What are you waiting for?” he raises a brow, “fucking suck my dick.” 

Taehyung barely hears the whine that falls off your lips right before you hook your fingers under his waistband. Your face was inches away from the large tent in his sweats. You wonder deep inside your mind how big he was. 

Guess you were going to find out. 

He palms himself above his tight boxers, making his dick twitch from the needed sensation. “You see this cock? You’re gonna put this inside that mouth of yours, right baby?” he leans down, grabs your face in both hands, and says with a gravelly voice, “Suck it good or else I’m gonna use your mouth as my own personal fleshlight, okay? Now get to it.” 

Right after you try to throw your nervousness aside, his cock springs out from his boxers and the leaking red tip hits your face. 

Taehyung couldn’t hold back his groan from the hot sight – his dick, long and hard, right against your pure face. He tries his hardest not to grab his shaft and stroke himself already, feeling impatient, but it’ll all be worth it to see you gagging on his cock. 

With nimble fingers, you take his cock in your hands and stroke him gently, all while examining his face to see if you’re doing a good job. 

“Your hands are so small compared to my dick,” he chuckles arrogantly, stroking your hair away from your face, “Wrap your lips around it. God, do I have to tell you everything?” 

You whine from his degradation but obliged anyway. Taehyung lets out a long, deep grunt when you finally get his erection inside your mouth. At the back of your mind, you worry if you’re doing a good job. But looking at the way he was biting his lower lip, the way he was slightly bucking his hips forward, you thought to yourself that perhaps you’re making him feel good. 

You did not expect Taehyung to act like this at all, so incredibly overpowering, and someone who loves to see you tremble with only his filthy words. 

You try to suck on his cock, attempting to go deeper and take him further inside your mouth, but your gags are stopping you. Saliva drips down the corner of your mouth, eyes closing shut when his tip hits the back of your throat. 

Taehyung groans, eyes rolling back as the sensation of your throat closing around him so tightly makes him rock-solid. With a devilish smile, he pulls his cock out and grabs the shaft, “Fucking slut,” he slaps his wet cock against your cheeks, creating thudding sounds, and rubs the red tip all over your poor mouth. “Is my dick really that big?” 

“Taehyung please,” you whine, feeling the uncomfortable wetness down between your legs. 

“Please what?” he jerks his cock in front of you. “Wanna back out? You don’t want it anymore? That’s okay, you can just fuck yourself and make yourself cum. That’s what you want?” 

“N-No! No—” you quickly grab his thighs, “please, please help me.” 

“Help you?” Taehyung laughs before gripping your hair tightly, forcing you to tilt your head back in a painful manner. “Why? Is this not what you have in mind? Huh?” 

Suddenly, he slaps your face again. “You thought you’re gonna get good, soft sex for your first time? That I’ll go gentle on you?” 

He presses his tip against your mouth, forcing your lips to open. He then pushes his length deep, deep inside you, going past your gag reflex. You grab onto his thighs tighter, your nails digging hard onto his skin as you try your hardest not to gag so much. 

Taehyung holds the back of your head, a smirk creeping up his face all while he fucks your mouth. “Awh, fuck yes,” he moans, eyebrows furrowing together, “You really think just because I was sweet to you these past few days, I’m going to be the same person when I fuck you? Huh?” 

He thrusts his cock deeper, violating your already sore throat. Your eyes start to feel heavy as they close by themselves, causing more tears to drip down your face. “Oh, baby,” Taehyung finally gains the slightest bit of sympathy and pulls out. 

You harshly breathe in and out, your throat not used to be coerced like that. His cock was dripping in your saliva and you can’t seem to get your eyes off of it.

Taehyung promptly kneels in front of you and pushes you until you are laying back down. You shriek as he wraps his arms around your body and flips you around. The hard floor almost bruises your knees, but you didn’t mind because he quickly lays himself on top of you. 

He angles his head close to you until his lips are barely hovering on top of the shell of your ear. “Your pussy’s dripping down your thighs, baby.” You release a moan right after he bites your ear, your stomach doing backflips. “I want you to take my dick like a good girl, okay? And if it hurts too much, just say stop, and I’ll stop.” 

You can fucking feel his tip throbbing against your core. He teases your wet hole with his tip, precum leaking off of it. Your mind was clouded in desire, and all you can think about was how it feels to have cock deep in your guts. 

A string of curses falls off of both of your lips, his tip pushing in and it immediately stretches your walls out wide. You buck your ass up for him, and that action made him slap your asscheek. 

“Good girl,” he chuckles, “makin’ my job easier, huh?” 

He grabs onto your hips and you feel that painful stretch, whimpering and moaning out loud. “Tae, fuck,” you grunt, “you’re so fucking big.” 

Almost halfway in, he pulls out again, only to put his dick back in deeper. You throw your head back, mouth agape, completely speechless. Thanks to your sopping wet cunt, it relieved some of the pain.

He puts his right hand underneath you, reaching to grab your neck. His hair tickles your ear as he thrusts at a steady pace. His low grunts and whimpers can be heard, “Shit, Y/n. Only if you can see how wet you got my cock right now – fuck. This tight pussy fucking drips, baby. Mhmm, yeah, take that dick.” 

The way he talks dirty to you got you clenching around him. He was utterly different from the Taehyung you’ve first talked to. His hands grip your neck tighter as he goes in deeper, deeper, deeper than you’ve ever thought he can. 

“Holy fuck!” you clench your toes, “Taehyung, you’re so d-deep! I can’t…” you cry, body quivering as he ignores your cries, fucking you harder now.

“What? What is it, baby?” his balls slap against your clit, continuous lewd clapping sounds fill the area. You can feel him so deep inside of you that it feels unreal. You can feel the pain mixed together with pleasure, creating a weird yet a feeling so fucking good you don’t want him to stop. “I know you can take it harder than this. This little pussy can take it rougher, I know it. C’mon baby, be a good girl for me.” 

Taehyung stops for a second to flip you around again, your back pressed against the floor. Your mouth dries from the sight of him: his neck and forehead damp in sweat, lips plump from all the lip bites, eyes seeming so lustful as he looks at you with an animalistic gaze. 

A slow smirk reappears on his face, “God, you’re beautiful.” 

Then and there, he plunges his cock back in. “Ohhh there we go,” he sighs, “there we fucking go.” He had the audacity to laugh, giggling from the way your body was quivering. 

Taehyung lifts both of your legs up, placing them over his shoulders. The new position made you gasp, eyes wide, and his cock hit just the spot inside of you. Taehyung bites his lip, closing his eyes in pure pleasure. “Oh just like that!” you pant, hands finally having something to grab onto as your nails scratch Taehyung’s back. “Please don’t stop, Taehyung!” 

He puts his head at the crook of your neck, his lips attaching to your dewy skin to lick the sweat off of it. He was making you feel so fucking dirty, turning you into a completely different person. 

“You feel that, baby?” Taehyung asks, “feel how I’m burying my dick so deep inside your cunt? Nudging your fucking cervix with the head of my dick like this? Ohh, fuck yes,” he grins, seeing your eyes water once again, “No one will ever fuck you as good as my dick, Y/n. Fucking remember that.” 

Your body jerks back and forth from how hard he was thrusting into you, his hips colliding with yours with vigor. You have never felt so intimate with a person before, and this exceeded your expectations. Taehyung holds onto your breast, groping it hard before giving it a little slap. With each hard thrust, your moans simultaneously fall off your lips.

“Please, please, please,” you beg pathetically, “I think I’m going to cum.” 

“You are? Aw,” he fucks you harder, putting you faster to your climax, “My little virgin slut wanna cum on a dick for the first time?” How he can talk so straightforward like that without stuttering, despite the overwhelming euphoria he was feeling, was impressive. A knot inside your tummy grows bigger, feeling it snap anytime soon. “Cum all over me, baby girl. Make me proud and cum. Mhmm, that’s it, oh God baby you just got tighter.” 

You moan with each hard and deep thrust, your hair sticking to your forehead and neck, hands digging deeper into his skin. One final hit on your g-spot, you cum all over his cock. 

Taehyung praises you, watching your whole body shiver as he feels your cum spilling onto himself. He holds your face and presses his lips against yours, drinking all your whimpers. He smirks, finding you endearing how you struggle to kiss him back. 

“I’m gonna cum inside of you baby,” he rasps, “gonna breed you so good with my hot cum, you’re gonna take all of it inside that pussy.” His thrusts turn sloppy and it slowly loses its original tempo, trying to catch his own high. Just the thought of his cum spilling out of your pussy, white sticky liquid leaking down to your asshole was all it took for him to orgasm. 

He pummels his cock deep as hot ropes of cum spurts inside of you, filling your fresh womb. He grinds his hips hard, hands on either side of your head. 

“Oh my fucking God,” he says after a while of the two of you just laying there. He looks at your fucked-out face, giggling, “You were so good for me.” 

Taehyung had literally drained your energy and you lay there like a lone piece of meat. 

“Y-You’re,” you barely whisper to him, “you’re insane.” 

He chuckles, “I know right.” 

He sits up from the floor and analyzes your body. Your chest was still heaving up and down. As he drags his eyes down south, he notices your knees were bruised. “Aw,” he pouts, placing his hand on your knee and rubs it. “We should’ve done this on the couch, huh?” 

You roll your eyes, “I hate you so much.” 

“But did you like the sex?” 

You hate how you blushed at his question. A sneaky smile appears on your face, and that satisfies his inquiry. 

“Let me get you dressed up, baby. Let’s continue this fucking painting tomorrow or something.” 

It seems like ages since you’ve been inside the lecture hall. The last time was when the professor announced partners for this project, and here you are, with Taehyung, all freshmen and seniors waiting for the announcement. 

Was the exhibition really a big deal? Some might ask. 

For others, not really. 

But for you, it may sound cliche, but it’s your dream. 

Although then again, the whole campus would see your naked body from you and Taehyung’s painting. 

Adjusting your posture on your seat, you release a ragged breath. Taehyung glances from beside you and places his right hand on your knee. He gives you a simple smile to reassure your nerves. 

“What does it feel to get your art displayed at the exhibition?” you ask him in pure curiosity. He must feel incredibly proud of himself, right? 

“Happy,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, “and surprised. Look, Y/n. I don’t always assume that I’ll have the highest score. There are plenty of talented artists around here, there’s always competition.” 

“Who do you think is our biggest competition here?” 

Taehyung doesn’t answer you immediately, for he takes his time to scan around the area. The room was already filled with students, familiar faces. He chuckles, quirking a brow at you as he plays with his lower lip at the same time.

“Do you really wanna know?” 

You nod slowly as confusion settles in. 

“Aside from my friend, Jeon Jungkook, I think Yeseul has a chance at winning.” 

You feel a sour sensation in your stomach right after you hear her name being pronounced. You sink deeper into your chair, huffing, “And why’s that?” 

“She’s in my batch, babe, and she often gets the highest scores because portraits are her forte. That’s her strong pursuit.” 

Your eyes glance to where Yeseul was sitting, always at the front row, of course. She had her legs crossed, patiently waiting for the professor just like everyone around you. 

“If she wins, I’ll—”

As if on cue, the door bursts open and the professor quickly walks in with her assistant. Her assistant holds a canvas, showing only the back part so that it’ll be a surprise to all of you. 

Taehyung snakes his hand over to grab yours, intertwining them in his bigger one. 

“Great to see all of you here again,” she stands behind the podium, “Partnering all of you is a first in our department, and truth be told, I am astounded as to see the wonderful portraits all of you have given me. I appreciate the time and effort since I know that this type of approach is new to everyone.” 

“Can she just go straight to the point?” Taehyung whispers to you, making you giggle. 

“The painting I have here,” the professor’s assistant continues, “has reached the highest score and will be displayed in the Fine Arts exhibition building.” 

You look at Taehyung, who had such a strong gaze at the professors. His eyes were drawn into slits, biting the inside of his cheek. He seems so focused, eyes glued to the painting. 

After the professor’s cue:

“3… 

2… 

1…” the canvas flips around. 

“Lee Yeseul and—”

“—Oh my fucking god,” Taehyung gasps, his mouth forms a wide, surprised grin. 

You feel as if a large boulder begins to weigh your entire body down. Your heartbeat starts to beat rapidly. Your shoulders droop down, tilting your head low. 

You hate to admit it, but you were disappointed. The most down you’ve felt in a long time. 

Watching Yeseul and her partner stand up to bow to the whole class feels as if your heart was a pincushion, being stabbed with tiny little spears. 

Awfully enough, you admit to yourself that their painting is exquisite. Figuring that she made her partner her muse, Taehyung’s words about her totally made sense now. 

“Well,” Taehyung chuckles, “better luck next time, I guess.” He takes the situation lightly, grabbing the straps of his bag, ready to leave. 

Until he looks at you. 

Good thing that the both of you are seated at the very back of the lecture hall and no one can see the way Taehyung tilts your head, resting his hand on your cheek. “Hey,” he softly mutters, “I’m proud of you, okay? So fucking proud.” 

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth after catching a glance of Yeseul’s dirty smile towards you. 

“You’re still my little winner, m’kay?” he pats your head, “Remember that our efforts still matter, Y/n. Wait until I see that we got second fucking place.” Taehyung winks at you, once again trying to ease your tension. 

Once the students start to crowd the exit door, you and Taehyung stand up to follow them. 

Yeseul is talking to the professor, probably about the exhibition, when Taehyung pulls you closer to him. He leads you to the exit until you decide to turn your head around. 

“Yeseul?” you immediately call out to her without any second thinking, and she raises her eyebrows at you. 

Taehyung snakes his arm around your waist. 

“Congrats,” you smile as you keep up with Taehyung’s footsteps. 

That takes Yeseul by surprise. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Her mind goes blank. 

“T-Thanks, I guess.” She replies.

Taeyung laughs loudly once at the hallways, “Don’t tell me that’s fucking sincere.” 

“Definitely not sincere. Not sincere at all.” 

Fast forward to three weeks, Taehyung had already graduated college, and it was the first day of vacation. 

Finally! 

