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ficsforeren · 3 years

Text

Keep It Between Us

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader X Jean Kirstein

Genre: Idol AU, Smut, Fluff, Humor

Summary: Eren and Jean are one of the hottest male idols working in the industry right now, but honestly? You’re tired of their antics. You’ve been working as their personal assistant for three months and your patience is about to snap. One night, with cocky smirks and leering eyes, they invite you over for a drink. You smile. It’s time for your revenge.

Warnings: threesome, rough and unprotected sex, food play, daddy kink, degradation kink, humiliation, cream pie, slapping, spanking, spitting, choking, use of a leash, oral sex (blow jobs and cunnilingus), fingering, hand job, praising, hard dom Eren, switch reader (but more of a dom) and sub Jean with EreJean being chaotic bisexuals.

Word Count: 20K+ (I'm so sorry, I need to include plot to make their threesome believable)

AN: Dedicating this fic to my most favorite person in the world, Sandra (@smfics), who's having her birthday today! 🎉🎉🎉This is part of her Reader's in Charge collab too. Thank you for giving me the opportunity, babe! I had so much fun writing this one, this is probably my filthiest fic so far lmao. Idol Ren will also show up in her fic called A Little Too Personal so if you want to see some seggsy times between him and CEO Ren, don't miss that one too!

Poster art by the talented @viii0_8 on Twitter (use with permission)

“You want us to do what?”

“Suck each other off.”

It’s their first time witnessing a filthy smirk written on your face. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, you’re dressed in nothing but your lacy lingerie, your breasts fully exposed. You have your legs crossed with your palms settled on the sheets, leaning back with your chin tilted up in vanity. You’re exuding confidence; a thick layer of enticement fogging your enchanting eyes.

Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein, two talented idols from an infamous four-member group named AXIS, eye you up and down, almost gawking at the sight. A hungry look flits through their faces, wanting nothing more but to wipe that conceited smile off your lips. They’re so used to being wanted, of having their names screamed by their fans, that they are left stupefied when the girl they want seems to stay unfazed under their lustful stare.

You meet the intensity of their gazes with your mischievous one, loving the way they’re dancing in the palm of your hand. You’re done acting as their silly little doll. The strings have been cut off and now it’s time for you to become their puppeteer.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a threesome,” Jean says, “But this is not how it works, Sweetheart.” His usual cocky smirk remains intact but with the plans you have in mind, it won’t stay there for long.

“It’s either his cock in your mouth and my cock in your cunt,” Eren joins in. Unlike Jean, his smirk is impish. Boyish. Bratty. “Or the other way around.”

“Oh, stop being so predictable.” You roll your eyes, but it’s playful. Combined with your little crooked grin? Seductive. “Let’s have fun.”

“If by fun, you mean having this asshole’s cock in my mouth,” Jean snorts. “Then, no thanks.”

Eren chortles cynically. “Yeah, it wouldn’t fit anyway.”

“What did you say, Jaeger?”

“I’m saying my cock is bigger than your ego and that’s saying something. What, you got a problem with that, Horseface?”

“You fucking—” Jean stops short when he notices you’re shifting in your seat.

Both men’s attention instantly lands on the way you’re spreading your legs, giving them enough glimpse of your bright red embroidered thong panty. Your lingerie looks amazing on you, the color complimenting your skin so much, it makes their throbbing lengths strain against their jeans. It doesn’t leave much room for their imagination to wander, but that’s exactly what they want to see. They don’t want to just imagine holding you. They want to fuck your brains out.

“When I said fun,” you coo, running your tongue across your lower lip, making it glisten beautifully under the dim, yellowish light of their hotel room. “I meant…” Tarrying, you slide your fingers down your stomach. Making their way to settle between your thighs, you rub your clothed heat, letting out a low, “Mmm,” as you keep your gazes locked. “Having you both fuck me at the same time.” You let your jaw drop slightly, enough to let them take a peek at your tongue. “And I wasn’t talking about having you in my mouth.”

