Modern AU where Levi is a tumblr famous fic writer (or artist or both) and Eren loves his works. Levi goes to a con one day and overhears Eren praising the heck out of him and Levi starts blushing like a huge dork.
YESS LIKE he’d probably keep his distance for a grand total of 20 seconds before he’s tapping Eren on the shoulder saying,
Eren would turn around confused because he has no clue who his favourite writer actually looks like since [insertleviurlhere] never posts pictures of himself. So Eren is free to start his rant over again to this presumable stranger.
“What else? Well…” Eren would attempt to explain in exaggerated hand motions the awesome fantasy world Levi created. Everything down to the word choice and the character interactions and the emotions — there is so much to say and not enough time to say it all.
“Oh.” Levi is left feeling a little flustered because although he may be good with words online, it’s a skill he hasn’t yet perfected in real life. Especially with the fact that one of his fans happens to be so cute.
“Ah, yeah. Sorry, I really like them,” Eren says sheepishly. “One of my favourites…”
“What did you think about the smut?” Levi asks.
Eren looks startled. “The—!” They’re surrounded by people in public, and the kid’s cheeks are flaming now.
Levi is very adamant about hearing his opinion, though. “The sex,” he says even louder. “Between the two main characters. In chapter 24.”
“Yes!” Eren blurts. “It was…”
“Good…” he says without thinking, fidgeting a little on the spot. “It was nice. I really… felt it. The emotions! I felt the emotions.”
“Hm.” Levi doesn’t know what else to say. He has his laptop with him, though, and he takes it out. “What’s your url?”
Eren tells him.
“Good,” he says, closing his laptop. “I followed you.”
Eren would later on find that his favourite author is his most recent follower.
Silvanarius stood before the table, long silvery hair hung loose about his frame, freed from its usual foxtail as his arms hung limp at his sides, gaze transfixed upon the white gift box on its surface. The gift meant for his Dreamweaver.
We need to talk… ...I don’t feel for you like I once did… …See you around, Captain…
He had been to late.
Those words had plagued him for days now, playing over and over in his mind since it happened. He had locked himself away, the nightmares had returned and with a vengeance, he hadn’t slept and things were starting to blur. He had allowed himself the chance to open up, for his walls to come down finally after so long, allowed himself the hope that maybe he could find that ever lasting happiness again. In a moment of self doubt he questioned, what had he done wrong, what could he have done to change her mind, but no answer came..
His head twitched and tilted to the side, ears pinning back against his skull as her words played again,
..I don’t feel for you..
He had made a mistake, a rookie one at that, He had grown too attached. A woman was like the sea, the instant you thought you knew it, thought it was smooth sailing, you were being dashed against the rocks. His jaw clenched as his heart began to thunder his his chest, his breathing came more rapidly as his pain was swiftly changing into a terrible anger. Muscles flexed in his arms as he gripped the table edge, an angry pain-filled yell ripping from his throat as he lifted and flipped the table, flinging everything that was upon it to the floor.
He stood there breathing heavily, hands clenched into fists, eyes fixed once again on the white box that now lay amongst the scattered remains of everything that had once been on the table,
every muscle in his body tense with the anger he felt. Anger towards her. More so anger towards himself, He should have known better, should have kept her at arms length. Then it was gone, and he felt suddenly numb…empty. So much so that he barely noticed as he turned and walked to the balcony where he fell to his knees.
After a time, when reality and the heartache began to return, he lifted his pain-filled gaze to the world beyond the balcony and found himself for the second time in his life..lost.
For the better part of two decades I got to photograph the captain. Before he received that title he was just a young kid wearing #2 playing shortstop just a few years younger than me. We went through some great times together, 5 Championships, a couple of Perfect Games, closed the old Yankee Stadium and spent many exciting nights hanging on 161st street. Derek got most of the fame and money, I walked away with a great collection of photographs. When he walked alone around the stadium last Thursday night after another I can’t believe that happened moment, I would be lying if I was to say I wasn’t a little choked up.
It really didn’t hit me until September rolled around and it was obvious the Yankees weren’t making the playoffs, that this was it. When we started this run, I had no grey hair, my back never hurt and I could throw a football 50 yards. Over the last few weeks I got to shoot a good amount of Yankee games for ESPN the Magazine, Major League Baseball and Sports Illustrated, as the end grew near, I was just hoping to make a couple of nice frames that would finish the story.
I was very satisfied with the way it ended for both of us. Derek walked away from the game just like everyone hoped he would. I walked away with probably my best set of images of an athlete over an entire career. Seems like a good deal to me.
Here’s a couple of links to more images and a great read by J.R. Moehringer for ESPN the Magazine