After the whole portraiture project, it was finals season, and for you, that means cutting every social activity and focus on studying and paintings with deadlines. 

But Taehyung just knows how to get you hooked. He promised that he’d treat you to a date after all the events are done. He invited you to a classic dinner date, to which you appreciated him when he declined your offer to split the bill.

He’s a total gentleman, that’s one word to describe him. But as soon as the four walls of his dorm engross the two of you, pushing you against the nearest wall, that ‘gentleman’ title of him goes straight to the trash. 

Taehyung pins your wrists above your head, his mouth leaving wet trails of kisses down from your lips and to your neck. “Remember the last time we did this, baby girl?” he chuckles, whispering close to your ear, “You became my little plaything.” 

You scan the room as you think of something witty to reply. While his other hand crawls down south near your core, your eyes land on a spot above his study desk. 

The portrait. 

He displayed your nude portrait?! 

Taehyung notices your silence and follows the direction of where you were staring. He looks behind him, then back to you with a smirk. “Ah, yes. I seem to have forgotten to tell you.”

“You’re a little devil.” Your face heats up as you look at your own body unclothed. “I think it’s great that the whole campus doesn’t have to see our painting.” 

“Agreed. And now, your body is for my eyes only. You’re my art, displayed in my own little world.” 

Tysm for reading! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. 

If you enjoyed reading this fic, I would really appreciate reading your thoughts and reactions by commenting or sending an ask! Those type of things make me rlly rlly happy and they’re fun to read! 

Remember to hydrate ;)

#taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #bangtansmutcentral

[ficsforeren]

The Last Song - Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Band AU, Rockstar AU, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger has two personas, a charismatic lead vocal who has lost himself in fame, and a boy who struggles with depression, seeking for someone to bring him back to where he was twelve years ago. Where he only knew love in the form of your name.

Chapter Summary: Eren Jaeger, the new promising rockstar, feels hollow inside even when he has hundreds of people chanting his name. Desperate for comfort, his thoughts drift back to where he met you twelve years ago.

Content Warnings:  explicit sex (cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, dry humping, drunk sex, public sex, unprotected sex, one night stand, choking, treating women like objects, dub-con, corruption, face-sitting, sex toys, daddy kink, praise kink, slight degradation, etc), substance abuse (use of drugs, alcohol, tobacco), severe abandonment issues, childhood trauma, anxiety attacks, depression, adultery, physical abuse towards men and women, family issues, abusive parents, crude words, dark humor, mention of sexual assault/rape, harassment, car accident and child abuse.

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart (follow her on Twitter)

“Empire, you’re on in fifteen.”

Levi Ackerman stands up from his seat, acknowledges the female staff with a nod before he settles his iPhone between his ear and his shoulder. “Yeah, we’re on our way. Talk to you soon.” Collecting his iPad in one hand and tucking his phone into the pocket of his blazer, he turns to face the three men dressed in ripped jeans and dark shirts. “Okay, listen up.”

Reiner Braun, the drummer of Empire, plays with his stubbles—a habit that’s starting to grow on him. He used to chew on his lip during his first year as a way to escape his stage fright, but once he gains more hours under his belt, he gets better.

Jean Kirstein, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have a single nerve on his body. He's always been like this from the start, apathetic about almost everything in life unless it's about women and music. There’s constant boredom in his eyes but once he places his fingers between the strings of his Gibson, it fades away almost instantly. He yawns, carding a hand through his long, light brown hair as he leans back on his couch. “He’s going to threaten us again, isn’t he?” He mutters. Reiner only chuckles in response.

“This is your last concert for this tour,” Levi states, his scowl stays prominent on his face but it’s not as frightening as the first time they met him four years ago. “I don’t want any one of you brats to fuck this up, you hear me? I’ve put years of my life trying to make this tour a success and I’m not gonna let you screw up on the last second.”

“He says that every time,” Jean comments again. Reiner nods but tries his best to do it secretly because, despite his 160 cm height, Levi Ackerman is a beast that has the intrepidity to discipline his artists with his fists if needed.

“Jaeger,” Levi tilts his head toward the twenty-five-year-old boy who’s sitting in front of a vanity mirror. He’s dressed monochromatically from top to bottom—black leather jacket, black tight jeans, black combat boots. His dark brown hair no longer brushes his shoulders, tied back and styled perfectly in a bun with some loose strands falling to his temple. The piercing in his right ear glints faintly underneath the fluorescent light, matching the silver necklace that hangs around his neck with his key-shaped pendant concealed by his shirt. Underneath his sleeve, there’s a tattoo of a lone wolf engraved on his inner forearm, covering the protruding veins that emerged after years of carrying his Fender Starcaster bass on the stage.

His green eyes are hooded, and they don’t seem to shine as bright as they used to. Levi could still recall the day when he marched into his office, carrying a demo album. There was fire blazing in his eyes—a spark of excitement, passion, and everything else combined into one. But after going through years standing underneath the spotlight, that burning flame is reduced to flickering light. It won’t take long before it vanishes entirely.

Eren Jaeger, the lead vocal and bassist of Empire, doesn’t say a word. He only stares back at him through the mirror, eyes unblinking and vacant.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Levi warns him. There’s tension stretching between them, thick enough for even Jean who usually keeps his mouth running to stay in reticence.

The boy simply smiles. “Have I ever?”

Despite his lack of enthusiasm, Levi trusts him. Eren Jaeger has two personas, the young boy who seems like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and a charismatic man who knows how to belt out the right notes, how to look good in front of cameras, and how to balance between being seductive and masculine. He’s a rock star, born to look like one, born to perform as one, and everyone in the room knows it. No, they acknowledge it.

“Let's go.” Levi steps out of the waiting room, followed by the two tall men. Noticing how Eren doesn't lift a muscle, Reiner stops with his hand settled on the doorframe. “You’re not coming?”

“Give me five minutes,” Eren replies. “I need to make a phone call.”

“Don’t be late. Levi will have us all beheaded if you do.”

It’s a joke and it’s not funny. Reiner’s jokes are never funny. He hates it. Hates the fact that he can come up with such a horrible joke as if he doesn’t feel pressured with anything. With popularity. With stardom. With people’s expectations. Perhaps Reiner is mentally stronger than him, or probably just a better liar.

A better liar, huh?

Eren can become that too. To stay on top, he’ll do anything. No, people want him to do anything. So, he smiles even when his soul is begging for a way to end it all. “I won’t be late, I promise.”

But promise means nothing in an industry that’s made of lies.

***

“Your music is trash, Jaeger.”

Eren drags his phone away from his ear, puts it on speaker, and tosses it carelessly down the table. He takes a cigarette from the pack and sticks it between his front teeth, lighting it up with his lighter. He hollows his cheeks, taking a drag as he leans back on his seat with his head thrown back.

It feels like a deja vu, the line that his music producer, Theo Magath, just spat at him. It’s the same thing he said after he listened to his band’s demo album. Levi was the one who spotted their talents during a band competition, and with his name card, Eren and his two teammates braced themselves to try and take a shot, only to be torn to pieces on their first try. They hired them still, but for one reason only.

“You a model?” Magath asked, eerie black eyes peering into Eren’s teal ones.

The boy in question looked around, silently asking his teammates whether he heard the question wrong. It felt so out of place, especially after they had been verbally attacked for their music. “No, Sir.”

“You should consider being one.” Eren wasn’t sure to take that as a compliment so he stayed mute. “Look,” Magath crushed the butt of his cigarette on the ashtray. “I can find talents like yours within minutes, okay? Minutes. You've got skills, but so do hundreds of people out there with age younger than yours. But you three, especially you,” he pointed a finger toward Eren’s direction. “You boys can go a long way with your looks and I’ll hire you for that.”

“What—for real?” Jean was so startled, he nearly choked.

“Yes, as long as you listen to what I say.” The pressure on Magath’s words stopped him from bumping fists with Reiner. “Who wrote these songs?”

“I did, Sir,” Eren answered.

“Then your first job,” the old man threw his CD case back at him, and Eren caught it with fumbling hands. “Is to throw that away. Make new songs, one that actually sells. Right now, your music only appeals to certain crowds. I don’t want that. I want your songs to sit on Billboard’s charts for weeks so make them appealing to everyone.”

“But—” Eren hesitantly protested. “But then we’ll sound like everyone else.”

“As long as it sells, I don’t see why it’s a problem.”

It served as a problem because his songs wouldn’t sound like him. His lyrics would sound like it was being written by someone else. But after they left the building, Jean and Reiner confronted him with imploring eyes.

“Man, I know you wanna make art,” Jean said, hands squeezing the shorter male’s shoulders. “But this offer doesn’t come by every day. We can’t pass this up. This guy owns one of the biggest artists out there. He may be an ass, but he knows what he’s doing. We can just follow their steps.”

Eren’s jaw clenched, his objection sitting heavily on the edge of his tongue but when Reiner stepped in, he lost it. “I hate to be that guy but,” Reiner’s deep voice was feeble as he pleaded. “I could really use the money. My mother will be having surgery soon, and I—”

“Fine,” Eren said even when his heart wasn’t. He couldn’t do this to his teammates, he wouldn’t allow himself to be selfish. Jean was right, Magath had years of experience in the industry. It would be naive for him to decline his offer.

So when he said, “I’ll sign the contract,” he meant it.

But now, as he stares lifelessly at the mirror, not recognizing himself, he thinks that if he could turn back time and change it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Four fucking years and you haven’t learned a goddamn thing. We’re not living in the eighties. No one listens to Nirvana anymore.”

Eren snorts, exhaling clouds of smoke in the air. “Yeah, ‘cause you all have shitty taste,” he mutters, not loud enough for the owner of his record label who stands on the other line to catch on his words.

“And stop writing violent or aggressive lyrics. No one wants to listen to songs about war, or death, or—”

“Love,” Eren interrupts him, tapping the ashes off his cigarette. “You want me to write about love.”

“Yes! Exactly! That’s what the market wants. Write something slow, something romantic. It would be a nice change.”

Eren pauses, his heart feels heavy. “What if I tell you I don’t want to?”

“I’ll tell you that I don’t give a fuck about what you want,” Theo scoffs. “You belong to me. Your entire silly boyband belongs to me. You wouldn’t have a single soul listening to your garbage grunge music if it wasn’t because of my influence.”

The boy presses his palm against the side of his temple, his vein pulsating. “And what if I quit?”

“You can’t fucking quit. Your contract won’t end for another six years.”

His head begins to throb and he loves it. He loves the pain. It makes him feel alive for once. “Fine.”

“Good. I expect the new song to sit on my desk by next month. If not, I’m gonna dress you up like clowns and ask you to dance on stage ‘cause if those Korean bastards can make millions by doing it, then I’ll do that with you too.”

“Yes, Sir.”

What starts as pain burning at the back of his skull runs down to his chest, and before long, the shivers reach through his fingertips. He doesn’t know how a panic attack feels like, but this is probably it. Eren can hear the crowds cheering his name. Beyond these walls, people are waiting for him. No, not for him, the other him. The one that he doesn’t recognize, the one that doesn’t have a name. It has a face, one that looks precisely like him, but it’s not him.

It will never be him.

His phone screen lights up and a string of numbers shows up. The caller’s ID is not written but Eren has memorized the numbers by heart. He rejects the call, and there’s a few seconds of silence before his phone vibrates again, clattering against the table. Sighing in defeat, he picks it up.

He presses the phone to his ear. “I’m busy, Dad.”

“Eren, oh thank God,” Grisha’s shaky, guttural voice can be heard from the other line. He sounds out of breath as if he’s being chased. “I—I need money—“

“Dad, I sent you money a week ago.” It’s always like this. He only calls when he needs something from him. He doesn’t even take a second to ask how his only son is doing with his life. “It’s supposed to last for a month.”

“I-I know but—I can’t live without it—I need it, Eren, without the drugs, I’m—I feel like I’m going insane—”

“Dad, you just got out of rehab—“

“IT’S NOT WORKING!” The sudden scream makes him shudder, not out of shock but from a shattered heart. “It’s not working, Eren! I can’t live without it, please, just this once. Just this once, I promise you, and then I’ll stop. I-I swear I’ll stop—”

“Your promises don’t mean jackshit to me.”

There’s a pause of silence where he can hear his old man’s tattered breathing before a loud crash of glasses meeting marbled floor booms through the speaker.

“YOU FUCKING LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!” Grisha roars and the boy closes his eyes. He’s used by his rage. It’s familiar. It’s… fine.

“Dad—”

“You ruin my fucking life—everything! You should have never been born! I wouldn't be in this fucking state if you never existed! Carla left because of you, you know that?! You fucked up my marriage, you—” His old man coughs, gasping for air and Eren waits with his head pounding harder against his skull and nausea crawling around his abdomen. When he speaks to the phone again, Grisha has tears lining down his cheeks. “Eren, please," he sobs pathetically, "Just this once…”

“This is your own fault, Dad.” But the bitterness in Eren's voice doesn’t stick out as blatantly as before. Because no matter what kind of shit Grisha has put him through, he is his father by blood. After a deep exhale, he asks, “How much do you need?”

Once Grisha has bid his farewell without thanking him, the line gets disconnected and Eren can hear the chants again.

Em-pi-re! Em-pi-re!

He closes his eyes. “Stop.”

Jae-ger! Jae-ger!

The pressure weighs like an anchor, dragging him to the bottom of the sea, filling his lungs with water.

Don’t fuck this up.

“Stop it.”

You should have never been born!

His breathing becomes rapid.

Eren, look at my face! You did this to me! If it wasn’t because of you, your father wouldn’t have known!

“I’m sorry.” His fingers slip through his strands, yanking at the roots. “I’m sorry.”

You wouldn’t have a single soul listening to your garbage grunge music if it wasn’t because of my influence.

Eren prays, whether it be to God or the Devil, for his nightmares to stop occurring in his wake. But these aren't nightmares, are they? They're memories. And how do you erase memories that have shaped you the way you are now?