You, right now, are sexier than any girl—than any porn they’ve ever seen. Eren, especially, after going through weeks of wanting to know how fucking sweet you would taste on his tongue, is about to lose it.

There are two seconds of silence where you can practically hear their thoughts running a thousand miles per hour, then—

“Wait!” Jean’s face nearly bursts into flames when his bandmate turns to face him, hasty hands working on his belt. “No—stop—” Eren harshly yanks his belt out of his loops, tossing it to the floor before his fingers work on Jean’s zipper. “Eren—What the fuck are you doing?!”

The brunette grabs a fistful of the other man’s shirt, yanking him down by the collar. “Improvising,” Eren states, a moment before their mouths collide.

But let’s stop there for a second.

Now, you must be wondering, how the hell did I get myself into this situation? How did you manage to get the two hottest idols working in the industry wrapped around your fingers? How did you get the world’s two straightest men to toss their sexuality aside under your command?

Let’s go back in time, shall we?

***

Three months ago, you were just a normal college student—just as broke, just as tired, just as single. And frustrated. In more ways than one—no, perhaps even in every way. You were doing okay with your grades but other than that? You were screwed. You barely had any friends, you had family issues just like any other teen out there, and what’s worse was that you needed money to pay for your college tuition fee, otherwise you couldn’t graduate. And you didn’t just spend three years in that shithole just to not graduate in the end.

So, obviously, you started looking for a job. You were ready to take a late-night shift at a local diner when your phone rang. It was truly a blessing, you thought, when your aunt’s name showed up on the screen. “Are you free this summer?” She queried with nothing but weariness in her voice. You felt sorry, sure, but her being that exhausted only meant one thing: money. “I could really use your help.”

Your aunt was a manager, hired by CMN Entertainment. What did she manage? Idols.

Ever since three years ago, she had been working together with CMN’s latest rising star—a talented group called AXIS. You’d seen them enough on TV, though you wouldn’t call yourself a fan, at least not a hardcore one. You felt like it was too old for you to drool over cute boys dancing to electronic pop music. And their merchandises were also expensive as fuck. You weren’t ready to live the hard life of being a fangirl.

“My body literally can’t take it anymore,” she sighed. “I got offers from a lot of people, begging the boys to do interviews with them, or perform on their shows, or drink some questionable sodas for these damn summer commercials. I need to deal with all the meetings. Not to mention I have to arrange their schedules too. Every member has their own gigs now and I am losing my mind.”

You smiled, seemingly sweet but utterly wicked. “And how may I help you?”

“Can you be my assistant? I need you to take care of the boys, just for three months. Once the summer ends, they won’t be as busy as they are now so you can leave if you want to. It’s really simple. You just have to get their coffees, order food for them, deliver their costumes, and drive them places. And just, you know, do what they ask you to do.”

Now, that didn’t sound so bad at all, did it? The payment was good, and you’d get to return to your dorm by the end of summer. Three months with four cute boys who wore sexy outfits on the stage. This should be fun, you giggled, almost evilly in your head. They seemed so kind and adorable when you saw them on TV, always smiling during their concerts, treating their fans like they were friends during fan meetings. Out of all the boy bands that were working in the industry right now, AXIS was one of the very few groups that seemed genuinely humble.

So when you strolled inside the building of CMN Entertainment, you had the biggest smile plastered on your face. You were so excited to begin your friendship with four young celebrities whose popularity was escalating quickly not just within the country, but overseas too. You felt proud and lucky, but mostly proud. By the end of this job, you would totally brag about it non-stop to your friends. Hell, you’d probably even gloat about it to the next stranger you met on the street. “Guess who’s the lucky bitch who gets to see AXIS’ bare faces in the morning? Me.” It may sound a bit creepy, but it would be a great conversation starter, nonetheless.

Within a matter of three days, however, you realized that fun was not the right term. Torture was more like it.

Eren Jaeger, Jean Kirstein, Armin Arlert, Marco Bodt. You weren’t sure why the hell did they choose the word AXIS to be their group name, but it was clearly not an acronym for their names. They were the boys you had to assist for about ninety days from now. But you weren’t their assistant. You were their fucking slave.

