#BEST VIEWED IN DARK MODE! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingkaisen · 2 years ago

Text

FIVE HUSBANDS

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐕 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑 ˗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 fem!reader

➙ 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: stalkers and lovers. rumors and liars. everyone seems to have a secret, and as you step into the film industry and a new marriage, it’s impossible to know who to trust. everything just might change because of one person: the manager.

➙ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI - modern au, fluff, angst, smut (penetration, unprotected sex, oral, m!receiving) stalking, gun mention, death, drinking, heartbreak, marriage & cheating.

➙ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11k

“You look like shit.”

Connie Springer’s words snapped Eren Yeager out of his daze, and when he looked up, his old friend handed him a cup of coffee with one hand, while his other one was stuffed into the pocket of his black dress pants.

Expensive pants. A belt. Long-sleeved, black button-down shirt.

The old, younger Connie that Eren grew up with would have laughed in utter disbelief if someone told him that he’d wear such sophisticated outfits someday.

“Hell no,” younger Connie would have said amusingly. “I’m wearing t-shirts and shorts ‘til I die!”

Eren took the paper cup of coffee from him, although he truly wished it was some form of alcohol instead. Even so, he sipped on the hot beverage, tasting French vanilla instead of that horrific hazelnut flavor that everyone seemed to be so obsessed with nowadays.

It also had the perfect amount of sugar.

Something that the new, older Connie, didn’t seem to forget, even though they had grown apart.

How his best friend liked his coffee.

“Thanks,” Eren mumbled.

The intimidating office was just as cold as the jail cell he was in the night before. But, truthfully, Eren didn’t care. The entire building could have frozen over, and he wouldn’t have noticed. Not when his heart had just been smashed to pieces, and it would take a miracle to glue it back together.

“It’s just coffee, man,” Connie said, leaning back against his desk. “No need to thank me.”

“Well,” Eren gave a small, sad, chuckle. “Thanks for getting the prosecutor to drop the stupid assault charges, then.”

“Don’t thank me for that either,” Connie paused. “I’m just looking out for my company’s reputation. If they had locked your ass away, then your band would’ve been finished.”

“My band, huh?” Eren sniffled.

“Yeah. Your band. I’m not in it anymore.”

Eren hung his head, looking down at the paper cup within his grasp. His eyes scanned over his bruised knuckles.

“Alright, well,” Eren sighed, starting to push himself out of his seat. “If you don’t need anything from me, I’m gonna head home-”

“Hold on,” Walking behind his desk, Connie opened a drawer, pulling out a folder. “There’s one other thing.”

“What?” Eren sat back down.

“I heard you tossed your ring when you caught your wife cheating on you. That true?”

“Yeah,” A frown appeared across Eren’s face. “I was pissed. Why?”

“Because,” Connie walked back over, handing the folder to Eren. “I’m bringing all of you in for a meeting later on. You, Jean, Levi, and Y/N. I want you to give her these.”

Eren opened the folder.

Divorce papers stared back at him.

“You want me to divorce her?” Looking up at his old friend, Eren’s frown deepened.

“You threw your ring, man. Not me.” Connie shrugged as if he didn’t present Eren with a life-changing task.

“I was pissed, yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m still in love with her, Connie.” Eren closed the folder. He tried to hand it back to Connie. “I’ll forgive her eventually. We just need time. Counseling or something. I’m not gonna divorce her.”

Suddenly, a laugh came from the entrepreneur. It only sent a wave of confusion through Eren, who still tried to hand the papers back to him. But Connie only folded his arms across his chest.

“What the hell is so funny?” Eren snapped. A familiar wave of anger started to wash over him. “I don’t want these damn papers.”

“What’s funny is that you think I’m giving you a choice.”

“Huh?”

“Did I ask you what you wanted?” Connie said. “It’s not up for debate. You’re divorcing her. You’re giving her those papers tomorrow.”

Eren was silent. Frozen. Didn’t move a muscle. However, those green eyes of his glistened with sudden, utter hatred.

If looks could kill.

“No.”

Eren got up, sitting the coffee down on Connie’s desk. He tossed the folder on the ground, the papers scattering across the floor. He made his way towards the door.

“You know your life is in my hands, right?” Connie announced casually, and Eren’s footsteps came to a halt. “Please don’t make me have to do some evil shit, man.”

Eren clenched and unclenched his fists. He bit his tongue hard enough to numb it.

Even as he trembled with anger, he thought of the various ways in which his childhood friend could ruin his life.

The dropped charges were a direct result of Connie’s influence. Perhaps, he could convince the broken, unfair justice system to create some new ones, and send him to jail until he was old and grey. Or, he could simply pull out that lovely gun he always kept on him, blast a few holes through his body, and blame it on the janitor.

“But I love her.” Eren’s words came out softer than he intended. He felt small.

“Since when do you care about other people? Huh?” Connie chucked once again. “Just divorce her, get over it, make some fucking music, and find another girl.”

“Why?” Eren questioned.

“Because I said so,” Grinning, Connie scratched his cheek, “damn, I sound like your momma, don’t I?”

Oh, was Eren close to hurting him with his bare, injured hands. Right now, the urge to hurt him was strong enough to make him forget about any contract, any influence, or potential murder.

He turned around, facing Connie, who spoke again.

“I can ruin her life too, by the way.”

And, just like that, Eren unclenched his fists. Even if he didn’t care about himself, he cared about you. You could smash his heart into pieces over and over again, and he’d always care about you. Loving you was truly a bittersweet poison. He almost felt like a child with the way he so desperately wanted to cling onto you and never let go, even if it destroyed his heart and soul. To him, you were worth it.

He just loved you.

A tear rolled down Eren’s cheek.

“You’re an evil bastard,” Eren smiled sadly. “How the hell did you get like this?”

Connie’s face went blank.

“I could ask you the same thing. You’re no better, and you know it. You ruined her first marriage and didn’t give a damn. Don’t get mad at me because for once, you can’t have whatever the hell you want.”

“I’m your damn friend, Connie! After everything we’ve been through, we should have always had each other’s backs. No matter what I’ve done in the past, I never treated you or Jean the way you both have treated me.” The long-haired man stepped closer. “Losing Marco ruined all of us. I fucking get it. But I would never put you or any of my friends through the shit you’re putting me through. Fuck you, Connie.”

“Eren,” Connie sighed carelessly. “I’m gonna give you one last chance. Either pick up those goddamn papers, or you’ll both regret it.”

Looking into his old friend’s eyes, he tried to search for the friend he used to know. At the very least, if not a friend, a kind acquaintance. But he saw nothing. The windows to his soul simply didn’t show a soul.

Not anymore.

Eren turned around, and he grabbed the divorce papers off the floor.

—

YEARS BEFORE

“Come on guys, keep up!”

Wet dirt and soggy grass stuck to the hand-me-down tennis shoes of Marco Bodt, who hiked through the neighboring woods with his best friends trailing behind him.

“I’m tired,” Connie groaned, reaching down to scratch the mosquito bite on his leg as he walked, tripping over his own feet as he did so.

“Don’t worry,” The freckle-faced boy grinned, looking back at his friends. “We’re almost at the main road. I can see the headlights from here.”