“Fuck.” The tremble in his fingertips causes the cigar to slip and fall to the ground. Breaking into a cold sweat, he jumps back to his feet, hands desperately going through the pockets of his jeans. Once he finds his wallet, he casts everything down to the table—money, credit cards, everything until he gets his hand on a clear pocket with white, crystal powder sitting inside.

He’s been keeping it a secret. He has bought it weeks ago during his late-night trip to a bar, but he never could muster enough courage to use it. Eren has drunk countless bottles of alcohol, has smoked thousands of cigarettes, but he’s never sought comfort from drugs. He’s seen what they could do to his mind. He’s seen it for years, seen how Grisha turns from a grieving man to a psychotic maniac because of pills and powders.

But he has also witnessed how blissful his father looked after he consumed it. And maybe that’s what he needs. Just a few moments of bliss.

Now is the time.

“Just this once,” he whispers to himself. “Just this once.”

Once it sits on his shaky palm, Eren tears the little plastic bag open, pours the powder on the table in such a rush, some of it spills to the carpeted floor. He coughs twice when he accidentally inhales the little puffs that stain the air. He tucks a credit card between his fingers, gathering the rest of the powder in one spot. Rolling a twenty-dollar bill and holding it between his thumb and index finger, Eren hesitates but only for a split second before he snorts the powder through his nose.

“Oh, shit.” Eren tilts his head back, rubbing his nose as his eyes turn glassy. The drug kicks in almost immediately, probably only one or two minutes have passed and he already feels like he’s walking on thin air. The sudden flood of the pleasure chemical dopamine in his brain quickens his heart rate. It feels like he’s having multiple orgasms at once and he sits there on his seat, lips parted, eyes half-lidded as they gaze emptily at the ceiling.

He feels… happy. Which is something he hasn’t felt in what seemed like forever. The state of euphoria creates such a rewarding feeling that makes him feel complete. Makes him feel like he doesn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

His vocabulary has turned into a blank slate and that’s okay. He doesn’t need to talk as no one would listen anyway. As for the lyrics…

He snorts, his chuckle rings eerily in the stillness of the room. No one fucking cares about my lyrics.

“One more,” he breathes, leaning forward to the table again. “One more—”

But before he can take another whiff, someone seizes him by the collar, turning him around just so the man can hold him by the front of his neck.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Levi’s grip is painful against his throat, nearly choking him but it only makes the singer simper in response. It’s the first time he ever sees that look written on Levi’s face. The look of sheer panic and horror.

“You’re losing your shit,” Eren sniggers, tapping the hand that’s only seconds away from strangling him. “The almighty Levi Ackerman, losing his shit. I must be doing something right—”

“Are you fucking high?”

“Not high enough.”

“What did you take?” Levi glimpse at the mess he made on the table. He finds the answer within seconds but Eren chimes in before he can react to it.

"What did I take? Your time, maybe?” He coos, one corner of his lips moving upwards. “Your love for me? Tell me, Levi, have you slept with a girl before, or do you just love sucking your artists' dic—” A searing pain blasts from the back of his skull as Levi drives him further to the mirror. The glass cracks behind him and Eren laughs at the pain.

“Seems like you need to get high more than me,” Eren says. The hold around his neck starts to add unwanted pressure on his windpipe. “It’s all right, Levi. We can share.”

“How much did you take?”

“Just did it once. Probably three times more if you had minded your own fucking business.”

Levi leans closer, his teeth gritting. “What did you say to me?”

The sound of the crowd cheering suddenly grows louder. Jean and Reiner must have walked on the stage by now. It doesn't take long before they can hear the sound of a beating drum and Jean’s electric guitar, doing the intro of their three hours setlist.

Eren smirks at the older man. “Showtime, baby.”

“Get on the fucking stage,” Levi says, letting him go with a hard shove. The boy coughs once, massaging the sore spot on his throat. He falls back to his feet, straightening his leather jacket. He feels a new wave of energy surging through his body. The world is brighter in his eyes as if each of his senses has been elevated ten times more than usual. There’s no shiver running through his fingertips, only confidence.

“If you fuck this up, Jaeger, I swear—”

“I won’t.” He promises, lips forming a cocky smirk. “I never did, did I?”

Funny how everything flashes by real quick. Eren doesn’t remember running his fingers through the strings of his bass, but he can feel the burn in his throat. When he speaks, it sounds like he’s been singing for hours which he most likely did, though he can’t remember any of it. There’s one thing he can recall and that’s euphoria.

After feeling so numb for years, he can finally see that it only takes one shot of the drug to be happy. One shot and he can let everything go. One shot and he can feel alive again.

But when his cheek burns from the effects of Levi’s fist meeting his face, he knows it’s time to stop feeling again. The rush is over, and it comes with a price. Eren has to take a responsibility for it.

“Do that again and I’ll have you replaced,” Levi threatens and the room is so silent that Jean and Reiner decide to hold their breaths so they won't disrupt it.

“Then do it,” Eren taunts, staring back at him with doll-like eyes, pretty but hollow. “Have me replaced. It won’t be the first time someone does that to me.”

He can’t tell what Levi sees in his eyes but the older male chooses to swallow his retort. Instead, he settles with clicking his tongue in vexation and strolling away after releasing his hold around his collar with a shove. “Go take a shower. You’re fucking disgusting.”

Once his manager leaves, Eren gazes at the two men standing before him. “Got something to say?”

Jean and Reiner exchange stares before the long-haired man breaks into a sigh. "Just get some sleep, man,” he mutters as he walks past him.

Reiner places a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, our car is waiting.”

Eren's body goes autopilot, his feet making steps to follow after Reiner’s trail. “Did I fuck up the show?”

Reiner smiles like he always does, and perhaps the drug is affecting Eren’s brain because he can’t tell whether he’s lying or not when he says, “No. You never did, did you?”

***

It was at the beginning of spring in the second year of your junior high school when a beautiful boy with the most captivating pair of emerald eyes entered your life.

“This is Eren Jaeger. He’s going to be your classmate from now on. Everyone, please be nice to him, okay?”

“Yes, Teacher!”

But no one did, that was how you remember it. It wasn’t like he was unlikeable; he was unapproachable. For a thirteen-year-old, he had the most piercing glare you had ever seen on a person. He distanced himself away from others, always busying himself with his notebook, scribbling word after word that fed your curiosity.

There was an empty seat behind you and it was the one he took for the rest of the year. His dark brown hair was short and choppy, his bangs falling over his eyes as he stared at the window next to him during lectures. His skin was slightly tanned but it looked beautiful on him as if he was kissed by the sun. He had his pen tapping against a page of his notebook. Sometimes you could hear him hum, but more often than not, you would hear him complaining to himself under his breath. “No, that’s not it,” he would often say, triggering more questions within you.

One day, his pen slipped through his fingers and it rolled forward until it met the foot of your chair. You bent down to retrieve it before he produced a sound. The teacher was writing down math formulas on the whiteboard and it was the perfect chance, you thought, to satisfy your curiosity.

“Here,” you offered him back his pen. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look like he was thanking you either. So when he reached out a hand to grab it, you pulled it away, far out of his reach. “You haven’t said thank you.”

He blinked twice in surprise, lips turning a bit pouty when he murmured, “Thanks.” He was surprisingly obedient for someone who tended to bare his teeth at anyone who sneaked a glance at his notebook.

You spread your hand toward him, only to retract it once again when he was about to reach it. “Too late,” you cheekily grinned at him. “If you want this back, you gotta show me what’s on your notebook.”

His scowl returned almost instantly. “No way.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause, it’s a secret.”

“You’re a thirteen-year-old boy.” You almost blurted out laughing. “What kind of a secret do you have in there? A list of free porn sites?”

He blushed. He actually blushed and despite his melanin skin, the colors stood out so vividly on his cheeks. “Can’t you just give me back my pen?”

“No.”

He grew impatient, half of his body leaning over his table to fetch his pen back from you. “Give it back!”

“No!”

“Give it—“

At the sound of heavy footsteps closing in, both of you froze in horror. Your math teacher, Keith Shadist, stood with his arms crossed next to your desk. “The two of you,” he said. “Go stand in the hallway.”

“But—”

“Now.”

There were still two hours left before the school was over and that meant two hours for you to stand right next to a boy whose glower only turned meaner and meaner by the seconds. “I’m sorry,” you uttered your apology in a whisper.

“Yeah, you should be.”

“Hey, you were the one who was making too much noise!”

“If it wasn’t because of you, I would’ve been focusing on writing lyrics instead of—” Eren caught himself but your ears were quick to pick up on his words.

“Lyrics?” You queried. “You’ve been writing songs?”

“W-well,” he scratched his cheek, looking away. “They’re not songs—they don’t have any melodies yet ‘cause I’m still learning on how to play guitar, but… yeah.”

You hummed, secretly amazed but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You dragged your gaze down to his hands to notice that he had band-aids wrapped almost around every fingertip. You couldn’t help but smile with a hint of adoration shading your eyes. It was very unusual for someone as young as him to be this passionate about something. You, for example, hadn’t even been able to choose your favorite book out of the five books you’d read, and here he was, already putting down his brain into papers, practicing until his skin was torn apart.

“Can I listen to it?”

“What?”

“Your song,” you clarified with a smile so sweet, it stunned him. “When you’re done with it, can I listen to it?”

Eren’s eyes were so clear, you could see your reflection in them. “Umm…” He couldn’t handle your gaze. “Why? It will probably sound terrible.”

“As long as you’re the one who makes it, I don’t care.” You lightly replied, not knowing that your line was worth a thousand praises to him. “I want to listen to it ‘cause it’s your song.”

“Oh…” He was baffled, still unsure but could feel confidence building inside him.

“So, can I?” You tried again, leaning closer to catch his eyes.

He gulped. “Y-yeah, sure, maybe.”

Giggling at his choice of words, you responded with, “Which one is it, silly?”

You didn’t recognize the effect that you had on him back then. Didn’t know that you were the first person who ever said such encouraging words to him. Didn’t realize that by saying those simple lines, you became his reason to remember whenever he felt like giving up. With your name imprinted in his memory, the pen felt lighter in his hand. His thoughts were no longer jumbled and the words came naturally. You were a breath of fresh air. You were the source of his inspiration.

You were his muse.

***

Once spring turned into summer, there were two things that you learned from befriending Eren Jaeger. One was that he was very competitive and stubborn once he had set his mind to something. You could be debating over random stuff for hours only to conclude by saying, “Let’s just agree to disagree.”

He was very goal-driven, very focused on the thing he was passionate about and that was music. The usually cold, unapproachable little Eren Jaeger came as alive as a newborn baby once he spoke about anything related to music. It was very endearing the way he talked—eyes growing radiant with excitement, hands moving animatedly in the air as he explained the history of his favorite bands. He taught you about rock music, taught you how to hold a guitar and how to strum it like a rockstar. You were never this passionate about something, and you never once cared about music. You loved listening to songs but that was it, never got attached to any of them. You didn’t feel the need to know the names of every member of Metallica. You didn’t care enough to know every word to a Nirvana song. But Eren did, and if he cared about it enough to tell you about it every day, then you would too. After all, that’s what friends do, right?

The second one was that he couldn’t fight even if his life depended on it, but that never stopped him from lunging his fist at some boy who thought it was funny to snap the straps of your bra. He could take a hit, no matter how painful it was, he could take it, but there was a limit to how many punches he could take. The fight would end with your teacher coming to separate them and he would have a bunch of nasty scratches on his face while the other boy would have two at most.

“You really should stop fighting these kids,” you told him as you plastered another band-aid to his jaw.

“Hey, I’m doing that to chase off your bullies.” He winced when you pressed a bag of ice to his cheek, glaring at you as a way for him to silently yell, can’t you be gentle?!

“If I ignore them, they’ll leave on their own.” You were happy that he defended you, of course, but if that meant he’d have purplish bruises all over his face by the next morning, then you’d rather have him stay put. “You don’t have to meddle in. Besides, if it gets worse, I can always tell Mr. Keith that—“ But Eren was already back on his feet, walking away from you with anger in every step he took. “Eren, wait—”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” He clicked his tongue, looking absolutely disgusted. “Surrendering to your bullies like that. What a wimp.” He yelled louder for you to hear, his voice echoing through the hallway. “You’re a wimp!”

You chased after him, biting your lip to keep you from smiling. “Yeah? Well, you’re weak.”

“I’m not weak,” Eren retorted. “I was holding myself back.”

“Liar.”

“I was!”

You sighed dramatically. “All boys do is lie.”

“Hey—“ Eren’s protest died on his tongue when you pecked him quickly on the cheek. Not pausing to see his reaction, you walked away, throwing another smile over your shoulder. “I’ll race you to the class. Loser buys ice cream.”

But Eren, the extremely competitive Eren Jaeger, didn’t care if you won. He would let you. He already earned his prize anyway.

Stroking his cheek, he could still feel the warmth of your lips on his skin.

“Idiot.”

***

“I don’t understand this,” you said as you went through the pages of his notebook, scanning over his messy handwriting. You were sitting in his seat as he was sweeping the floor, all grumpy from performing the cleaning duty for the day. The sun was flashing orange tint light to the classroom, mild on your skin even when the leaves had abandoned their trees. There was no one else but you and him as the school had ended over nearly two hours ago.

“Understand what?” Eren threw you a glance with a frown only to have his eyes widening in horror on the next second. “Hey!” He stole the book back so harshly, he nearly ripped the pages apart. “This is private stuff!”

You pouted, slouching on his desk. “How long are you going to keep that a secret from me? We’ve been friends for months now.”

“Doesn’t make it okay for you to go through my stuff. It’s not cool!”

“But I share everything with you! I even tell you whenever my period starts—“

“Which I never asked, dumbass.” He smacked the book lightly against the top of your head. At the sight of you staying mute, his gaze softened. “Seriously, don’t go through my stuff. I’m…” His voice wavered. “I’m still learning so…”

You looked up, analyzing his expression. “So you’re shy about your lyrics?”

“Not shy,” he corrected but his scarlet cheeks spoke otherwise. “I’m just not confident enough.”