Now, to be fair, Armin and Marco—these two were truly sweethearts. They greeted you with a smile the second you were introduced to them by your aunt—who left hurriedly to take a call after saying literally three lines. When you offered Armin your hand, he took it and reciprocated with the warmest, teddy bear hug you had ever received from a boy. Marco had the cutest freckles on his face, and he laughed wholeheartedly when you told him that you thought those were just make-up to make him seem unique. “You’re brutally honest, aren’t you?” he spoke fondly. He bent his head down so you could take a closer look, even let you poke his cheek if you wanted to.

They whipped out their phones, typing down your numbers in their emergency contact list. You saw Armin adding a smiley emoji after your name and when he saw you noticing, he blushed a little. “I do that to all my friends’ names,” he explained diffidently. “It makes me feel less awkward whenever I have to call them. Is it weird?”

You mirrored his smile. “I do the same thing. But instead of adding emojis, I just create nicknames for them.”

“Oh, then create one for me!” His cerulean eyes lit up beautifully. You were the same age as the boys, but Armin seemed five years younger.

Marco slung his arm around his shoulders, chiming in, “Me too, me too.”

“Sure.” You beamed. “Then Armin will be Bambi, ‘cause you’re literally a sweet, gentle baby deer in human form, I won’t even argue about it. And you,” you gestured toward the other boy, “You will be Freckles.”

Marco scrunched his nose cutely. “Why do I always get the most obvious, boring nickname out there?”

“Fine, then you’ll be Mini Santa.”

Not soon after, you proceeded to do your first job: bring them their coffees. When you asked about their orders, Armin and Marco simply answered with, “Iced Americano, please?” and “A mochaccino would be great, thank you.” They made their requests politely with a smile, genuinely thanking you for the inconvenience. You felt warmth spreading in your chest. They were angels.

But the other two boys. Now, they were the devils. No, they are the most atrocious, vile, infuriating little cacodemons who, somehow, managed to crawl their ways up from the deepest pit of hell. Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein. Honest to God, there had been no men—or women—in your life that had ever tested your patience this much over the course of thirty minutes.

Their looks were out-worldly, that was the initial thought that entered your mind when you saw them in person for the first time. You had always thought that they were handsome, but when you saw them in real life, they were ethereal. Eren had the greenest, prettiest eyes you had ever seen in a man. Not that you had seen a lot of men, but your point still stood. His dark brown hair looked so soft—probably softer than a baby’s ass, for the lack of a better metaphor—and his eyelashes were long, beautifully so. If it wasn’t because of his strong, masculine jawlines, his high cheekbones, and obviously, the thing hanging between his legs, he could’ve passed as a woman. He could’ve passed as a woman and could be prettier than you.

You remembered that his hair used to be long enough to cascade down to his shoulders, but his hair stylist recently did something new. They have trimmed his strands just a little so that the ends of his locks fall just a couple of inches below his jawlines. He still wore it in a bun, every now and then, as it was his iconic look. People even started calling it “The Jaeger'' when they went to the barbershop, hoping to copy his style but ended up looking like acorns in the end. None of them could sport a bun as hot as he did.

He was the Visual of The Group, their fans called him as if that was a real position. He was AXIS' lead dancer, talented enough for his skills to be praised by popular choreographers around the world. The company made him the center of attention, always dressing him in the sexiest, questionable outfits on stage—sometimes, even more revealing than what Beyonce would wear. One time, he wore a crop top with a leash wrapped around his neck and silver chains circling his waist and he broke the internet. His name trended on Twitter for three consecutive days with hundreds of thirst tweets popping up every hour. Now, with the new haircut and the simple, black hoodie he was wearing, he seemed more boyish than sexy, which was a nice, fresh change. There was no way you’d think someone who looked as sweet as Eren Jaeger would turn out to be incarnate of Lucifer himself.

