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hirayalore · 2 months ago

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— PART ONE, PART TWO.

the one where the thought of someone liking you romantically has never crossed your mind, much less being liked by your own crush, sirius black, who proves to you that all your doubts are nonsense.

pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

word count: 3k

rating: PG-15

content: fluff, established relationship au; gryffindor!reader

warning/s: mentions of being insecure, low self-esteem

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ reposted from my other account !

Being seen with Sirius — and frequently, might you add — indeed became the talk of the town for the first few days.

As soon as the news spread, Iris and Martha, your close friends, interrogated you endlessly inside your shared room at the dormitory, asking a bunch of questions that ranged from how did Sirius confess and what did you feel for the aforementioned guy.

They labeled themselves as ridiculous and as oblivious as you were when they realized that all the gestures that Sirius has been doing in all the times they accused him of liking Iris were actually directed to you. They apologized, for not seeing it themselves and for not thinking of you as the person Sirius liked, and told you that they were going to be happy and supportive of you as long as they saw that you were happy too and that Sirius treated you well.

When your Hogsmeade date came, you spent the whole day just getting to know Sirius. Turns out, he was more well-mannered than you thought. He was a gentleman; he opened doors for you, offered to pay for everything, was the one who ordered your meal, stood up whenever you wanted to follow up something from the counter, and carried your bag when you bought some sweets from Honeydukes.

But what you liked most about him now was how he seemed genuinely interested in you and whatever that happened in your life. He made it apparent that he really was keen on discovering more about who you really were, from your hobbies, to your favorite things, and where you grew up.

“My parents… I don’t know if you’ve heard it from somewhere,” you began as you walked with him back to the path that led back to the Hogwarts castle, “but they’re, uh, Muggles. So, that means —”

“You’re Muggleborn,” Sirius supplied for you, appearing not even the slightest bit bothered by the fact. “And you don’t have any siblings, do you?”

You answered him, quite confused that he didn’t dwell too much on your revelation, but chose to drop it for now. “None.”

“Ah, so that makes you the only witch in your family.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “uh, does that sound okay?”

He glanced at you with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know. You’re a Pureblood, and you come from an excellent line of wizards.”

“You have a point,” he said, still nonchalant as ever, “but I’m… well, you can say I’m a bit different from them. I mean, to start it off, I’m a Gryffindor.” He chuckled. “Plus, I’ve moved out from my home decades ago.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I live with James over the summer. His parents treat me as their own. Nicest couple, the Potters.”

“Wow. I never knew.”

“Well, being a teenage runaway and an outcast in my own family isn’t exactly something I should be proud of.”

You both laughed.

You were relieved to find out that there was no issue about you being a Muggleborn, especially since as stated, he came from a family of impressive and some well-known wizards who — from what you remembered — believed that being a Pureblood was equivalent to being practically royalty in the wizarding world.

Even if you knew that he wasn’t like that to begin with, there was still some doubt in your mind that perhaps his mindset is the same as theirs, considering that you’ve been a victim of prejudice over the years you studied in Hogwarts and was even called a Mudblood by a Pureblood student when you surpassed them on an exam in second year.

So, to have a confirmation right now was great. You were happy to hear from him that he didn’t have any problem with it, unlike some people who you’ve caught muttering to themselves about how Sirius could associate himself with a person like you, which inevitably led to some insecurities building up.

“Do you reckon I can get away with taking you out again next week?” asked Sirius once you were back in the Gryffindor common room, stopping before you where you stood at the last step of the stairs leading to the girl’s dormitory.

Your eyebrows rose. “There’ll be a next time?”

“Yes. If that’s okay with you,” he said with a patient smile. “Or did I read the signals wrong and you actually hated spending time with me today?”

“Don’t be foolish. I didn’t hate it.”

“You didn’t?”

“Not one bit.”

“Then how did you like it?” He was suddenly doing it again, that thing he does wherein he moves closer to you and you were bound to move away because of shyness, but somehow at this instance, you couldn’t command your feet to do its usual response.

“Hm?”

“Was it nice?” He continued, a hand now placed on the stairs’ handrail, leaning towards it. “Was it okay? Was it average? Would you ever want to be with me again?” He was teasing, it was evident on his big smile and his mischievous expression.

“I think you already know the answer to that.” You frowned cutely.

“Oh, I really don’t.”

“Sirius…”

“Tell me what you think,” he urged, tone gentle.

There were girls from your house walking down the steps, seeing the scene of Sirius gazing at you and you looking flustered playing in front of them. They hushed among themselves, glancing at you in envy, and you felt your cheeks burn at the attention.

“It was nice.” You told him finally.

“Just nice?”

“Wonderful,” you corrected.

He nodded solemnly, waiting.

“And I’d like to do it again sometime.”

He grinned. “That’s more like it. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

You smiled down at the floor. “As if I was going to say something else.”

He lifted your chin up so that your eyes could meet. “Still, I like hearing it come from your lips.”

Before you went upstairs to your room, Sirius reached for your hand and kissed the back of it, winking at you and then heading to the boy’s dormitory.

For the following weeks, the both of you were consistently hanging out and going on dates. It reached a point wherein your respective friend groups were starting to merge. It was either Martha and Iris who were going to be with you two, while anyone from Sirius’ own friends tagged along and joined the party as well.

You were naturally growing more comfortable with Sirius day by day. You even allowed him to hold your hand by the third date. He has stolen a few kisses on your forehead and cheek, and has laid his head on your lap whenever you were in the Gryffindor common room, Sirius sometimes getting your hand and placing it gently on his hair, asking if you would stroke it as he tried to take a nap.

Everything was going at such a smooth and great pace.

Sirius was great. His friends were great. What you were feeling for him was getting stronger.

The only problem was the bitter people who had no business having a say in your blooming relationship.

You knew you shouldn’t mind them, but it was hard when you could hear students whispering about you in classes and during breaks, always going on about how someone like you didn’t seem to be a good fit for Sirius, either in deep belief that Purebloods shouldn’t date Muggleborns or that you were far too quiet and timid to be a wonderful match for the ever so magnetic Sirius Black.

You couldn’t agree more, to be frank. However, your greediness and happiness were what mattered to your most in situations like these that you managed to fade those comments out.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

Or influenced you to sometimes see yourself in a harsher light.

“I knew you’d still be here,” Sirius spoke from behind you, a quick kiss being planted on your temple before he took the spot next to you on the sofa.

It was past midnight, and you were still working on an essay for History of Magic. You promised Sirius an hour or two ago that you weren’t going to stay up too late, but you haven’t been adding any new paragraphs to your essay because of your overthinking, so that meant you also haven’t reached your personal quota that was made in the first place to prevent you from cramming the said output.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” you replied, looking at him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Didn’t you say you have training for Quidditch in the morning?”

“I do.”

“Which means you really have to go to bed.”

“I tried to. Really. But I couldn’t.”

“Why not? Do you need warm milk or a frame that has dozens of sheep for you to count to help you get drowsy?”

He rolled his eyes. “Ha, very funny, but I actually wanted to make sure that you were already in your room. It’s not good to be here all alone.”

“I do it all the time. Nobody’s usually up in the common room at this hour, anyways.”

“Well, next time, tell me, so I’ll keep you company.”

“Oh, but that won’t be necessary.”

“I’m aware,” he said. “However, I insist. Come on, love, we’ve talked about this.”

You smiled, apologetic. “Sorry. I should know better, shouldn’t I?”

“Well, you told me that you’re still getting used to it, so I’m not holding that against you.”

“Yeah. But that’s just it, actually. I know that I should be getting used to it. To us… to you… but my brain keeps telling me that it’s bad to do so.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know,” you trailed awkwardly, realizing that you might have said too much, but you didn’t want to stop giving him a little bit more of your thoughts, getting a sudden rush of courage you’ve been wanting to have, “perhaps just, I feel like… I don’t deserve this. Any of what’s happening between us.”

Sirius stared at you, confused. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I just feel like this is all a wonderful dream that I’d have to wake up from soon.”

“____,” he began to say your name, but you shook your head, already sensing where it was heading.

“You don’t have to say anything, Sirius. It doesn’t have anything to do with how you’re making me feel.”

“Then what’s making you think this way? Is it because of what the others are saying?”

In your silence, he got the answer he needed.

“It’s absolute rubbish, you know,” he said. He sat up straight too, appearing more passionate now. “People don’t know what they’re blabbering about. All they want is to stick their noses into others’ businesses when they don’t know anything.”

“Sometimes they have a point, though.”

“Such as?”

“Such as you being a Pureblood and me being a Muggleborn not making any sense.”

He seemed frustrated at that. His nostrils flared a bit when you mentioned it. “Since when did that matter anymore? Lily and James are literally the same.”

“Yeah, but we’re not the same same as them. We’re still different. Lily’s different. She’s much more spectacular than I am.”

“Come on, you’re being absurd. You’re amazing, ____.”

You had the nerve to laugh. “It’s fine, really. You don’t have to make me feel better. If there’s something that I’m used to, it’s this.” You sighed, going back to your previous position and focusing back on your parchment. “I’m sorry I brought it up in the first place.”

“No, don’t be,” he reached for your hand and forced you to face him again, in which you did, but you still couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I should be the one apologizing. I haven’t been checking up on you about this. I should have known better that this was something that would bother you.”

“What do you even see in me, Sirius?”

“What?”

“We nearly have nothing in common. You should be someone who’s at the same level as you are.”

“No, I don’t. I much rather be with you — regardless of how different we are, I don’t particularly care and I never thought of it as an issue nor will I ever do.” Sirius pursed his lips, appearing a bit nervous now because of what he was going to say. “Look, ____, I like you so much. I like every aspect of you and what kind of person you are. I see what you’re made of, and I cherish you very much because of it. I like your kindness, your wit, your energy, and your whole being. You’re simply the easiest person to adore, and I’m utterly puzzled that you cannot see it.”

Your tongue felt dry. No one has ever declared what they felt for you in that manner before. It caused your eyes to tear up a bit at the overwhelming reality that there was a person out there who saw you this way, who liked you for who you are and didn’t give two cents of what others thought of about it. You were so accustomed to being unseen, not given that much importance to, that to have Sirius tell you what you meant to him brought indescribable contentment in your heart.

So, without thinking, you leaned towards him and kissed his lips, bringing your arms around his neck while he parted his mouth in surprise, nonetheless wrapping his own around your waist to support your weight on him.

Sirius reciprocated the kiss, matching the vigor you were showing him, despite being shocked that you were the one who initiated your first ever real kiss with him. He was under the impression that it would take more dates before the both of you would reach this point, a concept that he didn’t have any problem with since he was sincere when he said he’d be patient with you, and that he’d be the one who was going to test the waters before asking if you were good with the thought of him planting a kiss on your lips.

“I like you so much too, Sirius,” you whispered, pulling away and gasping for air. “Having you be in my life is perhaps one of the most unexpected yet greatest things to happen to me.”

He grinned at that, pressing another firm kiss on your lips that made you sigh. “You’re so wonderful, love. I should’ve been with you since first year if only I wasn’t a bloody coward.”

You both laughed at his statement.

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “You have a lifetime now to show me what I’ve been missing.”

“You’re exceptionally bold tonight.” He observed.

“Well, the guy I have been crushing on and dating just made a heartfelt declaration of his attraction to me so I’m feeling my best.”

“About time that he did, honestly. Will this guy have the honor of being officially your boyfriend if he asked tonight?”

Your eyes widened. “That depends. Is he going to ask right now?”

“He’s about to. Just after he stops pretending that he’s pertaining to another guy and not himself.”

Another laugh and you were kissing him again, Sirius holding onto you tightly as he kept you in his embrace.

“Be mine?” he murmured against you, drawing his head back a little so he could stare directly at your eyes.

You smiled. You were on cloud nine; there was nothing that could ruin your entire year. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Sirius leaned for a longer kiss, much longer than the one you just shared earlier. He thought of how he could stay all night like this, how he might have to fake sickness just to ditch quidditch practices so he wouldn’t have to wake up so damn early, but before he could seriously contemplate it, you retracted your mouth from his and was telling him that he should go back to sleep because he had a tiring day ahead of him.

He frowned, wanting to kiss you again but you shook your head, evading his advances and giggling. “Sirius, you have practice in a few hours,” you told him again, “and I have to finish my essay too. You should head back.”

“For real?”

“For real.”

“But —”

“No, no.” You stood up and pulled him with you. “As your girlfriend now, my opinion holds more bearing, so when I say that you should go back to sleep —”

“I should follow you?” he finished, allowing you to lead him back to where the boy’s dormitory is headed.

You grinned, teasing. “Only if you want to, of course.”

He snorted. “You promise not to stay up too late? Because as your boyfriend, I should be entitled to stop you from making bad decisions as well.”

“Yes, I won’t. You have my word.”

“Good.” Sirius pecked your lips. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

An even bigger grin made its way to your features. “Goodnight. I’ll see you at lunch?”

He nodded. “You’ll probably catch me standing at the Gryffindor table too. I have to announce to the whole school that you’re my girlfriend. Can’t have anyone thinking you’re still available, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.”

“Sirius.”

“Goodnight. Dream of me, would you?” He snickered, abruptly rushing to the dormitory and leaving you there, speechless.

You were positive that he was only bluffing to tease the hell out of you who was not a fan of too much attention, but somehow, considering Sirius’ track record of being mischievous, you suddenly feared that he was not bluffing like you reckoned him to be.

Not to mention that he could be really petty at times too, and given that a lot of students still did not believe that a person like him would like a person like you, making a dramatic proclamation of how much he liked you and how much he hated those who couldn’t keep their idiotic opinions to themselves would certainly make a point.

For some reason, you found yourself smiling at the idea, secretly pleased that you had Sirius — the person you were now sure would move the earth and moon for you if that was what you wanted.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black imagines #sirius black drabbles #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #marauders #marauders imagines

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meraki-sunset · 2 months ago

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so your crow strider au gave me inspiration for my own au, but i've built up the idea in my brain so much that now im scared to try to put it to paper (oops) did you ever deal with this while making crow strider? (and if you did, how you got over it would be much appreciated thanks fhdjks) also your art is cool :]

Hi, sure, i encountered a few blocks when writing CSAU and other projects. I think my method comes down to a couple rules

You need to know how the story ends from the start, so everything in the story leads to the end. Things can change about the contents of the story as you write it and you change your mind about the events that will transpire in it, but you need an end goal you can build your story towards. Most importantly, this is what allows you to add foreshadowing for said ending and structure the narrative in a clear direction. Otherwise, you might come up with a cool ending too late and regret some choices from past chapters that now don’t help this new ending you want

On that same note (and i’ll proceed to copy and paste from an old post) You need to have a Word document with a rough timeline of the events from start to finish. You need to know how it ends from the beginning and how they get there. It can be really, really vague, but it has to be there. It can go like

. They start the game, the trolls bother them.

.both games go to hell

.scratch

.trip, develop relationships

.new set of kids/teen drama

.old kids they get there

.to hell again

.John retcons everything

.new timeline

.they win

And that's homestuck simplified, Those are your Acts. With them, you will know where you're going and if you need to change something earlier. Everything will be constantly up to change of course, but you will be going from point A to point Z more easily.

From there, you go to every point in that list and create a Word document for all of them. I have them in different folders to have every act separated and in order.

A folder for each Doc for every Act, Numbered, and in each one make more lists like that one telling what happens, for example

WordDoc1 - ACT 1 "They start the game, the trolls bother them"=

.John needs to get his game

.introduce Rose

.introduce the trolls on pester chats

. John gets the game

.introduce Dave

.etc

And those are your chapters. Now you can know the extent of what you want to do and if it makes any sense.

I addition to that, every Folder can contain not only the Word document for the Act but also relevant texts and art that are connected to the Act, so evey folder is all about that specific act and any inspiration for it.

Another piece of advice I can give you is to hint at anything important. That's a rule of comedy; actually, the comedian usually closes the show with something related to the first things they said.

That works for everything, and makes people go, "Oh the thing! The meaningless thing they said earlier, it was a clue all along!"

Interconnect it like a web, and that web will stop the story from falling

Homestuck is so ridiculously interconnected that you lose track of the stuff and objects that repeat that have no way to be where they got to be, songs and people and events that are too similar to not be connected but nobody addresses, things like that make it feel like you're dealing with a universe and not just a line of events.

3. Yet another thing, it's something I'm still trying to assimilate, and is that less is more, sometimes things don't need to be said, specialy not bluntly, and an expression, a gesture, a flinch can summarize them. Backgrounds can be reduced, and ideas can be conveyed.

one example is, In homestuck, it's never said that Dave was raised with lack of food. He never sais it, but it's shown in how happy he was to find a warm bottle of juice in his closet, how there is only weapons on the kitchen and no sign of food, how he later sais he never learned what the purpose of a fridge was until he saw it on tv. If someone is lacking something, don't have them say, "i grew up without X thing" show what filled that space in the absence of X thing.

Instead of some character saying, "My dad was never there for christmas" have them say how they thrited for presents at the local goodwill, payed with their lawn mowing money and put the presents under the tree themselves for their siblings and mom.

4. Something that I always have in mind when writing the dialogs and sketching the scenes, is

"I have an idea; what's the easiest way for someone to get the idea, to get the feelings i want to transmit from the idea?" I made the art something I could handle drawing hundreds of times, simplified the coloring, the aspect symbols, the way I draw backgrounds, the way I write dialogs, etc.

That will save you time and work and could prevent you from getting stuck with a project too big to handle

5. This is the most important one: The first draft’s only purpose is to exist.

Writing is like playing darts sometimes; you only get closer to hitting the center by missing it and learning what not to do. That’s an actual rule on animation and a motto on the Disney office. “Get it wrong as quick as you can,” because when you learn what you’re doing wrong is when you start learnign what doing it right means.

If it helps, title your first draft “the dumb version,” because that’s what it is—the version to get the idea out of your head, and then you built over it.

On the same note, once you write "the dumb version" don’t correct it. Rewrite it. It’s annoying, I know, i know, but fixing and fixing a text only carries the mistakes from the first draft, and everything looks kind of disconnected, because it ends up being a Frankenstein text of all the versions of the story mixed together.

This also applies to art; that’s how I handle both writing and drawing; if it’s not working, hold onto the core idea, new page, restart.

Rewriting it puts it in perspective; it feels like a text of its own, with a clear intent in mind.

I think that’s all I have. Making a story is mostly about managing your strengths and weaknesses, organizing and not being scared of it not being perfect.

Hope this helps.

#writing advice #csau extra

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sincerelyneo · 1 year ago

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woman | h.rj

“i hope you can see the shape that i’m in while he’s touching your skin”

💿now playing: woman by harry styles

❯ summary: Renjun is selfish - he knows. He knows that he has no right to be jealous of Shotato, your dance partner, but he is. Because even though he broke up with you, you’re still his.

❯ pairings: renjun x fem!reader (ft. riize’s shotaro)

❯ genre: exes, smut, angst, idol!au

❯ words: 6.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, jealousy, swearing, arguing, slight angst, smut, dom!renjun, unprotected sex (don't do this!), marking, possessiveness, oral sex (f receiving), praising, mirror sex, hair pulling, creampie, porn with a little bit of plot, use of 'my girl', reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just renjun being jealous and sulky for 6k words.

Fuck Osaki Shotaro.

That’s the only thing going through Renjun’s mind as he sees the younger dancer have his hands all over you in your dance rehearsal.

Renjun knows he has no right to be seething right now - he’s the one that broke up with you - but there’s something about seeing Shotaro in your personal space, tracing his fingers down your torso, and making you smile with every compliment he gives you on your technique that’s really starting to piss him off.

It's not that Renjun has any specific issue with Shotaro himself; any guy in his position would irk him. Still, it’s Shotaro's love for helping others improve their dancing that only adds fuel to Renjun's frustration, especially now that he's volunteered to assist you.

As Renjun feigns busyness on his phone, waiting for his own rehearsal, he seethes behind the glass of the practice room, a visible vein pulsing on his forehead.

“Dude, you’re practically burning holes into Taro’s hoodie,” Chenle chuckles as he walks over, a smirk playing on his lips as he gazes down at Renjun.

“Don’t be so ridiculous, I’m not!” Renjun rolls his eyes and moves his bag to make room for Chenle to sit on the floor beside him.

“Oh yeah?” Chenle teases, “Then what’s with the bursting vein on your forehead?”

“I’ve just been replying to some shitty emails,” he lies, hastily locking his phone and stuffing it into his pocket.

Chenle quirks a brow and gives him a deadpan look, “You had the weather app open.”

Renjun runs a hand through his hair, about to defend himself, but then he hears your laughter and his gaze snaps back to the glass instantly.

Shotaro's hand delicately trails along the curve of your waist, before he pulls you into a graceful twirl. You laugh softly, the sound echoing in the room loud enough for everyone outside to hear. Your movements are fluid and seamless against each other, and it’s starting to make Renjun feel sick.

What dance lesson requires the instructor to twirl and dip the student?

Shotaro's grin is infectious as he spins you around, and you giggle in response. Renjun’s not stupid - he can see the chemistry, the easy camaraderie that exists between the two of you, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

As Renjun's eyes fixate on the scene inside the practice room, he scoffs tonguing the inside of his cheek. Chenle follows his gaze and smiles, an idea popping into his head. He lets out a low whistle. "Damn, they're really going for it, huh?"

Renjun clenches his jaw, trying to tamp down the surge of irritation. "Yeah, well, they're just rehearsing," he mutters dismissively.