“I think they’re great,” you nonchalantly uttered. “They’re very, what’s the word, imaginative. I just don’t understand why you hate school so much. Your lyrics are quite aggressive about it.”

“Why don’t you hate school?” He tucked his notebook inside his bag, glowering to emphasize his warning to not go through my stuff before he went back to pick up his broom. “We’re stuck here all day, learning about stuff that’s not gonna be useful in our life.”

“Of course, it would be useful. Algebra can—”

“Algebra can help, yeah. But a whole ass page about what’s inside a frog’s stomach? I doubt it.”

“Yeah, okay.” You admitted that was a good point. “But school is a place where we can make friends.”

“Oh yeah, sure.” His tone was thick with sarcasm. “Because you’ve made tons of them.”

“I do have tons of friends.”

“Yeah?” He stopped sweeping, standing straight to flatly stare at you with one hand placed on his hip. “Then why do you hang around me every day?”

“Because I like you the most.”

Eren’s breathing stalled. It wasn’t a confession. He was aware of that. It was platonic, nothing romantic about it. The way you said it was so natural, he knew you didn’t mean it as something more. Didn’t stop him from losing his mind over it, though. Desperate to change his focus, he hastily walked to the end of the class, opening the lid of the trash bin to pick up the plastic bag inside.

“I guess it doesn’t matter how many friends you have,” you said, a little bit louder so he could hear you despite the space increasing between you. “As long as there’s one person out there who cares about you, who likes you enough to spend every hour of their days with you, I think that’s enough. I don’t need tons of friends. I’m happy just by being with you, Eren.”

His ears were buzzing, stomach lurching in a way that felt more delightful than nauseous. “Shut up, you’re being gross.”

And you giggled like you always did. You loved making him go flustered with your words. He was never honest, never one to show his affection clearly, but his body betrayed him almost every time. “You’re not glad being friends with me?”

“I’m not gonna answer that question,” he replied, stepping out of the classroom to toss the plastic bag away. You followed him to the hallway.

“Well, I am.” You had your hands tied behind your back, moving your feet to match his steps. “You make me excited to go to school every day.”

He was better at hiding his feelings this time, though the tip of his ears still burned in crimson. He stepped down the stairs with you trailing closely behind him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “‘Cause I love listening to your ramblings, I guess. Whenever you talk about music, you get so passionate. It makes me feel hyped as well.”

“That’s a dumb reason.”

“Everything is dumb in your opinion.”

“Everything about you is dumb.”

“I’m complimenting you and this is what I get?” But maybe he just loved teasing you as much as you loved teasing him. Waving it off, you added, “Well, I guess, you inspire me.”

He nearly stopped on his tracks. “Inspire you?” He asked in a whisper.

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a tiny grin. “You make me want to find something that I can be passionate about like you are with music. I’ve been trying to write stories myself. You know how I like reading contemporary literature—”

“I don’t think Harry Potter fanfictions count as contemporary literature but okay.”

You landed a kick on the back of his knee, strong enough that he nearly tumbled down the stairs. “Fanfiction is also a form of art, jackass.”

“Never said it wasn’t,” he countered, wincing at the pain. “But yeah, you’re right. Someone wrote it, they spent hours making it, probably put a lot of thoughts and feelings into it too. It’s basically the same as writing your own novel.”

“Yes, thank you!” You threw your hands in the air, roaring triumphantly. “Finally, you’re being smart for once!”

You didn’t notice the little smile he made when he stared at you with adoring eyes. “I guess, by the end of the day, what matters the most is that you’re having fun,” he appended. “Whether it’s making music, writing, dancing—as long as you enjoy it, and as long as you can stay true to yourself, I think that’s what the most important. If you let someone control you, or let other people’s judgment get into your head, then your art will have no meaning. ‘Cause you won’t be making something, you’re just copying someone else’s.”

You stared at him in awe, unable to come up with a reply. And underneath the evening sunlight, his green eyes stood as brilliant as ever. “That’s some deep shit you just said, Jaeger.”

“Now who the fuck taught you to speak like that?” He scolded you before his mouth shaped into an ‘o’ as he sank into realization and you both laughed at each other.

“What about you?” you asked once your body had stopped shaking from laughter. You followed him as he stepped into the backyard. “Do you want to be a musician in the future?”

His eyes slowly drooped down, his shoulders sagging as he walked. “I’m… not sure. My father wants me to be a doctor and take over his clinic. He thinks being a musician wouldn’t be enough to make a living.”

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed in disagreement. “But artists make millions by performing.”

“Yeah, popular ones. Not everyone can thrive in this industry. That’s what he told me, at least.” From how exhausted he sounded, it felt like he’d had this conversation a thousand times before where each one of them resulted in a dead-end. “Besides, I don’t think I have enough skill to compete anyway.”

The sudden tension made you feel awkward as much as it was uncomfortable. Feeling remorseful that your conversation led up to this, you landed a soft punch on his shoulder. “Hey, cheer up,” you chirped, “Skills can always be improved. But you? You’ve got soul, brother. And I’m sure there’s no one out there who can compete with that.”

He timidly smiled. “Don’t ever call me brother again.”

“That’s the part you’re getting at?” And when he laughed, it sounded like a melody to your ears. “You should try, Eren. Promise me that you’ll try.”

He could feel the faith you placed on him, could feel his heart being lit up in flames. “Fine,” he vocalized nonchalantly even when his heart rate was soaring. “And I won’t just try. If I’m doing this, I’m in it to win it. You know how I am.” Once he reached the dumpster, he opened the cover and tossed the plastic bag inside. “And when I get famous, I expect you to write fanfictions about me.” He added a wink that felt both out of place and perfect at the same time.

“Gay fanfictions?” You nodded twice with your mouth turning upside down. “Sure, why not.” When he flicked you on the nose, you couldn’t help but pout and whine about it. “That hurts, you asshole!”

“Stop pouting,” he stated, dragging his eyes away. “You look like a frog.”

“My mother says I look cute when I pout.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s your mother.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s her job to say that.”

“You don’t think I look cute?” You chaffed, tilting your head slightly to the side to look even more adorable in his eyes. To your surprise, he didn’t attack you with witty comebacks. He simply stared, his eyes gazing deep as if he was trying to unveil every secret that you held, to learn every part of you—ones that you, yourself, have not quite understood yet.

“W-what?” You stiffened when his fingers reached out to caress your cheek, drifting down from your cheekbone to your jawline. He was so close, you could feel his breath falling to your lips. He whispered your name, narrowing the space between you until you had to take a step back. With your spine being pressed against the fence, you shuddered, “Wait—What are you doing?”

He clasped both of his palms flat against your cheeks, rubbing them back and forth. “I’m wiping the dirt off my hands.”

And you remembered he just touched the dumpster.

“EREN!”

***

“Here.”

Eren poked your shoulder with a CD case. It was crystal clear with no cover, no song titles written with sharpies, just a transparent case with a disk inside. You dragged back your chair, ignoring the sounds of rowdy boys laughing at the back of the class. “What’s this?” You retrieved it from his hands. “A collection of your porn?”

“Yeah, in alphabetical orders.” He rolled his eyes, a habit that was gradually becoming consistent whenever he stood around you. “It’s my song.”

“Your song?”

“Yeah, the one I wrote. You said you wanted to listen to it.” His confidence began to waver, his blush crawling from his throat to his cheeks. “I mean, you don’t have to but—”

“Oh my God, yes!” You sprang so abruptly from your seat, you almost knocked your head against his chin. You had been waiting for it for months now, though you never asked about it out loud, worried that it might put pressure on him. “Oh, wait, I don’t have a CD player, though. Do you have one?”

“Huh? Umm, yeah…” He cleared his throat, seemingly abashed. “I have one in my room.”

“Perfect! I’ll swing by after school.”

He quickly turned pale. “Wait, like, by yourself?”

“Well, you’ll be there, obviously.” You flatly stared at him. “Don’t make me roll my eyes at you too, Jaeger.”

“No, but—” He wished he could act normal about it, wished he could say, “Yeah, sure, come by anytime,” without care like he had been having girls coming over to his place all the time. But his thoughts were screaming at him, emphasizing the fact that it was going to be only you and him, sitting together in his bed while his parents were away. “But my parents are at a conference right now. They won’t be home until dinner.”

“Yeah, so?” You didn’t catch his message, were too innocent and gullible to see the signs. You weren’t aware of his feelings but you were old enough to know about what usually happened when a boy and a girl were locked in a room together. You faked a gasp, attempting a joke. “Oh no, you’re not planning to attack me, are you?”

“What?!” Steam practically erupted from his ears as he shrieked, his voice turning high-pitched. “What—why would I—of course, not, you idiot! I’m not interested in you in that way! Not now, not ever!”

"Don't jinx yourself, love." You laughed it off, patting his head with the CD case. “It’s okay to have a crush on me, though, I’d completely understand. I know it’s hard to resist my beau—”

Eren grabbed his untouched sandwich from his desk and shoved it down your throat.

***

“Come in,” Eren awkwardly invited as he dragged open his front door. “If you want.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words. “Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not.” But he couldn’t even take a glance at your face. “It’s just… I’ve never had a friend coming over.” Or a girl.

Simply humming in response, you walked past him and did a quick scan of his house. You’d visited his clinic several times, but you’d never been invited to his home, and… well, you weren’t sure how to expect. It was clean and organized, you could tell right away that much, but it also felt somewhat… lonely. As if it was a house but not a home. There was no warmth, everything felt monochromatic just like the white color of his walls. There were no photographs, no books sitting half-opened on the desk, no blanket draped over the couch, no cookie jars or breakfast leftovers on the dining table.

“What?” Eren asked, noticing how you hadn’t said a word. "What's wrong?"

“Nothing.” You threw him a smile, somehow feeling a bit queasy in your chest. “Are you close with your family?”

“Me?” He was absorbed in his thoughts. “Well, I’m not sure how you define close, but…”

“I mean, like, do you talk a lot with your parents?”

“Oh, not so much. Dad’s pretty busy with his patients and... Well, rather than talking to me, it feels like he scolds me more often.” There was solitude in the boy’s voice but he tries his best to conceal it with a smile. “I’m pretty close with my mom, though. She’s the one who bought the guitar for me. She said I looked cool when I play it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s your mother.” You rolled your eyes, imitating both his gestures and his words. “It’s her job to say that.”

But Eren didn’t tease you back and the way his smile wavered a little bit caused you to feel remorse. “We… haven’t talked much either these days," he continued, "She goes away a lot.”

“For what?”

“Dunno. Office meetings, I guess?” Even when it was clear how he wished for his family situation to be better, Eren never showed it out in the open. “She’s a secretary and her boss is pretty strict. But it’s fine. She always comes home before dinner.”

The love he had for his mother was written so clearly in his eyes that you felt your heart melt a little bit at the sight. “You love your mother so much, don’t you?”

He turned sheepish. “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”

“Pfft, Mama’s boy.”

Compared to the living room, it felt thousand times more alive the second you visited his bedroom. There were comic books thrown on the bed, his hoodie cast away on the floor, notebooks and pens scattered all over the table. It smelled just like him too, and in such a pleasant—familiar—way, that you felt intoxicated by it.

“Your room looks like a shipwreck," you commented.

“In my defense, I didn’t know you were going to visit.” He was embarrassed by it, you could tell. He was being quite a gentlemen after that too, picking up the comic books off his sheets so you could sit comfortably on his bed.

“Right, so you can use this,” Eren gestured toward the CD player that sat on his nightstand.

“Mmkay." Your eyes were already busy scanning through the posters he had plastered on his walls. “So, let me guess, that’s Kurt Cobain?”

Eren followed your finger, landing his stare on a poster of a long-haired musician rocking a 1969 Fender Mustang, who went by the name, as you correctly guessed, Kurt Cobain. “Impressive.”

You grinned in satisfaction. “And that must be John Bonham, James Hetfield,” you dragged your finger from one poster to another, “And Freddie Mercury, whose name was actually Farrokh Bulsara, by the way.”

“Oh my God,” Eren clapped his hands, shaking his head. “Take me out on a date already.”

“As long as you’re paying.” You plopped down on his bed, legs dangling from the edge as you fixed the skirt that rode up your thighs. “Okay, I’m ready. Turn the music on.”

“You do it,” Eren said, whirling around as he prepared himself to escape through his door. “I’m gonna wait outside.”

“What? Why?”

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing, you idiot,” he retorted, yanking his hand away when you tried to tug on his sleeve. But the truth was, he just didn’t want to see your face when you had to lie and tell him that his song was good. What if you didn’t like it? No, what if you hated it but didn’t have the heart to tell the truth? This was the first time he ever shared something so private with anyone else and if you didn’t like it, but pretended that you did, he would be able to tell from your expression. And that would only crush him more.

“But I want to listen to this with you,” you pleaded, jutting out your lower lip and batting your eyelashes. “Look, I can give you feedback or something.”

“What feedback? You can’t even tell the difference between rock and alternative.”

“I’ll be able to, and you know why?” Even when he exhaled loudly, you stayed relentless. “Because it’s your song and I understand you the most. So just shut up and let me listen to it.”

There was no way of winning an argument against you. Being a friend with you for almost a year, he understood that by heart. “You’re too stubborn, you know that?”

“I don’t want to hear that from you, Jaeger.”

Huffing loudly in defeat, Eren sat down next to you and pointed his remote to the player. He paused again right before he pressed the button. "I recorded this with my phone so the quality isn't—"

"Oh my God, just play it already."

"Geez, okay." And he did.

Right after the song began, soft strums of acoustic guitar reverberating from the speakers, a tiny smile promptly manifested on your face. You just felt so content, knowing that he trusted you enough to reveal another side of him you hadn’t seen. Another side of him that no one had probably seen. It made you feel special.

Seeing you smile made him nervous, and Eren was drowning in negative thoughts that he felt like he was being strangled in his sleep. When his voice filled the air, a bit shaky and unconfident compared to a professional, the boy grimaced, burying his face in his hands and groaning in shame.

“Whose voice is this?” You asked because it sounded like him but at the same time, it didn’t. No, it probably did sound like him, you just couldn’t believe that he was this good.