Let’s move on to the other fiend: Jean Kirstein. He was tall. You’d never seen an asshole this gigantic in your twenty-one years of living. He was stunning, all of them were, but Jean reeked with so much masculinity, he was basically a walking version of Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent—the manliest fragrance out there, no doubt. He had a mullet, which you thought was a fashion disaster at first but this man… Damn. He rocked that hairstyle like Elvis Presley had rocked his. You could tell that he could grow a beard if he wanted to, but he shaved his stubbles every day to make him look younger on the screen (because if he had sported a beard, he'd probably look like Armin's dad and no one wanted to be mistaken dancing to sexy routines on the stage with their son).

Armin and Marco were the lead and main vocals of the group, while Jean was their leader. He was the one in charge during interviews and press conferences, but that was not all. What he was truly in charge of was being sexy. It felt dumb if you said it out loud as there was no such position, but he was. The company designed him to be that way. Eren seduced his audience with his sexy expressions—or his dangerous hip thrusts—on the stage, but he had never taken his shirt off for fanservice (as he was already barely wearing any, to begin with, but that was not the point). The point was, Jean did that every fucking time. If he was wearing a button-up shirt, he would rip it open by the end of the song. If he was wearing a normal shirt, he would still rip it open by the end of the song—maybe even from the start if he was having a good day. You read once on the internet that a thirteen-year-old girl brought her mother to see their concert, and she was dragged home by her ear as soon as Jean turned the show into his personal strip club. You weren’t even remotely surprised. You just hoped you were there to see it live.

Eren and Jean didn’t even bother to remember your name. When you introduced yourself, the brunette yawned, slouching on his swivel chair. Jean, who sat on his opposite, was busy smirking at his phone, probably looking at the nudes his groupies sent him. But it was okay. You didn’t think too much about it. You were shocked, sure, especially after the cordial treatment you had received from Armin and Marco, but you wouldn't hold a grudge against them.

“I’m heading to the coffee shop, do you guys need anything?” You asked them with a smile. Back then on your first day, you hadn’t known any better. You thought they were going to give their answers as simple as Armin and Marco did. So when Eren sank further into his chair, crossed his legs, and propped his cheek on his knuckles as he stared flatly at you, you didn’t think his answer would be, “An iced Ristretto, ten shot, venti, with breve, five pump vanilla, seven pump caramel, four Splenda, and poured, not shaken.”

You blinked your eyes, staring dumbly. “Sorry, what?”

He sighed, looking like giving out his order was the most exhausting job a man had ever had to do. “If you still need me to repeat this one more time, I’m gonna have to tell the manager to get me another assistant because you suck at your job.”

You staggered, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Eren,” Armin scolded him. You noticed that whenever Armin was upset, he looked like an angry toy poodle. “That’s not nice.” Eren returned his chastise with a groan, while the blonde-haired boy sent you an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Eren has severe mood swings in the morning. You’ll get used to it, I hope?”

“Or you can just quit,” Jean offered, giving you a once-over. “I mean, you’re pretty, but so do hundreds of other girls who would die to get this job. If you can’t even get our coffees right, then maybe you should walk away.” Without giving you a chance to debate his words, he rose from his chair. He walked closer, towering above you as he stood before you. Fuck, you thought, he does smell like Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent. Only ten times better. He trapped your chin between his thumb and index finger, angling your face upward as he raked his eyes over your features. “Unless,” he murmured, his lips curving up in a waggish grin, his eyes ricocheting to your lips. “There’s something else you’re good at?”

His breath fanned your skin, and you knew just how many of your friends would turn to puddles if they were in your shoes. But you were not one of them. No matter how attractive he was, or how good he smelled (like camphorous eucalyptus and tart bergamot, spreading out in cool waves on the skin, goddamn) you would never allow a man to talk to you like that.

You swatted his hand away, not too harshly—‘cause, unfortunately, your life literally depended on this job—but enough to leave him dumbfounded. “I’ll get them right,” you said through gritted teeth. “May I have your order, Mr. Kirstein?”

Jean loved it. He loved the fire in you. “Iced venti caramel macchiato,” he said, and you hurriedly rummaged through your bag, searching for your phone to type down his order. “Fifteen pumps of vanilla syrup, made with heavy whipping cream, barely any ice, one shot, add whip, and extra caramel drizzle.”