“Nuh-uh,” wrinkling his nose, Eren squinted his green eyes, “I don’t see anything. Are we lost?”

“We’re gonna end up on the news,” Jean paused. “Four idiotic fifteen-year-olds found dead in the woods. I can see it now, guys. We’re gonna get eaten by wolves.”

“There aren’t any wolves in California,” Gripping the straps of his backpack, Eren rolled his eyes at Jean.

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Stop it, you two,” Marco walked around a tree. “This is my fault. I just heard that exploring was a great way to cure writer’s block, and I thought it’d be fun. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, man,” Connie swallowed down a sip of water from his red bottle. “It beats sitting in Eren’s dusty basement trying to come up with lyrics.”

“Yeah,” Jean grinned. “Besides, you’re having fun, right?”

“Oh, well — yeah.” A light dust of pink appeared across Marco’s cheeks. Truth be told, he was having the time of his life.

With the camera his mom bought him for his birthday, he snapped as many photos as he could of beautiful birds and plants, along with pictures of his friends for his photo album. And, occasionally, he’d pull out his journal, and jot down in great detail the mesmerizing sight of the wind blowing through the tall trees; it evoked a feeling that couldn’t be expressed in photographs, even if a picture was worth a thousand words.

“All the bug bites are worth it if you’re having fun, marchmellow,” speed walking a bit to catch up to his friend, Eren wrapped his sweaty arm around the black-haired boy’s shoulder.

“Marchmellow?” Marco tried his hardest to fight off a smile, grabbing ahold of Eren’s wrist, keeping his arm around his shoulder. “That’s not even a clever nickname.”

“Yeah, it is. Marco plus marshmallow equals marchmellow. I thought of it just now.”

“Marcaroni’s a better nickname for him,” Jean gripped his hat as he spoke. “But you can’t say it like macaroni. You gotta say it like mar-caroni.”

“What?” Connie laughed, the leaves he stepped on crunching underneath his feet.

“Macaroni sounds nothing like Marco,” Eren rolled his eyes.

“It’s mar-ca-ro-ni, you idiot-”

“What about Marco Polo?” Connie interrupted as he picked up a long stick, and swung it around. “And my nickname’s gonna be conman. Jean, your name’s too stupid to come up with a nickname for, and Eren, your name’s gonna be rennie roo.”

Instantly, shouts of protest fell from the mouths of Eren and Jean, and Marco couldn’t help but laugh, feeling grateful that after spending his entire childhood alone due to shyness, he had finally made friends. It was all thanks to him building up the courage to offer Jean half of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich during lunchtime in the second grade. By recess, he was playing on the monkey bars with not only Jean, but Eren and Connie as well.

And — god, they adored him, just as he adored them.

“Hey, look.” Marco pointed at dozens of spotty lights ahead of them. “I told you I saw headlights. We’re almost home.”

By now, Eren had found his own large stick, and he tossed it around as he spoke.

“You guys are eating dinner at my house, right? Mom’s making spaghetti I think.”

That was the only encouragement that the boys needed to push forward towards the main road. The thought of eating a warm bowl of pasta at Eren’s dinner table made them appear at the edge of the woods in no time, standing at the top of a hill as they looked down at the zooming cars below.

“We should find a crosswalk,” Marco eyed the busy street, “the cars are going too fast for us to cross safely.”

“If they see us, they’ll stop though, right?” Connie blinked. “Who the hell even knows where the closest crosswalk is?”

“Marco’s right,” Jean said.

“Yeah, Connie,” Eren hit the shorter boy’s back with his stick.

“Hey, don’t swing at me!” Using his equally large stick, Connie swung at Eren, who dodged it, and for a moment, the two boys simply smacked their sticks together, attempting to hit each other.

Marco — who pulled out his camera to take a picture of the silly stick fight — was hit.

He was hit hard enough to drop his camera and fall backward off of the hill.

Eren tried to grab him. Jean yelled his name. Connie could only watch.

There was nothing that the three teenage boys could do once he tumbled into the road, and a speeding car slammed into his body.

Eren ran down the hill first, and Jean quickly followed.

But Connie stayed at the top of the hill, wide-eyed and frozen with utter shock, trembling hands clenching the stick that he accidentally murdered his best friend with.

—

Six months had passed since Armin Arlert arrived and vanished from your home without a trace. And during that time, life was simply amazing.

Walking through the enormous film set of what was to be a sequel to a fantastic drama film — complete with bustling crew members and impressive props resembling an actual home — you held your coffee in one hand, and your script in the other. Reiner Braun approached you with his own cup of coffee, but in his other hand, he held a bagel.

“Hey,” he kissed your lips, “I grabbed a bagel for you. It was all they had left, because the damn makeup crew snatched up everything else before we got here. I wish you had time to hang around this morning. I could’ve cooked you a real breakfast.”

At the sight of your full hands, he held the bagel up to your mouth, and you took a bite.

“A plain bagel, hm?” you chewed slowly. “You can have the rest of it. I’m still not used to acting on camera. Being nervous as hell really ruins your appetite.”

“Listen,” Reiner stared at you softly. “If you can get on stage, you can get in front of a camera.”

“Can I?” With a frown, you glared down at your script, scanning your eyes over the lines you should have memorized. “I’m only in this film because of you.”

“I told them to consider you, yeah, but they wouldn’t have cast you if you couldn’t act. Trust me, you’re more talented than you give yourself credit for.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just my nerves talking,” you said, and your boyfriend pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“Don’t forget about our dinner plans tonight. At least we have that to look forward to.”

“Oh, that’s right,” you took a sip of your coffee, “look at you, motivating me to get through the day.”

Reiner kissed you once more. Perhaps, starring in a handful of romance films created a need to be overly affectionate. Or, maybe it was the utter shock of having won your heart in the first place — and he needed to remind himself of his luck — but either way, he intended to cherish you.

Life with Reiner Braun was a life worth living. His hand gently rubbed your back throughout every restless night during your exhausting divorce with Eren, and for a while, he was fine with simply being the person to hold your tissue box and repeat rehearsed, comforting phrases.

“It’s okay.”

“Everything will be alright.”

“Don’t worry, I’m here.”

And, after some time, you made the actor choke on his water when you called him one day, asking him out on a date.

Since then, he witnessed your growth into a proper woman of Hollywood. For the first time in your infamous life, love letters outweighed the hate mail. You had an incredibly nice home — even though he was unaware of a peculiar guest appearing at your backdoor one night — and with the release of your album, you were no longer a cover artist, but a real one. It was only a matter of time before casting directors wanted to snatch you up for a couple of films as well.

You had it all. Money, fame, and love.

After twelve hours of being in front of a camera, your only break coming in the form of chugging down water while crew members gathered your clothes for a new scene, you and Reiner finally made it to a hard-earned, relaxing dinner at your favorite restaurant.

Hazel eyes stared at you, glistening underneath the warm lighting.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned, sipping on your glass of water. “Is the bread cold? We can send it back.”

“No, everything’s fine,” Reiner smiled softly, reaching out to touch your hand. “I was wondering … are you happy?”