“Just rehearsing? We don’t rehearse like that,” Chenle counters, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Renjun looks up at him with a scowl. He doesn’t know what’s worse, what’s going on in front of him or the irritating little man next to him who seemingly loves poking the already angry bear. He can practically feel the amusement radiating off his friend as if he's revelling in his torment. It's infuriating, but Renjun knows he can't let it get to him. Instead, he focuses back on the glass, his jaw clenched tight as he watches Shotaro's infectious grin and your giggles echo through the room.

“Taro’s cool, I’m sure if you asked him to stop dancing with Y/N he would,” Chenle suggests.

But Renjun's got more pride than that. He's just about able to handle the teasing from his friends about his jealousy, and he knows that telling Taro to back off would only add fuel to the fire of ridicule. And he's not sure if he's ready to deal with that.

“I don’t mind Y/N and him dancing together,” he shrugs.

Chenle’s face falls flat, “Huang Renjun don’t lie to me. You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m not!” His voice raises to an audio level that’s louder than he would like, gaining the attention of some of the other members outside the room.

"Hey, man, look I’m sorry, but it's okay to feel jealous. You two dated for a long time,” Chenle pats him on the shoulder gently. “Honestley I’m shocked the two of you even broke up.”

So is Renjun - even though he knows he was the one who initiated it. Honestly, there was no good reason for your breakup now that he thinks about it - now that he sees you with someone else. The reason behind the breakup stemmed from Renjun’s growing anxiety that being an idol would force distance between the two of you. You had assured him it wouldn’t, and you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be his girlfriend; still, Renjun figured separation would be the best despite your protests.

He sighs, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude for Chenle's understanding. "I know, it's just..." He trails off. He doesn’t know how to properly articulate what he’s feeling without sounding like a hypocrite.

Still, Chenle nods sympathetically. "Just give yourself some time, Renjun. It'll get easier."

Renjun offers a weak smile in response before turning back to the glass. He doesn’t have his phone in his hand to ‘distract’ him now so he has to watch the scene in front of him, and his heart sinks.

He doesn’t even know how it happened, one minute the two of you are just laughing together, then he turns to talk to Chenle for another and as he turns back to you, Shotaro's hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin with a tender touch. Your eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you lean into his touch, your bodies inching closer.

He can't tear his eyes away, the sight before him a painful reminder of what once was and what now feels so out of reach. Renjun's fists clench at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he struggles to contain himself.

It's not just the physical proximity that stings, but the undeniable chemistry between you and Shotaro that Renjun just can't ignore. The way your laughter intertwines with his, the way your eyes lock - it's like a dagger to his heart, reopening wounds he thought had healed.

But just as your lips are about to meet, Renjun's up on his feet and barging through the practice room door without a knock.

"Alright, rehearsal time's over," he announces, his tone clipped and authoritative as he strides into the room.

Shotaro immediately pulls away from you, glancing at Renjun, who responds with a scowl. Despite the tension, Renjun can't help but feel a sense of relief as the two of you separate.

"Hyung, we've still got fifteen minutes—"

"We need to start early today, gotta prep for the comeback and all," he interrupts.

Renjun's gaze shifts to you. You're shaking your head at him, hands on your hips, your midriff exposed and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It brings back memories of all the times he's fucked you in this very practice room. Apart from the physical closeness, the fact that Shotaro got to witness you like this - sweaty and out of breath - infuriates him.

“That’s not fair Jun, we booked this room for the full hour, you can’t just barge in like this!” You argue with him, but Renjun can’t even take in anything you’re saying because even after your months apart, you still use that nickname for him.

Shotaro snaps him back to attention, “It’s fine, Y/N, we can reschedule for next week.”

Like hell you will, Renjun thinks.

You narrow your eyes at your ex-boyfriend before scoffing and heading for your dance bag, tossing it on your shoulder and heading to the exit. You make sure to slam your shoulder into his body as you pass him, muttering how much you hate him under your breath.

Shotaro’s about to follow your lead, hoisting his own bag over his shoulder, but Renjun stops him in his tracks.

“Taro, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Shotaro nods, slinging his bag back down but pausing by the door.

Taro 1:25 pm

Sorry Y/N, I won’t be able to help you with your

rehearsals anymore, something’s come up.

There’s just no way. You look down at the text message, confused.

Shotaro loves dancing, he loves teaching people choreography and helping them improve, so you know there’s no possible way he’d cancel your sessions like this with no word of rescheduling. Glancing at the time on your phone, you realize it's Wednesday afternoon - around the time Shotaro usually finishes his dance practices with his group. With a furrowed brow, you decide to head over to the practice rooms to ask him about it.

After all, you liked Taro and his teaching methods.

As you approach the practice rooms, the faint strains of music drift through the hallway, accompanied by a few stops and restarts. Finally, you reach the room where Riize is rehearsing. The door stands slightly ajar, and you pause, opting to linger and peer through the glass instead. Inside, you see them all - sweaty and breathless, a clear sign that they've reached the end of their session.

You're about to knock on the door when you hear Anton's voice from inside. "Taro, are you eating with us today, or are you practising with Y/N again?"

“I’m not helping Y/N out anymore,” he replies and you deflate a little.

“Why? I thought you liked dancing with her.”

Shotaro groans audibly, then passes his water bottle to Eunseok, who starts chuckling.

“What’s funny?” Anton asks.

“Hasn’t he told you?” Eunseok interjects, casting a glance between them, “Taro loves dancing with Y/N, but last week Renjun made it known that he’s not too keen on it.”

Anton’s face channels your own, because what the fuck did that mean?

You look down at the text message again, and now that you look at it, it only has one person written all over it.

You know your ex-boyfriend better than anyone, and just from the way he crashed your practice last week, you could tell that the dance rehearsals with his old group member were getting under his skin. You won’t lie, there’s a part of you that liked the idea of irritating him, riling him up now and then just to be reminded that he still cared. But you’d never think he’d go this far.

“It’s true,” Shotaro confirms, “Last week he told me to hang back after one of our practices, and he asked me to…” he clams up abruptly when he sees you standing in the doorway, arms folded tight across your chest.

“He asked you to what?”

Shotaro doesn’t answer. The laughter between the boys suddenly runs quiet as you all just look at each other.

“Finish that sentence, Taro.”

He groans and runs a hand through his hair, “Y/N, come on, he told me not to say anything—”

“Tell me what he said to you, he doesn’t just get to make demands about me anymore.”

“It wasn’t exactly a demand…” he mumbles, “More of a request.”

You give him a knowing look, “I swear to God if you don’t tell me what you know right now Shotaro, I’ll—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupts, “I’ll tell you.”

Around half an hour after grilling Shotaro and his group members for the truth, you burst through the practice room of NCT DREAM. The air is hot and humid, and it only channels the fury that’s built up in your muscles since finding out about your ex-boyfriend’s silly little plan. Huang Renjun has officially crossed the line and there’s no way on this Earth you’re going to let him get away with it without a lecture.

The boys all look a mixture of shocked and surprised to see you. And you don’t blame them, the last time you were in a practice with them, you were happy, probably bringing your boyfriend lunch to make sure he’d eaten. But this time you’re angry, so angry you’re body is trembling.

“Huang Renjun!”

He turns around almost instantly, and instead of looking scared about your anger, he fucking smirks with that stupid beautiful smile you hate (love).

“Y/N?” He responds innocently, though there's a glint of mischief in his eyes that tells you he's well aware of the storm about to be unleashed upon him.

As you and Renjun lock eyes, a heavy silence descends upon the room, punctuated only by the sound of your breathing. Mark, ever perceptive, notices the tension crackling between you, and like a good leader he senses the need to diffuse the situation.

"Alright, everyone," he interjects, his voice firm yet soothing. "Let's take a break, yeah?"

Because of Mark's intervention, the boys nod in agreement, gathering their belongings and exchanging knowing glances and whispers as they file out of the practice room one by one.

With the others now gone, you waste no time laying into him, “What is the matter with you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

You scoff, frustration bubbling up inside you. "Don’t pull that clueless shit with me. He told me what you did!”

His facade cracks ever so slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crosses his features before he quickly masks it with a defiant smirk. "And what exactly do you think I did?"

"Oh, don't play dumb," you snap, advancing towards him with each step. "You told Shotaro to cancel our dance lessons, didn't you?"

Renjun's expression remains infuriatingly neutral, but there's a glint of defiance in his eyes that sets your blood boiling even more. "And if I did?"

The audacity of his response only serves to fuel your rage. "Do you have any idea how selfish and manipulative that is?" You accuse, your voice rising with each word. "You have no right to interfere with my life anymore!"

He doesn’t look at all remorseful as he shrugs, “I’m not interfering in your life, I just figured Shotaro shouldn’t overflow his schedule.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You’re unbelievable. That’s not your call to make. You’ve never had a problem with Shotaro teaching anybody else to dance until me.”

“That was before Riize debuted, it’s different now Y/N.”

“No, it’s not fair!” You snap, “You’re not being fair.”

“I’m just looking out for Taro…as his senior.”

“No, you’re not, you’re doing this to piss me off!” You groan, “So I’m asking you why?”

Renjun clings to the last shred of his pride, attempting to brush past you to grab his water bottle, hoping to deflect the conversation elsewhere. But you weren't about to let him off that easily. You reach out and grab his hand as he tries to slip past.

Your eyes plead with him, and he cracks under the weight of your gaze.

"What do you want me to say, Y/N?" He finally erupts, his voice rising in frustration. "You want me to admit that I'm fucking jealous, that I can't stand the thought of him with you?"

“What, if you can’t have me no one else can?”

He goes quiet at that and just looks at you, the silence speaks a thousand words and you can’t believe his audacity right now.

With a heavy sigh, you run a hand through your hair, exhaustion creeping in. "You broke up with me," you remind him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Renjun's expression softens for a fleeting moment, a trace of remorse flickering in his eyes before it's replaced. "I know," he admits. "But that doesn't mean I stopped caring about you."

You take a step back, his words hitting you harder than you expected. "Caring about me doesn't give you the right to meddle in my life.”

He reaches out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air between you as if unsure whether to touch you or not. "I messed up, okay? It’s just, I don’t like the way he touches you. I guess…I let my jealousy get the best of me."

"Jealousy?" You repeat. "After everything that's happened between us, you're still jealous?"

Renjun's gaze drops to the floor, unable to meet yours. "I can't help it," he admits, his voice barely audible. "Seeing you with him, it just... it drives me crazy."

You shake your head in disbelief, struggling to process his confession. "You broke up with me, Renjun. You made that choice."

"I know," he repeats, his voice filled with remorse. "And I regret it every day."

You're torn between anger and longing, resentment and yearning. Honestly, ever since he broke up with you there hasn’t been a day where you haven’t missed him. You’ve waited to hear him say those words - that he regrets leaving you - but you’re not about to make it easy for him to just crawl back.

You narrow your eyes at him, a mischievous glint dancing in them as a sly smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "You know, Shotaro is a great dancer," you say, your tone deliberately casual.

Renjun's jaw clenches at the mention of the name, his gaze flickering with a mix of anger and insecurity.

"It's been interesting to know he's always there for me now that you're not,” you say with a nonchalant shrug, enjoying the way his irritation simmers beneath the surface.

You watch as his hands clench into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling with each aggravated breath. His eyes darken with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, but you refuse to back down.

"It's almost as if he's filling a void that you left behind," you continue. "But I suppose that's just the way things go after a breakup, isn't it?"

The taunt hits its mark and Renjun's temper flares. In a sudden burst of rage, he closes the distance between you, his grip tightening on your shoulders as he presses you against the nearby mirror. His gaze turns possessive as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"You really think I'll let him have you like that so easily?” He asks, voice low and dangerous.

You shiver at the intensity of his words, feeling a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And what makes you think that’s your call to make?"

A wicked smile tugs at Renjun's lips, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Because deep down, you know you’re still my girl," he asserts. "No matter how much you keep trying to deny it, you know you’re mine."

You scoff, trying to ignore the way his words resonate within you, "You can't just break up with me and then waltz back into my life claiming me as your own, Jun!"

He smiles at the nickname again, and it gives him the confidence boost he needs to know you still want him, still crave him the way he craves you.

"Oh but I can," he counters, his tone unwavering. He brings his finger to your cheek, tracing it along your skin until it rests underneath your chin. "Because no one else can make you feel the way I do. No one else knows you like I do."

His words send a shiver down your spine. All the good times you have with him replay in your mind and despite your best efforts to resist, you find yourself succumbing to the magnetic pull of his presence, to the familiarity of his touch.

"You’re fucking crazy babe if you think I’ll let some other man have you," he whispers. "Especially him.”

Your eyes narrow, he’s so close now that the two of you are practically sharing the same breath.

“And you’re fucking crazy if you think you have a say in my relationships.”

He remains unfazed at your rebuttal, his gaze unwavering as he leans in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours now. "Maybe I am," he concedes smugly. "But deep down, you know you still want me."

Part of you wants to push him away, to resist the pull of him, but another part - the part that still aches for his touch, for his love - finds itself surrendering.

"Renjun," you whisper, voice barely above a breath. "I..."

And before you can finish your sentence, his lips crash against yours in a heated, passionate kiss, his pent-up frustration and desire spilling over into the touch. It's a tumultuous mix of emotions - there’s still so much unresolved between the two of you - but you get lost in the moment. You melt into his embrace, and perhaps, just perhaps, being possessed by Renjun again isn't such a bad thing after all.

As the kiss deepens, your hands tangle themselves into his hair until it’s dishevelled and the lines between love and hate blur. It's a dangerous game you're playing, dancing on the razor's edge between desire and destruction, but right now you couldn't care less about the consequences. You can talk about all that later - after he fucks you.

He pulls back for a breath, trailing kisses down from your lips to your neck, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

"God, I've missed you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

"I've missed you too," you gasp out as he starts to nibble on your earlobe.

He moves his hand up higher along your thigh until it reaches the hem of your shorts, and he wastes no time slipping his fingers inside them. “It’s been too long.”

You exhale as you feel his hand brush against the edge of your panties before slipping under them. He runs his hand through your folds as he looks at you with a predatory glint in his eyes before finding your clit. A soft moan escapes your lips as you move your hips instinctively towards him.

"You're so wet already," he murmurs as he starts to rub circles around your clit. “This all for me?”

You arch your back in pleasure, feeling a wave of heat surge through your body. You nod pathetically, not being able to form a coherent sentence because the familiar feeling of Renjun's touch makes you feel dizzy. He smirks at your reaction, then pulls out his hand making you whimper from the loss of friction.

You know you’re fueling his ego with your whining, but you can’t help it. You hadn’t realised just how much you missed the feeling of his hands before they were being ripped away from you so abruptly.

“You know, you never asked me for dance lessons when we were dating,” he says - almost accusatory - between soft pants as his kisses return to your jaw, trailing down your neck. His hands slowly travel from your legs and past your waist, dancing along your exposed sides until his fingers are fiddling with the straps of your sports bra.

You can’t stand his teasing, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about sex with Renjun, it’s that you play by his rules.

“I know,” you remark, a little breathless.

“And I hated every time he would touch your skin, and how much it would make you laugh and smile,” he growls, gently nipping your neck and soothing the spot with his tongue. “I want all your fucking smiles, Y/N.”

You hold back a whimper as he sucks a small spot just beside your collarbone, a mark you know you’re going to have to cover tomorrow.

“Seems quite selfish, Jun.”

“I guess I am when it comes to you.”

His fingers take off your bra, exposing your naked breasts to him. You gasp at the cool air making your nipples toughen. He looks up at you, his gaze dark and wild and sending a shot of pleasure straight through you. Not once does he break contact as his hands slide down your body, grazing your nipples until you shiver, and travel down until he is back at the hem of your shorts.

His fingers dance along your inner thighs before they trace along the hem of your panties. Your breath hitches as he skims along your clothed clit, not enough to be truly stimulating but enough to make you bite down in anticipation.

He knows you want more, but your impatience is his favourite part.

So he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk as he wraps his fingers around your waistband and slowly tugs on your shorts and panties together, pushing them down until they pool at your ankles where you swiftly step out of them.

The smile on his lips can only be described as feral. “So damn pretty,” he mumbles, “And it’s all mine, yeah?”

You smile as you shake your head. “Possessive much?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he smiles. “But don’t pretend that you haven’t missed that about me.”

“Bold of you to think I’ve missed things about you.”

He grins. “Deny it all you want babe, but the fact you’re the one naked right now speaks volumes.”

You blush at the revelation and the fact that he’s fully clothed whilst you’re bare. You turn your head to the side and mumble. “That doesn’t mean I missed you.”

"Oh?" He raises his eyebrow, his finger gently finding the underside of your jaw, tilting it to meet his gaze. His pupils are dilated, filled with a level of lust you didn’t even know was possible. “Then maybe I need to show you exactly what you’ve been missing.”

That’s when he finds himself dropping to his knees, his head dipping low enough to kiss up your thighs. You let out a small sigh as his lips latch onto your skin, nipping and sucking in the same way he used to do when he wanted to leave a trail of marks.

Your lip gets trapped between your teeth, and the cold from the mirror behind you lingers on your exposed back. You look down and wish you could see the look in his eyes right now, yearning to see the hungry glint as he’s between your thighs. You can’t help your nails from digging into his shoulders as you relax into his tantalizing kisses.

“Still so fucking responsive to me, aren’t you?” His words fan over your heated skin, his breath so close to your clit you can’t take much more.

“Don’t tease me, Junnie,” you breathe out.

He laughs softly before pressing a gentle kiss against your clit, his tongue darting out to follow his lips. He can’t help but grin when he feels your nails digging deeper into his skin. His hands move to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh and basking in your moans.

He loved it more than anything when his girl was always so vocal, he could get drunk off the sound. Especially when he knows it’s his tongue licking along your soaking cunt and was making you whine like that.

You’re like putty in his hands, breathless and barely able to form coherent sentences as he teases you. And before you can even whine for more, his insatiable need to taste you gets the best of him and one of your legs is being thrown over his shoulder so his face can nuzzle further against your cunt.

“Fuck,” he groans against you, the hum of his words vibrating against your clit. Your knees buckle under the sensation but the tight grip he has on your ass keeps you upright. “Still taste like fucking heaven.”

“Shit,” you moan before throwing your head back.

“Only for me, right?” He mutters, ignoring your whine as he pulls himself away from your cunt to look up at you before adding a stern, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so needy right now that you don’t even care that it comes out in pants. “Only you.”

“That’s right, no one gets to taste this cunt but me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “You’re mine, every fucking part of you.”

He savours the way your cheeks burn red as you nod vigorously in agreement. His mouth finds your pussy again, and now that he has your omission, he doesn’t bother holding back. He loves the way your eyes flutter shut, and the shameless moans escaping your lips as he devours you like you're the last thing he’ll ever taste - he’s certain it will be the last pussy he’ll ever taste.

You can barely think as his fingers run up and down your thighs, slowly travelling up until his thumb is pressing slow, torturous circles on your clit as his tongue dives inside you, lapping and rolling. His teasing along with the fast tempo of his tongue makes your hips rock subconsciously against his face.

“Please, please, please.”

The words are a shameless plea, and you can’t help it because he has your legs physically shaking.

“Cum for me, baby. Be a good girl for me and cum on my tongue.”

The simple words of praise are enough for your body to be hit with a strong wave of pleasure. Your muscles tense, your body shakes, and your thighs run wet and slick with a mix of your release and his spit. The room is only filled with pants and you feel a few soft kisses being placed along your thighs.

Seconds later, his face, plastered with a very smug smile, appears in your line of sight. You notice how his lips and chin glisten; you didn’t think it was possible but you grow even more wet at the sight.

“I’ve missed making you cum.”

You can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes you. “I guess I’ve missed you being the one making me cum.”

“You guess?”

“I know,” you correct, “I know I’ve missed you being the one making me cum.” You bite down on your lower lip. “Starting to think I should have more dance lessons with Shotaro to make you jealous more often.”

His eyes instantly darken. “That’s not even funny.”

Your smirk widens, “It is a little bit.”

“You think mentioning another man’s name after I’ve just made you cum with my tongue is funny?” He asks, and his hands find their way to tighten on your waist. “Did I not make you cum hard enough if you’re struggling to remember who you belong to?”

You’re amused by his comment, nail lightly trailing along his lower lip before he playfully nips it. “I don’t belong to you anymore.”

He shakes his head with a tut, “Stop it, you know you belong to me, just as I belong to you. Always have, always will.”

“You must’ve been really intimidated by Shotaro to be this possessive right now,” you tease.

“Doesn’t matter though does it?” He squeezes your waist tighter. “Because Shotaro wouldn’t stand a fucking chance against me. He doesn’t know your body like I do.”

Your breath hitches, hands gripping his shoulders. “He could learn.”

The muscles in his jaw flex and his eyes sharpen, “Not a chance.”

His lips tease along your jaw, and he grins when you move your head to the side to give him better access. “You think he could make you cum like I do? Think he’d know how to make you scream like you do for me?”

The grip he has on your hips is a mixture of pain and pleasure. You feel him smile against your skin when his lips kiss over the developing mark on your collarbone, already starting to turn purple, from earlier.

Then, without warning, he’s flipping you around and pressing you against the cold glass of the mirror. The plush flesh of your tits flatten against it along with your hands, making you gasp. He’s quick to find your ear, nibbling at it before whispering.

“He’d never get the chance to even look at this pussy.”

“Fuck, Jun,” you squirm.

You know you’ve hit a nerve when you see his reflection toying with the drawstring of his sweatpants, tugging them down along with his boxers with one hand still on your hip.