Your thumbs were running like wildfire on the screen, trying to keep up with him. There must have been something you missed but you knew if you asked him to reiterate his order, he would mock you non-stop about it. So, you didn’t.

You turned your head to Eren. “And you, Mr. Jaeger?”

Eren’s eyes were half-lidded, filled with boredom. “Venti vanilla latte, nonfat milk—”

“Wait, that doesn’t sound like what you ordered before. I thought you were ordering Ri… stretto…” Your voice faltered, noticing that he was this close at snapping at you again. “Right, sorry. It’s your drink, you can order whatever you want to—anyway, what was it again?”

You returned twenty-six minutes later carrying four tall cups of coffee in one hand, and a bag of sandwiches and blueberry muffins in the other. They didn’t ask for the food but you thought their show was going to start in an hour and you weren’t sure if they had breakfast yet (yes, despite your cheeky attitude, you did have a soft heart for these boys Armin and Marco). You hurriedly marched back into their waiting room, a thin layer of sweat coating your temple. “Okay, so one mochaccino for Bambi.” You handed Armin his cup with a smile, still somewhat breathless after all the running you did. “One iced americano for Freckles.”

“I thought it was Mini Santa.”

“Right. Mini Santa. Sorry.” You grinned, giving him his drink. Marco and Armin exchanged silent messages as they locked their stares, making you frown. “W-what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

They switched their drinks. “Nothing,” they both said and you smacked yourself on the forehead.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you grimaced. “You ordered the simplest thing and I still mixed up your names.”

But these boys just simply laughed it off. “Please, it’s just coffee,” Armin tittered, “And believe me, a lot of people got it wrong too. I think it’s partially because I look like this that they’d expect me to favor something sweeter.”

“And I look mature enough to not have a sweet tooth, but I do.” Marco patted your head like how a big brother would do. “Take it easy, shorty. No need to apologize.”

“Okay,” you breathed out in relief. “I swear, I’ll be better next time.” You focused back on the last two drinks. “All right. Venti vanilla latte, nonfat milk, whipped cream, seven Splendas; six mixed in, one sprinkled on top of the whipped cream—” You stopped to take a breath. “—to make it crunchy.” Just reading his order out loud almost left you wheezing. You didn’t want to remember the funny look the barista gave you when you described it to them. “For Mr. Eren Jaeger.” You offered him his cup with two hands, dramatically bowing your head as low as possible as you did it. “Here you go, My Lord.”

Armin giggled at your antic but Eren took his drink without a word, and unlike Marco who immediately took a sip of his coffee to show his gratitude, Eren left it abandoned on his desk, simply returning to his phone, yawning again.

You let out a harsh breath, reminding yourself to be patient. You read Jean’s order next, but before you could finish, you found him snickering at you. You stopped, almost throwing ice daggers at him with your eyes if you hadn't been careful. “Is there something funny, Mr. Kirstein?”

Jean stood up from the couch, placing his phone in the back pocket of his jeans as he made his way toward the door. When he walked past you, he laid a hand on your head, “I don’t drink coffee, Sweetheart. Might want to do some research before you take the job.” And he left.

You thought the Lord was testing you, but He hadn’t even begun.

The first month was absolute torment. You thought it was because you were still adjusting to your new work environment and their personalities, but no, you were certain that it was because Eren and Jean did not understand the difference between your office hours and your leave-me-the-fuck-alone time. Your working hours were inconsistent, fluctuating based on their schedule and that was okay as you had been informed from the start. But you were paid to assist them for only forty hours a week. And with the way it was going, that was not the case.

It was two in the fucking morning when your phone vibrated under your pillow. With bleary eyes and the biggest scowl your face had ever formed in your life, you checked on your screen. Devil Incarnate #2 was calling you.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Jean’s gravelly voice echoed from the other line. He still hadn’t remembered your name, alternating to calling you with endearing terms—like Sweetheart or Darling—but always in a slightly degrading way. Sometimes, like right now, he did it flirtatiously, which felt kind of icky to you. But most of the time, he was just downright irritating. “I’m glad you picked up. Were you sleeping?”