His soft touch sent a wave of warmth throughout your body. Being with him was enchanting, as if you both had truly done something right in your chaotic lives by choosing to love each other. And loving him was easy, too. Your soul could rest, and yet, at the same time, your heart had awakened. You felt alive.

“I’m happy,” You said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Hungry, too. Where’s our waiter?”

Reiner laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Perhaps, his question was meant to prompt a deeper convo, as when that pretty, love-filled gaze of his vanished once he stared down at the table, it was beyond clear that something was on his mind.

“Reiner, are you-”

“Good evening,” your waiter suddenly appeared. “My name is-”

The waiter, who had a hauntingly familiar voice, froze as soon as he caught a glimpse of who he would be serving this evening.

And that voice was the same one you heard outside of your home several months ago.

That voice was the same one you heard throughout your entire childhood, every single day.

“Armin,” your tone was flat and stale. You said his name with unpleasant shock, and he blinked at you with those blue eyes of his.

“Hm?” Reiner darted his eyes between you and the waiter. “You’re Armin? Armin Arlert?”

“Y-Yeah,” he mumbled, barely loud enough to be heard over the distant restaurant chatter and jazz music, and he shifted his feet as he stood there awkwardly. “That’s me.”

“Oh,” Reiner smiled, extending his hand for the nervous man to shake, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Armin took it. “It’s nice to meet you, Armin. I’ve heard a lot about you. One of the best cinnamon roll makers in New York, huh?”

If only the ground could open up underneath you, and swallow you whole. Sometimes, being with the Perfect Man was better in theory than in practice, as Reiner’s friendly attitude only deepened your desire to vanish.

Even so, there was a more pressing matter than your festering embarrassment.

“So,” you paused, fiddling with your napkin. “How are you doing, Armin? It’s been a while.”

To Reiner, a while meant around two years. To you, it meant six months. You could only hope Armin would share your discretion.

“Yeah, I uh…I guess it has.” Frowning shyly, he too avoided making eye contact. “I’m doing well, though. I really am.”

That was when you looked at him; truly took in the sight of him.

He managed to find a real job after the construction company let all of their workers go, obviously, and based on the lack of cuts and bruises, it seemed as if he was no longer involved with the dangerous people to whom he owed money.

His skin had a healthy shine to it, blonde hair well groomed and uniform as clean as it could be for a waiter running back and forth between tables and the kitchen for hours upon hours, all while having to maintain a warm smile to receive a decent tip while doing so.

He certainly reaped the benefits of being properly nourished.

“You look good. Healthy.” You gave him a polite smile — as polite of a grin as a heartbreaker could manage. “I guess that’s what happens when you don’t have to split your sandwiches with someone anymore, right?”

With a face as blank as a new canvas, he gave a polite, rehearsed, customer service laugh.

It was the laugh he used for the random dessert-seekers who walked into the bakery. The laugh he used whenever his boss told a cheesy, flat joke.

You never thought he’d use it on you.

But even though he looked well, something was off.

His eyes failed to meet yours for longer than a second, but whenever you did manage to catch a glimpse of those big blue eyes of his, the lack of light within them almost made you want to forget your dining etiquette and force some answers out of him.

“Armin,” you wanted to say. “Why the hell do you look so empty? Like you don’t have a soul or something?”

But you didn’t say a word. Nor did you try to search his eyes for even the slightest shimmer of the person he used to be.

Instead, you grinned mechanically and took another sip of your water.

“Right, well,” Armin cleared his throat. “I can get another waiter if you-”

“No, no,” Reiner shook his head. “If you’re okay with it, so are we. Besides, we wouldn’t wanna get you in trouble for switching tables.”

“He’s right,” You added on. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna tip. It’s the least I could do for my poor ex-husband.”

The silence was anything but quiet.

Reiner and Armin simply stared at you, frowns cast upon their faces.

“What? It was just a joke,” holding out your menu for Armin to take, you said, “I’ll have the strawberry chicken salad.”

Reiner gave a small smile, “I’ll take the Surf and Turf. Medium rare. Thank you.”

After collecting your menus, he gave a polite nod to Reiner, and left. He didn’t bother glancing your way.

“Hey,” Reiner leaned forward a bit, all too aware of the lack of space between every decently packed table. “Don’t you think that was a little rude?”

A sigh fell from your lips, one that signaled your annoyance, and Reiner’s frown only deepened.

“No, I don’t.”

Reiner searched your eyes for your intent; be it humorous or serious. The poor man couldn’t read you.

“Is everything alright?” Reiner reached for your hand as he did earlier in the evening, but this time, you moved yours away casually — as if you didn’t know he planned on grabbing your hand — but he looked at you with furrowed brows and a worried frown.

“Everything’s fine,” you said. “You’re the one who seemed troubled earlier. I was going to ask you about that before the waiter showed up.”

The waiter.

As if he was nothing more than a simple server, and not someone you once loved.

“I just …” pausing for a moment, Reiner tried to collect his thoughts. “I feel like you’ve changed.”

“Really?” You raised your eyebrows, and just like before, he couldn’t tell if you spoke with sincere concern or rude sarcasm. Even so, he continued to speak.

“I didn’t want to talk about this at dinner, but I guess it can’t wait,” he sighed. “I love you, and I understand what money and influence can do to a person, but I just miss you. I miss the old you, the person who made everyone laugh during card games and didn’t treat everyone like garbage.”

No ordinary human being enjoyed the realization that they had changed for the worse. It felt like your insides were twisting up, as if the old version of yourself was begging to come out, buried underneath this new, shallow, perfect celebrity.

“You’re right,” you glanced down at your lap. It seemed to be the place to stare at when it was time to feel shameful tonight. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” Reiner smiled softly. A comforting smile. One that was equivalent to how it felt to exhale. “Hey, how about we get out of Hollywood for a couple of days? Just you and me? No work, no business?”

“We can’t, Reiner. We’re in the middle of filming.”

“They don’t need us to film anything right now, and we’ll be back before it’s time for us to shoot our next scene.”

The thought of leaving the city reminded you of bitter medicine; a big white pill that would dissolve on your tongue if you didn’t chase it down with water quickly enough. And while taking the prescribed drug would be an unpleasant experience, at the end of the day, it would help you. Heal you.

Something you needed, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“Alright,” you smiled. A soft grin, but a grin, nevertheless. “We can go on a little retreat.”

His smile was much brighter than your own. And it wasn’t one of those flashy smiles for red carpet events or being bombarded by fans in the middle of the street, but a genuine smile of relief. As if he truly believed that leaving town would solve everything.

As you took another sip of your water, your gaze traveled across the dimly lit restaurant until you saw Armin. He was being the people-pleasing worker that he was — his old bosses from the bakery and Chuck’s Place surely loved that about him — but perhaps, you were the only person who could tell that his grin was fake.

You didn’t notice that you were lost in thought, staring off into space as your mind wandered upon the bittersweet memories of your old New York life until you snapped out of it, and saw that Armin was staring right back at you.

That night, the unknown number called you again.

—

Reiner’s idea of a retreat offered a unique mix of southern charm and modern convenience, which wasn’t surprising, given the theme of the restaurant you met him in. However, as you rode in the passenger seat, Reiner’s hair blowing in the wind as he drove down the big country roads as Tennessee Whiskey blared through the radio, you simply didn’t expect the handsome man to actually take you to Tennessee.