“Mine.”

“Yours?!” Even when you had expected it, it still felt kind of shocking.

“Y-yeah.” Seeing you with your jaw hanging slack on your face, he became jittery. “You know what, I know it’s bad,” he hastily stood up, hands reaching out to push the off button on the player. “You don’t have to listen—”

You shushed him down as a mother would do to a raging child, and when he insisted, you took a hold of his hand, brought it to your lap, and kept it still between yours. That effectively shut him up as he was distracted by the sound of his heart blasting through the roof. You listened intently, word by word, committing every melody to the back of your head. “Again,” you said, once the song was over. “Play it one more time for me.”

He hesitated but obeyed. And this time, you kept your eyes closed until the speakers turned silent. “Again.”

“Jesus Christ, how many times do you want to listen to this?” Eren wanted to escape so badly, his knees were shaking as if they were begging for him to leave. It was another three minutes of torture for him where he kept muttering, “God, I sound like a dying cat,” with half of his face concealed by his palm. Once it was over, he broke the silence. “So, uhh…” He swallowed thickly. “What do you think?”

The few seconds that passed by in tranquility drove him insane. His thoughts were so deafening that when you turned to him and said, “Make me a song,” he thought his ears must have been playing tricks on him.

“What?”

“For my graduation gift,” you elaborated. “We can trade. You can write a song for me and I’ll write a story about you.”

“What?!” Just simply the thought of you wanting his song as a gift and having you do the same thing for him was already too overwhelming to process. But, of course, he was too prideful to admit that. “Why would I—”

“So we can remember each other.” You held his hand between yours, squeezing it until he could no longer keep his eyes away from how perfect your smaller hands looked around his. "You’re so good, Eren. Your song is so good.”

“I—” His eyes were shaking. “Well—“

“You’re right. I’m not a critic so I can't say much. I don’t know the first thing about music but I can feel it. I can feel how genuine it is—the melody you created, the lyrics you wrote, the way you sang—It felt like everything was coming from your heart.” You were so excited, you weren’t aware that you were leaning closer to him. Eren's head felt like seconds away from exploding. “I can imagine how you felt when you wrote this. I can feel your passion and that’s what makes it different. I don’t feel that way when I listen to other artists’ songs. Yours feel different.”

Eren, aware of the very little space that now stood between you, leaned back so he could catch his breath. “A… good kind of different?”

“A wonderful kind of different,” you sighed as another smile painted your face. “You’re amazing, Eren.”

If he didn’t know how dramatic and cheesy you could be, he would’ve found the whole situation to be badly exaggerated. But he could tell you were being sincere. He loved this part about you. It was funny, he thought, how you often said you were never passionate about something when passion was the first word he would use to describe you. You weren’t just passionate about something, you were passionate about everything.

“What’s that all about?” He laughed lightly between sheepish smiles. “You’re embarrassing.”

“I—” The sudden gentleness in his voice caught you off guard and you just realized then that you were still holding his hand. Clearing your throat, you loosen your grip around him. “I was just trying to be honest—”

“Yeah.” Time seemed to slow down when Eren landed a hand on your hair, softly brushing his fingers against your locks, green eyes peering into yours with such tenderness that felt natural and strange at the same time. “Thank you.”

Heat crept up from your chest to your cheeks and you were so unfamiliar with the sensation, you couldn't find a word how to describe it. Was he ever this gentle with you before? “Umm… you’re welcome.” No words were being exchanged and suddenly, the fact that you were alone in his bed, started to matter more than anything else. “S-so, uh, will you write for me?”

He rose from the bed, offering you a hand. “As long as I get to be a badass protagonist in your story.”

The cheeky grin he displayed felt familiar and that finally put you in ease. “Oh, I’ll make you the best kind.”

Lacing his fingers through yours and pulled you up to your feet, Eren smiled. “Can’t wait to read it.”

***

“Dr. Jaeger!” You called as you tapped your knuckles against the front door of his family clinic. “I’m here to pick up my mother’s prescription.”

There was no answer. The door was locked. With a huff, you took a look around the house, wanting to find another door or a window where you could peek through. You came to halt when your eyes landed on the porch that was overlooking the backyard. That boy was there, Eren Jaeger, wearing a simple white tee and a pair of shorts. You walked closer, about to chirp his name between impish grins when you noticed that he had his eyes closed and his breathing even. He was sleeping, so soundly like a baby. He looked so blissful, so innocent, so unguarded that it almost didn’t feel like him.

“Cute,” you muttered to yourself, lips thinning in a delicate smile. He had earphones strapped to his ears, connected to his phone. As you dragged your face closer enough, you could faintly hear the sound of music playing. It wasn’t the kind that kids around your age would usually listen to. It was something that your father would play during a road trip, songs with the heavy beating of drums and shrieking sounds of electric guitars being thrummed aggressively.

You were trying too hard to remember what song it was when he stirred in his sleep, almost causing your heart to jump out of your chest. Fortunately for you, he didn’t wake up, only parting his lips to let out a soft sound—almost like a sigh. You kneeled in front of him, your height matching his.

By this point, there was almost no space between the two of you. Eren’s eyelashes were surprisingly long, fluttering against his cheeks. His skin was soft, probably softer than yours and you had always made sure to wash your face at least three times a day. He smelled like… something that reminded you of summer. Of the sun. Of the grass underneath your feet. Of the wind that caressed your cheeks.

He’s beautiful.

Without thinking, you already raised a hand to touch him. Curiosity was eating you alive, wanting to know more—about what, you weren’t sure. You just felt like you needed to know about him. Anything, everything about him.

Before your fingertips met his cheekbones, the boy before you opened his eyes.

You froze, not breathing and if you could stop your heart from beating, you would probably have done it too. It was pounding so loudly, you were sure he could hear it.

Eren’s eyes were half-lidded, blinking softly and when he murmured your name, your body stiffened. Run away? Talk to him? Say sorry? What should I do?

But you didn’t have to do anything. Because right now, at that moment, Eren was kissing you.

A pair of soft lips meeting softer ones, that was all it was, but it felt like your world was flipped upside down. You had never kissed a boy—never even held hands romantically with a boy in your life. No, never even thought about being in a situation like this with a boy, especially with Eren—someone who you had considered long as a close friend. Someone who felt like a younger brother to you.

You could push him away—of course, you could, and yet, there you were, kneeling in front of him with your eyes wide opened and your lips pressed flat against his. When he broke away, Eren’s gaze fell on yours again and you didn’t know where to look. Didn’t know how to look.

Like a child slowly waking up, Eren became to be more aware of what stood before him.

Then he panicked.

“What—why—” He tried to get away from you so abruptly, he ended up knocking his head against the pillar where he was leaning against a few seconds earlier. “What are you doing here?!”

“Eh?” You frowned, confused out of your mind. “I—I was looking for Dr. Jaeger.”

“He’s not home—my parents not home, I—” he stammered, blood rushing to his face so fast, he felt lightheaded. “We’re closed for the day.”

“O-oh…” Seeing him react that way sent you flustered. “I didn’t know.”

“You should’ve called.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

Eren opened his mouth but couldn’t form a word. He exhaled heavily through his nose, scratching the back of his head as he stared anywhere but your face. You could taste the awkwardness in the atmosphere, could feel the silence between you suffocating you both. “I—I should go,” you said, scrambling back to your feet. “Umm, tell your dad I came by?”

“You—yeah,” he nodded awkwardly. “Okay.”

“Okay…” You felt breathless as if you just ran a thousand miles. “Then, uh, bye.”

“Bye…”

You wanted to escape, wanted the earth to swallow you whole, wanted to reset the time because what the hell just happened? He kissed you and he pretended like he didn’t? Why did he do that?

“Wait!”

Eren caught you by the wrist, the cold wind of spring ruffling his hair. “I—” He wasn’t sure how to start. “Did I, umm… Did I do something to you earlier?”

You swallowed thickly. “S-something?”

“Like…” His palm was a bit damp and you missed his warmth when his fingers slid off your skin. “Nevermind,” he said. “I must have been dreaming.”

You wanted to tell him, no, you called my name and you kissed me, that wasn’t a dream. But if he wasn’t even brave enough to state out the question, how could he be brave to admit it?

“Yeah,” you smiled back to him but Eren couldn’t feel the warmth. “You were just dreaming.”

***

“Am I boring you?”

Twenty-five-year-old Eren Jaeger blinks once in response. He’s lying down bare-chested on the bed, his black ripped jeans—the same one that he wore on the stage—are sticking uncomfortably to his thighs, attached but unzipped. His eyes are still glued to the flat-screen TV that’s plastered against the wall of his hotel room. He doesn’t absorb any of the scenes, doesn’t care enough to understand any of it. He already has his own movie playing before his eyes, a scene from his memories, the one about a girl who told him that his music meant something. That she wanted to listen to his songs because he made them.

“No,” he says, flicking the ashes off his cigar before he takes another drag. He slips his fingers through her strands, pushing her head down to take his cock all the way to the base. She chokes on it, breathing heavily through her nose, watery eyes shooting up to his face. “Watch your teeth,” Eren simply exhales, not even paying attention to her. The smell of tobacco sits heavily in the air, mixed with the scent of sweat and her cheap perfume.

She’s one of the make-up artists that styled his hair that night. Another huge fan of his, she said, that much he can remember. But Eren can’t even remember her initial, let alone her name. He never did with any of the girls he slept with as none of them mattered.

Everyone is addicted to something. They’re slaves to something—that’s what keeps them moving. Levi is addicted to his work, while Reiner’s whole life is all about making money so he and his single mother can live through their days without having to scrape for food anymore.

From how easy Eren lures his women to his bed, or how easy they lure him to their beds, people would’ve thought that he was a sex addict. But he isn’t, not like Jean is.

Jean uses his women for pleasure. He would remember their names and add them to his fuck-list like they’re his trophies. He’d make sex videos and show them to his friends, especially if he managed to spend a night with a celebrity or someone with an innocent look on her face because if he can corrupt her and shed every bit of that innocence away, Jean will have a fucking good night sleep for the rest of the week.

Eren doesn’t keep count. Sometimes, like today, he doesn’t even feel like having sex but he does anyway whenever someone approaches him with admiration in their eyes. It’s not sex that he craves, it’s the feeling of being needed by someone that gets to him. He might not understand himself but Eren longs for people’s attention. That’s probably why he stays in this industry—that’s why he hasn’t slid a knife through his throat just yet. Because with fame, you’re bound to be drenched with attention. He needs it, needs to hear someone murmur words of affection back to him. He needs continual reassurance that they love him, that they will stay for him.

And that’s the reason why he only sleeps with his fans. Because his fans treat him like God. His fans adore him. In their eyes, he won’t do anything wrong, even if he treats them like nothing but sex dolls to satisfy his needs. They’ll let him do whatever he wants with them, as long as he provides them with enough opportunity to get their hands on his body, to stick their fingers inside his mouth, to trace their tongues around the vein on his cock. And Eren lets them.

Even if it is only for a few minutes, under their hands, he feels like his existence matters.

But does it really? When his fans say, “Your music changed my life,” can he really be proud of it when his music doesn’t sound like him in the slightest? When the lyrics he wrote didn’t come from his heart? Is he—his true self—really the one that they admire?

The answer is no. They only love this Eren Jaeger persona that he created—that his record label created. No one understands him. No one ever saw the real him, as he never gave them the chance to take a peek behind this facade he has kept on his face for years. Because underneath that charming persona, there’s a boy who’s so insecure, who’s so afraid of being abandoned, who thinks that he doesn’t deserve to be loved—and who wants to deal with all that mess? No one. Not his friends. Not even his mother that he thought would love him no matter what choices he made in his life. No one.

“You’re stretching me out so good.” The girl, with the same color of your hair, similar height, and weight, bounces on his lap, taking every bit of his length inside her as she faces the other side. “Can I turn around?” She asks, “I want to see your face.”

“No.”

“But—” She involuntarily yelps when Eren suddenly sits up on the bed, pushing her down by her head until her mascara stain the sheets.

“Spread your legs,” he commands, moving to stand on his knees. He has one hand strapped to her hip as she lifts her lower half high in the air, while his other one maintains its hold around his cigarette. “Keep your head down.”

He pounds into her, once, twice, again and again until she has her hands tangled against the sheets, her lipstick smearing the white linen. “You have issues, you know that?” She says between gasps as every thrust he does knocks the air out of her lungs. “Can’t even see my face when we have sex. Do you—ah, fuck—do you do this with other girls too?”

He sucks in his cheeks, taking another inhale. “And what if I do?”

“You’re sick.”

“Maybe I am.”

Eren crushes the rest of his cigarette on the ashtray nearby, circling his lean fingers around her wrist, and presses it against her back. He keeps it there, holds her down with one palm pressing against the back of her skull, slamming his hips harder until she mewls out in pleasure. “Hey,” he leans forward to whisper in her ear, tugging none so gently on her strands to lift her face. “Keep your mouth shut. Your moans are turning me off.”

Because she doesn’t sound like you. None of them ever did.

There’s a mirror standing a couple of meters away from where he is and he can see himself as he rocks his hips against her behind. His eyes are hollow, his lips thinning into a line. When was the last time he smiled? Truly smiled, like a child going on his first trip to the beach. At this point, he can’t even remember if he ever did.

Eren slithers his hand around her neck, lifting her face just enough so he can observe the shape of her mouth, her glassy eyes, her nose—everything that he thought was similar to yours. He can feel her walls closing around him when her eyes meet his in the mirror. She’s one of those girls—the promiscuous ones that love seeing themselves being taken by their partners. She moans louder, her body language becoming more erotic and it makes him sick.

“You don’t look like her after all.”

“What—mmph!” He pushes her head back to the sheets, keeping her still by holding her down by the nape. Eren tries to finish himself off quickly, picking up the pace and gives her shallow thrusts that are grazing the right spot, causing his name to tumble off her lips between a string of profanities. He slaps a hand over her mouth, leaning forward until he has his chest pressed against her spine, spilling himself into the rubber that separates his skin from hers.