It’s clear as day that he wants to claim what was his, and you’re more than happy to let him do so. Because the look of determination bordering on something more territorial sends a thrill through you.

You can see everything in this position, from the way he has you firm in his grip, to the way he’s slowly stripping from his own set of clothes. You watch as he grabs the flesh of your ass and squeezes it. And he can see you too, your flushed-out expression.

“Bet Shotaro doesn’t know you like watching yourself get fucked out, huh?”

You exhale deeply, making his smirk grow as he runs his hands along your skin, slowly venturing to lightly tease along your slit.

“And he’ll never get to know. Isn’t that right?”

Your eyes don’t leave his through the glass, “I don’t know,” you tease, “Maybe you should give me a good enough reason to make sure he never gets to know.”

You watch as he leans closer to you, his back slowly covering yours as he kisses against the nape of your neck. His cock head is teasing your entrance, sliding up and down your cunt tormentingly.

“You know I love a challenge babe.”

He doesn’t even give you a beat to throw a snarky remark back at him because he finally thrust into you, deep and thick and just the perfect fucking fit. Your eyes roll, matched by the guttural moan he lets vibrate beside your ear as you clench around him, listening to the small list of curses he lets slip past his lips.

“Already squeezing around my cock, huh?” He hisses through tight teeth, hands tangling in your hair and giving a sharp tug so your eyes snap open. “Eyes on me. I want you to see how much you fucking missed my cock.”

Your eyes are weak and hooded and your skin is flushed. You so desperately want to flutter them closed, but not more than you want to obey his command. So, you open them hazily and Renjun can’t get enough of it - enough of you.

The way you let out cute, little whimpers with every thrust; the way your hands clench into fists against the mirror as he pounds into you from behind, his tempo unforgiving and merciless. The way his hand tangles in your hair to tug you close enough that your back is pressed against his chest. The way your own chest is heaving up and down, hips wiggling against his.

He watches as your fist unclenches and comes to cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to hide your moans – that won’t do, he thinks.

“Don’t you dare hide those moans from me,” his voice may be breathy but it’s still commanding. The hand not in your hair snakes around your body so he can cup your tit. “I haven’t heard them for months, so don’t hide them from me.”

“And whose fault is that?” You counter, followed by soft whimpers as he squeezes your breasts.

“Stop reminding me.”

He rolls his eyes as his hand travels down the plain of your stomach, until his fingers reach the sensitive nub between your thighs, making you press your lips together.

The pace of his thrusts - deliberately harsh and sharp to entice moans from you - has you biting down on your lower lip.

“Look at yourself baby,” his breath fans over your heated skin. “So fucking pretty. All wrecked out for me.”

Your hair is tangled, wild and messy, and your thighs slick. It’s the hundredth time your body has begun shaken with desperation for his touch and - well - you just look so damn needy.

But who can blame you? Huang Renjun makes you feel things that no other person has. He hits spots so deep inside you, spots you didn’t even know existed. He is just not like anyone else and you love that he was all yours and you were all his.

And just when you think you couldn’t become more of a mess, the muffled words he speaks in your ear as he fucks into you are filthy enough to have you tittering on the edge.

“Junnie!”

Your orgasm comes crashing down. Hot pleasure rushes through your veins and then throughout your whole body. Your hand reaches behind you to cling onto him like a lifeline, nails digging into his skin as he fucks you through his own release. Your head feels fuzzy with the feeling of his cock driving in and out of you along with his moans – especially when he lands one last final sharp thrust inside of your cunt.

He holds your body close to his for a moment, letting the seconds pass as his mouth plants kisses messily against your shoulder. You shudder when you feel him pull out of you slowly, and then you feel his wet sticky cum dripping down your thigh.

He grabs for your panties, which have been disregarded somewhere in the room, and starts to wipe off the cum on your skin. It doesn’t even register in your mind what he’s doing until you properly look at him in the mirror.

You try to pull away from him, but his hand finds your hip and holds you in place. “Renjun! I need to put those back on!”

“Your point?”

You shake your head and look at him through the mirror, “I have rehearsals and my panties are going to be sticky from your cum.”

He smirks smugly, almost excited at the idea of you having rehearsals. He stands back to his feet holding your panties out for you to take.

“Good,” he shrugs, “That way if Shotaro wants to try anything, he knows you already belong to someone.”

You scoff and take the panties from his hand, slipping them past your ass with a roll of your eyes. You both find the rest of your clothes, dressing yourselves quickly. Honestly, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly aroused at the idea of you wearing panties filled with his cum during a rehearsal.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, you know.”

“I don’t know about that one,” he gives you a shrug, then pulls you closer to him by your hand. “It helped me get to fuck you again didn’t it?”

You snort, “That’s your takeaway from all of this?”

He’s about to say something cocky, you know it, but he’s interrupted by a pounding at the door.

“Are you two done fucking in there so we can get back to our dance practice?!” Haechan shouts and you hear utters from the others telling him to shut up. Renjun groans a series of curses as his friend’s voice starts complaining.

“Give me a second will you?!” He yells back.

“Seriously how long does it take to have makeup sex?”

“Shut it, Haechan!”

You can’t help the laughter and amusement in your expression as Renjun turns from the door to face you.

“Is that what this was? Makeup sex?” You ask.

This time when he pulls your arm into him he wraps his hand around your waist, hovering right before your lips. “You know it was. How many more times do I need to tell you I’ve missed you for you to realize you’ll always be my girl?”

“Hmmm, maybe a couple more times.” You tease, and then your words soon morph into giggles as he nuzzles against your neck, right where he knows you're ticklish.

“Then I fucking miss you. A lot.”

#nct smut #renjun smut #nct dream smut #nct x reader #renjun x reader #nct dream x reader #kpop smut #nct dream hard hours #renjun scenarios #nct scenarios #nct imagines

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 11 months ago

Text

5 times you and Miguel walked away from each other and 1 time you didn't

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader notes: brother'sbestfriend!Miguel, soccerplayer!Miguel, college au, slow burn, somewhat mutual pining but written from reader's perspective more exclusively, SFW - only slightly suggestive (worst thing is probably a boner), fem reader (pretty neutral though), saying soccer instead of football felt so dirty but oh well, thank you for reading!! word count: 5.9k

You’re having your first lazy day in forever. It’s the first day in recent memory that you didn’t have something to do or somewhere to be. You’re just going to hang out in your apartment and watch your favorite shows or read for fun for once or whatever else you feel like doing. Because you don’t have to go anywhere, you don’t even take a shower, opting to stay in your comfy pajamas, not bothering with any makeup or hair effort, as you lounge around.

You have the place to yourself now, but you share it with your twin brother Alex, the two of you lucky enough to go to the same university.

When you eventually hear his keys scratching at the door, you’re sprawled on the couch reading a novel you’d left half-finished for ages despite actually really enjoying it. School really had a way of making you not read. Or at least never full books.

As Alex opens the door, you’re surprised to hear him talking to someone else. You see his unexpected guest a moment later from your spot on the couch, your college apartment rather small after all. And you’re mortified. Miguel. Alex’s best friend, university soccer team superstar, ridiculously attractive Miguel.

God, why did Alex not warn you he was bringing someone over? All it took was a quick message, for fuck’s sake. And Miguel of all people? Ugh. Well, it wasn’t like you could tell him. “Hey, brother dear, I have a huge crush on your best friend, so can I please get a warning next time he’ll be around? You know, especially so I’m not looking like a total mess when he shows up?”

He’d been coming over a lot recently actually. He and Alex were both on the soccer team and happened to share a few classes too, so their schedules really lined up. Usually, it was nice to get to see him. It’s not like either of them paid that much attention to you when they were hanging out, but Miguel was nice to look at. Even now, they seemed like they were coming back from a casual soccer match or something, and he still looked amazing. His thick, dark hair was messy in the way that made you want to run your hands through it; his t-shirt hugged his unreasonably broad chest and shoulders perfectly, and his sweatpants — fuck, his sweatpants — his ass looked miraculous as he turned to put his gym bag down.

Miguel’s looking at you as he and Alex step into the living room. “It’s Saturday, Y/N, and the weather’s finally fucking nice. Why’re you reading a book? You’re such a nerd,” Alex snaps as he plops onto the couch next you, pushing your legs off to make room.

“I’m a nerd because I’m reading a book? Am I am tomboy because I’m not wearing a dress, too, or are we keeping it to one stupid superficial stereotype?”

Miguel chuckles as he sits on Alex’s other side. “Cut him some slack, Y/N, he took a soccer ball to the head today. Might be making him even more of an idiot than usual.”

You can’t help but worry; you love the idiot after all.

“You okay? Was it bad?” you’re asking as you run your hand over his head looking for bumps. “I’m fine, mom,” he mocks, pushing you away. “And you? You asshole,” he accuses Miguel playfully. “‘Took a ball to the head’?” he repeats, then turning to you adds, “It was him that kicked it!” Miguel starts laughing.

“It was the perfect setup, man. Not my fault you were distracted.” “Whatever,” Alex says as he reaches for the video game remotes. Knowing them, it was time for FIFA.

You’re eager to hide with how you look right now anyway, so you get up to head into your room. “We didn’t mean to kick you out,” Miguel starts kindly. “ You don’t have to go; you were clearly comfortable here.” “Clearly comfortable”? God that sounded bad in your head. He was “super hot”; you were “clearly comfortable.”

“Thanks, Miguel. It’s fine. I was going to —“ but you don’t finish your excuse as you trip on the remote’s charging wire as you step across, falling unceremoniously to your face right in front of them.

“Mierda!” Miguel yells.

Alex immediately asks, “You okay?,” but it’s Miguel who’s up and over you in the same instant.

“You alright?” he asks softly as his hands grab your hips to help you up.

His hands on you were the last thing you needed right now. So much for composure. “Fine. Really,” you say, your breath shaky. You’re kneeling on your living room floor; Miguel’s squatting in front of you, close; his hands haven’t left your body even though you’re no longer prone. He just watches you closely, eyes beautiful and concerned. You stare back into them, and after a couple more shaky breaths finally manage to stand up and step away, looking anywhere but at him. “‘M fine,” you repeat. You turn away hurriedly and go the few steps to your room. Once safely behind closed doors, your face scrunches and your stomach sinks at the sheer embarrassment.

It’s been days since Miguel was at your apartment, and part of you is happy for the lack of pressure but another part of you still gets a funky feeling in her gut at the idea that the last memory of you he had was of a clumsy mess. He and Alex have a game today, and pretending to convince yourself that you just felt like it today, you make yourself up more than usual for it. You’re actually pretty happy with your look as you head out to meet some friends at the match.

They win. Miguel scores. Twice. Alex’s defense is probably the main reason for their clean sheet.

So, hyped up on adrenaline and victory, they’re laughing and messing around with their teammates as a bunch of people approach the sidelines to congratulate them. Alex spots you and makes a goofy face, always so playful when he’s happy. He jogs over to you and gives you a huge hug.

“Stop, you’re so sweaty!” you squeal. He just holds you tighter and rubs his sweaty hair on you, laughing. When he finally pulls away, Miguel is standing right next to him, smiling at the two of you. “Do I get a hug too?” he teases. “I scored two more goals than he did!”

You’re not sure if he’s kidding, and you’re sure the chuckle you give in response is somewhat tense.

But, stepping toward him, you just say, “Congratulations,” and wrap your arms around his shoulders without getting too close. Damn, they were like boulders. Miguel wraps his arms around your waist and closes the distance you’d maintained, giving you a surprisingly intimate embrace. You’re struck by the feeling of him around you. He’s sweaty, too, and you can smell his musk, but instead of off-putting, you find it incredibly arousing. You can feel the rise and fall of his breathing where your chest is flush with his. He’s so warm, and you just want to breathe him in and trace every ridge of his body. But the hug is already lingering too long to be normal, and you pull back a bit awkwardly. Miguel is still looking at you, a subtle smile on his face.

He seems about to say something when a high pitched squeal right next to you startles you.

“Miguel!” a very pretty girl yells at him as she approaches, unabashedly jumping onto his back. She’s in a cheer uniform. “Oh my god, you were so good!” Miguel’s so sturdy, her jumping on him didn’t throw him off physically, but his face looks a little flustered. “Uh, thanks,” he says politely, putting her down. She just giggles and grabs his arm as she compliments him again.

You feel so awkward watching this, so you just turn around and walk away. You don’t see Miguel looking after you.

You’re at the after party with a couple of your friends. The soccer team was quite popular, and the victory parties tended to be good. You’re mostly having fun, but you can’t help but keep looking over to where Miguel is. Man of the match and man with that face, he was obviously the center of attention. People were coming up to congratulate him left and right. He handled it all so graciously. It shocked you how there was no arrogance in his demeanor; he was just the easygoing life of the party.

You wanted to go talk to him too, but you’d already congratulated him and didn’t know what else you would say. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself again. You could go talk to your brother, who was right next to him, but he was busy flirting, and you didn’t want to ruin it for him.

A bunch of people are dancing in the open space between you and Miguel, and the chaos lets you sneak long looks at him without his noticing. But when your friend leans over and asks, “Who do you keep looking at?,” you realize you have to be less obvious. “No one, just curious who Alex is flirting with,” you lie, proud of how quick you were with it.

“You a jealous, protective sister type?” she laughs.

“No, just curious.” “Is he?” “What?” “Protective?”

“Um, sometimes, depends. Why?”

“Because that guy over there keeps checking you out.” She nods toward an okay-looking guy chatting with someone on the edge of the dance floor. A second later, he was indeed looking over at you. “You should go talk to him!” “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so interested.” “Why not? He’s hot! I’m pretty sure he’s on the team too. You don’t have to marry him, Y/N, just go dance! You’ve been weirdly tense all night.”

You look over again, and your eyes meet. Before you can do anything else, he makes the decision for you, walking over to you.

“Hey.” “Um, hi.” You exchange names and pleasantries, and he asks you if you want to dance. Without thinking about it, you glance toward the person you really wish you were dancing with. To your surprise, Miguel is already looking toward you. He looks less happy than before. You look back at this guy quickly, hoping neither of them noticed.

You feel slightly bad thinking this, using this guy you weren’t super interested in, but you couldn’t help but feel it’d be nice if Miguel saw a side of you that might make him think of you differently, not just as Alex’s sister. It’s just a dance anyway, so, you accept the offer and head to the dance floor.

You fall into a rhythm with the music, with the guy. The dancing is fun; the guy is fine. Your back is to Miguel, and you can’t resist spinning to catch another glimpse, doing it seamlessly as you keep dancing. Your breath catches when your eyes meet his.

Miguel watching you from across the room is doing much more to turn you on than anything your current dance partner is doing, but you channel your new energy into your movements. It’s not a well thought out decision, though in the back of your mind you know who it’s for, but you start moving a bit more suggestively. You let your hips follow the music, let your hands come up to your hair as your body rolls rhythmically. Feeling especially bold, you even manage to meander closer to where Miguel is, giving him a better view.

Unbeknownst to you, this unfortunately also makes Alex, now unoccupied, notice you for the first time. You don’t hear him leaning over to Miguel and saying, “Gross. I hate seeing my sister with random guys. Let’s go get more drinks.” He drags him away, and Miguel, unable to come up with a good reason not to follow, does.

The next time you spin, all you catch is the backs of their heads.

The following week, you’re coming home from classes, and all you can think about is eating. You’d had to skip lunch to finish an assignment and couldn’t wait for dinner.

When you enter your apartment, you find Miguel sitting on your couch.

“Hey,” he greets. “Hi.” He’s sitting on the edge of the sofa closest to you, and he adorably shifts over to make room, as if you couldn’t just go around. You weren’t planning on sitting anyway, but now that he’s wordlessly extended an invitation, you do. “Where’s Alex?”

“Went to take a shower. We’re gonna play a couple games when he’s done.” He gestures toward the video game console. “Are the remotes charged?” you joke. “I hear it’s a hazard to have the wires across the living room floor.” Miguel chuckles lightly at your self-deprecating humor. He’s turned toward you, sitting in the middle of the couch, his elbow on the backrest as he occasionally messes with his luscious hair. “I felt so bad that day. Taking over your space and tripping you. When you looked so peaceful when we got here.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you laugh, amused but also masking your stirring feelings at the fact that he had thought about it at all. “I was just a mess that day. And I wouldn’t call my pyjamas peaceful, just comfortable. In my defense, though, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I liked your pyjamas,” he teases, and you roll your eyes. “What? I did! I’m all for comfy clothing; have you not noticed 90% of my wardrobe is gym clothes?”

“Yes, well, you can get away with it. You’re a guy, and you look like that,” you say, gesturing at his body before you really realize what you’re saying. You tense as soon as you do. It just slipped out, the conversation getting weirdly easy and comfortable with him. “Like what?” he asks, but he’s smirking, knowing what you meant. You just roll your eyes again. “No, c’mon, chula, like what?” He lifts his eyebrows in challenge, mirth in his eyes. You’re too busy reeling from the pet name to have mental energy to come up with a retort. You’re grateful for what would’ve otherwise been embarrassing: your stomach grumbling. Miguel looks at your stomach and giggles. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you say, taking the escape route and walking to the adjoining kitchen. He follows. “You can get away with it too, you know,” he says nonchalantly. You think you know what he means but look back at him questioningly. “The clothes. You always look good.”

You’re glad you’re not facing him, your expression probably revealing your excitement. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” He leans on your counter. “So what are you having?” “I don’t know, whatever we have. Haven’t had time to go to the store.” You’re rummaging through your cabinets. “I can make you something,” he offers. You stop and look at him. “What? I’m a great cook,” he shrugs defensively. “Have you never had my tamales?”

“It’s not about you being good or not,” you giggle. “There’s no reason you should have to cook when you’re just here to hang out.”

He just shrugs again, but there’s a tinge of shyness in his typically confident facade.

You turn to open your fridge, and he comes up right next to you. “Oh shit, you guys have jarritos. Can I steal one?”

“Yeah, of course,” you laugh. “Grab whatever you want.”

You didn’t think he would immediately… As you bend over to grab something from the drawers, Miguel reaches up to grab the soda, leaning forward. Both of you moving simultaneously, your ass presses firmly against his crotch. You both freeze in panic, prolonging the position, before you jump up at the accidental contact. His and your “sorry”’s and “I didn’t mean to”’s get jumbled together in the colossally awkward moment. Miguel looks down, then back up again looking startled. He scurries around to the other side of the counter, it now separating you. “Jesus, Miguel, I didn’t do it on purpose! You don’t have to put a barricade between us; it’s not like I’m gonna jump you!” “No, no, it’s not that! Fuck, it’s, uh, fuck…” He looks lost for words. His hand comes to his face, covering it in resigned embarrassment. His voice is a mumble through his obstructing hand, “I’ve a bd’ve uh sitch-ation.”

“What?” He uncovers his face with an exasperated sigh. “I have… a bit of a… situation,” he whispers, looking down.

“Oh… oh!” you say, realization hitting you. Probably largely because of the awkward tension, at least partially at the idea of you giving Miguel O’Hara a boner, you start cracking up. He just stares at you, deadpan, his hands coming to his hips. “It’s not funny.” “It’s a little funny.” His glare cracks the tiniest bit.

“Okay, maybe it’s a little funny. But it’s your fault!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t mean to what?” Alex asks nonchalantly, coming out of his room, lazily drying his hair.

“Nothing!” you and Miguel say simultaneously.

“Okay… should I just pretend that wasn’t really suspicious?”

“Yes,” you tell him. “It’s nothing, really. Just me being clumsy again.”

His eyes are still skeptical, but Alex just chuckles and nods, letting it go at the look on your face. He heads to the couch with an easy “C’mon, man” at Miguel. Miguel follows, giving you a sideways glance and tense smile. When he sits, he immediately puts a cushion on his lap. You grab the first thing that looks edible in your fridge and head to your room.

Two weekends later finds you at another soccer team party. They’d lost this time, 2-1. Miguel scored their sole goal, and the other team’s second had been a sketchy penalty. If the victory parties were good, the defeat ones were wild. Most of the players, Miguel and Alex among them, were drowning their sorrows, especially after such a disheartening defeat.

You weren’t a player, but you had your own sorrows to drown, and you weren’t stopping yourself from doing just that. You’d hardly seen Miguel in almost two weeks, and the few times you had, he’d been cold, keeping interactions mainly to greetings and goodbyes. You didn’t know if you’d done something wrong, if he was still caught up with your little awkward encounter, or if you were just making it up, your feelings for him needing some outlet. Making up stories by constantly obsessing about him was as good as outlet as you could get sometimes. Alcohol was a better one now.

A while into the party, you’re at the bar for your… you lost count… numberth tequila shot. You down it, lick the salt off your hand, and stick the lime in your mouth, cringing.

Your eyes are still closed when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You open them and see Miguel standing beside you. “Maybe switch to water, huh, guapa?” he tells you.

“Why? M’fine,” you slur.

“Maybe, but you won’t be if you keep this pace up.” “And how would you know?”

“Just noticed,” he shrugs.

You squint your eyes accusingly at him. You didn’t know what you’d feel next time you talked to him, but you hadn’t expected to feel this angry.

“You notice me enough to watch how much I drink but not to say more than two words at a time to me for weeks?” He looks surprised. “Y/N…”

You cross your arms and lift your eyebrows in an implied “what?”