“Ya know,” you paused, reaching forward to turn down the volume a few notches, “when you said we’d get out of town for a few days, I imagined a resort with a nice spa or something.”

“Sorry.” Reiner rested his arm on the car window, and the orange sunset only made him look even more handsome — if such a thing was possible. “You’re not gonna find anything like that down here.”

“Right, right…” you mumbled. “And why Tennessee?”

“Well,” he looked over at you for a split second, but being as there were hardly any other cars on the road, he could have stared at you throughout the entire drive if he wanted. “I was born here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I started acting when I was really young, so we were always traveling between L.A. and Nashville, but Tennessee is still my home. It’s where my family is, and my friends.” Reiner made a right turn. “That’s where we’re going. To my old house.”

“Oh, okay.” You spoke softly, looking out at the road ahead. “You’re taking me to meet all of your friends and family. Why didn’t you tell me that originally? Did you think I wouldn’t come? Because this kinda seems like a trick.”

“Can you blame me for keeping it a secret?” Reiner paused. “You’re so in love with Hollywood now, I didn’t think you’d come at all if I told you the truth.”

Aside from the gentle boom of the radio, and the wind swirling around as he drove, it was otherwise silent.

“Hey,” Reiner replaced the right hand that was formerly gripping the steering wheel with his left one, and he picked up your hand, running his thumb along your fingers. “You’re right. I should’ve told you where we were going, and I’m sorry. If you don’t like it, we won’t stay, I promise. We’ll find a nice hotel for the night, and we’ll be back in Los Angeles as soon as possible, okay?”

“Okay.”

Raising your hand to his lips, he kissed your knuckles tenderly.

“But, you gotta try to enjoy yourself. We’ve been dating for a while now, and you haven’t met my mother or my friends. I love them, and I love you, and so I just … I don’t know. I wanted us all to be connected, I guess.” He sighed, a bit of worry rushing through him as he tried to anticipate your reaction to his next statement. “They’re throwing a barbecue for you. I mean, that’s how excited they are to meet you. Everyone’s gonna be there. My friends, my parents, my cousins — anyone who means anything to me.”

“Okay.”

Relaxing in a robe while receiving a facial —cucumbers resting on your eyes for the ultimate spa experience — were all things you simply wished for, because apparently, it wasn’t going to happen.

Instead, you’d be swatting flies away from your sticky food with one hand, and wiping away sweat from the unbearable southern heat with the other.

—

Arriving at Reiner Braun’s childhood home was like walking into a crowded Cracker Barrel.

Country music played loudly enough for everyone hanging out in both the front and backyard of the paneled baby blue house to hear, and perhaps, loudly enough for the neighbors to complain. But the neighbors were at Reiner’s mom’s house as well, packing themselves a plate of barbecue as if they were members of the family.

As you scanned the grinning faces of his friends and family members — some eating, some drinking, and some dancing — it was easy to tell that they were all happy. They knew each other. Loved each other.

The seatbelt unclicked slowly when your hesitant fingers pressed down on the buckle. Stepping out of the car and waiting for Reiner to take your hand and lead the way as if you were the new kid entering a brand new school, you tried to take a few deep breaths.

This was more nerve-racking than getting on stage in front of a live audience, or filming a movie in front of cast and crew members.

“Ready?” Reiner walked around his vehicle, grinning at you, his car beeping gently as he locked it. Catching the attention of a few family members hanging around in the front yard, a tall, dark-haired man and a guy with slicked-back blonde hair smiled brightly.

“Hey! You made it!” The blonde guy’s smile was more of a welcoming smirk, while the taller guy behind him seemed to have a shy grin. “You’re late, but I saved you half a rib.”

“Good to see you too,” Reiner pulled the smirking blonde in for a man-hug.

Then, he turned his attention towards the shy, tall guy, and hugged him as well.

Meanwhile, you simply stood there.

“Guys,” Reiner stepped away from his childhood friends, placing a hand on your back. “This is Y/N. Y/N, meet Porco and Bertholdt.”

“Hi,” you said softly, giving a small wave that was so awkward, that you would surely lie awake at night and think about it later on, cringing at the memory.

“Are you shy?” Porco, who tended to speak before thinking, looked you up and down. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a shy celebrity before.”

“Ignore him,” The taller man, Bertholdt, held out his hand for you to shake. “It’s nice to meet you. I really like your music.”

“Thank you.”

“Just so ya know,” Porco paused, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re too pretty for a guy like Reiner. What are you dating him for?”

“Okay,” Reiner rolled his eyes, using one arm to move his friends to the side, and with his hand still pressed against your lower back, he guided you away from them. “Real mature, Porco. I’m gonna take her inside. I’ll see you guys later.”

Inside his home, even more family members were gathered together in the living room and the kitchen. It was the older crowd, ones who weren’t cut out for the heat or the loud music, but they were excited to meet you, their warm hands shaking your own, radiating southern hospitality that you previously had only heard about.

Reiner’s mother — an older woman with white-blonde hair and down-turned, hazel eyes that crinkled when she smiled, which was often — kindly made you a plate of food, offering you a little bit of everything.

“Hope ya don’t mind that everything’s touching. I know some folks are picky about that!” Mrs. Braun beamed, holding out a heavy plate packed to the brim with barbecued chicken, mac and cheese, cabbage, cornbread, and yams. “Make sure you save some room for dessert, ‘kay, hun? We got tons of cake here, a pie, a cobbler — whatever you’d like!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Braun. Everything looks amazing.”

“Of course,” she smiled brightly, and a grin looked so natural on her calming face, it was almost as if she was born to smile. She glanced up at Reiner. “Reiner, dear, you can go make your own plate.”

“Thanks, ma,” Reiner rolled his eyes.

—

In the warmly lit living room, kitchen, and dining room — country, old decor showed the true age of Reiner’s childhood home. Generations of Braun family members must have been raised here, and truth be told, it was heartwarming to look at everyone and see what features Reiner had in common with them.

“Your uncle has your eyes,” you said, glancing over at Reiner, who sat next to you on the living room couch.

“Hm,” Reiner smiled. “I’ve heard that before. Can’t believe you noticed.”

Dropping your head a bit, you looked down at your empty plate. Every single bite was beyond delicious. Mrs. Braun had packed your leftovers out of the kindness of her heart, and she wasn’t the only person to act as sweet as the desserts being served in the kitchen.

Everyone was so kind to you. So happy to meet you.

Groups of friends and family members alike were scattered among every room, simply enjoying themselves. As you watched them, you said to Reiner, “thank you for bringing me here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not mad?”

“Well,” you sighed, “I was at first, but I like it here. It’s refreshing, you know? Everyone’s so damn happy, it’s contagious. Kinda wish we could stay.”

As you spoke, a soft smile appeared across your face. It was a real, genuine grin. One that Reiner hadn’t seen in a while. The sight of it made him release a breath. His heart simply melted, and his wet, bright eyes glistened softly with utter happiness.

“What’s wrong?” You tilted your head a bit, noticing your dear boyfriend on the verge of tears. “Are you okay? Did you get some dust in your eye?”