The pleasure lasts for only a few minutes but it’s enough.

“You’re treating your women like objects,” she comments, a moment before they part. “You didn’t even kiss me, not once.”

Eren escorts her to his door, but he doesn’t pay attention to her lips, let alone planting a kiss on them. “Do you love me?”

“What?”

“Do you love me?” He asks again. “Because if you don’t, and you’re sleeping with me because I’m the man who sings your favorite songs, then aren’t we the same?”

And before she can answer, he closes the door on her.

***

A week had passed since the day fourteen-year-old Eren Jaeger brushed his lips against yours, assuming that it was a dream, and that was a week of you trying to avoid him at your very best.

Why? You thought. Why did he kiss me? Even if he thought he was dreaming, why would he do it? He whispered my name before he kissed me, does that mean he wanted to kiss me all this time?

You didn’t know how to feel, not sure what to think, and there was no way you could pretend like it didn’t happen. You were sure that he was aware of the situation too, as he was avoiding you just as much. Whenever your eyes met, you would only throw him a smile, and he’d mirror it back awkwardly. And you’d both look away and tried your best not to repeat the same mistake for the rest of the day. Fortunately for you, graduation was only a month away, and with your final exams coming in less than a week, it was the perfect excuse for you to use to evade making conversations with him.

“Hey,” Eren called, walking to your desk as you hurriedly shoved back your books into your backpack the second you heard the bell ring. “You’re, uh, heading back already?”

“Yeah.” You kept your hands busy. “I gotta, you know, study.”

“Right, me too.” There was a pause where Eren tried to sort out the right words. It was so awkward, that it made you feel nauseous. “I just, umm—” It was heartbreaking to see him act this way, not knowing what to say when he was always straightforward before. “I missed talking to you.”

Your hands stopped, shoulders turning sluggish and you were battling between tilting your head and meet his eyes, or just escape while you still had the chance. To both of your surprise, you chose the latter.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you hurriedly spoke, keeping your head low as you rose from your seat, pacing away from him. Eren didn’t chase after you. He wasn’t sure if he should.

Why was it so hard to face him? Perhaps it was because you were afraid of what he might say. What if he told you that he didn’t mean to kiss you—that it was a mistake? What if he told you that he meant it, that he had been wanting to kiss you, what would you do then? What if he had feelings for you? What if he didn’t? What did you want to hear from him?

Graduation, you decided—a promise that you made to yourself. I’ll talk to him about this after graduation. There will be enough time for both of us to think.

Graduation, Eren thought, heart still shaking after his last encounter with you. I’ll tell her how I really feel about her after graduation. I’ll tell her through my song like how I promised her. There’s still time.

***

Graduation was in two days.

And it came both as a chance to reconcile and something that you both dread. Even on that day, you still weren’t sure how to speak with him. No, you still weren’t sure how you felt about him. Did you love him? More than friends do? What was love anyway? You were fourteen, what do you know about love? You hadn’t even had your first crush yet. You were too busy hanging around with him to notice other boys. He was the only one who messed with your head, who played a big part in your life, who painted vibrant colors into your world. But was it love? Was that how love supposed to feel?

I’m in love with you, Eren scribbled down his last words on the letter he planned to proffer you. His lyrics were already engraved in his head, lyrics about you, the little habits that you did, and the days you spent together through his eyes. He wasn’t sure when was the first time he fell for you—hell, maybe he already had from day one—but he knew he had never felt something like this toward anyone before. A memory flashed through his eyes as he re-read the letter he had rewritten three times.

“Summer,” you said as you both sat next to each other on the grass field, staring at a soccer practice without actually paying any attention to it. Eren had his guitar on his lap, his fingers between the strings, softly humming to himself as he tried to figure out the right chord for his new song.

“What?”

“Summer,” you repeated. “If there’s one word I could use to describe you, it would be ‘summer.’”

Eren scratched down some words on his pad, rewriting new lyrics to fit the new melody he came up with. “Why?”

“I don’t know, you just remind me of it. The way you’re so hot-headed, the way you’re so passionate. You kinda smell like it too.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You mean, like sweat?”

“No, but now that you said it, yeah.” You giggled when he jabbed the end of his guitar lightly to the side of your stomach. “What about me?”

He brought his focus back to his notebook. “What about you?”

“Choose a word to describe me.”

“‘Idiot.’”

You smacked the back of his head. “Try again.”

He sighed, pushing his guitar to the side, and brought his knees to his chest. With his arms placed above his knees, he used them as a pillow to lay his head down. He observed you closely, eyes unblinking and peering deep into yours.

“W-what?” You grew nervous as if he was trying to commit every bit of your face into his memory.

“I’m looking at you.”

“Yeah, I could see that, genius. Can you stop? You’re making me uncomfortable.”

Eren never did. His eyes grew half-lidded as if he was daydreaming and you dragged your eyes back to the soccer ball that was being passed from one foot to another.

“Sun,” Eren decided, stretching his arms widely above his head before he laid down on the grass.

“What?”

“You’re like the sun.”

While you were still knitting your eyebrows in confusion, Eren had his eyes closed, and he appeared so peaceful even when the grass was tickling his nape. You settled down next to him, the tip of your strands nearly brushing his. Your eyes were fixated on the clouds, squinting when the sunray seeped through them. “Why, cause I’m too hot for you?” You teased but he wasn’t laughing.

Eren was so still, his breathing getting steadier and steadier by the second. You began to worry that he might have fallen asleep. He parted his lips and your heart thumped once, expecting him to say something beautiful about it. But Eren only snorted and said, “‘Cause you make people wish you were the sun so they could be blind and never have to stare at your ugly ass ever again.”

“Why you little piece of—”

But as he laughed at the little jabs you gave to his stomach, Eren thought of several reasons why you reminded him of the sun.

Because his life was all dark and grey before you came into the picture.

Because whenever you smiled, so bright and radiant, he could feel sudden joy emerging from the bottom of his heart, even when he hadn’t felt like that for days.

Because when you said he was like summer, he thought ‘there wouldn’t be summer without the sun’.

“What’s your favorite season?” Eren questioned one day, a few weeks after the silly conversation you exchanged. The two of you were walking down the pavements, dressed in thin shirts and shorts with ice cream cones in your hands.

“I used to say spring ‘cause it’s not too hot, not too cold. A great time to take pictures too.” You darted out your tongue, licking the tip of the ice cream before it melted to your hands. Unbeknownst to you, Eren quickly looked away, cheeks turning rosy. “But I’ve changed my mind.” You glanced to the side, showcasing a grin. “Now, I like summer the best.”

And Eren nearly dropped his cone. Suddenly picking up his pace, he walked hastily, crossing the road without waiting for you to keep up with his steps. “Hey, wait!”

But he didn’t. He wasn’t going to. Not when his face was burning hot and he was sure that it wasn’t because of the sun.

Well, not that one anyway.

“What are you doing?”

Grisha’s voice caused his son to jump off his seat, his heart throbbing so painfully, he nearly fainted. Eren was ripped apart so suddenly from his daydream that he fumbled, trying to properly come back to reality. “Dad, you scared me,” he said, catching his breath.

“Were you writing songs again?”

“N-no.” The boy promptly reached out to close his notebooks. “I was, uh, reading.”

But Grisha didn’t buy it as he never trusted his son. Never really trusted anyone else due to the past incidents that occurred in his life. When he saw his boy snatching the paper away and crumpled it in one hand, he raised his chin. “Give that to me.”

“I—” Eren’s voice turned shaky. “I don’t want to.”

“If you weren’t writing lyrics like you told me, there should be nothing to hide.”

“Yes, but—” Eren’s words died instantly on his tongue the second the man entered his room, dashing toward him with his hands stretched out. The boy tried his best to keep the paper in his fist but the man was stronger. The letter was shredded in half when he snatched it away from his son’s hand, but it was enough for him to get the big picture once he ran his eyes across the words.

“What’s this?” There was disgust in his tone, and Eren grew smaller before him. “What is this—a love letter?”

“Dad—”

“No wonder you couldn’t maintain your grades.” He tossed the letter away to the trash bin, the letter that he spent hours trying to come up with the perfect words to describe his feelings.

Eren’s lips thinning as they were pressed tightly to each other. “My grades are fine. I’m already one of the top ten graduates in school, Dad, what else do you want from me?”

“You could’ve been number one if you weren’t wasting your time thinking about this silly girl.” He shifted closer to his desk, rummaging through the rest of his books. “Look at this.” Grisha gathered one of his notebooks in his hand. “You wrote songs for her? Is she the reason why you insist on playing—”

“GIVE IT BACK!”

It was almost eerie, the way the room suddenly went quiet after Eren’s voice blasted through their ears. He was breathing hard, rage storming inside his chest to the point that his fingers started to shake. “Give it back,” he repeated, quieter this time but just as intense. “It’s mine.”

It was the first time Eren ever retaliated in such a way that it stunned him, but Grisha didn’t stay still for long. And instead of using his words, he placed the book back on his desk and snatched his guitar from the bed. “Dad,” Eren called, terrified to his bones as Grisha raised his instrument highly in the air. “Dad, what are you doing—Stop—”

And he slammed it down to the floor. Once, twice, until the thundering sound of wood cracking under pressure echoed through his house. Eren could only stand still, lips parted with large eyes shaking.

The next line that his father spoke was something he could never forget in years.

“This is for your own good, son.”

***

It was like he had forgotten how to smile.

That was the thought that entered your mind when Eren walked into the podium to receive his diploma. You were already standing on the stage, holding your own between your hands as you waited for him to join you on your side. He never did. He chose to walk past you, not even making eye contact when you were sure you were standing inside his line of vision.

You were so worried, you started to forget how to smile as well.

Once the ceremony was over, you ran to his spot in your graduation cap and gown. A gift box filled with pages of your handwritten story—one that had his name as the lead—laid heavily in your hand. It took you three times to call his name for him to notice you and you wondered whether the music was playing too loudly in the background, or he just simply didn’t want to have conversations with you. The last guess seemed very unlikely, and yet, it was the one that turned into reality.

“Are you okay?” You asked, worried eyes searching his. Eren hastily glanced away as if he was scared of you finding the truth. “Eren, did something happen—”

“I didn’t make you a song.”

Your heart dropped. “What?"

“It’s, uh,” he rubbed a hand across his nape, eyes fixated on his feet. “I broke my guitar so I couldn’t—” He caught himself, breathing heavily. “Anyway, I just want to say sorry for not being able to keep my promise.”

“Oh…” That was the only thing you could say. Something felt… odd. “How did you break your guitar?”

“It’s…” He kept looking all over the place but your eyes as if he was seeking a way to escape. “I don’t remember.”

“How could you not remember—it’s your guitar—the one that you always carry around with—” Your eyes grew larger. “Was it your father? Did he—”

“It doesn’t matter what he did—it’s none of your business!” He snapped and you were so struck by his tone, you unconsciously took a step backward with both fear and shock coursing through your veins.

“E-Eren—”

“You started this,” he claimed, not raising his voice but it felt like he was screaming right next to your ear. “I was ready to give up—I was ready to follow what my parents had in store for me but you—” He was gasping, panting through every word. “If it wasn’t because of you—if you didn’t tell me to believe in my dream so much—If you didn’t give me hopes, I wouldn’t have—“

Eren froze, catching the hurting look that crossed your face and he loathed himself for it. “I’m—” What have I done? Why did I say that to her? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it. Please don’t hate me. I’ve prepared everything—I wanted to sing it directly to you—I wanted to tell you the truth. I wanted to tell you how I feel. I wanted to thank you for telling me not to give up on my dreams. I wanted—God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! “I gotta go.”

And when he disappeared between the crowds, you were still too shaken to follow. Embracing your gift box to your chest, you could only think:

How can I fix this?

***

It took you another week until you finally found the courage you needed but it only took you a second to make up your decision.

I have to see him.

With a guitar case sitting between your arms, hugging it close to your chest, you ran as fast as your feet could take you. You had memorized every little shortcut that led to his home by now, and it only took not more than fifteen minutes for you to arrive at his front door. Beads of sweat were sliding to your chin before they stained his porch, heart hammering wildly against your ribcages, lungs catching on fire.

Inside the case you were carrying was an acoustic guitar with the same type, same brand, and same color as the one that he used to play. It took your entire savings and two hours of begging your mother to loan you money to get your hands on it, but if you could see him smile—that one smile of his that reminded you of a beautiful summer day with sand underneath your feet—it would be more than worth it.

You rang the doorbell and waited.

You had never been this anxious before in your life, not even when you had to stand above the podium to give your graduation speech. Waiting for Eren, your only best friend in school, to answer his door was simply nerve-wracking when it was supposed to be anything but that.

And when he did, your knees nearly gave out on you.

Even a simple “Hi,” would’ve been enough to ease the tension but Eren kept his mouth shut. His eyes landed on your face but they didn’t feel the same. He wasn’t angry at you, that was one thing for certain, but they felt… cold. It was a term you never thought you would say to a boy who reminded you of summer.

“I—I just—” You gulped, embracing the case tighter in your arms. “I just wanted to give this to you.”

His gaze drifted down, blinking in surprise when he saw the brand that was embroidered on the case. “That’s—“

“The same guitar you played,” you offered him a smile, begging to see his in return. “You said your guitar was broken, so…”

He extended his hand to reach it but gave up at the last second. “Why?”

“Why am I giving you this?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” There was hurt in his voice. No, not just hurt, sadness. The kind of sadness that didn't belong in a fourteen-year-old boy's eyes, especially when they used to shine with nothing but joy in the days you once shared with him.

"Why—" You couldn't understand his words. "I just... I wanted to make you happy." Eren nipped on his bottom lip, knowing that it would tremble if he didn't. Before he could respond, you corrected. "No. Above that, I just don't want you to give up on your dreams."

You could see him sinking his fingernails deep into his palms, probably a way to escape the pain that blasted in his chest. "I don't want to dream anymore."

"You promised me you'd try."

"I've promised you a lot of things." His voice broke at the edge, and he pressed the back of his palm against his mouth as he shakily spoke. "And I couldn't make any of them come true."