When he doesn’t say anything, you just walk past him. You end up walking through the dance floor, and though it wasn’t your plan, you kind of like moving to the music. You’re drunk enough to the lack the inhibitions to just dance alone. You’re enjoying yourself, not even bothering to look back and see if Miguel was still there. A bit later though, you startle as you feel a hand on your ass. You turn and find a random guy you’ve never met before, smiling at you disgustingly drunkenly. You’re taken aback, your mind already a bit slow from the alcohol, so you haven’t decided yet how to tell him to fuck off by the time Miguel is in front of you shoving him away. He’s not overly aggressive but, even drunk, easily moves the guy away from you with an angry “What the hell, man?”

The other guy looks seriously scared and just lifts his hands with a pathetic “sorry, Miguel.”

“Fucking better be, what the hell is wrong with you?” The other guy stumbles away. Miguel turns towards you, and his expression melts from frightening anger to warm concern in two seconds. “You okay?” he asks, his hands carefully grazing your shoulders. You nod and lean into him. At your seeming comfortable, he lets his arms come around you.

“Thanks,” you whisper in his ear.

“Of course,” he whispers in yours, and it sends a shiver down your entire body. You stare into his eyes, your hands resting on his chest.

“Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna dance with me?”

They don’t call it “liquid courage” for nothing.

Miguel considers you for a moment, but a soft smirk is whispered across is sharp features. He nods slowly, and his hands move slightly further down your back. You close your eyes at the sensation of his hands running along your body. You run your hands up his chest slowly and wrap your arms around his neck. When you open your eyes, you see his crimson ones boring into you.

You start moving a bit more as you focus on the music to relieve some of the tension you’re feeling. He follows your lead, and soon you’re dancing together much more easily. As a couple of songs go by, you’re both moving freely, staying close to each other the whole time.

You’re so exhilarated, and he seems as enveloped in you as you are in him, so the next time the beat calls for it, you let your body twist rhythmically in his grasp. Your back is now flush with his chest, your ass on his crotch, your hand reaching behind you on his neck, in his hair. His hands are firm on your hips, and when you roll them against him, you hear his whispered “Fuck, mami” in your ear and feel his arm come around your middle, pulling you into him. His hips move in rhythm with yours. You’ve probably never been so turned on in your entire life. You keep this up for a delicious while. You can feel Miguel is hard through his jeans, but he makes no sign of being embarrassed, just continuing to dance with you with expert hip movements that make your imagination go wild. Of course he’d be an amazing dancer. Of course you’d imagine what else his hips could do.

You twist back in his embrace, coming to face him. He holds you close, and you bring a hand to his face. He leans into your touch. You move your face up slightly, and he seems to be following, moving his down. You’re so close, even think you feel your lips graze his, when someone bumps up against you, making you stumble.

Miguel’s strong arms catch you, but the moment is gone, and a second later, he looks startled.

“You okay?” he asks, stepping back a bit, speaking loudly to keep his distance. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you assure, but he seems off.

“Let’s get some air, huh?”

You follow him outside, the sudden change in ambience making your head spin a little. You lean against the wall, and he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Sure you’re okay?” You nod but don’t say anything, maybe a bit drunker than you thought, trying to ground yourself. He leans on the wall next to you. His body is warm where it grazes your side. You can feel his gaze intermittently on you. You get a little dizzy again, and you lean onto his shoulder. He just lets you, and you stand like that for a while.

His fingers graze the back of your hand.

“Want me to take you home?”

You nod into his body. He wraps a firm arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the party.

You’re home before you know it, the whole journey a blur dominated by his warmth by your side. When you reach your front door, you lean on it and look up at him. His subtle smile elicits your full one. “Thanks,” you whisper. “’S no problem,” he shrugs. “You’ll be okay?” “Yeah,” you nod. You’re already sobering up. “You?”

He chuckles and nods.

“I wasn’t the one downing tequila shots like water,” he teases. Your cheeks warm, and you look down as you chuckle.

“Wasn’t that many…”

He laughs.

“It was, cariño.” Again with the pet names.

“I’m still surprised you noticed.” “I always notice you,” he responds without missing a beat. Your eyes snap up to his, and you see the longing there.

You stare at each other for a heavy moment, then, drunk more on the sensations of your earlier almost-kiss than on alcohol, chasing that feeling, you lean up to try again. Your lips are a breath away from his when he looks down, effectively rejecting your advance. You pull away, mortified.

“Sorry, I… sorry,” you stutter as you scramble for your keys. You turn to your door. “Y/N,” he whispers, his hand holding your wrist softly. “It’s okay,” you say, looking back him, wiping tears from your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything; sorry I misunderstood.”

You quickly go inside and close the door. You lean on it, crying. Miguel, eyes closed, fists clenched, rests his forehead on the opposite side.

Miguel doesn’t come around for a while. Even as days pass, you can’t stop thinking about your night together. Confusion, sadness, embarrassment — all mixing together into a terrible cocktail.

Another match day rolls around, and you can’t stomach the idea of watching Miguel play, of potentially having to talk to him after. You tell Alex you’re really sorry to not support him this time, but that you’re not feeling well. He worries over you a while, unhelpfully but adorably emptying your medicine cabinet onto the kitchen counter, looking through stuff, suggesting this and that, telling you to text him anything you needed that he could bring you after.

A while later, you’ve just slumped down onto the couch, when your stomach sinks at the sight you’re met with. There, at the corner of the room, lie his cleats. He’d been cleaning them the night before and had clearly forgotten to put them back in his gym bag.

“Fuck.”

You lift yourself up, grab them, and head over to the stadium.

When you get there, you pound at the locker room door, and it opens — of course, you couldn’t catch a fucking break — to Miguel O’Hara’s gorgeous face. Though he looks at you intently, you can’t quite read his expression. Then he yells over his shoulder, “Ale!”

Alex jogs over and, upon seeing you, lets out the biggest sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God. I fucking love you.” He reaches for the cleats you’re holding up to him and gives you a bear hug. “Saved my fucking life, Y/N/N. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead. “You don’t look as sick. You’ll be okay?” He’s clearly in a rush to get back but wants to make sure you’re alright.

You nod and playfully shove his chest, pushing him back into the locker room. “You’re the best!” he yells over his shoulder as he saunters back. Miguel is still just standing there, all geared up for the match. It crosses your sick mind how good the uniform looks on him.

“You’re sick?” he asks.

“Nothing I won’t get over.” You offer him a weak smile. He’s nodding slowly, considering.

“Stay for the match?”

“Miguel, I —“ “Please.” You’ve never heard him plead before. You’re head is nodding before your mind can catch up. He just nods too. “I’ll find you after.” And with that, he jogs back into the locker room.

You’d never known ninety minutes could drag on for eternity, with a half-time’s worth of eternity in between. You’re sure you’re heartbeat was elevated the entire time, your mind and emotions reeling. What was Miguel going to say to you after the match? You had absolutely no read on him during your short interaction before. Then again, apparently you weren’t always great at reading him.

Minute after minute trickles by. At the end of the second half, your team up a goal (yes, Miguel’s), the ref announces an unusually large number of minutes. You moan with everyone else, for your own reasons. What was a potential leveler compared to the leveling of your heart?

Slowly, the minutes pass. The other team builds a mounting attack; they get a good attempt; they miss. The whistle blows; the crowd cheers, and you, you’re frozen in place.

You thaw yourself slowly as the players shake hands, go to their respective huddles. By the time they’re roaming the sidelines freely, you’ve only just managed to leave your seat.

As you descend the bleachers stairs, you catch sight of Miguel. He’s obviously searching, halfheartedly ignoring the congratulations coming from all sides. His eyes eventually meet yours, and as soon as they do, he’s running over to you, meeting you much closer to the bleachers than the field.

He comes to a stop right in front of you and just watches you. You just watch him. “Congratulations,” you say. He chuckles, lightly shaking his head.

“Thanks.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Y/N…” “Yeah?” “I…” “Miguel!” you’re interrupted. “Congratulations! Way to pull it out!” “Thanks, yeah, thank you,” he says hurriedly, looking back over to you. “Listen, I just, I wanted to clear things up after how we left them.” You nod, worrying your bottom lip, your arms wrapping around you defensively.

“I didn’t want you to think that —“

“Congratulations, Miguel! Did it again, man!” And a slap on the back.

“Uh-huh, yeah, thank you,” Miguel responds, turning away, approaching rudeness. “For fuck’s sake,” he says, much more softly. “C’mere.” He grabs your arm and drags you around the bleachers, stopping when you have a semblance of cover. He’s looking around to make sure no one else is about to talk to him, and his worried looks right after he’s just won makes you laugh. The sound draws his attention fully back to you. He smiles at seeing you smiling.

“Where can a guy get a little privacy, huh?” he jokes. “Probably not still by the field where he just scored the winning goal, I’m guessing,” you tease. He chuckles. Then he takes a deep, sobering breath. “Listen, Y/N…”

His tone sounds apologetic, and it makes you immediately think the worst. He probably just didn’t want you to be embarrassed. Wanted to fix things so they wouldn’t be awkward if he hung around, which he’d obviously want to do given Alex was his best friend.

Already fighting back tears, wanting to beat him to the punch to save face in whatever way you could at this point, you cut him off. “Miguel, you don’t have to explain anything or anything. I’m sorry I made more out of a good time than I should have. Please don’t let me keep you from hanging out with my brother even if I’m around, and I hope we can still be friends.” “What? No, that’s not… This isn’t about Alex. I mean, well it is a little bit.” He’s looking unsure. “Just keep things how they were before. It’s all fine.” “Is that what you want?” He looks serious. “What do you mean?” “Is that what you want? To keep things how they were before? To still be friends?”

“I… well… it’s what you want, isn’t it?” “I never said that.” “You didn’t have to. I tried to kiss you, and you pretty much said no to that. Twice.”

“I didn’t. Well, once, yeah I did, but it was only because I was worried you were too drunk. I didn’t want to take advantage of you. And, also, maybe a little bit because I panicked, okay?” He sounds more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard him yet. “I was worried it’d be weird with Alex or that I’d fuck it up with you, and I just, I don’t know, I panicked. And the other time wasn’t my fault. I was going to kiss you if you hadn’t stumbled.” “Someone bumped into me!” “I’m not blaming you! I just, it just, it made me remember you were drunk, and I didn’t want to be like that idiot guy I’d had to push away a while earlier.” “You’re nothing like that guy,” you say sternly. “I…” He’s started to look frustrated, unable to find the words. He runs his hand over his face, takes another deep breath. “What if you try now?” “What?” “I don’t know how to tell you. So maybe I can just show you. Try again, and no one will bump into you. I won’t panic, and I won’t think of all the things that could go wrong. I’ll think of how I’ve been feeling since that night. Absolutely fucking miserable. It’s been eating away at me; all I could think about was making it right with you, but I didn’t know how, didn’t know if I should. But I can’t take it anymore, and if you feel the same way, then, fuck, let’s just stop getting in our own way.”

“Miguel…” “Yeah?” “That was pretty good for not knowing how to tell me.” Your face forms the slightest teasing smirk, your eyes lighting up at the realization of what he’s telling you. “Shut up and kiss me already,” he says, rolling his eyes, unable to help his bright smile, pulling your body to his and bringing his lips onto yours.

You pull him into you, reciprocating eagerly. He moans into your mouth, and you feel his towering body sink onto yours. His arms are tight around you, one hand cupping your head, bringing you close. His kiss is fervent, desperate but concentrated.

You run your hands in his hair, and he chuckles gruffly, the sound muffled by your chasing mouth. You lose yourself in his embrace. You grip him tightly, breaching into his mouth, wanting to kiss him as much as wanting to be kissed by him. You could feel the beginning of a beautiful push and pull as your mouths move together, your bodies mold into each other’s.

You want to kiss him forever, but some loud cheering nearby startles you slightly apart. Miguel is looking deeply into your eyes. He kisses you again, lets his forehead rest on yours when he pulls back. You’re smiling when you say, “You should probably get back. I’m sure people are looking for you.” He groans dramatically and hides in the crook of your neck. He kisses it before saying, “I just want to be with you.”

You giggle, nuzzling his face with yours, holding him close, your hand in his hair.

“Yeah, me too.” He hums into your neck. He plants another kiss there, and one on your cheek on his way up, as he lifts his head again. His rough hands caress your face tenderly.

“This is good,” he says simply. You laugh and nod. “Fuck ‘em. I’ll go over there at some point. Let’s just stay here a little while longer.”

“Okay,” you smile.

Miguel leans back into you, kissing you and kissing you and kissing you.

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara angst #across the spiderverse #spiderman #atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman fanfiction #slow burn #mutual pining #bbf!miguel #soccerplayer!miguel

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420technoblazeit · 3 months ago

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do u think either viktor or mel are any good at cooking... u mentioned the sims room having spices and while i think viktor and mel understand cooking in theory and Would Add Spices i dont know how much theyve done it in practice... viktor knows chemistry from singed and his own work im sure which is a similar skillset but i cant imagine him ever cooking for himself (before the events of this AU) beyond stock basic low effort meals to get through the week.. and mel i dont think would be comically bad at it necessarily (cuz idk i just think its an overplayed trope and mel is all about how she is actually quite grounded and careful despite her outwardly fancy exterior- thinking abt the sequence of her mixing her own paints with her own hands) but i think she would have even less experience with it in practicality than viktor since its always been something provided for her...

i just am imagining mel buying spices she knows she likes and viktor advocating for filling starches that go a long way and dont go bad quickly and are easy on the stomach (Viktor lost so much weight while ill i cant imagine he was eating that well) and then the two of them both having such different experiences with food- wanting for it, never wanting for it- and both ending up with the same condition of Constantly Forgetting They Should Eat because of it... but both being so empathetic they notice the Other is forgetting to eat. ugh i love narrative foils

that ask got rlly long but btw i think jayce would love to cook (when he has time for it outside of the lab) i think he would be so happy watching his loved ones eat the food he made. some hobbies can be stress relief (i think this is the forge for jayce) and some require some more energy summoned to put into them and i feel like cooking would be more like that for jayce- something reminding him of his childhood and parents (before Everything), something he doesnt do all the time for fun but makes him really happy when he does do it

oh no i think they're Dogshit at it. to be clear. mel grew up filthy rich and in my mind viktor only ever eats the plainest easiest to cook meals unless jayce cooks him something. he probably has like. oatmeal every day and whatever the piltover equivalent of instant ramen is. my headcanon for the spice rack is actually very close to yours, i think mel picked it up from the market one day because she wanted to get better at cooking. i think she's very out of her comfort zone now that they're more or less on the run so she buys it and at first viktor wrinkles his nose and is like this is an unnecessary expense we should be focusing on other things. but maybe he misses when jayce cooked for him and eventually he gets really into it. maybe TOO into it bc now he's making the most ridiculous spice combinations you've ever seen and it's a disaster half the time but hey it's part of the process and at least he's having fun. i think they deserve to be a little bad at something relatively low stakes together. ty for this ask btw im so glad you like the au so much!!! :}

#arcane #two mages au #viktor arcane #mel medarda #meljayvik #melvik #kind of. like a little bit. i might start taggign this au with that bc it very much might become canon to it #the pig squeals

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

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OMG I love your party idea it's so cool!! how about "slow down baby" by Christina Aguilar for Eren Yeager 💓💓 one of my favs

Slow Down Baby

Slow down baby and don't act crazy, don't you know you can look all you want but you just can't touch

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: modern-day au, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, implications of cheating, cheating, sex toy use (vibrator), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, princess)

Summary: Your boyfriend Jean is working late again, and you can’t help but be suspicious that there’s something nefarious happening behind your back. Pent up from not seeing him this whole week, you take this alone time to treat yourself to some much-needed self-care.

Eren Jaeger knows that his friend is cheating on you, and he hates it. You don’t deserve it, not one bit. When Jean asks him to do a favor to try to cover up his infidelity, Eren seriously considers telling you the truth, ultimately deciding against it because of “bro code”. But what happens when he walks in on you taking all your sexual frustrations out on a little toy? Can he really keep his mouth shut?

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request @shepnicolo! Love me some Xtina, great song for the y2k karaoke party! This was a fun one for me, so I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading everyone! MDNI banner designed by @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest.

“Hey babe. Sorry, but I’m going to be at work late again tonight.” It’s already past nine in the evening when Jean calls you, informing you of this last-minute change of plans.

“Again?” He’s had overtime every day since last week. He’s also been leaving early in the mornings so by the time you wake up, he’s gone. It feels like you’ve barely seen him at all. “How about dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah. I already ate.” There’s shuffling in the background. And maybe it’s just your paranoia, but you swear you hear a woman giggling quietly beside him.

You swallow hard, asking, “Is someone with you?”

“Huh?” His tone shifts, as if you’re asking the most ridiculous question. “What do you mean?”

Immediately regretting it, you rephrase, not wanting to sound accusatory. “I was just wondering if anyone else is working overtime with you. That’s all. Didn’t want you to be lonely there.” The last statement is a lie; you sincerely hope he’s alone and not doing what you’re suspicious of.

He clears his throat nervously. “Oh. Well, yeah, there are a few people here with me, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Too late for that, you think, listening carefully for any more clues. When you can’t hear anything else, you sigh into the phone. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you later then.” You wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t. Quickly, you add, “I love you – ”

He hangs up before you can get it out completely.

Jean had been pulling away from you for a while now. It didn’t just start with the overtime. It began over a month ago, when you noticed how glued to the phone he was while the two of you watched TV together. When you asked who he was texting, he answered, “It’s my new coworker. She’s asking some questions about work.” At the time, it didn’t raise any alarms in your head, so you dropped it. Every day, he was immersed to the screen, sometimes excusing himself to take a call outside on your balcony. You resisted every urge, every temptation to eavesdrop on his conversations, look through his text messages, interrogate him further.

You continue to give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s no way Jean would ever cheat on you. While you haven’t been together for that long, you like to think that you know him well enough to be sure he’s a faithful boyfriend. You don’t even have proof of his infidelity. It would be unfair to accuse him of such atrocities over some silly speculation, right?

Since he’s been in the office late this entire week, the two of you haven’t had sex in what seems like forever. Pent up and frustrated, you take this time to care for yourself, since Jean’s not around to do it. It starts with a serving of your favorite dessert, then a warm bath, soothing the tense muscles in your body. You surround yourself in a comfy robe, brushing your teeth with the full intention of falling asleep as soon as you do the one thing you need to make yourself feel better tonight.

With all the lights off, except for the dim glow of the lampshade on the nightstand, you snuggle into your bed, untying the robe so it’s splayed beneath you. Inside the drawer, you retrieve your favorite vibrator and a small bottle of lube, pouring a tiny bead on the tip. Spreading your legs wide, you smear it on yourself. Using your free hand, you navigate to your favorite dirty audio, playing it out loud.

~~~

Eren hates this. Absolutely hates it.

He’s driving towards your apartment with a set of keys in his pocket and a bouquet of roses sitting in the passenger seat. All because your friend is a piece of shit.

Eren’s known for a while now that Jean is cheating on you. It started with a not-so-subtle comment in the group chat. My new coworker is fucking hot. That alone disgusted him. Connie, of course, laughed it off. Armin didn’t say anything, probably unsure how to respond at such a statement. It only went downhill from there.

She’s got the best body omg.

I’m in trouble now.

This is bad guys lol.

Don’t tell the girls okay?

Jean has always rubbed Eren the wrong way, ever since they were kids. But at least he respected him. Now, not so much. Not at all, actually. You don’t deserve this, not one bit. No one does, but especially you. And maybe the reason he can’t completely berate Jean is because Eren’s harboring a secret of his own: He’s head-over-heels for you.

Of course, he’s never acted on it. Bro code, right? Thou shall not hook up with another bro’s girl, or whatever the unofficial rule is. But what if said bro is acting like a total asshole? And what if this bro would treat you the way you deserve and more? Then what?

It’s because of this stupid code that he finds himself in the most ridiculous, aggravating situation. Earlier in the night, Jean texted the group chat. SOS SOS SOS. Armin and Connie were both busy, so didn’t respond, leaving Eren to answer the cry for help.

Jean explains it quickly through the phone, voice all panicky and guilty. “Dude, I need you to do me the hugest favor right now. I would you owe big time if you could help me out.” Basically, he needs Eren to buy a big bouquet of roses and deliver them to your apartment, where you can see them first thing in the morning.

“Why?” he asks, irritated by this request.

“I think she’s suspicious. So I need to do something to throw her off the scent,” he explains. Eren can already see the cocky, shit-eating grin on his face. Why is he friends with this douchebag? And why did he agree to do this? He’s complicit in this mess now, not only for keeping his friend’s infidelity a secret, but for helping him continue it. He wants so badly to tell you the truth so you can escape this relationship. At the same time, he’s supposed to have his friend’s back no matter what, even if he is being a massive prick.

So, he decides to help his buddy out, no matter how much it’s killing him. He meets Jean at an unknown address, most likely his side chick’s place. “Dude, seriously. I owe you one,” he says, patting him on the shoulder.

Eren nods silently, not wanting to speak in case he lets his true feelings slip. Jean hands him the spare keys to your apartment. “Just sneak in and set the flowers on the kitchen counter. She won’t suspect a thing.” It takes all of Eren’s willpower not to punch him in the face, so he quickly turns around to get into his car and drive off.

It’s almost midnight by the time he arrives to your apartment. Surely, you’re asleep by now, still completely unaware that your bastard boyfriend is cheating on you. Still, he shouldn’t meddle in your relationship, even though he wants what’s best for you, which is not Jean.

He unlocks the door quietly, tip-toeing into the kitchen to set the flowers down, as instructed. He notices your bedroom door is ajar, a faint streak of light coming from the inside, and the undeniable sounds of a man growling expletives like, Come for me, slut. Yeah, give it all to me.

His eyes widen, surprised that you’re still awake, even more so that you’re listening to something like this. Curiosity gets the best of him; he stealthily makes his way beside your door, peering through the tiny opening to get a glimpse of you.

You’re laid out on the bed, bare and exposed, gripping a vibrator to your pussy. The sight alone is enough to put him into a frenzy. Hearing your soft whimpers from your mouth along with the electric buzz from the toy fluttering on your clit sends him into a trance that he can’t snap out of. Before he can think logically, he’s pushing against the door, making his presence known.