“Oh, no, I was chatting with your mom. She’s awfully close with Eren, don’t you think? Might be a little too close, if you know what I mean.”

The smirk in his voice vanished almost instantly. “That’s not funny.”

“Please tell me this is not a booty call. I don't plan on castrating someone this early in the morning."

He chuckled. “There’s no need for that, I already have one sucking on my dick right now. Literally.” You could hear him turning away slightly from the phone, praising, “Yes, darling, you’re doing such a great job. Close your mouth around the tip for Daddy? Mmm, yeah, just like that.” He returned to his phone. “You’re still there?”

“Only physically.” If you weren’t too tired, you would’ve made a thorough plan on how to dump his dead body in the sewer. “Why are you calling again?”

“I need you to run to the store and grab me some condoms.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, Jean.”

“Is that the way to speak to your employer?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You gotta be fucking kidding me, Mr. Kirstein.”

“Yeah, ah, that’s more like it,” he moaned. You frowned, vomit rising to your throat when Jean quickly added, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Oh, thank God. Never been so scared in my life before.”

“I don’t even know if you’re amusing or annoying.”

“Well, I do have my charm.”

You could imagine him rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I’m gonna need two condoms. No, three. Actually, four, you can’t be too careful. You know what, why don’t you just grab me a dozen of those. Oh, also, try different flavors too. They dig it.”

“They?”

“Yeah, I got another one coming over in about ten min—Hey, there you are! You’re early. Wait, baby girl, Daddy’s on the phone. Why don’t you get yourself all ready and wet for me, yeah?” The seduction and thrill in his voice returned to his previous grumble when he spoke to you. “You’re still there?”

“Honestly, I don’t know if I am. Feel like my soul just left my body.”

“You can do that after you get my condoms. You know which one to buy, right?”

“Glyde Slimfit? Tiny condom for tiny dick?”

“For your boyfriend, maybe,” he sneered. “No, darling. Durex XXL.”

“Bullshit.” You snorted loudly. “What are you, a horse? There’s no way you have a cock that huge.”

“Would you like to see for yourself, Sweetheart?”

“Jesus—” You ended the call, so tempted at throwing your phone against the wall but you remembered that you were broke. The digital clock on your nightstand showed it was 02.24 am, and the building they were staying in was fifteen minutes drive away from your apartment, but that was not the problem. How did the line, “And just, you know, do what they ask you to do,” turn into you, a single girl who hadn’t had sex in such a long time, running to Seven Eleven to buy a dozen of extra-large condoms at two in the morning?

So that was Devil Incarnate number 2. Let’s go to Devil Incarnate number 1.

Within the first week of working, you soon realized that Eren liked to call you with the most random nicknames he could come up with, and it’d always differ from time to time. If he had something sweet during breakfast, he’d call you Pancake or Muffin. If he had seen a bird flying near his window that day, he’d call you Tweety. He’d called you Fluffy during your fifth day of work, and you thought he was referring to your hair—you did style it that way that day. But when you asked him about it, he just scoffed and said, “No. I just thought you look like my dog. Her name’s Fluffy.”

“Oh, so you own a Shih Tzu?”

“No. A pug.”

Armin wasn’t kidding when he told you Eren had severe mood swings. He could be cold and bitter in the morning, and all bright and smiley by lunch. But happy Eren did not always mean pleasant-to-be-around Eren, you learned. When he was stressed out, he'd always turn into his broody-vampire mode, just basically seething and glaring at everyone around him. You literally could just breathe a little louder than usual and he would tell you to shut the fuck up, people in China could hear you. But as Armin said, you had to get used to it and you did. You had the patience of a saint, it turned out. What you couldn’t get used to was when he was happy.

Because happy Eren meant flirty Eren and flirty Eren meant danger.