"But—"

"I don't wanna hurt you anymore."

"Eren!" You raised your voice as you became desperate, feeling your tears start to blur your vision at the sight of a boy trying his best to contain his own. "Don't give up now! We can work this out toge—"

“I’m moving out of town in a few days.”

You weren’t sure how it’d feel to fall from a twenty-story building, but you guessed that it might feel just like this. “For a trip?"

Eren didn't have the guts to answer.

You could sense the earth sinking underneath your feet, little by little. "When will you be back?”

He grew quiet. “I don’t know.”

“Will I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

Your throat felt dry. “I see…” You wetted your lip, fingers shaking. “Why… Why didn’t you tell me anything about this before?”

“It was a sudden decision that my dad made. And after what I said to you during graduation, I…" He breathed out shakily. "I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me again.” With his head hanging low on his shoulders, you could hear the way his voice quivered at the end, causing your heart to shatter.

“Eren.” You leaned the guitar case against the wall. “You know I wouldn’t be able to hate you, right?”

“But I’ve said such horrible things…”

“Then apologize for it.” You took his hand, bending your head down to take a peek of those beautiful green eyes that he tried to hide behind his bangs. “Say ‘I’m sorry for behaving like the biggest asshole in the world and telling you stuff I didn’t mean' and I’ll forgive you after you buy me some ice cream. Isn’t that what we always do?”

Eren lifted his face, his eyes shaking as they bore into yours. Slowly, his lips began to tilt. Whether he was on the verge of crying or laughing over your words, you weren’t sure. But there was a smile. Very tiny, very faint, but it was a smile—his smile—one that you’d always loved. With his eyes turning crescents, he said, “I’m sorry��”

But you never let him finish. You jumped into his arms, embracing him so tightly until he knew that there wouldn’t be a time that you’d be ready to let him go. Your hands were winding around his neck, fingers curling against his nape with your chin placed on his shoulder. His scent comforted you, it made you feel like you were coming home after a long day. You snuggled close, not caring that he was still frozen on his feet, his hands hanging mid-air.

“I forgive you,” you whispered. “Welcome back, Eren.”

And he broke down. You had never seen him cry, as he was too prideful to do it in front of you. You thought he was the kind who would cry out loud, like a baby being abandoned by his mother, but you were wrong. Eren cried with his teeth sinking into his lip. Eren cried with his shoulders shaking frantically. Eren cried without making a sound. Eren cried like he didn’t want the world to know that he was breaking apart. And somehow, it only crushed your heart even more.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly sobbed as he circled his arms around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

You could feel hot tears stinging in the corner of your eyes but at the same time, you were laughing. “Big baby,” you joked and he mirrored your chuckle.

Five days later, Eren stood in front of your door with the same guitar case in one hand. “Keep this for me,” he told you with a smile too painful to be called as one. He came to say goodbye, you were sure of that. But what good would it be if you broke down crying in front of him? You would only hurt him more than he already did.

Trying your best to keep yourself composed, you replied, “I bought that for you, you know.”

“And I’m grateful for that. But it’s the more reason why you should keep this.” He handed it to you and unlike him, you couldn’t carry it with one hand. Eren landed his palm on your head, bending down slightly to match your height. He had grown taller over the years you spent together, his voice turning deeper too. He was… becoming more of a man than a boy you used to know.

So when he leaned closer, you felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest. “Will you allow me to make one more promise?" It was shy the way he asked it, like half of his mind was unsure that you'd say yes.

You weakly smiled. "Of course."

"Then I promise you I’ll play this again someday,” he said, his voice sounded so gentle it felt like you were dreaming. “I don’t know when will I be able to see you again, and probably not so soon but I will come back to you.”

He conveyed his words like the guitar were just an excuse, and you were the only reason why he promised you such words. You felt somehow suffocated even when you hadn’t moved a muscle. “No breaking your promise this time?”

His smile was so delicate, so beautiful, and you wished you could stare at it for hours. Leaning in to brush his lips against your cheek, he whispered, “I promise.”

***

When he stepped back into your life, it was also when the cherry blossoms tree bloomed at its finest. The sun, even though it was rising high in the sky, felt comforting on your cheeks. You were on your first year of college, wandering around your campus, feeling stranded in the city that you just became familiar with less than a week ago. You had decided to move out of town to seek better education. You had been admitted to one of the most prestigious universities in the capital, and while it was terrifying, it was also exciting.

There was a music festival playing on the campus ground to celebrate the first years joining their family. A band was playing on the stage, consisting of three, all-male members from the music department. They were all strangers to you but you stopped to listen, captivated by the thrilling, powerful music they produced that blasted through the speakers. It was a straightforward hard rock with some garage rock elements in their sound—something rare to find these days, like a hidden gem buried underneath overrated pop music.

Their performance lured you to a halt but their vocalist was the one who made you stay. He was wearing black wayfarer sunglasses, and a silver piercing in his right ear. His dark brown hair was long enough to brush his shoulders, straight and fluttering under the wind. He was simply dressed in a fitted black shirt with his sleeves rolled up until just a few inches below his shoulders, showcasing strong arms with veins protruding from underneath his sun-kissed skin. He combined his outfit with matching black jeans and a pair of blazing red sneakers. His body language—his whole stage presence—made him stand out more than the rest of the members on the stage. And when he sang with a Fender bass in his hands, it was nearly impossible for you to take your eyes off him.

He reminded you greatly of someone.

“We’re gonna go straight to our next song. You guys ready?” The guitarist spoke with a voice sounding a pitch higher than the singer. The lead vocal stepped back to the side of the stage to grab a bottle of water from a female staff, handing her his sunglasses and receiving her hair tie in exchange. He tied his hair messily in a bun, showing a glimmer of a silver necklace that dangled around his neck.

When he turned around, facing the crowd, you were petrified to your core.

There, standing behind a standing microphone with his brilliant green eyes gleaming brighter than the sun, was Eren Jaeger.

(click here to listen to Eren's music as you read)

He was a completely different person than how you remembered him to be. Not just appearance, but everything else. Eren was significantly taller, probably even more than 180cm tall. He dragged his pick down from between his teeth to the strings of his bass, playing a monstrous riff that got everyone hooked in an instant. His voice was deep and smooth, overflowing with confidence, unlike the boy with the quivering voice you heard four years ago.

You made a fool out of me

And took the skin off my back running

So don't breathe when I talk

'Cause you haven't been spoken to

I got a gun for my mouth

And a bullet with your name on it

But a trigger for a heart

Bleeding blood from an empty pocket

The crowd was bobbing their heads to the song, one that you had never heard and you wondered whether it was a song that he wrote because somehow, somehow, it sounded just like him. Not because he was the one who sang it. The song just embodied his whole nature perfectly.

I never knew why

And you didn't care when

It closed every door

And washed away no sin

And I promised you

Like you promised me

But those vows we made

We fucked it up for free

Sounding more mature was a given, but his lyrics also seemed darker, bitter, and you wondered what happened in his life that made him pour his feelings into words in such a way. He didn’t have a smile written on his face, but you could tell how much he felt alive performing it in front of the crowd. You could still feel his passion. Could still feel his love for music.

Perhaps he hasn’t changed after all.

You stood there, frozen on your feet among boys and girls who lost themselves to the music. You were repeating his name in your mind, eyes glued to every movement that he made. The way his fingers plucked against the strings, the veins that showed on his neck as he belted out high notes during the chorus, the way his hand naturally grabbed the microphone with his eyes scanning the crowd—

Until they landed on yours.

You swore the world just stopped there for a split second where there was only you and him and no one else, and you knew he must have felt like that too. Because Eren missed a beat, he skipped over a word or two before he moved away from his microphone and proceeded to improvise by letting his audience sing the words for him. He never let his eyes met yours for the rest of the show.

Your heart was beating so fast, you wouldn’t have been able to tell if you had a heart attack right then. You could only start to breathe normally when another band replaced his spot. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to calm your nerves. What do I do? Should I approach him? Does he want to see me? He doesn’t seem like he does. What if—

Large, strong hand circles around your wrist, holding it mid-air and your eyes shot open. Eren was standing before you, lips parted trying to fill air into his lungs, his pupils blown.

Your mind stopped functioning, couldn’t process what your eyes were seeing. “Eren—“

Rushing to have you close, he yanked you by your arm, startling you with his strength and you landed on his chest with a small huff. “Christ,” he breathlessly spoke, slipping his fingers between your strands as he cradled your head in one arm, and another one winding around your waist. “You’re really here.”

And you didn’t think you’d cry, but you did, clawing against his back, chanting his name like a prayer. Because maybe the reason why you were so swept by your emotions right now was that you had tried to keep them all bottled up inside. These last four years, it was like he never existed in your life. He vanished, just like that. Leaving nothing but the guitar you bought him, the one he said he’d come back to get but never did. He never gave you his song, and the one that he showed you once was taken away with him like everything else he had ever given in your life. No one said his name, no one remembered him but you did. You thought about him every day, every season, in every song that you heard. The story you had written for him was kept but abandoned deep inside your drawer, like a skeleton you tried to bury. You didn’t have the bravery to touch it, afraid that the words you painted on papers would evoke such memories that would make you long for him. You just hadn't known that you already did.

You wished you had been able to say you missed him. You wished you could say how lonely your life had been without him in it, how you wished you could stay with him just like this, in his arms.

So when you said, “I’ve missed you,” as you choked out between your sobs, you said it like you had never missed anyone before in your life and that was probably true. You had never missed someone as much as you had missed him then. It was suffocating, your chest felt so full of things you couldn’t comprehend, but above all, it just felt right. “I’ve missed you so much, Eren.”

You just wanted to stay in summer for eternity.

Even after all these years that separated you, his heart still swelled on how perfect his name sounded in your voice. Eren embraced you tighter, his lips moving against your clothed shoulder as he smiled with his eyes closed in bliss. And even if his voice was no longer as airy and light as it used to be, it warmed your heart just as much.

“I’ve missed you too.”

***

Next Chapter

Huge thanks to my beta-reader @justasketch who helped me come up with ideas while fixing my mistakes at the same time lol ILY GIRL

#eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yeager x reader smut #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader fluff #eren jaeger x reader #eren x y/n #eren yeager x reader #eren fluff #eren angst #aot smut #aot fluff #eren headcanons #snk smut #snk fluff #aot scenarios #snk scenarios #eren scenarios

[thepringlesofblood]

relistening to network effect and

y’all...we were so focused on murderbot is autistic...that we totally missed arada is autistic

discussion below (network effect spoilers obviously)

it’s mostly me re-listening to her discussions with leonide.

bc we’re seeing through mb’s eyes, the proposal to come over to the BE ship is just never viable, as agreed upon by literally everyone. whereas with arada, the conversation doesn’t really include the whole peanut gallery we get through mb’s POV - ART jumps in to help her out, but I got the impression that the rest of them aren’t directly in her feed so as not to distract her, so her decision-making is based off of her own internal logic, with ART making comments/giving advice

(I tried to put “Clippy” and “Perihelion” together to make a good pun but there’s just no good combination)

anyway, choosing the logistically best option for a transfer of resources bc you forgot capitalism existed? big mood.

plus all the stuff where’s she’s going over to the BE ship and mb is all sympathetic to her worrying about “dominance posturing” and doing all the right social things?

god i wish i had ART in my ear to help me out when i miss something and don’t know what to say. not at other times though can you imagine?

i don’t know why this strikes me as sort of an autistic thing, but like..her friends all know that she’ll have trouble being less than her full self on the BE ship - overse talks to her about treating mb like a secunit, they all help her out, partially bc they all know on some level that this isn’t one of her skill sets.

and honestly this is one of my favorite underrated things about network effect - arada’s command style is never looked down on or thought to be lesser bc of her generally kind personality and “terminal optimism.”

like, we get to see her learn and grow as a survey lead/commander, but it’s clear from the first scene that arada is incredibly capable, and that she’s excellent at doing her job.

 it’s just that later her job becomes very, very different and much harder, but she adjusts admirably, and i appreciate that while mb has a Few Things To Say whenever she or amena or anyone say something naive, they’re never thought as less intelligent or anything, just less knowledgeable.

when overse comes in earlier and is like hey mb thanks for having my wife’s back out there I really appreciate you support her since this is her first time as survey lead i know EXACTLY what she’s saying.

she’s saying that arada isn’t the kind of person you normally see at the command of things, and she appreciates mb accepting her authority and treating her like a leader.

meanwhile mb is like ‘tf else was i supposed to do?’ i love it so much

there’s def also a gender approach to this - in media, autistic men get to be supergeniuses and autistic women just. don’t exist a lot. I really love that arada is allowed to exist and be her full self and be powerful and flawed and neurodivergent.

when they’re over on the other ship, and arada has that line “Well, it was a little rude.” OOF i love it so much. kevin r free does an excellent reading. it feels like her taking back control of the situation by asserting her identity and i love it,

she’s also often described as ‘bouncing in place’ when she gets excited/impatient (in the hopper above the unmapped area in ASR, when she sees mb again and bounces in place instead of hugging it, etc.) - that’s a big ol stim of mine!

as always, we have the ‘is this me projecting onto a character, or do i just need to go to sleep?’ disclaimer, but I feel like there’s some legs here.

#murderbot #murderbot spoilers #murderbot meta #network effect #network effect spoilers #meta #arada #i love her so much #my Opinions

[qyllenhaal]

Muse

Pairing: Artist!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve’s an artist, and you’re secretly his muse. 3rd POV. WC: 3.5k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, MDNI), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex. Fluff. Friends to lover.

Steve knew it was a risk to quit his job and focus full-time on being an artist. His boss laughed in his face when he turned in his letter of resignation and asked Steve how much he thought his "little paintings" were going to make him. Steve didn't just face this scrutiny from his boss, but his friends too albeit not as harsh. Many of the people in his life didn't understand his passion for something that might leave him struggling, but Y/n was always there encouraging him.

"You may struggle for a little bit, but I think it's great Steve! Only one day into your new life as an artist and you already seem happier!"