~~~

“Eren!” You sit up in bed, flinging the toy off to the side, covering yourself with your robe. “What are you doing here?”

He stands before you, a crazed look in his eyes, an obvious bulge protruding from his pants. He stutters, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, glaring at him.

His mouth is agape, unable to get the words out. You’re losing patience, watching him struggle to explain why he’s here, inside your home, watching you masturbate. You grab your phone, making sure to exit out of whatever filthy audio that’s still playing, fingers ready to dial your boyfriend’s number when he blurts out, “Jean is cheating on you.”

You freeze on the spot, heart sinking from having your worst fear confirmed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, staring down at his feet. “I’m so sorry.”

There are no tears in your eyes, surprisingly. Instead, your throat is heavy with emotion as you repeat for a third time, “So, what are you doing here?”

Still avoiding your gaze, he answers, “Jean thought you were catching on to him, so he asked me to bring you flowers to throw you off.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you ask, “How long have you known about it?”

“A few weeks.” He looks up at you, saying your name this time. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

After a deep breath, you sigh, relaxing against the headboard. “I’m sorry you’re involved in it.” You smile at him. “And I’m sorry you had to see me…you know.” Embarrassment catches up to you, heat rushing into your cheeks, aware that you’ve just been caught touching yourself with your vibrator, which is still in plain view beside you.

He steps forward, inching closer towards the end of the bed. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Jean is a fucking asshole. You don’t deserve this.”

“What do I deserve, Eren?” You peer at him, tears welling in your eyes now, desperate for any ounce of comfort he can give to you in this moment.

He sits near you on the edge of the bed, keeping his distance. “You deserve to be loved by someone who’s always going to treat you right. Someone who’s going to love you from head to toe.”

“Someone like you?”

A gentle smile forms on his face. “Yeah. Someone like me.”

No matter how badly you want to close the distance between you, want to feel the love he says he can give to you, guilt holds you back. Sensing your hesitation, he scooches nearer. “Let me help you. Tell me what you want.”

Eren has always been sweet to you. Too sweet, in fact. You’ve always gotten the sense that he cares more for you than he lets on. And maybe it’s because you’re hurt right now, fragile, heartbroken, even a little scornful towards Jean. Whatever it is, it makes you realize you’ve been too busy with the wrong man to notice the right one has been here all along. However, two wrongs don’t make a right. Even with the confirmation of Jean’s adulterous behavior, you’re still his girlfriend until you officially end it, which will be soon.

In the meantime, you manage to come up with something you can do to take advantage of this moment.

You let go of your robe, letting it fall to your sides, displaying your nude body to him, arousal wet between your legs from earlier. He watches you carefully, cock straining against his sweatpants, breathing heavily.

“I’m not a cheater like Jean,” you mutter, spreading yourself wider, showing off your glistening cunt.

“I know you’re not,” he whispers, scooting forward, hand drifting to his lap.

Reaching for your vibrator, maintaining your gaze on him, you say, “I’m a good girl.”

He swallows hard, palming his erection through the fabric. “Fuck. You’re a good girl. Such a good girl.”

“You can look, but you can’t touch. Understand?” Your finger hovers over the button, tip pressed to your throbbing clit.

He nods erratically, licking his lips. “Yes.”

“Good,” you smirk, turning the toy on, ready to give him a show. “Tell me all the things you want to do to me.”

He shoves his boxers down, cock sprung stiff against his abdomen, the slit shiny with precum, veins bulging on his shaft. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, better than what’s-his-face by a longshot, though you might be biased now, given the circumstances. Eren wraps his fist around it, jerking himself off while he watches you tease the tip on your swollen bud. “I want to fuck you into this mattress,” he moans. “Pound this pussy until we break the bed.”

“Yeah?” you purr, pressing the fluttering tip deeper into your clit. “What else?”

“Want to bounce you on this cock, watch you cream all over me,” he huffs, stroking himself faster. “God, this is hot. So fucking hot.”

Pleasure ripples through your body, toes curled from the sensation, so close to your climax with his soothing voice spitting his nasty fantasies at you. “I wish you could fuck me right now,” you confess, limbs quivering from ecstasy, pussy fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Me too, princess. Me too. But you’re a good girl. And good girls don’t cheat.” He readjusts himself onto the bed, kneeling in front of you, stroking his hard dick. “I can give you this cum, though. That’s not cheating, right?”

You blindly agree with him, approaching your climax. “Yeah, give it to me. Give it to me, Eren.”

He swears loudly, shooting his load onto you, spilling over your clit, dripping down your pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, marveling at how pretty you look covered in his seed.

You smile at him, relaxing against your pillows, dipping the tip of your vibrator in his mess. His mouth hangs open, eyes half lidded, watching as you stuff it inside your cunt.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, stroking his cock again, eyes fixated on your pussy.

Do technicalities even matter anymore? All you know is that you want to be loved from head to toe by Eren Jaeger. You set aside the toy, sitting up to close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his. He hesitates before deepening the kiss, tongue slipping inside your mouth, sloppy and eager for more.

When you break apart to catch your breaths, he leans his forehead against yours, whispering, “Are you going to be a bad girl now and take this cock?”

Grinning, you nod, pulling him in for another kiss.

#eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren smut #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren yeager #eren yeager smut #Eren Yeager x reader #Eren Yeager x you #aot smut #attack on titan smut #y2k karaoke party #milestone event

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livelaughlovekny · 8 months ago

Text

You bake with him

Notes: Modern AU, Gender neutral reader, 2nd person POV, Streamer!Reader, OOC!Muichirou

Summary: You try to bake a cake while Muichirou just watches.

a/n: ohmygod y'all its the way i tried writing muichirou as he was before he got his memories back and then halfway decided to try and write him after he got his memories back and changed it but the thing is I cant write EITHER personality well SO ITS LIKE HIM BUT NOT HIM CRIES also this is like really long and written without any er proofreading so IMSOSORRY

“Hello everyone! Welcome back to ‘Can I Cook It? Yes I Can!’, a series in which I try to create all sorts of foods, ranging from a bowl of chicken soup to macarons! Today’s objective is to bake a simple one-tier cake. Oh and, we have a guest today! Everyone, do welcome my beloved, Muichirou! He’s just here to observe, haha.” Stepping to the side, you allow your audience a view of your lover. Muichirou looks at the camera before glancing down at the comments section. It became extremely active the moment you moved aside.

You were by no means the most viewed streamer, though you did have a dedicated fanbase of your own. On normal days, there would be a steady stream of comments. Occasionally, there would be a large influx of comments and views, but that only happens when you’re celebrating festivals by creating challenging foods. (The last time you tried, you ended up spending the entire next day cleaning up your kitchen.) So, it was quite surprising to see the number of viewers suddenly increase. You looked at the comments section too.

————

gluedcheeks: OMG?? THATS YOUR BF ??

antidepressants98: HUHUHUH IM SUDENLY GAY

InADitch247: ahhh you two look so cute tgt!!! ><

allthingsblack: how does it feel to be gods bias?

EATINGRAMEN: @ allthingsblack right, GOD I SEE WHAT YOU DO FOR OTHERS

————

The rest of the comments that followed had similar contents. You were stupefied. You were under no such impressions that Muichirou was anything less than gorgeous, but after being with him for so long, you naturally got used to it a little. Seeing the reactions of people who never had the chance to be graced by such a beauty for, you couldn’t help but a little smug and sneak a glance at your boyfriend. Surprisingly, he was already looking at you, having lost interest in the reactions of others earlier. Smiling a little, you moved back to block your audience’s view of him. Ignoring the flood of dismayed comments, you resumed your talk. “Now, let us get started! I’ll be sharing the link to recipe I’ll be following later. After last month’s baking incident, I decided to pick an easier recipe to follow today.”

————

OKOKOKOKOKOK: understandable as you should

LALALALALALALA: its a surprise youre still willing to bake

————

What could you and the comments possibly be talking about? Muichirou was mystified. Still, he silently watched you curiously as you grabbed the necessary ingredients and preheated the oven. Once you were done adjusting the settings on the oven and lining the baking pan with parchment paper, you moved on to the next step. You grabbed a bowl that you deemed big enough and dumped in some flour, baking powder and salt. Seeing this, Muichirou couldn’t help but blurt out “How do you know how much to add?” He did not see you measure the ingredients beforehand and the amount of each ingredient you poured in seemed questionable.

“I don’t.” Ah what a simple response, but it gave Muichirou a better idea and guess of how “last month’s baking incident” could’ve happened. He mentally prepared himself for a “today’s baking incident”. Perhaps he should’ve worn a raincoat? He wasn’t familiar with baking but he was familiar with your uncanny ability to mess things up ridiculously so. He watched with new found interest as you whisked the ingredients before moving on to turning on your stand mixer. After fumbling with the switch and buttons a little, you managed to turn on it and waited a few minutes for it to beat the butter and sugar.

Muichirou moved closer to you and looked over your shoulder. The butter and sugar now looked pale and creamy, which (to Muichirou’s surprise) matched what the recipe stated. Oh, maybe you weren’t that bad at baking? Unaware of your boyfriend’s skepticism, you continued with the next steps: adding two eggs. Now this was easy. You’ve cracked many eggs before. However, it seems that today wasn’t your day. You must’ve used too much force because the moment you tried cracking the egg apart, it burst open. The slimy egg whites and yolk now stained the front of your shirt and kitchen walls. Some of it already began to drip down your kitchen counter too. Muichirou silently concluded that you couldn’t bake.

Without hesitation, he shook his head at you, sighed, and reached over to crack both eggs for you. He then proceeded to help you wipe off the egg remains from the walls and counter. Pointing at your stained shirt, he asked, “Are you not going to change? If you don’t wash it soon, it’s going to stain forever.” You wave a hand and laughed. “Of course not, I’m too lazy. This is my streaming shirt, no matter what happens, I’ll until I’m done to wash it.” That explained why this originally-purely-white shirt had all sorts of weird patches of colours on it.

————

imachicken: AHHHHH HE LEANED OVER TO HELP YOU AJHHH

xstrxnxut: that’s literally the hottest thing i’ve ever witnessed

EATINGRAMEN: HOW TO BE EGG

whywouldiknow: taking a bath with my hairdryer rn !! :D

EATINGRAMEN: HOWTOBEEGG

allthingsblack: HOWTOBEEGG

————

Unlike your extremely active comments section, Muichirou decided to keep his thoughts to himself and chose to observe what else would happen.

After adding milk, oil and vanilla into the bowl (all volumes were eyeballed obviously) and mixing it, you added the entire mixture of dry flour in and beat it until all ingredients were combined. (you were supposed to add half first, beat it, then add the other half but you wanted to “save time”). You then poured the batter into the baking pan. The recipe stated that you should use a spatula to smooth out the top. You could not find yours and decided to just move on to stuffing it into the oven. The recipe stated that you had to wait a minimum of thirty minutes. No troubles arose so far, impressive! Keep up the good work!

Proud of yourself, you grinned before turning to the camera. “Haha, guess today’s baking session will be a success! I’ll now be making the cake’s frosting.” Grabbing the bowl used to beat the butter previously, you placed more butter into it and dumped some sugar in and allowed your stand mixer to beat the mixture. With a soft smile on his face, Muichirou leaned against the counter as he watched you dump more sugar (?), milk and vanilla into the bowl.

————

OKOKOKOKOKOK: i didnt know frosting had salt in them

LALALALALALALA: thye don’t

————

There was still a lot of time left so you decided to interact with your audience. A quick glance at your viewership left you shocked. The numbers were nearly triple of your usual viewership and it was still steadily rising! Was having a new face really that effective in gaining more viewers? Of course not, the effectiveness depended on how attractive that face was! Perhaps you should invite Muichirou to join your streams more often, it seemed your fans really liked him and were extremely interested in him.

————

coconut_972: how did you guys meet????????

user4356892: how long have you guys been tgt

lovelove: YOU TWO ARE SO CUTE WHO CONFESSED FIRST

WEEVHJ: WHATS YOUR BFS SKINCARE ROUTINE

dontclickonmyname: YEAH WHAT PROCUCTS DPES HE USW

EATINGRAMEN: what kind of ritual did you perform to be so lucky

allthingsblack: none, if youre not gods fav you obv wont get someone liek that

EATINGRAMEN: 😔

allthingsblack: 😔

————

Wow, you were certainly not expecting so many questions. You glanced over at your lover, silently asking if he was okay with all the attention. Muichirou simply smiled at you before answering a question at random, “Everyday, I made sure to stand on my head for three minutes while reciting the following line aloud ‘I have no doubt that even if everyone in the world opposes us we will get together because our love for each other is so great that it’s greater than the universe itself’ two hundred and ninety seven times. You have to make sure that you say it two hundred and ninety seven times within three minutes. You will definitely get your soulmate if you do this. I’m living proof.” He said all that with a nonchalant look. For a moment, you couldn’t tell whether or not he was serious. In the end, you decided not to dwell on it. After all, who cares? (Your audience certainly did. The comments section exploded with multiple users commenting that line along with the cartwheel emoji repeatedly.)

Looking through the comments, you found a question to answer. “Oh, what’s our love languages? Well, mine is all of them, HAHA. And his is probably acts of service and words of affirmation. He used to be bad with his words but he’s getting better now!” You smiled lovingly at your boyfriend and he couldn’t help but smile back. Indeed, when the two of you first met, he was cold and aloof and held great disdain for anyone who wasn’t part of his family. But slowly and surely, he warmed up to you and now, the both of you have been together for quite some time and he has learnt to express his feelings a little better.

The two of you spent quite some time together answering the questions. It was mostly you going through the comments, picking out questions out of the sea of “🤸 I have no doubt that even if everyone in the world opposes us we will get together because our love for each other is so great that it’s greater than the universe itself 🤸”. You answered most of the questions, with Muichirou occasionally chiming in to provide some tidbits about the both of you. He didn’t talk much but whenever he had something to say, it would either be to praise you or an affectionate insult (which was actually still clearly a compliment for you!!). He did not look at the camera or the screen but rather at you. He loved watching you excitedly talk about stuff.

It was a while until you saw the following comments:

————

OKOKOKOKOKOK: hey how long has the cake been in there already

LALALALALALALA: HAHA I THINK AN HOUR. AT LEAST.

————

Oh no, you completely forgot about the cake! Rushing to the oven, you put on your gloves before opening it, reaching into it, and pulling out the pan. It did not look like the golden brown it should be. And while the recipe stated you wait for the cake to cool before adding frosting, you decided that at the point, time did not matter. Haphazardly, you used a large spoon to scoop out the frosting and spread it on the cake.

The frosting looked very uneven no matter how many times you tried to smooth it out. Oh well, who cares? Definitely not you! Using the same spoon, you scooped out a large chunk of the cake and turned around to offer it to Muichirou. He saw how the cake looked when it came out the oven. In fact, he could still see black peeking out of the uneven layers of frosting. How could he deny you though? Resigned to his fate, he opened his mouth and ate the cake obediently. He paused after the first bite. He slowly chewed again.

You watched his reaction intently but could not tell what he was thinking. Finally, you asked, “Well?” Muichirou swallowed before answering. He smiled brightly. “Really good. In fact, you should let me finish the rest.” A beautiful bright smile blossomed on your face as you excitedly took a bite for yourself. Your blossomed smile immediately wilted. It. Was. Salty. And So. Very. Very. Burnt. Really good my foot! You had added large amounts of salt into the frosting instead of sugar and the cake tasted like charcoal (you did not know how charcoal tasted like but you were positive that this was how it must taste like)!

You couldn’t even swallow the bite and spat it out into the bin. Looks like this baking session was a fail too! How disappointing, maybe better luck next time!

————

EATINGRAMEN: im so jealous he could still smile and offer praises

allthingsblack: OHMYGOD RIGHT ?? like he even tried to make sure that only he would have to suffer

OKOKOKOKOKOK: I KNEW IT IT WAS SALT NOT SUGAR

LALALALALALALA: at least today wasn’t exactly a baking incident like last time

————

a/n: ill really do anything just so I can avoid revising omfg

#kny #kny fanfic #kny x reader #muichiro x reader #demon slayer #kny muichiro #fluff #kimetsu no yaiba #wow this is like really long #muichiro x yn

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nanaminokanojo · 10 months ago

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ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | part 30

-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur

CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 30 next>>

A/N: Contains prose with panels in between. 6th panel is a video.

“I can do it, you know,” you insisted again

“Not having it. I should make sure you’re getting the best care.”

You arched a brow at him, sitting stiffly beside him, not really seeing how it was easier when he said, “Prop your legs up on my lap.”

“Huh?”

He didn’t explain any further and instead stood up, carrying you bridal style and propping you on the couch so your back was against the armrest while he gently placed your legs across his lap. “That wasn’t so hard, was it.”

“N-no, but –”

“No buts.”

As he moved around you, you couldn't help but stare at him. His usually intimidating demeanor softened as he meticulously put the ointment on the abrasions on your leg with a cotton swab. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers deft and precise, eyes intense as he focused on his task. The room was silent except for your steady breathing. At that moment, Sukuna's care and attention just took center stage.

“You do this often?” you teased. “With other girls, I mean.”

He shook his head. “Consider yourself special.”

“I’m only special ‘cause you nearly killed me.” You laughed at your own joke, not meaning anything by it, about to swing your legs off of him when he held onto them, his hand quickly but very gently settling on the shin of your right leg. “I…I’m sorry. That wasn’t a nice thing to say.”

Sukuna leaned towards you, placing his free hand on the backrest. You met his gaze, not liking the turmoil that seemed to swirl in his dark eyes which, you noticed, were flecked with dark garnets and amethysts with the way the sun was shining on him.

“I’ll never hurt you,” he told you softly. He closed his eyes in agitation before flashing you an apologetic smile. “Not intentionally, anyway.”

“Stop saying it that way.”

“Hmm. What way?”

“Like you’re considering the possibility that you would.” You mustered all the courage you had, reached out and cupped his face, making him look at you. “You’ve taken care of me better than anyone so far. I am grateful for that. Don’t ever forget it.”

He placed his hands over yours. “How are you this gracious? It’s unsettling.”

At that, you felt your heart stutter. It’s happening again. “Is that bad?”

Sukuna laughed. “How is that even bad? I swear to god, you worry about the weirdest things. It’s good. It’s just that…”

“Just what?” You withdrew your hands, looking away. That overwhelming feeling akin to being submerged in cold water made its way from your toes to your chest, making it hard to breathe. “People hate me, you know? They hate me because they think I’m just pretending. I acted out once because I was too tired to deal with anyone, and they all started leaving, telling me I’m a –”

He didn’t like what he was hearing. “That’s ridiculous.”

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself. “But I admire you, Sukuna. You show everyone the real you, and they like you for it.

Unlike me, you thought, concealing the thought with a smile, but that was short-lived when he said his next words.

“I like you.”

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PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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kingkonoha · 1 year ago

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FIVE HUSBANDS

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

♡ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eren, armin, connie, jean, levi, & reiner x celebrity!reader

♡ — 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Both love and imprisonment can drive people crazy, and sometimes, things can even get deadly. your old lovers are becoming more and more desperate as they attempt to free you from Connie, the owner of CS Records. For better or for worse, a certain band of people want you, known as: the group.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI || DARK CONTENT — fem!reader, modern au, angst, heartbreak, divorce, marriage, cheating, violence & blood/bruises mention, gun mention, false imprisonment, stockholm syndrome, toxic relationship, manipulation, stalking, murder talk (Some warnings here also apply to the series as a whole/other parts as well.)

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 13k

♡ — 𝐀/𝐍: Hi folks! I had to add on another part to the series, so there will now be 8 parts total!

— A FEW YEARS EARLIER —

“Eren?”

The brown-haired man turned around with a smile — he always grinned whenever you called his name so sweetly.

“Hm?” He shoved his phone into his pocket. “What is it, baby? You okay?”

“I’ve just been thinking about . . . us,” your eyes darted down to the freshly mopped floor — polished and shiny thanks to Eren’s maid. Your voice echoed in his spacious modern kitchen, but that wasn’t the reason why you decided to whisper.

You were simply nervous.

“What about us?” Eren frowned a bit, his heart beginning to pound wildly as his mind started to spin.

He assumed the worst.

“Well,” you paused. “I think it’s time that I told you how much I love you. I don’t think I’ve ever really said it, but it’s true. We haven’t been together long, but . . . you’re someone I’d want to start a family with and grow old with, ya know? I hope the thought of that doesn’t scare you away.”

Eren was silent for a moment.

This time, it was your turn to assume the worst.

Suddenly, Eren wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. Tears started to brim in the reddening waterlines of his emerald eyes.

“I love you too,” he smiled as he held you. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. You’re mine, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” you hugged him back. “I’m yours.”

When Eren ended the sweet hug, it was only so he could press his lips against yours, kissing you softly, yet passionately.

He pulled away and quickly reconnected your lips once again. He couldn’t get enough of you. He would kiss you forever if he could, and truthfully, he planned to, no matter what.