Grabbing your hand, Reiner raised it to his lips, kissing it gently.

“Everything’s fine, sweetheart. You just … you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.”

Before you could respond, Reiner spoke once again, but not to you.

But to everyone else.

“Could I have everyone’s attention?”

The chatter slowly fizzled out, and the radio was turned down. Reiner’s grinning family and friends gathered around the living room couch, looking at him knowingly.

“I wanted to thank everyone for throwing this barbecue for us. It really means a lot, and it feels good to be home.” Reiner turned his body a bit to look into your eyes properly. “Y/N, I wanted you to meet the most important people in my life because you mean the world to me. Every single day I get to wake up beside you, I’m grateful. I’m grateful that I get to be the one who sees you every morning. I’m grateful that I’m the one who gets to love you. I’m grateful that I walked into that restaurant and met you, because that was the day my life changed forever. That was the day I met the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Getting off of the couch, Reiner pulled a little black box out of the inner packet of his jacket. He got down on one knee, and he opened the box to reveal a gorgeous ring, one that glistened just as brightly as the shimmer of hope in his glassy eyes.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you said happily, “of course I’ll marry you!”

Cheers and applause erupted from Reiner’s joyful family. Your brand new fiancé slid the silver engagement ring on your finger, and happily stood up to kiss your cheek.

“I love you,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I hope I’ve made that clear.”

“I had no idea,” you joked. “You’re gonna ask me if I still like you right in the middle of our wedding ceremony, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he smiled beautifully, and the tears continued to fall. “I’ll ask you on our twentieth anniversary too, knowing me.”

Giving a small chuckle, you leaned in, kissing Reiner on his cheek this time. The pink blush that dusted across his handsome face was absolutely adorable, and you couldn’t help but kiss his cheek again, just to see his blush deepen — and it spread across his cheeks and ears.

“You’re making me turn red in front of everybody,” he tried to fight off his grin, and failed miserably. “Cut it out and come dance with me.”

He grabbed your wrist. Soon enough, you were doing line dances with him and his family, packed together in the living room. And, for the first time in forever, your mouth ached from smiling so much.

Your brand new fiancé was beyond lovely.

—

Heading back to L.A. was like waking up from an amazing dream. It was starling; blinding in every way possible, including the literal flashing lights from the nosy paparazzi cameras while you simply tried to go grocery shopping or walk down the street.

The news of your engagement had reignited old news and chaos involving your questionable relationship history, but even so, you had to shut out all of the noise.

Wrapping up your film and planning your wedding kept you beyond busy, making it rather easy to ignore the repetitive articles upon articles being written about you.

And, when you finally married Reiner in a classy, beautiful wedding unlike anything you had ever known, you were happy.

Truly, finally happy.

—

The night of your wedding, Reiner gently tossed you, his insanely beautiful wife, right on his king-sized bed.

“How the hell did I get so lucky?” He mumbled, hovering over you. He leaned down to press a soft kiss against your jaw.

The warmth that radiated off of his body was enough to make you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Searching for his sweet touch was the only way you could maneuver within the darkness of the beige master bedroom, the only source of light coming from the bright moon, which beamed through his window and illuminated the side of his perfect face.

Your sweet lover left a trail of kisses down your neck. It was undeniably his favorite spot to suck on, leaving a mark upon your skin to show the entire world that you were his — and his alone.

“Reiner,” his name fell from your lips softly, and you gripped his shoulders.

“Hm?” He hummed against your skin. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“You don’t have to be so gentle with me. You know that, right?”

Reiner pulled away from your neck, and he looked at you with the softest, moonlit eyes.

“I know, but I like it slow.” His large hands were on your body, carefully removing your expensive, black lingerie, purchased with your special wedding night in mind. “Look at all the effort you put in just for me. I wanna cherish it — cherish you.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” you looked at him seductively.

“I don’t wanna fuck you, I wanna make love to you.” Reiner, after having successfully removed your lingerie, started to unbutton his shirt. “But I wouldn’t call myself a gentleman. If you want me to be rough, I will.”

“I do,” you whispered, running your ringed hand along his perfect abs. He had just the right amount of body hair; not too much, but enough for you to see and touch, and as you admired his perfect body, gracing your fingertips across his chest, you had to thank the gods above for creating men with the ability to look so marvelous.

“Don’t be so nice,” a gentle smirk appeared across your face. “As much as I love it when it’s sweet and slow, I want you to be a little rougher with me tonight. I want-”

You were suddenly interrupted by Reiner pressing his buttery lips against yours. Instantly, he bit your lower lip, taking advantage of your little gasp of shock by putting his tongue inside of your mouth. He was quick to swirl his tongue around yours, kissing you so deeply, that an uncontrollable whimper slipped from your throat. That whimper made him moan. He held on to your head with his large hand, keeping you still until he was ready to end the kiss.

He didn’t pull away until after he sucked on your little tongue.

“Rough enough for you, Mrs. Braun?” He questioned breathlessly, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your wet lips.

He wasn’t met with a verbal response, as you answered him by reaching for his belt and unbuckling his pants.

—

Before, Reiner was the kind of person to thrust in and out of you slowly, kiss you in between moans, and lace his fingers with yours as he made sweet love to you.

Tonight, you realized why Reiner had two Oscars sitting on the bookshelf in his living room, as he understood your request to be rougher like the professional role-taker that he was. Every snap of his hips elicited a sharp moan from deep within you. The thickness of his cock made you grip the white sheets with trembling fingers; the very sheets that were threatening to unravel due to his fast and harsh pace.

“You feel amazing,” Reiner mumbled, his breath gently patting against your face. Beads of sweat coated both of your foreheads.

“Rein-Reiner…” your mindless blabber was as much of a response as you could give as a woman being fucked into a mattress, but Reiner knew exactly what it meant.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He whispered.

That was when he repositioned his knees. He pushed your legs back as far as they would go, and it only took five more thrusts before you came all over his large dick.

Now, it was his turn to finish.

Those large hands of his were gripping your hair, and his lips were on your neck once again, leaving his mark and muffling his moans as he sucked on your sensitive spot.

When he pulled away from your neck, it was because his own orgasm started to brew in the pit of his stomach. It would overpower him at any moment. Those powerful thrusts of his started to grow sloppy.

“Sweetheart,” he said breathlessly, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours. “I wanna cum inside of you. I wanna fill you up. Can I? Wouldn’t be so bad if I made you a mom, would it, baby?”

“Fill me up,” a broken whine followed your words, because as soon as he heard you utter them, he slammed his cock in and out of your soaked pussy as quickly as he could.

No longer did he bother with muffling his own moans. He couldn’t do it even if he tried — not when your tight hole was milking him so deliciously.

His orgasm was strong enough to make his toes curl as his load filled your insides. God, that man knew how to make your legs tremble and make you lose your composure in such an embarrassing way, that you’d feel shy around him afterwards.

After he pulled his cock out of you, your husband kissed your lips gently, which was a sharp contrast compared to the way he fucked you moments before.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips.

“I love you too.’” You kissed him again for a brief second. “I love you so much. You have no fucking idea.”

—

After taking a warm shower together and changing the bedsheets, the two of you drifted off to sleep.