Steve has known Y/n for almost a decade. They met under odd circumstances that some would consider a meet cute. She's still so sweet and bubbly just like she was the day he met her. It wasn't hard for him to fall head-over-heels for her. She always has a kind word and an open ear even during times of distress.

Sometimes he blushes when she gives him a compliment. She claims to not know anything about art, but every time he shows her something new she always has something stark to say that sticks with him. Maybe it's because it's coming from her.

His time spent alone in his studio is sacred. He converted a room in his apartment into a makeshift studio and he finds so much solace in those four walls. He has wanted to dabble in painting live subjects, maybe even a nude model or too, but he found himself getting real shy about it. He'd love to have someone to pose and to capture the way the light perfectly hits their face. That someone he imagined was often Y/n.

He was shocked when she allowed him to make her his subject. It started with him asking to paint a few photos of her she had lying around for "practice." Y/n was more than happy to help her friend Steve, only under the condition that he show her the final product. Steve found no problem in showing off the pastoral setting paintings he created, but it was much more harder to show off paintings of the person he thinks is the most beautiful person in the world.

Just like he couldn't muster up the confidence to ask anyone else to be his model, Steve could never ask Y/n to model for him in person. He found himself becoming too shy whenever the question was on the tip of his tongue. It would be much better if he were here in person with him, but he opted for photos of her clipped to his easel for reference. He'd finish a painting in one day and send her a photo via text of the finished product.

“I really look like that? It's amazing Steve!”

But eventually he ran out of photos. He tried to reuse some old ways and paint in a different style, or play with the colors, but it was beginning to become stale. Steve needed something new, but he didn't want to let go of Y/n as his subject.

"So you need new pictures?"

"Yeah — it's fine if you don't have any more," he tries to play it off as if he doesn't have 10 canvases in his studio of paintings of her that he hasn't shown her.

"We could take some more. Do you still have that digital camera you got a few Christmas' ago?"

"No. I think it got lost when I moved."

"Oh. Well I think Sam has a camera we can borrow. It's one of those fancy ones, right?"

Steve agreed to ask Sam to borrow his camera, but he honestly wishes that he had just bought his own. The amount of teasing he had to endure when he explained to Sam exactly why he needed the camera made his skin heat up. He couldn't stop his cheeks from becoming rosy when Sam asked when is he finally going to tell Y/n how he feels about her. Steve doesn't want to ruin what they have just in case Y/n rejects him. He'd much rather wallow in his school boy crush than put a strain on their friendship.

"How do you want me to pose?"

Y/n sat on the lone couch in Steve's studio room. It wasn't the best quality but it was still useful.

The curtains were drawn to shield the sun that was nearly set. The lighting in the room was dim save for the soft light coming from a small lamp pointed at her. It casted a warm, yellowish light onto her skin. She wore a white dress and kicked her shoes off at the front door.

"Whatever comes natural to you," his voice is weak as he responds. The atmosphere of the room is slightly romantic and he can't shake his nerves. Everything feels extremely intimate.

Y/n is almost as nervous as Steve. She's never modeled for someone and it feels a little bit awkward. She's always comfortable around Steve, but she can't help but get a little nervous when she sees Steve with the camera in his hands.

"You look perfect like that," he compliments the half-asses pose she's doing before snapping the first photo. He looks at the preview before the camera's screen could go dark.

"Let me see." He shows her and she just nods her head, "let me adjust myself," she whispers.

Y/n unbuttons the first two buttons of her dress, exposing more of her chest that only gives a glimpse of her breast. Steve pretended to not notice it as he took another picture of her. Once again Y/n asked to see the photo and looked a little more satisfied with it this time.

"Do you think that I could — nevermind."

"What is it Y/n?" He asks with a soft laugh that makes her want to melt.

"Do you think I could unbutton my dress all the way?" Her voice faltered as she asked. She watched Steve's reaction intently. She hopes the question doesn't make him uncomfortable. "It's just that I was looking up some ideas online so I could prepare and I saw this really pretty picture of this model and she was semi-nude but it was really pretty so I wanted to ask if we could try it," she explained; or perhaps over-explained.

Steve was completely dumbfounded. If Y/n couldn't see it in his dropped jaw, then she can see it in the way he just freezes.

"It's okay if that's too much."

"No! No, it's okay."

Y/n gave him a half smile before she began to unbutton the front of her dress. Steve tried to look away, but how could he not? The more she revealed herself, the easier it was for him to see the swell of her breast. Her skin looks so soft and he feels compelled to reach out and caress her bare skin. But he keeps his hands to himself.

"Is this too much?" The puffy sleeves of her dress were off of her shoulder and her dress was all the way open until the middle of her stomach. It's a lot for him to handle, but he feels blessed to see such a sight.

"No. It's perfect. You're perfect."

Y/n's skin heats up despite the room being cold. She was starting to get a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't a bad one or an uncomfortable feeling, but it was something she wasn't used to.

Now she's half-naked and posing on his couch. The first few photos he took of her like this were awkward as they both had to adjust to Y/n being half-naked.

Steve couldn't ignore the way the cold air made her nipples hard and breast tender. Steve was supposed to be on his best behavior, but he is seconds away from making a stupid mistake with his best friend.

Y/n arches her back which makes her breast jut out at him. Steve pauses to pray that he doesn't get a hard on. He feels a bit like a scumbag for even having this dilemma. It's just his best friend's half-naked body — that looks so soft and tender.

He forced himself to steel his resolve and hurry up and finish the task at hand. He began to treat her more like a model instead of the best friend he has a crush on.

"Try this," he suggests to her to move her body in a different way, which she does, but it's not quite what he wants. He was hesitant to get his hands on her, but he went for it anyway, "a little more like this."

In the process of moving her body, his hand brushed against her nipple. Y/n involuntarily let out a moan which made both of them pause. They looked at each other before Y/n let out a nervous laugh to try to play it off.

"Sorry," Steve apologizes.

"It's okay."

He glosses over what just happened and goes back to moving her body to her liking. He can't get over how good she feels underneath him. The truth is that he was taking his time to be able to have this experience for much longer. He may never have this kind of closeness with her again and he just can't quite let go.

Y/n watches his face as his hands touch her body. He looks so handsome under this lighting and Y/n wonders if she's always felt this way about Steve. For some reason she feels lust swirling inside of her. She hopes she isn't making a mistake when she leans forward and kisses him. Steve freezes under her kiss, stunned by reality, but he lets it happen. Her lips feel so soft against his, just like he always imagined.

She pulls away and places her forehead against his. Steve still has his eyes closed, lost in the dream that is Y/n's closeness.

"You can open your eyes now," she teases him. He obeys her and laughs along with her.

"I've wanted this for so long," he admits.

The revelation is shocking to her. She had no idea he felt this way about her, but now she wonders how much she's been oblivious to.

"Do you want this, Y/n? The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable."

"No, no — I want this Steve. I wanna feel you touching me," her voice became somewhat whiny as desire fueled her.

With her blessing, Steve did not hold back. He kissed her hard, the way he imagined he would always kiss her. Imagine the way his heart nearly stopped when Y/n kissed him back with the same amount of fervor and want. Her hand came up and rested against the stubble on his cheek. They wish they could say their kiss was delicate, but it was not; it was sloppy and their tongues danced with each other.

When Steve pulls away, he's out of breath, but he's happy. The light touches he gave to her body earlier were not a bit rougher. He wants to explore every inch of her body in seconds, but he wants to be patient; he has all night to discover every inch of her.

"Touch me right here, Steve."

Y/n places his hands on her breast with his thumbs in reach of her nipples. Steve's thumb runs across her taut nipples which makes her sigh. "You like that?" He asks with a bit more confidence. She nods her head and her approval emboldens him. “Good.”

His lips ghost across the skin on her neck before he places a wet kiss against the skin on her throat. He can feel her breath hitch every time he places a tender kiss on her flesh. She smells like lavender and it makes him feel dizzy. He keeps playing with her nipples as he begins to suck on her neck. Y/n wants to just lay there and take in the feeling of him spoiling her, but she also wants to hear him moan. She strokes the bulge in his pants with her knee and she feels him groan against her skin. He lightly grinds himself against her knee to relieve all of the tension that built up inside of him. Neither of them are sure who wants who more, but it doesn’t matter to either of them. Knowing that this is an equal exchange of love and lust is enough for the two of them.

“Oh god Steve,” Y/n coos when he sucks on the most sensitive part of her neck. They’ve only just begun, but he makes her feel so good. A part of her is wishing that she had discovered Steve’s crush on her a long time ago, but she has him now and that’s all that matters.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he says against her skin, “I wanna make you cum.”

Y/n can’t help but moan at his confession. She can already imagine how it would feel to have him between her legs.

“Please Steve!”

Steve sits up just to push her dress up. The cotton panties she wears has a pink bow sewn onto it and he finds it adorable. He glances back up at her and he notices that she’s looking away from him. She’s now feeling bashful knowing that he’s going to see her completely naked even though she wants all of this and more. “It’s okay, pretty girl,” Steve pacifies her by slowly stroking her outer thigh. She finally looks at him, her pupils wide with lust. She almost sighs in content when he starts to slide her panties down. The cool air of the rooms only heats her up once it hits her hot sex.

“My god,” Steve whispers to himself. She looks so pretty, but she’s absolutely messy between her legs. She places her foot on the back of his couch to spread herself wider for him. “Good girl.”

Steve lowers himself between her legs and just stares at her for a moment. He wants to remember this for the rest of his life just in case this is the last time something like this happens between the two of them. He would be crushed if Y/n asked to just continue on as friend’s after this, but he would be eternally grateful that she granted him this opportunity. All he wants to do is make her feel good; his pleasure will follow suit, but it’s all about her.

One of his fingers runs along the edge of her folds. Y/n whimpers at the delicate way he treats her body. She feels so lucky to have someone so kind and sweet like Steve. He touches her with care, and love is in every stroke. “You’re so perfect,” he says before kissing her inner thigh. Every part of her body is sensitive but somehow she is able to withstand it all.

The first lick to her pussy overblows both of their senses. She’s sweet like honey and juicy like a peach. Steve’s first instinct is to groan against her pussy which sends vibration throughout her entire body. She feels like she’s on fire as all of the blood in her body goes straight to her sensitive nub. His tongue focuses on her clit and she’s in heaven. Steve’s tongue moves with so much skill and precision, but most importantly, passion. Steve treats her like he truly wants her, and Y/n can’t help but fall for him at this moment.

“You taste so good,” he coos against her slick.

The way he paws at her body while licking her pussy makes her feel like she’s being worshiped. Tears well in her eyes the harder he sucks at her clit. She hopes his neighbors’ aren’t home because they’d probably be annoyed at the loud sounds of her cries of pleasure. He has her on the edge and it just takes him rolling her nipples with his fingers that finally push her over.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Her cries are so angelic to him. And as much as he wants to keep licking her out, Steve needs to be inside of her so bad. He tames himself and pulls his mouth away from her to pull himself out of his pants. His incredibly hard, the head of his cock an angry red as it leaks pre-cum. “This is what you do to me,” his words are haunting. Y/n whines and wiggles her hips from being so impatient.

Steve lowers himself and presses the head of her cock at her opening. She’s so slippery that he pushes into her with ease. His cock is so big that she inhales sharply as she takes all of him inside of her. Her walls are like silk around him.

“So tight baby — oh god.”

Steve feels like he’s going to explode already. Her pussy is squeezing him and she looks up at him with wide eyes as she takes his cock like a good girl. It is the hardest task he’s ever faced in his life to not cum already. She just feels so good.

“Are you okay?” He asks sweetly before dipping his head to kiss her forehead.

She nods her head, “yes, Steve…feels so good,” she manages to speak coherently.

Her legs were thrown over his legs which allows him to fuck deeper into her. She looks so beautiful underneath him. Steve wants to feel her cum on his cock so bad. She flutters around him when he pulls out of her only to push back in seconds later.

Steve can only control himself for so long before he’s pounding into her. The cry of his name on her lips is so saccharine that it gives him a sweet tooth. He sucks on the skin of her neck to satisfy that need while Y/n places her hand on the back of his head as she moans for him.

“I’m gonna cum Steve! You’re going to make me cum!”

The ridges of his cock feels so good inside of her, but what really does it for her is how the head of his cock is kissing her cervix. The stretch of his cock is such a delicious burn that she wants him inside forever. With his face planted in her neck, lips kissing at her skin, Y/n is completely enamored with the way Steve consumes all of her. She is his just as much as he is her.

He feels her sex squeeze him one more time before she’s cumming all around him. She clings to him as her orgasm ravages through her. Steve fucks her through it before reluctantly pulling out of her. Her jerks himself off until he’s cumming all over her pretty tits, painting her body like she’s one of the world’s most precious masterpieces.

The two are completely spent as their limbs dangle off of his couch. Y/n’s heart is full feeling his cum cooling on her chest. She dips a finger in his spent and sucks it off, savoring his taste since she didn’t get a chance to go down on him. Steve almost passes out at the sight.

“You’re crushing my legs Steve,” she laughs warmly. He rolls off of her and off of the couch entirely.

Steve grabs a towel and starts t0 clean up her chest. He remembers what they were supposed to be accomplishing, but after what just happened between the two of them, Steve is certain he won’t be anxious about asking her to be his model again.

“So, where do we go from here?”

The question catches him off guard. He slowly wipes away his cum with the damp towel from her chest. As much as finding the answer to this question is hard, he is happy that she asked it because it means that she’s giving him a chance.

“I don’t want this to be the last time we do this,” Steve admits. He’s quickly become addicted to the way their foreheads pressed together; it just feels so intimate. “I love you too much for this to be the last time we ever spend like this together.”

As much as tonight has been shocking to her after the revelation of Steve proving to her that he loves her, she’s only overwhelmed with positive emotions.

“Then let’s not let this be the last time,” she whispers against his lips.

A wave of relief washes over Steve as he just lays there against, their bare bodies pressed against each other as if this is always how it should’ve been. His only hope is that they can stay like this forever.

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