—

Three miserable weeks had flown by since a certain little meeting had taken place in the tiny living room of Armin Arlert’s apartment.

Every single day — every hour, minute, and second — was spent waiting.

Waiting for the perfect opportunity.

Waiting for any of the gods above to offer just a little bit of luck.

A little bit of hope.

Erwin Smith needed as much luck as he could get. From the very second Levi Ackerman called him with the details of an utterly ridiculous situation, to now, when he was getting ready to walk into CS Records, dressed up as one of Connie Springer’s Silent Men, he had hoped for a little bit of luck.

It was rather odd.

The blonde-haired, military-driven man truly didn’t believe in searching for four-leaf clovers or tossing pennies into wishing wells, as he never liked to leave things to chance.

But, just this once, he would gamble and hope to get lucky.

As he patiently stalked the outside of your home from a safe distance, he gambled on the fact that Connie would be stupid enough to bring you out in public once again.

And Erwin was correct.

He had watched and waited, waited and watched. Waiting for the day in which the rich man would let you out of your bedroom, and bring you to CS Records with him.

After all, it was bound to happen, as you were Connie’s little money-maker, and if you had suddenly disappeared from the spotlight at the peak of your fast-paced career, people would start to ask questions. Become suspicious. And Connie didn’t want that.

Erwin followed the vehicle transporting you, Connie, and a few Silent Men to CS Records. And, there you were, being escorted through the private back entrance of the building with Connie and his bodyguards by your side.

But it didn’t matter.

Erwin was simply happy to see that you were okay — physically, at least.

As he watched you carefully enter the building from where he was parked in the private parking deck — Eren’s employee ID had worked wonders — he sighed with relief that, at long last, he could finally free you.

You might have been a perfect stranger to him, a random celebrity with a chaotic life — in which, before all of this, he had paid no mind to — but Levi Ackerman cared about you enough to call him for help.

And he could hear the slight panic in the other man’s voice.

If Levi Ackerman cared about you, then that was enough to make Erwin care about you as well.

And he’d get you away from that terrifying man no matter what.

As Erwin stepped out of his car, slamming the driver’s door shut, he had almost forgotten that Eren Yeager was with him.

No one would question the singer being escorted around by someone who appeared to be one of Connie’s underlings. Not to mention, the rockstar’s ID badge was important throughout this entire operation.

Erwin had been secretly calling it a rescue mission in his head.

Eren had preferred to call it: the day in which he’d get his fucking ex-wife back.

“You ready?” Eren called out to the taller, buff man, looking up at him through his sunglasses as he shut the car door.

It was a sunny day in Los Angeles, almost as if nature itself was rooting for their success.

“I am. Lead the way,” Erwin gave a nod.

Eren started walking as Erwin followed him.

During the time it took for them to walk from the parking deck to the official back entrance of the building, Erwin couldn’t help but think about how different Eren Yeager seemed in real life compared to how the media portrayed him.

He wasn’t used to being around celebrities — that was Levi’s thing. Erwin didn’t even live in Los Angeles; he lived in Arizona, in a town that was about an hour away from Hange’s.

In the media, Eren was made out to be a rebellious rockstar who lived the perfect life of a music-making troublemaker.

Rich.

Talented.

Surrounded by women.

Always in trouble.

But, in person, he was just an ordinary guy. One who cared about his ex-wife and made sure his hamburgers had extra pickles.

In a way, he was quite sweet. Erwin noticed that little fact when the younger man carefully got inside his car, trying his hardest not to ruin anything, even though his car wasn’t nearly as nice as the ones in Eren’s ten-car garage — or was it twenty? Erwin couldn’t remember.

But, perhaps, the media’s portrayal of Eren was accurate once upon a time, possibly before he had fallen in love with you.

Erwin couldn’t say.

Once the two men approached the glass entry doors, Eren scanned his ID — twice, as he was rather impatient — before the security system dinged pleasantly, and the doors clicked twice as they were automatically unlocked.

Stepping inside CS Records was like stepping inside of an incredibly nice mall. However, instead of stores, there were offices, recording studios, and rehearsal rooms.

“I’m headed to the studio,” Eren said, turning around to face Erwin. “You should probably head towards the main conference room.”

Erwin nodded. Pretending to be one of the Silent Men — or Connie’s pack of rats, as Eren had called them — meant that he had to do one thing: be silent, of course.

And while Eren’s words seemed to not have any true meaning aside from letting his escort know his whereabouts, every syllable he had uttered was rather valuable information.

The fact that he was heading to the studio meant that it was time for them to separate, as Eren wasn’t allowed to come anywhere near you, and his presence could hinder the success of the mission. His advice for Erwin to head towards Connie’s conference room meant that it was more than likely your location. Connie was always in there or in his office. And you would be with Connie.

With one final nod, the two men went their separate ways.

Finding the conference room was easier than expected.

Eren had reassured Erwin that he wouldn’t need any ID beyond getting through the entrance, and as it turns out, he was right.

Perhaps, it was because no one had ever bothered to question the presence of one of Connie’s men, and thanks to Erwin’s solid black outfit — he was both plainly and sharply dressed at the same time — along with his solid, tall, and muscular build, he looked exactly like one of them.

Aside from people scurrying out of his way as he walked, mumbling little apologies under their breaths, no one paid him any mind.

The conference room had glass walls that allowed anyone in the building to see what was going on inside as they walked by.

While Connie could have chosen one of the more private rooms to host his meeting, he didn’t, simply because he wanted everyone within CS Records to see you.

To see that he had nothing — or rather, no one, to hide.

And it was perfect.

Erwin was able to successfully confirm your whereabouts, but, just like Eren, you seemed drastically different in real life compared to the media’s portrayal of you.

Although he only spotted you from several feet away and hadn't even mumbled a single word to you, it was quite obvious based on the gloomy expression on your face that you weren’t nearly as happy as you pretended to be during interviews and local concerts.

But, soon, you would be. Erwin was determined to make that happen.

Stopping in the cafeteria, Erwin prepared a couple of glasses of water. It was meant to serve as an excuse for his tardiness.

The man balanced a tray of water in one hand, pushing the glass door open with the other, and for a moment, Connie briefly paused in the middle of his conversation to see who had entered the conference room, but upon seeing that it was one of his men, he continued to speak.

Everyone was correct.

Springer truly didn’t pay any attention to his men. It didn’t help that he always switched them out.

To him, they were all the same. Just plain old puppets.

That was why he barely ever looked at them. That was why he never bothered to learn their names.

And, that was why Erwin was able to infiltrate them so easily.

He sat the water down in the center of the conference table, and stood beside three other Silent Men lined up against the wall, copying their statue-like pose.

And he simply listened. Waited for the perfect opportunity. Kept his eyes on you.

“I don’t care how much money an international tour would bring in,” Connie said, tapping his pen against the enormous conference table as he sat in his big office chair, darting his eyes between every single one of your eleven team members; the people responsible for keeping you in the spotlight. Keeping the company wealthy.

“This isn’t the right time to have one because Y/N still needs more fucking media training. We’re sticking with a national tour for now, and a short one at that.”

“Alright, I’ll get the word out,” your red-haired publicist nodded in agreement. “The first official tour for the Heartbreaker album . . . what should the tour be called?”

“We can worry about that later,” a random tan man spoke up, staring at your publicist before glancing around at the other team members. “When is this tour happening? Next year?”

“We can’t do it next year because Y/N has been cast for another film. You’re her new manager, Oruo, so you should know that.” Your publicist rolled her eyes.

“We’re going to wait two years, Petra? Her album will be irrelevant and old by then–”

“Then she’ll sing songs off of another album that will be released before then,” your publicist interrupted. “She should have more songs that she can sing anyways-”

“When is she going to record this album? While she’s on set, filming?” Glaring at your publicist, your new manager folded his arms across his chest.

“She managed to put out both an album and a film fairly recently,” Petra said in a softer tone than before. “She can do it again.”

A beat of silence passed in which your manager and publicist simply stared at each other. Your manager, who broke the intense, unofficial staring contest first, looked at Connie as he spoke once again.

“All of this is taking way too long. We’re about to start selling Halloween costumes modeled after her, and we should have an interesting announcement to go with it. You think her fans will be happy to know that they won’t even get a chance to see her sing her new album live for another two years?”

“It can’t be helped! God, you’re such an idiot.” The red-haired woman lowered her head in defeat, but when she raised it again, it was to also face Connie. “Mr. Springer, you have to find Levi Ackerman and rehire him, because this guy is-”

“Both of you can shut up,” Connie suddenly interrupted, continuing to fidget with his pen. He looked at Petra, giving her a cold stare, one that indicated that she was on thin ice.

“Especially you. I’m not rehiring anybody. Say something like that to me again and you’ll be begging for me to rehire you as well.” Connie paused. “What we need is for her to keep doing interviews and publicity stunts while she’s working on all of her projects. Squeeze in small work that shouldn’t take more than a week to complete.”

No one dared to disagree with Connie’s idea. What he said was final. Those were the unwritten rules.

As your entire team nodded in agreement — despite whether or not they truly thought it was the best course of action — some of them jotted down his plan in their notebooks or typed it in on their laptops.

However, you didn’t nod in agreement.

Instead, your voice — which held a bit of a nervous quiver — interrupted the uneasy silence.

“Publicity stunts?” You looked between your publicist, manager, and the person holding you hostage. “What kind of publicity stunts?”

“Probably something involving Eren and Jean,” Oruo said before giving his attention to Connie. “More people stream her music whenever something goes on between the three of them. More talk show hosts ask to interview her as well.”

Instantly, the harsh memory of the aftermath regarding the last publicity stunt reappeared in your mind.

Being outdoors surrounded by Connie’s goons after appearing on The Nights With Flint Show; witnessing the psychological torture that Connie put your ex-husband through simply by threatening to hurt his mother was a torturous flashback that you couldn’t seem to snap out of.

Even as you thought about the way Eren cried while being forced to his knees, begging his old best friend to not hurt the lady who once welcomed you into her home with open arms and tasty stew; a small, twisted part of you had wished that you didn’t say a word that day.

Attempting to be some sort of hero had only resulted in your misery.

You had the Vitamin D supplements — which you needed from lack of sunlight — in your purse to prove it; to prove that publicity stunts never went well.

“No.” You said sternly, stern enough for the silent nodders sitting at the table to look up at you.

Truth be told, it was the first time you had dared to speak so boldly in a long time. “I don’t want to do that, please. There has to be something else-”

“Alright, I’m finishing this meeting without you. You’re starting to get on my nerves.” Connie turned around in his chair, facing the Silent Men standing along the wall, pointing to one with brown hair and the body of a gym-obsessed man.

He stood right next to Erwin.

“You,” Connie said. “Take her back home.”

“But I just got here,” you thought, not daring to say it aloud, but you didn’t need to.

Connie could see the sadness in your eyes as if your pupils had a big red sign in them that said “I’M SAD.”

The chair squeaked a bit as you got up from it, heading out of the conference room with the man who would become your driver.

No one paid any mind to the other blonde-haired Silent Man who left the room thirty seconds later, following you both.

Erwin had to walk quickly — he couldn’t run, as that would draw unnecessary attention — to catch up to you and your driver, but thanks to his tall frame, he didn’t have to take very many strides.

He grabbed the shoulder of the brown-haired man.

When the driver turned around, Erwin could understand why Connie never bothered to pay any attention to his goons. The man had a very stereotypical face, plain and simple, and hidden underneath a pair of black sunglasses. Erwin wouldn’t have remembered the name of someone so ordinary either if he was in Connie’s shoes.

“What?” The man said with a gruff tone. He sounded like he had just woken up, and still had his morning voice despite the late afternoon hour.

But that’s what happens when you’re rarely allowed to speak.

“Springer changed his mind,” Erwin lied confidently, yet casually. “He needs you to head to the venue and help them out over there. He wants me to take her home instead.”

Much to Erwin’s luck, the man didn’t ask any further questions.

Something was always going on at the venue owned by CS Records.

He didn’t even appear to be confused by the new orders, as it was common for Connie to make last-minute changes such as this.

He walked off without another word.

Erwin wasted no time. The taller man started to escort you towards the exit.

Towards freedom.

It was rather risky to speak to you now, but as Erwin could see the white ID scanner in front of the exit doors a short distance away, he knew that you would expect him to scan his employee ID along with yours. He couldn’t slip on by with you as easily as he slipped in with Eren.

After all, you had no idea who he was. What he was really doing.

“Are you alright?” Erwin questioned quietly, looking straight forward as he spoke, doing all he could to seem unsuspicious.

“Huh?” You glanced up at him.

“No one has harmed you, have they? Do you need to see a doctor for any reason?”

“Why are you asking me that?” You asked. “You’re not supposed to speak this much. You’ll get us in trouble.”

“Don’t worry. My name is Erwin Smith. Levi asked me to give you a hand. I’ll be taking you somewhere safe.”

No.

No way.

It must have been a trap. A trick. A way for Connie to test your loyalty, to find out if you were broken enough to never try to leave again. Perhaps, he wanted to see if you were stupid enough to warrant a repeat of the same old punishment. He’d lock you right back up, hold you hostage in your own beautiful bedroom just as he did when you tried to escape with Reiner.

No.

No way.

One of Connie’s men would be waiting right in the private parking deck, ready to toss you back into the most miserable place you had ever been in.

A place where you were alone.

Always thinking.

Always waiting.

Always miserable.

“You’re lying.” You stammered out, darting your eyes around for Connie, or for anyone who would be watching you like a hawk. “This is some sort of trick, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“But . . .” Your footsteps halted, just as you were approaching the exit. Erwin turned to face you, looking down at you with an intense amount of urgency that he couldn’t vocalize.

This had to be a cruel test, that was one theory, as freedom was too good to be true.

Or, maybe he was simply a crazy fan. That was another theory.

However, out of all of those theories, there was one little thing that was true; that was real. And it was that he seemed familiar.

“I actually think I recognize you,” you said, scanning over that facial structure of his, along with his blonde hair, attempting to put him in the proper place among your memories. “You . . . oh, that’s right. I’ve seen you in a photo or something at Levi’s house. You’re one of his friends.”

“That’s right,” Erwin nodded.

You nodded as well.

Maybe, just maybe . . .

“Keep your voice down,” Erwin said. “You need to scan your ID for us to leave. Just act natural. Everything will be alright.”

If you could manage to imagine that Erwin was simply some sort of bodyguard escorting you out of a building after a show or a meet and greet, nothing more, then maybe, just maybe, you could calm down enough to not draw any attention to yourself.

Call Erwin cocky. He wouldn’t blame you. But he was feeling rather confident now. He was right here with you, and he didn’t plan on leaving your side until he delivered you safely into Levi’s arms.

Or Eren’s.

Or Reiner’s.

Or Armin’s.

Or Jean’s.

Call Erwin forgetful. He wouldn’t blame you. But he had a bit of trouble keeping up with the romantic aspect of our life, and while a small part of him wanted to ask who exactly your heart truly belonged to without the interference of Connie or modern media influencing your decisions, it was none of his business.

Even so, as he glanced down at you as you both walked at a steady pace toward the exit, he couldn’t help but wonder what was so captivating about you — what could possibly drive Levi Ackerman to care about one of the most famous heartbreakers in Hollywood?

His questions would have to wait.

As you approached the security system demanding identification before leaving the private area of CS Records, you pulled out your ID. Erwin caught a glimpse of your photo. Your smile was rather beautiful. Bright. You must have been happy back then. Maybe, if he freed you, he could see that smile return someday.

You scanned your badge. The security system dinged. You both casually walked through the glass doors and into the private parking deck.

“Was the hard part over?” That was the question you asked with only a simple look into Erwin’s eyes, and with a nod, he wordlessly answered, “yes, the hard part is over.”

A smile appeared across your face. It was a contagious upturn of the cheeks, and Erwin wanted to smile too. He gave you a soft grin as he escorted you to his car.

Eren promised that he would find his own way home, and quickly, as he didn’t want to be anywhere near CS Records whenever Connie would realize that you had gotten away.

In a way, freedom for you was freedom for all of them.

Seeing Erwin’s car — or, rather, the vehicle you assumed to be Erwin’s car — several feet in front of you suddenly created a wave of nausea that washed over you.

Erwin had placed a comforting hand on your back, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow and a worried frown.

You placed your hand on your stomach. Breathing in and out slowly did little to help.

If only the overwhelming sense of nausea was caused by nervousness over the fact that soon, you would be free.

If only that was all it was.

But it was something else entirely.

It was a particular bad memory that had reappeared in your mind like deja vu. Seeing Erwin’s car . . . being so close to freedom that you would allow yourself to once again have little hopes and dreams . . . it all reminded you of Reiner leading you to an exit the night of your album release party.

It was that bad feeling. The fear of allowing yourself to be hopeful.

Even as you made it to Erwin’s car, as he helped you into the passenger seat like a true gentleman, you couldn’t shake it.

That bad feeling.

You sat there with your door shut, seatbelt buckled, listening to the footsteps of Erwin walking from the passenger side to the driver’s side.

But he didn’t open the door. Without straining to look up through the driver’s side window, you knew why.

It was that bad feeling.

You could hear other voices in the parking lot, and while you wished the voices simply belonged to other easygoing CS Records employees minding their own business as they headed into or out of the building, you knew better.

The private parking lot was empty of anyone else.

Those black outfits belonging to Connie and the Silent Men were rather easy to spot out of the corner of your eyes.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes in defeat, and when you did, a single tear slipped down your cheek.

The voices grew louder. Not loud enough to draw any unwanted attention, Connie was smarter than that, but it was bothersome enough to make you consider unbuckling your seatbelt, opening your door, getting out of the car, and peacefully walking back into the building.

And, perhaps, prepare to spend all of eternity locked inside of your own bedroom as well.

But Erwin wasn’t ready to give up so easily.

“How did you know?” Erwin asked Connie, glaring at the rich man who had two Silent Men on each side of him.

“This guy right here wanted to know what I needed him to do at the venue. Wasn’t that hard to put two-and-two together.”

“Damn it,” Erwin thought. He was foolish to think that the goon would just take his word and leave. Any smart person would verify with Connie in terms of instructions, as no one wanted to risk pissing him off due to miscommunication.

Erwin knew it was risky. All of it was.

“Connie, you seem like a decent man. You allow artists to show their work to the world. You keep money in their pockets. Keep people employed so they can feed their families and have a roof over their heads. Even the janitors here are paid enough to live comfortably. You don’t have-”

“Oh my god, shut the hell up, man.” Connie sighed, shifting his feet impatiently.

“How about we work something out?” Erwin raised his hand as he spoke. “She’ll continue working for you — making music, performing — whatever. But she gets to have some freedom as well, just like Eren and Jean have been able to lately.”

“She does have freedom,” Connie frowned. “I brought her here, didn’t I?”

“That’s not freedom. She can’t go anywhere without you, or do anything without you. You won’t let her leave her own home, or see her loved ones.”

“Loved ones?” A chuckle fell from Connie’s lips, and he momentarily looked down at his feet, then back up at Erwin, his hands in his pockets as if he were having a conversation with an old pal. “She doesn’t have any loved ones, just a bunch of stupid guys hoping to crawl into bed with her. That’s all she’s good for. That’s what I’ve heard, at least.”

“That’s not true. She’s a very-”

“Listen, listen,” Connie interrupted the blonde man once more. “I don’t care what you gotta say. Just let her out of the car, alright?”

Erwin simply stood there like a statue, holding onto his car keys. His thumb didn’t touch that “unlock” button.

“Let her out,” Connie repeated, his words followed by a yawn. “Last chance.”

“No.” Erwin reached back behind him and wrapped his fingers around the pistol tucked into the holster around his waist. “I’m giving you one last chance.”

Connie studied the serious, unwavering expression on Erwin’s face. His eyes flickered between it, and his holster.

What a dangerous man.

What a serious man.

No wonder that little group of idiotic men sent him to retrieve you. Connie was rather impressed, as not many people were bold enough to threaten to shoot him. Truth be told, he wished this guy really was one of his Silent Men.

But, Connie truly couldn’t waste any more time with this situation. He had other meetings to attend, and he was hungry as well.

Suddenly, Connie grabbed his own hidden gun. And, unlike Erwin, he didn’t hesitate.

He pulled out his weapon, pulled the trigger, and sent a bullet flying into Erwin Smith.

Erwin’s blood splattered against the car as he fell against it. Your screams were loud enough for Connie to hear, and rather annoying as well.

It didn’t take long for employees to make their way to the parking lot, each of them straining their necks to look around the parked cars and see what exactly happened before the Silent Men ushered them away.

Connie would simply make up a story, perhaps claiming that you were being kidnapped.

Connie handed his hot gun to one of his men. He stepped over Erwin’s body, grabbing the car keys out of his bloodied hand before he unlocked the doors.

The car beeps made your screams suddenly stop. But nothing — absolutely nothing — could make your body stop trembling, or make the tears forming from utter horror stop falling down your cheeks.

When Connie opened the passenger door, you held your breath and he bent down. His face was expressionless as if he didn’t just shoot a man. You couldn’t stand the sight of him, looking at the car floor through your blurred vision instead.

“Get out of the car,” he said calmly. “It’s alright. I’m not mad. Just get out of the car.”

You tried to say, “no.” But, no words would come out. Your sobs were just too great. They created a lump in your throat that you couldn’t swallow down.

“Y/N,” Connie called out again. This time, his hand gripped your chin, and he forced you to look at him. “I don’t have time for this. Let’s go. Get out of the car.”