And when you did awaken, it was due to your phone ringing.

Reiner’s eyes fluttered open with a groan. He reached over, switched on his bedside lamp, and nudged you gently with his leg.

“Hey,” he said with a gruff, tired voice. “Someone’s calling you.”

A little whine fell from your lips. It was too early for this, and you didn’t even know what time was being shown on the sleek digital clock beside you.

You grabbed your phone off of the white nightstand before you opened your tired eyes all the way. But when you did open them, blinking a few times until the blurriness went away, it was that unknown number once again.

They didn’t call you once, but three times.

This time, you called them back. They didn’t answer. You dialed them again. They didn’t answer.

“Something wrong?” Reiner asked, his eyes squinty with exhaustion, blonde hair messy in such an adorable way, you had almost forgotten about the current situation.

“No, everything’s fine.” The lie fell from between your lips easily. “It’s just Mikasa. She left town for a little while. I guess she forgot we’re in different time zones.”

“Oh. I’ll probably end up doing the same thing when I leave next week. I always forget about time zones too.” Reiner rolled back over, switching off his lamp.

“Yeah.” Turning your phone off, you pulled the covers over you, and once the bitter feeling of lying to Reiner eased up a bit, you drifted back off to sleep.

—

Reiner left a week later, just as he said. Life of an actor.

He had another film project that dragged him away to Atlanta, Georgia, and you couldn’t follow. Levi was pissed enough to begin with regarding the unplanned trip to Tennessee, going on and on about responsibility and your career.

As Reiner worked on his workplace drama movie on the other side of the country, you rehearsed day and night for your local concert and meet-and-greet.

—

The night before your exclusive meet-and-greet event for concert attendees who purchased a backstage pass, 3 A.M. rolled around rather quickly, and you were still wide awake, underneath your silky covers. Your mind was plagued with the thought of meeting your fans tomorrow.

People who actually listened to your music, and knew all of the lyrics. People who would flock to their local movie theater to watch your film once it was released, despite your small role in it.

It was rather insane. Mind-blowing.

Before you knew it, you were glistening with the euphoric aftermath of performing yet another concert, and as you were escorted backstage, your sparkly outfit stood out strikingly against the black uniforms of your bodyguards.

The screams that erupted from your fans once you entered the backstage room made your ears ring. The white and pink room was complete with a buffet, photo booth, and televisions displaying MTV at a low volume for fans to watch as they waited patiently. And those fans were dressed in your merch, practically jumping up and down at the sight of you.

Moments later, you greeted your first fan.

“Hi!” You squealed, matching the energy of an excitable guy, smiling widely as if he was the celebrity. Being famous was similar to working at the bakery in that way. Everyone had to be treated with unwavering, enthusiastic kindness in the hopes that they’d toss their money your way. It truly didn’t matter whether or not you were selling apple pies or tickets to your concert. It was all the same.

Every single fan was exactly the same as well. The only difference between them was their levels of shyness. Even so, every single one of them flooded you with compliments, occasionally gave you a gift, snapped a picture with you, and didn’t want to leave.

Towards the end of your event, your body burned with pure exhaustion, cheeks aching from smiling so much. As you listened to a young girl stammer out her pure admiration for you, brown eyes glistening as if she was staring at a god, you suddenly found yourself listening to something else.

The television was low, but it wasn’t low enough.

A familiar singing voice caught your attention first.

“Hold on one second, sweetie,” you rushed out, interrupting the nervous girl who tilted her head in confusion.

You looked at the flat-screen television mounted up on the wall.

It was Jean Kirstein’s new music video.

“What the hell?” Furrowing your eyebrows, you stepped closer to the screen, all of your curious fans watching you carefully. “He’s never released his own music before. What the hell is he…”

Your mumbles trailed off into the air. Reading the subtitles, it was obvious what the song was about. Love. Betrayal. Nothing too specific at first, truth be told, until the actress in the video appeared.

And she looked just like you.

The music video showcased Jean and your lookalike fooling around in a recording studio. Meeting up in hotel rooms. Going on secret dates. There was even an actor portraying a clueless Eren.

The song went on for what seemed like forever, describing the details of an affair. An affair that never happened.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

By now, the majority of fans and staff had managed to catch on. A few of them started to record your reaction with their phones, as quiet as a mouse while they did so.

The song told a false story of how you were both in love while you were with his bandmate, secretly hooking up on several occasions before you broke his heart and found someone else.

And it was catchy. It would surely become a hit. As much of an asshole as he turned out to be, Jean was a gifted musician.

“I’m gonna kill him,” turning to one of your publicists, you glared at the young ginger woman as she tried to approach you. “I’m leaving. Cancel the rest of the fucking evening. I gotta go home.”

She started to object. Your fans started to call out for you sadly. None of it mattered.

You hopped into your car before anyone outside could catch a glimpse of you. Frustration created tears that brimmed in your reddening waterline, which made it rather difficult to maneuver the fancy buttons of your luxurious car, and while you tried to go to the call screen, you ended up going to a random radio station.

His song was playing once again.

Slamming every button to turn it off is what finally made the tears start to fall.

Why would he do this? Why would he lie?

And who would believe you if you publicly stated the truth — that there was never a lengthy, secret affair, only that one little mistake in your dressing room?

Your contacts screen served as your only source of light in the darkness of your vehicle. Trembling fingers scrolled through your long list of contacts, but you could barely read the names on the screen, your eyes blurry with tears.

It didn’t fucking matter anyway. Who would you even call? Levi? To cuss him out, because as his manager, he would surely know about this, right? Or Connie? Because he had to approve of this himself? Perhaps Reiner? To seek comfort over this horrific rumor? Or, maybe Eren? To let him know that none of it was true?

You scrolled back up.

Your fingers hovered over Eren’s contact name, as you couldn’t bring yourself to delete his number after the divorce.

You almost called him. Almost.

Instead, you drove off, noticing the crowd of paparazzi searching for you down the street. Your grip on the steering wheel was painful. Red and green stoplights all held a blurry glare as you drove down the busy streets of Hollywood, your tears continuing to stream down your face.

You certainly planned on confronting Jean, perhaps with a punch. Then, maybe, you could schedule a meeting with Connie, and try to understand what the hell was going on, exactly. You wondered if Eren had heard it. What he was thinking. What he was doing.

But, as you entered your gated community and turned into your driveway, a more pressing matter presented itself, as your front door was wide open.

—

Late at night at the boxing gym, sweat poured from Levi Ackerman’s body, wet black hair sticking to his forehead as he dodged the boxing glove aiming for his jaw.

“Are you aiming for me, or the big guy on the other side of the room?” Levi huffed, furrowing his brows and he raised his gloved fists. “That wasn’t even close to hitting me. What’s going on with you? You’re distracted.”

“I know,” attempting to catch her breath, Mikasa said, “we haven’t done this in a while. I’m rusty.”

“It’s been a while since the last time you’ve stayed in L.A. for longer than two damn weeks. The entire time you’ve been here, you’ve been hanging out with Y/N. You only have time to box with me now because she’s busy, right?” Levi cautiously approached Mikasa. “Keep your form together. Punch sharp.”

She, in fact, did not punch sharply. Her punch had the same impact of a kid taking a swing at him.