With slow-moving, trembling hands, you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“There you go,” he smiled a bit, releasing your chin as he dropped Erwin’s car keys on the ground. “Come on. It’s okay.”

He helped you out of the passenger seat. Caught you when you nearly fell over from your wobbly knees, his arms wrapped around you as if he was a caring person. How silly.

“You know what?” Connie said, looking up at his men. “Find my assistant and tell her to cancel my meetings for today. I’m taking her back to my place. She shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Connie guided you to his car, and as he did so, he continued to say, “It’s okay. It’s over now.”

—

When Levi Ackerman received a phone call from Eren, he was hoping the man would tell him that everything went smoothly. That Erwin was on the road, driving you to safety.

Instead, Eren told him that Erwin had been shot by Connie. That everyone — all of the employees — believed that it was self-defense.

That was the story they were told before they were sent back to work and told to not contact the police. That Connie would handle it.

Eren had to sneak into the private parking lot before the Silent Men would show up once again, pull the muscular man into the back of his own blood-splattered car, and drive him to the hospital.

But Erwin was alive. He needed surgery, but he was alive.

And Levi truly wasn’t surprised either. A tough bastard like Erwin Smith would survive an abdominal gunshot wound.

Even so, once Levi arrived at the hospital, he had to do the one thing he despised Connie Springer for doing.

Using his influence to break the law.

While his best friend was in surgery, Levi spent the night walking the white ominous halls of the hospital after finding a nice, quiet waiting room to put Eren in and telling him not to leave.

He spoke with several members of hospital staff and police officers, as the doctors and nurses were required to report a gunshot wound.

Being a former manager meant that he was an excellent conman as well, and he managed to convince them that Erwin wasn’t a threat. To let him heal. To leave him be.

And it worked.

Having enough money to drop in their laps to keep them quiet certainly helped as well, because even though he lost his job as one of Hollywood’s richest entertainment managers, he still had more money than God.

He could only hope Connie wouldn’t press to have Erwin sent to prison on a pile of lies or send someone back to the hospital to finish the job.

He would have to worry about that later, though.

That next afternoon, Erwin was wide awake, and Levi slowly stepped into his plain hospital room.

“I’m sorry,” Erwin said weakly, unable to look Levi in the eye as he watched the man walk through the door. “I failed.”

The several different beeps belonging to the machines scattered around the room filled the silence that unwillingly existed between the two men.

Levi simply didn’t know what to say.

Blame it on the lump of guilt forming in his throat that grew thicker as his eyes scanned over Erwin’s I.V., but Erwin’s face looked even worse.

It was free of any injuries or scarring, but the deep frown of self-disappointment was a depressing sight; Levi couldn’t look at him.

“You’ve always been too hard on yourself, Erwin. It’s fine.” Levi managed to say, although any comforting words would have been pointless. Erwin never digested failure.

When Erwin finally looked up at Levi — god, he could have been Armin’s father with the sad shine his sharp blue eyes held — Levi looked away.

His hands were in the pocket of his pants. He looked out the door and watched a nurse and receptionist chat at the front desk. He needed something to look at that wasn’t Erwin’s face of failure.

“At the end of the day . . .” Levi spoke again, as he noticed that Erwin never responded to his last statement. His machine did, though. Every beep was a way of saying: “He’s alive. He survived. He lived.”

“At the end of the day, I needed your help because I couldn’t do shit on my own, Erwin. If anyone is pathetic in this situation, it’s me. I dragged you out of your life to come help me out with my own mess when that’s not your job. And now you’re injured. I’m sorry.”

Once again, Erwin failed to respond. But the beeping machine did.

“He’s alive. He survived. He lived.”

“Is Eren alright?” Erwin finally spoke. “They didn’t know that he was caught up in any of this, did they?”

“Eren’s fine. Covered in blood, exhausted, and pissed off, but he’s fine. You should worry about yourself.” Levi's eyes darted away from the nurse refilling her cup of coffee in the distance, and he managed to build up the courage to look at his old friend. “Thanks to me, you have a target on your back now. You have to go somewhere safe.”

“You want me to go where Hange is, I take it?” Erwin smiled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Only despair was reflected within his orbs. Nothing else. “You want me to go to Maine? Just like that?”

“Just for a little while. Connie has no reason to go searching around in that state for anyone. That’s why I sent Hange there as soon as I could.”

“I see,” Erwin said.

That unwilling silence returned once again, but only for a brief moment.

“And take Mikasa with you,” Levi looked down at his shoes. This time, he was the one who looked so utterly disappointed.

He couldn’t protect anyone.

“Of course.”

“She doesn’t like the idea of leaving L.A. with everything Y/N is going through, but I’ll just have to make her. It isn’t safe here.”

“And what about you, Levi?” Erwin started to ask a question he already knew the answer to. “You should leave too. All of you should.”

“Without her?” Levi frowned deeply, and although he spoke in a whispered tone, his words were laced with anger. “Are you crazy or what?”

In that moment, when the one person Erwin could always count on to keep a level head glared at him with daggers in his eyes, Erwin realized just how much Levi had changed.

His hair was a bit longer. Messier, but not too messy. Dark circles had formed below his eyes from lack of sleep. He dressed in the blackest clothes he had owned, nothing professional like he used to wear, but it was obvious that he was dressing to blend in with the rest of society. To walk the streets of L.A. not as a hotshot entertainment manager, but as a lovesick nobody.

Lovesick.

That was it.

That was the word Erwin was looking for.

“Just what have you gotten yourself into, Levi? You would fall in love with someone who would cause you the most trouble,” Erwin thought.

“I’m not saying that you should leave her behind, but maybe you could get to a safe place and reach out for help — proper, legal help-”

“You know that won’t work.” Levi’s frown deepened. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest something like that.”

“He’s just a businessman, Levi. I’m sure if you found legal help outside of Los Angeles, then he wouldn’t be able to do anything,” Erwin winced as he spoke. He was starting to get worked up. “I know you love her, but-”

“What do you think will happen once Springer drops a fuck-ton of money into the laps of those greedy bastards? Or when he gets his shitty friends in the government to influence the rest of the government? And maybe not everyone will fall for his shit, maybe not everyone in the justice system is corrupt, but I’m not taking that chance.”

Erwin nodded along to Levi’s words.

“And I don’t love her. I just hate Connie,” Levi suddenly said, “I gotta go. I’ll check in on you later.”

Erwin told his old friend goodbye, watching as he left the hospital hopelessly.

—

The car ride with Connie was silent.

Only the gentle hum of his vehicle driving down the L.A. streets could be heard. Then, an occasional clicking noise from him activating his turn signal.

You could hear him breathing softly as well, and you tried to listen to his rhythmic breaths, as it could have served as a hint towards his mood — whether or not he was angry or truly as calm as he seemed — and his breathing pattern was ordinary. Normal.

You darted your eyes over in his direction when he shifted slightly in the driver’s seat. One hand gripped the top of his steering wheel.

It occurred to you that it was quite rare for Connie to drive. Perhaps, too many of his minions were busy cleaning up after him — literally and figuratively — to also act as his driver today. They were undoubtedly taking advantage of the broken justice system to push it in Connie’s favor, as well as forcing the janitors to clean up all of the blood.

Or, maybe, he was driving himself because had a punishment in mind for you that would be entirely too cruel for even the Silent Men to witness.

No.

You couldn’t think that way.

But, at the same time, if you didn’t think about your own well-being, then your mind drifted back to that man getting shot.

What if you were next?

—

When you arrived at Connie’s house and he parked his car inside of his massive garage, you didn’t move an inch.

“Come on, it’s okay,” he said calmly.

Getting out of the driver’s seat, he waited patiently for you to follow.

And you did.

It was better than the alternative that you had imagined, which was him pulling you out forcefully.

He led you from the garage — which looked more like an indoor car dealership — and into an elevator just past an enormous rec room.

You caught a glimpse of the neon blinking lights that belonged to several different arcade games as you walked by, as the door was wide open due to one of his maids wiping off a pinball machine.

“I can get you a house with an elevator if you want,” he said casually, stepping into the elevator as he turned around, and pressed the button for the second floor. “Not a big deal.”

You didn’t respond, and he didn’t pressure you to.

It was odd. His kindness. It almost made you miss his attitude; his dangerous aura.

At least that was familiar.

He stepped out of the elevator first and started walking. Like a lost puppy, you followed him.

Connie’s living room was heavily influenced by New Money culture. Everything was white, black, gold, or red, and incredibly modernized.

As he collapsed on the couch, a man rushed over to hand him a glass of iced lemonade with a slice of lemon garnishing the top.

“Welcome home, sir,” he greeted.

Surprisingly, he handed you a glass of lemonade as well, as he always prepared extra just in case his boss brought a guest over.

You didn’t dare take a sip.

Instead, you simply stood there, holding the glass as you watched Connie relax on the couch.

“You can do whatever you want, I don’t care.” Connie took a sip of his drink. “Oh, shit. You’re probably hungry. Are you hungry?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, and you hated the way it made you feel — like a pet or a child.

“Hey,” Connie snapped his finger twice, and the butler — or maid, assistant, or chef, you couldn’t tell — rushed over. “Tell the chef to make her a pizza.”

“Of course, sir.”

The man scampered off, and then Connie looked at you.

“You like pizza? Everyone likes pizza.”

Once again, you nodded.

“Okay, well,” Connie darted his eyes away from you awkwardly. “Go do whatever you want. It’ll be ready soon.”

Then, Connie turned on his television.

You didn’t want to aggravate him by standing there, so you walked away.

His home was bigger than Eren’s and infinitely bigger than yours. Even as you wandered the marvelous halls of his home, revisited the recreational rooms that you saw while walking into his home — indoor pool, arcade room, and so on — you couldn’t simply do whatever you wanted, despite Connie’s orders.

Because that would mean leaving, and you knew better.

—

You didn’t see Connie again until the pizza was ready. You were both seated at his dining table, two personal pizzas placed in front of you, and Connie dived in as if you were simply an ordinary guest.

But you decided to eat as well, slowly and cautiously, of course.

As you and Connie ate lunch in silence, you couldn’t help but notice that he wouldn’t stop shaking his leg.

And, after lunch, he told you once again to do whatever you wanted.

—

Five days had passed, and nothing had changed.

You weren’t trapped in one room, nor mistreated. You slept in the guest room with the door open and unlocked. You would tell his chef all of the meals you wanted throughout the day, walk around Connie’s home until you built up the courage to touch his belongings — although playing air hockey by yourself was a bit of a bummer — and Connie didn’t bother you.

It was kind of nice.

Even so, you and Connie didn’t speak to each other.

It only made your curiosity grow.

What exactly was he up to?

With all the time you had to look around, you noticed that several framed photographs throughout Connie’s home were pictures of him, Eren, and Jean throughout the years. Some pictures were older than others, and in those particular framed photos, a freckled boy was with them. In fact, he was in all of the photos from Connie’s childhood.

After spending some time in the indoor pool, and having a hot shower afterward, you walked down the hallway and started to approach Connie’s home office.

There, sitting at his desk, you spotted Connie.

For a while, he didn’t see you, and you simply watched him. He was typing away at his computer, shaking his leg as he sat in his black office chair.

Then, his eyes suddenly darted in your direction.

“Come here,” he said. You hesitantly stepped into his office. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he sighed.

“I just . . . wanted to see what you were doing.”

“Just ask me next time. Don’t act like a damn stalker.”

“Guess you’d know a thing or two about stalkers,” you thought.

After all, you concluded that he was the person who was behind every instance of stalking that you had been through lately, from phone calls to the break-in.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “Can I ask you a question?”

Connie simply looked at you.

“I’ve had some time to look around, and you have pictures from when you, Eren, and Jean were kids. You all looked so young and happy.” You paused. “Who’s the guy with the freckles?”

Connie’s facial expression changed. It was a look in between sadness and anger. He knew exactly what you wanted to know.

You wanted to know if there was some sort of connection between his current personality and the guy who suddenly vanished from the pictures. You were a smart woman, one who noticed that once he disappeared, so did the happy, goofy smiles.

“Marco.”

“Marco . . . oh.” You looked down at your feet. That name was uncomfortably familiar.

“Eren told you about him?” Connie asked.

“Mhm. He told me that you, him, and Jean had a friend who passed away. Didn’t really say anything else about it.”

“Passed away, huh?” Connie laughed sadly. “Like it was something that happened naturally?”

“What do you mean?” You looked back up at him, frowning in confusion.

“I killed him.”

Your eyes widened, and Connie casually rolled his eyes.

“Calm down, it wasn’t like that. It was an accident.”

“Sure,” you mumbled sarcastically. He did shoot a man recently, after all.

“It was.” Connie scratched his face. “Still went to jail. though. They sent me to an adult prison for four years.”

“When you were just a kid?”

Connie looked away from you as you spoke. It was difficult to make eye contact with you right now when the traumatic memories were pouring in, and he couldn’t stop it. It bothered him significantly more than he would let on.

“The shitty officers didn’t bother to keep me separated from them, either,” he muttered, and you could barely hear it. “It was fucking horrible.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Connie looked back at you.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”

“Don’t be.” His face was expressionless. “Not everyone behind bars is a goddamn monster. I met some people who taught me everything I needed to know about this shitty city. They’re the reason I am who I am. My money, my company, my power . . . owe it all to them.”

“Did they teach you how to be a horrible human being as well?”

As soon as those words left your mouth, and fell from between your lips regrettably, you tried to stammer out an apology.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? Are you trying to piss me off again? Want a repeat of what happened last time?”

“No. I’m sorry. I speak before thinking sometimes and I . . . I didn’t mean it like that-”

“How the fuck else could you mean it?” Connie pushed himself away from his desk, but he didn’t get up from his chair. Not yet, at least.

Even as he raised his voice, that familiar face of anger never appeared.

And, because of that, you continued to risk speaking. You wanted to push him on purpose, attempt to figure out what was the purpose behind his odd acts of limited kindness.

“Those people taught you how to take advantage of the system that treated you like crap, I get it, but to turn your back on the people who have been there for you doesn’t make sense. Who taught you that treating your friends like shit was okay? Was it them as well?”

“I don’t treat them like shit. They’re richer than other artists who are all signed to fucked up record labels. The only time I have to treat them like shit is when they deserve it. When they act like fools as if they’re not representing me.”

“You honestly believe that you’re doing the right thing?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Really? You’re working on your eighty-seventh marriage and you wanna lecture me about being a good person? You cheat and get remarried every season, so shut the hell up.”

“Cheating isn’t good, I know that, but it’s not nearly as bad as the shit that you do.”

“See what happens when I let you have too much fucking freedom? You start to run your mouth like you forgot who you’re talking to.”

You frowned, but even so, you still proceeded to speak your mind. After all, he locked you away in your bedroom for speaking to him in a tone similar to how you spoke now, but at this moment, he still didn’t seem angry.

Truly angry.

“You can say whatever you want, but I can tell you’re not really angry with me. You would have tossed me back in a room if you were.” Despite your brave words, your hands were trembling as you tried to hide them behind your back. But Connie still didn’t move, and your curiosity only grew. “Why haven’t you?”

Connie’s eyes flickered away for just a moment, but not out of shyness or shame. It was because he was thinking.

“You’re right. I’m not really pissed with you. I also don’t understand you either.” Connie paused. “I wanna ask you something.”

“Okay . . .”

“You jump from guy to guy, I get that, it’s nothing new around here, but who the hell do you actually wanna be with?”

“Why do you care?”

It was obvious he was dodging your accusation about him not being angry with you, but you didn’t push any further.

“Because those dumbasses care about you enough to send someone to come get you away from me, and you’re a fucking cheater. And two of the men you messed around with I consider to be my best friends, despite everything,” Connie said.

“I think you’re just being nosey,” you teased with a humorous tone — one that he did not appreciate. “Fine. If you must know, it’s not as simple as loving one person. Everyone that I’ve been with has been wonderful and awful in their own way . . . or their presence has just been convenient to me at the time, I guess.”

“And yet, Reiner and Eren think I’m the asshole for making those divorces happen. I’m doing them a favor,” Connie smirked.

“Why do you care?” You asked once again. Now, you were the one who started to feel angry. “And don’t give me that same excuse from earlier. If you cared about Eren or Jean at all, you wouldn’t treat them like shit. You should know that at this point, they don’t give a damn about money anymore. They just wanna get away from you.”

“You talk too much.”

“Well, after you shot that man, I realized something.” You sat down in one of the chairs in front of Connie’s desk and looked into his eyes. “I realized that you wouldn’t hurt me like that. Ever. All because you need me more than I need you. That’s why you haven’t done a damn thing to me except keep me locked away and try to control me. How much longer do you think that’ll work, by the way? How much longer until fans start noticing that something’s wrong, or one of your friends decide to risk it all and speak out against you?”

Certainly, this would anger him. But it didn’t. Instead, Connie laughed once again. He could easily see why someone like you possessed the ability to have any man you wanted.

“You’re right. I won’t hurt you. Can’t keep you under my control much longer, either.” He glared at you as he spoke. “But I’m the only person you have in your life that isn’t after some sort of shitty ass romance. I’m the only person who cares about your career. You could easily have a home just as nice as mine. Everything I’m doing . . . all of my punishments . . . is to teach you the skills you need to turn your fifteen minutes of fame into a lifelong career in Hollywood. We’ll see who really has your back when you tell your lovers that the only person you really love is yourself. That they were all only convenient to you.”

You didn’t say another word.

Suddenly, Connie started to get out of his chair, and walk out of his office.

You reached out, grabbing his arm. It was as if loneliness had possessed you.

“Wait, Connie,” you said pathetically. “Don’t leave yet.”

Connie smirked and turned back around.

That was when you realized why he wasn’t angry with you — why he didn’t lock you away.

He was lonely too.

—

When Mikasa first received the desperate phone call from Reiner, she was at the gym.

The dark-haired woman slammed her gloved fists into a punching bag as if it were her biggest enemy. Sweat soaked her black sports bra. Her black headphones weren’t blaring her typical favorite songs in her ears, but instead, intense heavy metal and rock songs that weren’t exactly her cup of tea — until now. She was pissed off, and she needed to listen to singers scream out their lungs in ways that she couldn’t.

The next song that suddenly played proved that she should have followed Annie’s advice when the woman told her to organize her songs into separate playlists, as the new song wasn’t loud and angry. Instead, a beautiful voice came through. It was a song that Mikasa had heard everywhere.

In grocery stores.

In restaurants.

Even the gym had played it a couple of times.

It was one of your songs.

She saved all of your music, but even so, hearing your voice caught her off guard. She instantly dropped her fists, attempting to catch her breath.

Mikasa pulled her phone out of her black shorts, hovering her finger over the skip button — knowing that she was listening to music you were being forced to record was too painful — but then, she decided to open her Spotify and queue up a few more of your songs instead.

It was the only opportunity she had to hear your voice.

With an angry frown, she slammed her fists into her punching bag with double the amount of strength as before.

Connie’s face appeared in her scattered mind. For a moment, she pretended that she was striking him, her blows connecting with his jaw instead of the bag.

Then, she thought about everything and everyone. She was pissed off because she didn’t know how to help you.

She was pissed off because she was the one who led you down the path of fame in the first place.

She was pissed off with Eren and Levi for both being lucky enough to have you in some sort of way, which was all she wanted.

And she was pissed off about that too — falling for a heartbreaker.

Suddenly, her phone started to ring.

When she stopped punching the heavy bag and grabbed it, glancing down at the caller ID, her heart fluttered when Reiner’s name appeared across her screen.

“Maybe he’s calling to deliver good news,” she thought.

After all, she had heard that Levi was attempting to free you from CS Records.

“Hello?” She mumbled anxiously.

“Hey, Mikasa. Are you busy?” Reiner said through the phone.

“Not really,” she eyed her gloved fists, “I’m just at the gym. What’s wrong?”

“I was hoping we could talk. Can we meet somewhere in about, uh . . . fifteen minutes?”

“Sure,” Mikasa said. “Just text me where.”

“Okay, see you soon. Bye.”

After hanging up, Mikasa started to gather her belongings when her phone dinged from an incoming text message. Reiner had sent her the directions to a local cafe.

Slowly, she started to head towards the women’s locker room to get cleaned up. And, with every step she took, she fought to hold back tears.

If Reiner had good news to deliver, he would have done so over the phone. And she could hear the utter defeat in his voice.

Whatever he had to say was certainly not good news.

—

A little bell above the entrance of a little cafe — appropriately named Hut’s Heavenly Cafe & Coffee Shop — dinged gently when Mikasa stepped through the door.

She mumbled a quick greeting to the owner before locating Reiner sitting across the little restaurant.

It was a rather expensive shop, and because of that, other celebrities and millionaires frequently visited whenever they wanted to meet with someone or grew sick of having coffee in the comfort of their enormous mansions.

Either way, it wasn’t uncommon to find a famous actor like Reiner here, and he could enjoy himself without having to worry about being mobbed by fans.

Hurriedly, Mikasa made her way over to his table and sat down, her eyes wide as she eagerly waited for him to speak.

Glancing down, she saw that he had already ordered her a piping hot mug of black coffee.

“Levi’s plan fell through,” Reiner mumbled defeatedly, taking a sip of his cappuccino. “Connie shot the man who was supposed to get Y/N. He’s still alive, but . . . I don’t know where to go from here. I didn’t trust that group entirely to begin with, and now, they’ve just made things worse. I need your help.”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Mikasa stared down at her warm drink.

“Please, Mikasa,” Reiner said with an unusually gruff voice, his words coated with exhaustion and desperation. “You gotta help me. We can’t give up that easily.”