“Why can’t you concentrate?” Levi lowered his fists. “And don’t blame it on lack of practice. There’s something else going on, I know it.”

Mikasa glanced up at the ceiling, blowing a breath of exhaustion. “There’s just a lot on my mind right now.”

That was Levi’s cue.

“If you wanna talk about it, I’ll listen.”

Mikasa glanced down at the mat beneath her feet. Removing her boxing gloves, she then adjusted the strap of her black sports bra, looking to fidget with anything as she tried to get her thoughts together. Instantly, she felt like a kid again, chatting with Levi over a cup of tea about topics she was too nervous to talk to her adoptive parents about.

But this was different. This wasn’t about her birth parents, nor how to secretly save up enough money in her piggy bank to travel the world.

When she turned her back to her older cousin, she adjusted her short, sweaty ponytail, looking for anything to fidget with.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said plainly.

“Are you sure?” Levi questioned, as he was rather confused. She always enjoyed venting to him.

“I don’t think you could give me advice on it anyway. I’ve never seen you deal with…”

“Deal with what?”

“Feelings.”

Levi blinked. Perhaps, he was trying to think of a response. Mikasa didn’t know, as she refused to face him and attempt to decipher that excellent poker face of his.

And, before the man could respond, the Bluetooth piece in his ear started buzzing. His fingers hovered over the button to accept the call. Something was truly bothering his cousin, one of the few people in his life he cared for deeply, and the subject of “feelings” — which he knew nothing about, apparently — was a topic the two of them never chatted about before.

Even so, he answered the phone call. Call it a gut feeling.

“Hello?” He said.

Mikasa, who was leaning over the ring ropes, turned around once she heard her cousin’s tone change.

But, she didn’t become curious about the phone call until he frowned with worry.

“Alright, calm down.” He said. “Hey, just breathe. I’m on my way.”

“What’s wrong?” Mikasa frowned, watching as Levi grabbed his towel and bag off of the mat.

“I gotta go,” he rushed out. “Someone broke into Y/N’s house. She’s scared, and Reiner’s not in town. I’m headed to her place-”

“I’m coming with you.”

The sheer determination in Mikasa’s voice was so powerful, he almost didn’t think about what a stupid idea that was.

“No. Go home.”

“No.” Mikasa’s dark eyes stared into his own with an unwavering, intimidating glare. It almost frightened him. “You can’t stop me from following you.”

The clicks and clanks from her own bag — decorated with pins and other souvenirs from her travels — were the only sound to be heard as she gathered her things. No protests from Levi. No kicking her in the leg until she was too injured to do anything except go home and ice her bruise.

She even made it out of the building before Levi.

Only then, as they both traveled to your home, did Levi realize just how fast that raggedy car of hers could go.

—

Mikasa’s screechy car came to a halt as soon as she saw you, sitting on the steps outside of your front door, crying into your hands. The only reason why the dark-haired girl probably didn’t get pulled over for her reckless driving was because the local officers were all at your house, combing through every single room with flashlights.

Levi hopped out of his car as well. The Ackermans approached you, sitting down beside you on the steps.

“What the hell’s going on?” Levi asked.

“Are you okay?” Mikasa rubbed your back soothingly.

The heartbreaking sound of your sobs served as your response.

“I’m going to go talk to an officer,” Levi looked at Mikasa, whose eyes held so much worry, that you would have thought she was the one who had her home broken into. “Stay with her.”

He didn’t need to tell her to stay by your side at all. She wasn’t going to move an inch.

—

The honorable officers of Los Angeles were as useless as ever.

“The person wore a hoodie and a mask.”

“We can’t tell who it is through the security cameras.”

“Gated communities are usually safer than this.”

“She should sleep somewhere else for a day or two while we gather evidence.”

And, that was exactly how you ended up back at Levi’s house once again, tears continuously falling from your eyes as you sat on his white couch, listening to him maneuver around his home. He grabbed a bottle of wine off of his modern wine wall, which existed purely for guests, and he grabbed two glasses from the kitchen.

“Here,” he said, handing you one of the glasses as he poured the wine into it. “Don’t spill it.”

“Thanks,” you took the glass as you sniffled.

Levi sat down on the couch beside you. For a while, you both sat in complete silence, sipping on wine.

“They…” you started, pausing for a moment to collect your worrisome thoughts. “They left a note on my doorstep. It said ‘I miss you.’”

You took another sip of your wine.

“And, uh … I’ve been getting phone calls from an unknown number. I just decided to ignore them. I ignored all of the signs.”

Levi sat his glass of wine down on the coffee table. He sat back, casually slinging one leg over the other as he rested his arm across the back of the couch.

You finished your current glass and poured yourself another one.

“I should call Reiner. I already know this will be on the news soon enough. Between this and the Jean thing — it’s not fair to him. He had a relatively normal life before I showed up.”

A small part of you wanted to ask Levi about Jean’s idiotic behavior, but right now, it paled in comparison to your current situation in terms of importance.

“Yeah, well,” Levi paused. “Screw Reiner. Who the hell cares what he thinks?”

“What?” You gave Levi a puzzled look. “Since when do you not like Reiner? You guys cook together and play cards.”

“I haven’t liked him for the last thirty seconds. What kind of husband leaves their wife all alone on the other side of the country when they’re clearly being stalked?”

You lowered your head in utter shame. “He doesn’t know.”

“What?” Looking over at you, Levi’s natural frown deepened. “You never told him?”

“No. I never told anyone until now. Until you.”

“Well, that’s just stupid.” Levi reached for his glass of wine, taking another much-needed sip. “Why the hell did you keep quiet about all of this?”

“I was staying here when it started, and I was going to tell you about it the very day I received the first phone call,” you took another sip of your wine, “but you were just so stressed out already, and I didn’t think it was a big deal. Then, after a while, I kinda figured out who it was.”

“Who the hell is it, then?” Levi looked over at you intensely.

“Armin.” You glanced in Levi’s direction, but you didn’t look him in the eye. “He showed up outside of my house about a year after the phone calls started. I don’t know how he got my address or anything. Then, about six months later, he suddenly started working at a restaurant me and Reiner love going to. Now, someone breaks into my house and leaves an ‘I miss you’ note on my doorstep? It’s gotta be him. I never blocked that unknown number because I thought he needed help or something. I don’t know. I don’t think he’d hurt me, but I never thought he’d break into my fucking house either.”

Levi took a moment to take in your words. His dark eyes darted across the living room, and finally, he sighed.

“Listen to me,” Levi said sternly. “There’s not one person in this industry who walks around without bodyguards or some form of self-defense. You need protection even when you’re not doing a show. I’ll find one or two guys to protect you, but just in case something happens and that isn’t enough, you should keep a gun in your house.”

“A gun? Are you serious?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah, I’m serious.” Levi’s eyes followed your empty glass as you sat it down on the coffee table. “I get that you’re trying to help him, but what if you’re wrong about him? What if he does try to hurt you? Heartbreak makes people do crazy shit all the time.”

“Right. I understand.” You nodded slowly.

“One more thing. Look at me.” Levi waited for your eyes to meet his before he spoke again. “Don’t tell anyone about the gun. Not even Reiner.”

“Oh, come on.” Frowning in pure disbelief, you sniffled once again, the last few tears from your crying session making their way down your face. “He’s my husband, and we’re gonna officially move in together soon. Surely he should know if we have a gun in the house. What if he finds it and assumes that I’m, like, plotting his murder or something? Or what if I’m not home and a serial killer breaks in, and he doesn’t even know we have a gun for him to defend himself with?”

The sweet aftermath of consuming two glasses of wine was startling to settle in.

“I don’t really care,” Levi said rather coldly. “I just think it’s funny that your stalker — Armin, or whoever the hell it is — breaks in the minute he leaves town. I don’t trust him.”

“Well, if Armin is a smart stalker like I’m sure he would be, then it makes sense. Reiner’s a big, strong guy. Who in the hell would risk coming into the house of someone who could slam them into a wall?”

“Someone with a weapon. Who the hell would risk coming into someone’s house without one?” Levi finished his first glass of wine and poured himself another one. “Besides, he’s an actor. A professional liar. That’s the first sign that you shouldn’t trust him.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong.” For the first time tonight, you smiled. “He’s all kinds of wonderful. You’re probably just jealous.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m serious!”

“Yeah? And so am I.”

“Well, I’m just saying.” You shrugged. “Back when I was staying with you, I never saw you bring anyone home. Not once. I didn’t hear any headboards slamming against the wall or anything.”

“Is this your way of avoiding a more serious topic? Like being stalked?” Levi glared at you, finding himself grateful for the alcoholic beverage. He needed it if he had to put up with you.

“Well, yeah. Just let me focus on the shitty aspects of your life for a minute, okay? It’s been a long day.”

Levi’s natural reaction to such a demand was to reject your request. After all, his potential partners — or lack thereof — were not something he was keen on discussing. But he could see the pain in your eyes. And, sometimes, the best pain medicine wasn’t medicine at all, but to be distracted from it.

“My life isn’t shitty just because I don’t bring someone home every night,” Levi insisted.

“You don’t go on dates either.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I don’t remember ever seeing you buy flowers or chocolates for someone.” You folded your arms across your chest. “Do you scare people away with your lack of enthusiasm? Rude personality?”

“If you must know, I don’t have time to date, and I’m not interested in hopping into bed with people I barely know.”

“But,” you blinked, “don’t you get lonely?”

“That’s what friends and family are for.”

You hummed in response. The wine started to erase your pain a bit, but along with that, your good judgment as well.

“Levi?”

“Hm?”

Suddenly, you scooted over towards him, wrapping your arms around the stiff man’s neck.

“Thank you for always helping me and stuff. Means a lot. Wish you…told me about Jean’s stupid, stupid song. How could you let him do that? Hm?”

It felt like forever had passed, but he placed his hand on your back.

“I didn’t know about his song.” He paused. “Believe me, I don’t plan on letting it slide. You should know by now that I’ll always try to protect you if I can.”

It was those words. Those sweet, perfect-sounding words being spoken in one of your darkest, slightly drunk moments. That’s why you leaned up and pressed your lips against his.

But Levi couldn’t think of an excuse. Maybe, the alcohol was the reason why he kissed you back hungrily, but he would have done it even if he was sober. Maybe, his hatred for Reiner was the reason why he gripped your neck, kissing you deeply and messily as your tongues swirled around each other, but he would have done it even if he liked your new husband.

The intense guilt he felt couldn’t be swayed, but it wasn’t strong enough to make him walk away.

He leaned back on the couch and watched you pull down his pants.

And when you took his beautiful cock in your hand, pumping it deliciously, he stopped trying to think of any excuses.

In fact, the second you wrapped your pretty lips around his aching tip and started sucking, he couldn’t think at all. He could only try to suppress his moans.

“Does it feel good, Levi?” You said with a bit of a slur, pulling away from his tip for only a moment, and he groaned. “The noises you’re making right now sound so unprofessional.”

“Shut up,” he said with a mumble, “don’t try to tease me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle.

“And I thought you were such a patient guy. My bad.”

You proceed to suck on his cock once again, going beyond the tip and taking him down your throat. His body felt like it was on fire as he tried to resist the urge to buck his hips up and thrust himself deeper into your throat. The hand that wasn’t holding your head was gripping the cushion of the couch.

Your warm mouth was doing a number on him, making the composed man come undone. Your spit started to dribble down to his balls. Your tongue rubbed deliciously against his veins.

“Damn it,” he grunted. “If you keep sucking like that, I’ll…”

He gave a low gasp. That skillful mouth of yours focused solely on his tip again, and when your tongue massaged the sensitive spot right beneath his cockhead, he came into your mouth instantly.

—

When the sun rose that next morning, the guilt, headaches, and fuzzy memories started to settle in.

Levi awakened on the couch, clothes scattered among the living room floor, eyes squinty from the invasive sunlight, hair messy from whatever happened the night before. Even through his grogginess, he noticed the empty wine bottle. He also noticed your underwear lying on top of his clothes, but the rest of your clothes were gone, along with you.

His phone wouldn’t stop ringing despite the early morning hour. He could hear it, but he couldn’t remember where he put it. The only things he could remember were you sucking his cock, followed by him gripping your ass as you bounced up and down along his shaft right on his couch.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself.

Once he finally managed to put on his black pants, his phone still ringing, he walked over towards his enormous windows, pulling the curtains closed a bit more to block out every last bit of obnoxious sunlight.

Finally, Levi found his phone right in between the couch cushions.

And when he looked at it, he had hundreds of missed calls and text messages.

He was told to turn on an entertainment news channel.

He switched on the flat-screen T.V. mounted above his living room fireplace.

SINGER F/N L/N CAUGHT CHEATING ON NEW HUSBAND REINER BRAUN WITH HER MANAGER

There it was, right on the news. Worldwide television. Illegally obtained photographs of you entering his home. Appropriately blurred-out photos of you on your knees for him, taken through his window. Photos of you leaving right after. All because he didn’t think to close his curtains all the way.

It also made Jean’s false claims of an affair seem all the more true. And the chatty new reporters surely brought up that scandal as well, attempting to make some sort of connection. He flipped through multiple talk shows, and every single one of them talked about him and you.

Levi’s phone continued to vibrate from where it sat on the coffee table, ringing nonstop from back-to-back calls and texts from everyone.

From Hange, Erwin, Jean, Connie, Mikasa, Eren, and Reiner.

He looked up at the screen once again. The new headline that appeared made his heart sink into his stomach.

HOLLYWOOD MANAGER LEVI ACKERMAN ACCUSED OF TAKING AND LEAKING PHOTOS OF HIS ONE-NIGHT STAND WITH F/N L/N

The next time his phone rang, the caller ID that flashed across his screen belonged to you.

♡ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

♡ 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 & 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

♡ 𝐚/𝐧: ��𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤? 𝐈’𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

🏷: @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 @neptunes1nterweb @shinzouwoeren @hetalia-tumbler @hon3y-c0mb @bol0-de-morang0 @thisisketchy @yoongirecs @allofffmypeaches @sasha-glass @getwaves @deluluvibes @p3nislawd @emery-333

403 notes · View notes