“I’ve tried to help, Reiner. Do you think I’m relaxing at home, not doing anything at all?” Mikasa raised her head. “At the end of the day, if we aren’t careful, we could end up like Erwin, or worse.”

Reiner was startled; only just a bit. He couldn’t recall if he had ever seen Mikasa get so emotional before, but he cleared his throat, trying his hardest to keep his composure.

“I don’t care about my own life — just hers,” he said.

“That’s admirable, but if you die trying to free her, then what’s the point?”

“I hear you,” Reiner sighed. “He’ll just get her back, and it will have all been for nothing.”

Soft chatter from the few other customers in the shop — along with the gentle beeps from industrial coffee makers behind the front counter — filled the silence until Mikasa spoke up again.

“Do you forgive her for cheating on you? Genuinely?” Mikasa took a sip of her black coffee.

She had known Reiner long before you stepped into the picture; had asked him similar questions before regarding his last two relationships long ago.

“Yeah, I do. Call me a fool if you want, but I know who I married,” Reiner said confidently, which was something he didn’t do long ago.

“I see.” Mikasa was silent once again, but suddenly, she spoke up, another question popping up in her mind. “Reiner?”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you ask me to help you?”

“You’re the only person I know who cares about her and also hasn’t screwed her over in one way or another.” Reiner darted his eyes down to his spoon, picking it up as he stirred around his cappuccino. “Plus, you love her too, don’t you?”

Mikasa’s eyes widened.

“Wh-what? I . . .”

“It’s okay,” Reiner smiled softly. “You don’t have to deny it. Nothing to be embarrassed about, either. There’s just something about her that makes it easy for people to fall in love. I don’t get it.”

It was weird. How okay he was when it came to Mikasa being in love with his ex-wife.

It made Mikasa frown, as she knew that he was only this accepting of her feelings because he figured that she didn’t stand a chance.

That she wasn’t a threat.

He knew well that you didn’t want her.

Mikasa swallowed down the lump of sadness that started to form in her throat, and she said, “She was different before Hollywood ruined her completely. She wasn’t a mindless, soulless machine belonging to the entertainment industry at first. Having someone like her around in this town was like a breath of fresh air.”

“Yeah, well I-”

Suddenly, Reiner’s phone started to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket. When he glanced down at the caller ID, his eyes widened for a second, but he put on his best Actor Face, hiding his emotions as he casually said, “Excuse me, I gotta take this,” before getting up from his seat and rushing outside.

—

“Hello?” Reiner said into the phone.

“Hi, Reiner.” Your sweet-sounding voice came through — it was as if an angel from heaven was speaking to him directly. The sound of your voice snapped his heart into pieces, but he couldn’t break down like he wanted to. He needed to figure out what was going on.

“Y/N? Are you alright? What’s going on?” He rushed out, frowning as he felt his heart pound rapidly against his chest.

“I’m okay, I promise.”

Releasing a shaky breath, Reiner sighed with relief.

“It’s good to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.” Reiner didn’t know for certain, but he felt as if he was pressed for time. While he wanted to tell you just how much he loved you, he needed to get some answers first. His head started to spin from utter confusion.

“Are you safe? No one’s hurt you, have they? Where’s Connie?”

“Reiner,” you said softly. “Can you meet me outside of CS Records tonight around ten?”

“Sure, I-”

“Okay, great. See you soon.”

His phone beeped three times as the call suddenly ended.

For a second, he stood there in shock.

It was you. It was really you.

But you didn’t sound . . .

You didn’t seem . . .

Reiner snapped himself out of his consuming thoughts and headed back inside the cafe.

Struggling to contain his emotions, Reiner’s heart was pounding wildly as he rushed out to Mikasa, “It was her. It was Y/N.”

“What?” The dark-haired woman said, louder than she should have, perhaps, as a few customers started to glare.

“She asked me to meet her at CS Records tonight. She sounded . . . I don’t know. It was weird.”

“I’m coming too.”

“Levi wouldn’t like that. I have a bad feeling-”

“You can’t stop me.” Mikasa stared into Reiner’s eyes as he sat down in his seat. “Are you going to tell everyone else?”

“Should I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t trust any of them except for Levi. I think it’s safer for me to keep quiet about this.”

“Why do you trust Levi? I don’t understand. He slept with your wife.” Mikasa frowned a bit.

“He also owned up to it and didn’t try to make any excuses. And everyone else seems like they’re only helping because they hope they can get another chance with her. He’s the only person who’s trying to free her because it’s the right thing to do.” Reiner’s eyes darted down to his cooled mug of cappuccino. “I can’t even sit here and act like I’m any better. I will always prioritize her safety over our relationship, but if she doesn’t want to be with me, I don’t know what I’ll do. I want her badly enough to overlook the cheating; isn’t that crazy?”

“Just be honest with yourself.” Mikasa blinked. “You don’t want to tell the others because you don’t want them to interfere. It’s not because you don’t trust them. It’s because you want her to yourself, and you’ll play dirty to accomplish that.”

“Well, let me ask you this, Mikasa,” Reiner started to frown. “Why won’t you fight for her? I mean, what’s holding you back from trying to earn her affection?”

“I’m not an idiot like the rest of you. I’m not going to chase someone who will just break my heart whenever someone new comes along. Not to mention she doesn’t feel the same way about me. I’m not joining in on that idiotic competition.”

“What if she did want you? What if there was the slightest chance that she could be yours? Would you join the . . . idiotic competition then?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s a heartbreaker.”

“True,” Reiner smiled sadly. “We’re all stupid for falling for her.”

“But no one is willing to move on,” Mikasa said. “Just . . . How far are you willing to go for her? And I don’t mean being brave enough to risk pissing off Connie, but what about the other guys?”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

Mikasa sighed before speaking again.

“If it came down to it, would you sabotage Eren or Armin or any of them to better your chances of being the person she picks? Or would you respect her decision?”

“There won’t be any need to do any of that.” Once again, Reiner spoke confidently. “Our relationship was perfect at first, and it’ll be perfect again. I’m the one she’ll end up with. I know it.”

Mikasa didn’t say another word.

And, together, the two of them waited for ten o’clock to roll around.

—

Reiner and Mikasa arrived at one of the front public entrances of CS Records at 9:45 P.M., their entire car ride filled with silence as they were both too anxious to speak.

They didn’t know where to go exactly, seeing as CS Records had many entrances and they weren’t familiar with the building, but once they saw several figures standing outside of one of the many front doors, they figured that they were in the right place.

Reiner parked his car — horrifically, but he was impatient and filled with panic — and he and Mikasa quickly jumped out of the vehicle.

As they got closer, it became obnoxiously obvious who the shadowy figures belonged to.

“Did you tell them?” Reiner whispered to Mikasa.

“No,” She said.

Reiner and Mikasa walked up the stairs.

“You guys received a phone call too?” Armin questioned, his big blue eyes darting between Reiner and Mikasa.

“Yeah,” Reiner responded dryly.

“Good to see all of you.” As he lied, he looked at everyone who stood there, waiting for you.

Armin, Eren, Jean, and Levi.

“You weren’t stupid enough to show up without a gun, were you?” Eren asked.

“I have one,” Mikasa suddenly answered for Reiner, as she knew the big softie didn’t have any sort of weapon.

That’s when it hit him that this could very well be some sort of setup.

“Why are you here, Mikasa? It isn’t safe and this doesn’t concern you.” Levi stepped forward, glaring at his cousin, then at Reiner. He was already furious that he couldn’t drag her out of L.A. with Erwin. “Why’d you bring her?”

“She insisted,” Reiner said.

“I’m not a child, Levi. I can take care of myself. I didn’t receive a phone call, but Y/N’s my . . . my friend. So I’m staying here.”

Just as Mikasa finished speaking, a black vehicle arrived, one that was speeding down the sweet L.A. roads much too quickly.

It was Connie.

He got out of the car, but that usual death glare wasn’t present on his face. Then, he went to the passenger side and opened your door as if he was some sort of gentleman.

When you stepped out of the car, the group who stood there, waiting for you, all held their breaths.

God, they missed you.

You started to approach them, but Connie didn’t. Instead, he closed the passenger door, and got back in the car, but didn’t drive off.

No one said anything as you approached them.

They didn’t know what to say.

What exactly was going on?

Each of them scanned your figure. You looked fine. Healthy. You had a soft smile, one that silently said “I’m happy to see you all,” but your eyes were blank.

Suddenly, you wrapped your arms around Armin, hugging him tightly.

Even he was shocked. He hesitated before he hugged you back.

It was a tight hug, a comforting one; and he didn’t understand it. You hugged him as if you cared about him.

Did you?

When you released him, you looked deeply into the eyes of your childhood friend, and you touched his blonde hair, then stroked his soft cheek, smiling wholeheartedly as you did so.

He couldn’t speak, even if he knew what to say.

But you moved on to Eren — who stood beside him with a confused frown — all too soon.

Once you wrapped your arms around Eren’s neck, he instantly softened.

Unlike Armin, he didn’t waste a second before hugging you back as tightly as he could. He wanted to memorize everything about you. Your scent, the way your body felt against his — everything. And you tried to memorize everything about him as well.

Then, you hugged Reiner. He rubbed your back gently as you did so. He was confident that, unlike Armin and Eren, he would be able to speak, but once you touched him, his throat dried to a crisp.

You ran your hand across his muscular arm once you released him, and turned your attention to Levi. When you hugged Levi, he hesitated as well, only because he was trying to figure out what it meant. But, he held you gently, and as he did so, he could tell that you were trying to cherish this hug — trying to cherish him.

Truthfully, Jean was pleasantly surprised when you hugged him as well. He thought that, perhaps, it was simply out of kindness, that you didn’t want to leave him out, but when you suddenly squeezed him just a bit more tightly right before letting go, he knew that you truly wanted to hold him.

Mikasa received a hug that was just as loving, and she wanted to cry when she felt your kind touch. And she certainly never wanted to let go. You even touched her black hair softly as you pulled away.

Slowly, you walked back towards the middle.

“It’s nice to see all of you,” you said softly. “I’ve missed you guys.”

“What’s going on? What is this about?” Armin bravely asked the questions that the entire group was thinking.

“Well,” you looked down at your shoes. “I just wanted to tell all of you to leave me alone.”

“What?” Eren shouted.

“What are you talking about?” Levi added on.

“Just listen,” with a sigh, you looked back up at them, and spoke as if you weren’t shattering their hearts and flipping their minds. “I don’t need saving. I don’t need rescuing. Thank you for trying to help, but I’m fine. I’m staying with Connie voluntarily now-”

“You can trust us, we won’t let him hurt you,” Reiner spoke softly as if he was trying to gain the trust of a wounded animal.

“I’m being honest, Reiner. Connie would never hurt me.” You turned around, pointing at the car. “See how Connie’s the one driving? It’s just me and him. No Silent Men. He’s giving me a choice right now, and I can easily leave with one of you and not get back into that car. But I’m choosing Connie.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Eren shouted once again.

“Y/N — what the hell are you thinking? Why would you pick Connie?” Mikasa stepped forward, frowning as she did so.

“Because Connie cares about me and my career. He doesn’t just want me around for love.” Your smile faded. “I’m staying with him because he cares about something other than romance. I don’t expect any of you to understand.”

“You’re gonna stay with him?” Jean asked angrily, yet softly. “The guy who kept you locked away? Him?”

“That’s the way it is.” You looked at them — no, through them — as you spoke. “So, please, leave me alone now, and move on from me.”

You turned around, and you started to walk away.

Most of the group was too puzzled to shout out or grab ahold of you.

The other half was hoping that this was some sort of prank.

But you never turned back around. Instead, you got in the car, and you and Connie drove away.

They lost you. Again.

—

Several minutes passed before anyone found the desire to speak.

“She made her choice,” Armin said, breaking the silence. “She picked . . . Connie.”

“There’s no way. There’s no fucking way.” Eren slowly started to walk back and forth. “Why are we just standing here? Why are we letting her walk away and go back to that piece of shit? We should get in our cars and follow them.”

“She’s not endangered anymore. If she picked him, we have to respect her decision-”

“Fuck that,” Jean interrupted Armin, putting his hands in his pockets as he frowned. “Did you really fall for that shit? Connie must’ve made her do this. Don’t tell me any of you would put it past him.”

“You guys don’t know her like I do. I really think she meant it. I think we should just . . . go home. It’s over.” Armin said sadly.

“And how exactly do you know that?” Levi asked, equally as pissed off as everyone else.

“She had that look in her eyes. It was the same look she gave me when she told me she was leaving me. That look means she’s serious.” Armin paused. “She could be suffering from Stockholm-”

“I don’t care if she wants to be with Connie or not. I’m not giving up,” Reiner interrupted.

“You’re not going to respect her decision? Assuming it is hers?” Mikasa looked up at Reiner. Her question was not truly about whether or not you wanted to be with Connie, but if Reiner would have intervened if you picked someone else from the group.

“No. For me, it didn’t matter who she picked. I didn’t plan on backing down, and I won’t. If the rest of you are so eager to give up already, then you don’t deserve her in the first place.”

A moment of silence passed. Just like that, Mikasa had an answer to the question she asked him at the cafe — a real answer.

“What the hell happened to you, Reiner?” Levi spoke up, his back facing the man he was talking to. “You’re letting your true colors show now, aren’t you? None of us should be worried about her relationship status right now. We should be worried about her going home with someone who held her hostage and shot a man.”

“Think she’s any safer with you?” Jean suddenly started to speak. “You beat the shit out of me for writing a song. You also break the law to get what you want whenever it suits you. You’re hardly any better.”

“Cut it out, Jean,” Mikasa said. She tried.

“As if you have room to talk,” Levi responded to Jean bitterly. “You can’t blame Connie for every shitty thing you did. Y/N wouldn’t wanna be with a piece of shit like you.” Suddenly, Levi started to raise his voice. He started to lose his composure — something that was scarcely possible. “Why the fuck are you even here? Do you really think you have a shot?”

“You only got your shot because she was drunk and emotional. She doesn’t even look your way when she’s thinking straight.”

Levi started to make his way towards Jean. Both Mikasa and Reiner held their arms out, holding back the angry man.

“Woah, hey, everyone calm down,” Reiner said.

“Listen, why don’t we all just go home-”

“If you wanna give up on her, Armin, that’s fine, but stop trying to convince the rest of us to do the same,” Eren said, but not as angrily as he would have if he was talking to someone who wasn’t Armin.

“I just want her to be happy,” Armin frowned.

“Dude, respectfully, shut up.”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Eren glared at Jean.

“We shouldn’t argue with each other. Connie’s the problem, and we all know it. What are we gonna do about him?” Mikasa darted her eyes between everyone standing around, and no one spoke up for a moment until Eren interrupted the silence.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Eren, no-”

“Why not?” Eren said to Armin.

“Because you’ll go to prison. And murder is wrong.”

“If we don’t do something, none of us will be free from his torment,” Levi suddenly concluded.

“Levi, don’t tell me you agree with killing the man,” Mikasa looked at her cousin, who didn’t respond immediately. “Levi?”

“If you even hurt him, let alone kill him, Connie won’t need to use his influence to ruin your lives. You’ll do it yourselves,” Mikasa raised her voice.

Killing wasn’t the answer. It was insane.

“So we should just let him control and threaten us until we die or something?” Eren looked over at the woman. “He shot someone, he held people hostage, he gets people beaten up, he tried to hurt my goddamn mom. We can’t send him to jail, we all know that won’t fucking work, so what else should we do? I’d love to know.”

“Don’t you realize what’s happening?” Jean paused. “Y/N bringing all of us here to tell us to back off was our last warning. If we leave her alone, then maybe . . . maybe Connie will leave us alone.”

“What? You’re giving up now too?” Eren frowned at Jean, who was lost in thought for a moment.

“Did you all mean what you said in Armin’s apartment? That you’d fight for her even if it meant losing everything, or worse? Because this is our chance to save our careers and protect the people we care about . . . if we just let her go.”

“Okay,” Eren rolled his eyes once Jean concluded his speech. “Sounds like you’re giving up, so . . . bye.”

“Eren, don’t be stupid. She doesn’t want you, and now is your chance to go back to being an artist with millions of fans, a big ass mansion, and fucking any woman you want,” Jean retorted.

“I don’t want that anymore. How many times do I gotta say that?”

“Then what about your mom? I care about her too, you know. Think he won’t try to go after her again?” Jean took a few steps closer to Eren. “You should back out considering you’re the reason we’re in this mess. You won’t shut the fuck up and do what you’re told. Connie only got his hands on Y/N because she was being punished for trying to cover your ass.”

“So, you want me to bow down to a man who was only pissed at me in the first place because I beat your ass in public for sticking your filthy fucking hand down my wife’s pants?” Eren took a few steps closer to Jean. He reached into his hair, tightening his loose, low man bun. “Want me to do it again? Is that it?”

“I’m so tired of you acting like a bitch when things don’t go your way,” Jean clenched his fist.

“You have a lot of nerve calling me a bitch when you’re throwing a fit because I don’t enjoy having Connie’s dick in my mouth like you do-”

Suddenly, Jean’s fist connected with Eren’s cheek. The impact of his knuckles smashing into his bandmate’s face was strong enough to almost knock Eren off of his feet, and he stumbled back before finding his footing again.

“I’m sick of you, I’m so goddamn sick of you! You act like such a damn child when you don’t get your way. You’re fucking blessed with everything you could ever want except for one fucking girl, and it still isn’t enough-”

Jean was interrupted by Eren swinging at him with a punch of his own. By then, Reiner wrapped his arms around Eren’s — who tried to punch Jean once again — and he held him back, while Levi restrained Jean.

“That same girl could have been yours if you didn’t do everything Connie forced you to do, and now she hates you because you were too much of a pussy to say no to Connie. See how he couldn’t force me to make a song about her? That’s called having balls.”

“Eren, calm down,” Reiner gritted his teeth. He was a bigger man than Eren — both taller and buffer — but he had to use all his strength to hold the other man back.

“We’ll see if you’ll say the same thing when something bad happens to your mom because you keep messing with him,” Jean shouted, “because I remember you almost started kissing Connie’s boots when he was fed up with your ass and was about to head to your house.”

“Stop it,” Levi adjusted his grip around Jean. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

Eren managed to pull himself away from Reiner. However, he didn’t launch at Jean as everyone expected. Instead, he pressed his thumb against his bleeding lip.

“Connie’s not gonna do a damn thing to my family, and he’s not gonna have Y/N either. She belongs to me-”

“Slow down,” Reiner frowned as Eren turned to face him. “She isn’t yours. What you had was just a result of manipulation and confusion. What she and I had was real.”

“Is that why she cheated on you too?” Eren glared at Reiner with eyes that were as dark as the night sky above them.

“She cheated on me because she was drunk and having a bad night. She cheated on you because you made her feel lonely and unwanted because of what Jean was doing.”

Levi wanted to interrupt. But, was Reiner right? Would the relationship between the two of you amount to nothing except drunk sex on his couch?

Armin simply stared at the ground. He felt silly for even hoping that he could win you back. But you hugged him first, and longer than you hugged anyone else. Why? What for?

Did you miss him? Any of them? Or were you truly falling for Connie Springer?

Suddenly, Mikasa started to walk away.

“Woah, where the hell are you going?” Jean called.

“At this hour, I’m assuming Connie only has about two of his Silent Men at his house, if any. If things get ugly, well, I have a gun too-”

“Wait,” Levi reached out, grabbing Mikasa’s arm before she could descend the steps. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m going to his house. I’m going to see if she really wants to stay with Connie, or if she needs help. I’m tired of this. I don’t care who she wants to date, I only care about her safety, and I’m not convinced that any of you idiots can say that. Any of you.”

“I’m coming with you,” Levi said. “You know I care about her safety too, and yours. This could get ugly. Connie shot Erwin. He won’t hesitate to shoot me or you.”

“I’m coming too,” Eren approached Mikasa and Levi.

“We should all go,” Folding his arms across his chest, Reiner looked at Jean and Armin. “Are you two in? If we all go, especially if most of us have guns, Connie won’t be able to stop us. We were idiots for letting her walk away in the first place, but we’ll get her back.”

Jean and Armin nodded in agreement.

As the group headed for their cars, each of them couldn’t help but wonder if they would truly get you back, and which one of them you truly loved.

As they headed towards Connie’s home in their individual cars, the group also wondered if anyone would lose their life tonight.

But, as Levi eyed the glove compartment where he kept his gun, he only thought about one thing: the words you discreetly whispered in his ear when you hugged him . . .

“I’m pregnant.”

— ♡ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

— 🎟: @consuming-karma @lilvampirina @okaystopwhore @chrollohearttags @nanamochii @bunny2612 @cupids-soul @crazychaoticizzy @ramonathinks @averysmolbear @seishirogf @6sakusa @levin4nami @chaotic-on-main @sad-darksoul @gwapbby @katestrophes @ventdavi154 @lovelyless-fiction @svftackerman @musegonemad @moonmalice @inciteterr0r @honeybleed @zeninsbitch @purple-milk24 @itzgabz22 @mooomuu @micafecitoconpan @beaniebanby @anonymousme23 @theitchbbbb @skit-brentfaiyaz @princessos-blog @elliesbabygirl @the-mrs-steve-harrington @kittenbabe00 @magictrump @hetalia-tumbler @hon3y-c0mb @bol0-de-morang0 @thisisketchy @yoongirecs @allofffmypeaches @sasha-glass @getwaves @deluluvibes @p3nislawd @emery-333

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