It wasn’t like you were attracted to bad boys—or what’s the term people use these days? Fuck boys? Anyway, no, you were twenty-one years old. You were a mature woman. You weren’t looking for a boyfriend; you wanted to find someone you could settle down with. But when Eren showed up out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and landing his chin on your shoulder as he whispered, “Hey, Muffin,” right next to your fucking ear, what the hell were you supposed to do?

Not blushing, that was for sure. “Please don’t touch me, ” you uttered, keeping your voice—and your everything else—composed.

This wasn’t the first time he flirted with you but it was the first time he touched you. A month had passed and he had never even shaken your hand once—not even during your first meeting. And then here he was, embracing you from behind like a boyfriend you hadn’t had for months. You couldn’t deny the way your heart was racing, but at least you kept your face controlled.

“Hmm…” He purred. His husky voice was so pleasing to hear, not that you would admit it out loud. “Why not?”

“Because we’re in public and this is highly inappropriate.” Saying the word public might be an exaggeration as there were only two of you in the dressing room at the moment. The door was open, though, so if anyone was passing the hallway, they would notice. The other boys had left to wait near the backstage, doing a final check on their microphones before the show started.

“So, you’re saying it’s okay to do this,” he hugged you just a little bit tighter. “If we were alone?”

“Keep your hands off me or I swear to God, I’ll punch your pretty face.”

“Ah, so you think I’m pretty. Why am I not surprised?”

You really did throw a punch. He was just fast enough to dodge it. Eren giggled, breaking away from you. At this point, he was well-adjusted to the snarkiness in your attitude, or your little—but deadly—punches. He moved to lean his back against the wall, observing you with natural temptation in his eyes, hands buried in the pocket of his pants. He was dressed handsomely in his stage outfit. They were doing a James Bond concept for their new comeback single, so he no longer had to wear revealing clothes on the stage at least for a month from now. But somehow, the sight of him wearing a three-piece black suit and matching leather gloves, made you feel even more… arou—

Okay, let’s not go there, you mentally slapped yourself. “Why aren’t you backstage?”

“I was but then I noticed you weren’t there. So, I came here to check on you.” He tilted up his chin, smirking. “Wouldn’t want my favorite assistant to get hurt. Or seduced by another man.”

“Hmm, how very chivalrous of you,” you muttered blankly, keeping yourself busy with your phone. It wasn't just a way to avoid him, though. You had to learn their schedules for the rest of the week to avoid making mistakes. “Well, Mr. Jaeger, I can assure you that no one in this building would find me attractive so you can run along and return to the stage now. You need to perform in twenty minutes.” You sighed wearily when you realized that you hadn’t picked up their outfits for tomorrow’s photoshoot. “I need to make a call.” You made your way to the door, about to exit the room when Eren clamped his fingers around your wrist, stopping you.

“I think you’re wrong,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“When you said no man would find you attractive, I think you’re wrong.” His lips twitched up in a delicate smile, and he seemed so innocent, like a little boy facing his first crush. “I think you’re smart. You’re adorably annoying and annoyingly adorable at the same time.” When he chuckled, it sounded sheepish. His hand slid down from your wrist to your fingers, gently playing with them with his own. He watched the way they brushed, his face was unguarded. “And I think you’re beautiful.” He looked up at you from behind his bangs. “Especially your eyes, they’re… They’re breathtaking.”

You swallowed. Okay, what the fuck is going on? “That is the most cliche pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”

He tipped his head cutely to the side. “I was just being honest, though?”

Your eyes glanced briefly at the part where your skin touched his. You had become way more conscious of it than you were supposed to. You exhaled heavily. “What did I say about keeping your hands away from me?”

“Listen, I want to apologize,” he voiced, sounding unfamiliarly solemn. “For the way I’ve been behaving these last few weeks. I’ve been… I haven’t been in a very good mood lately.”

“Yeah.” You noticed how he still hadn’t let you go, but you let him be. “You've got the emotional range of a pregnant woman. No offense to any preggos out there.”

He laughed quietly, slowly releasing his hold from you. He seemed… pensive. Uncertain. Distraught. “Is something the matter?” You asked, unconsciously rubbing your skin right at the part where he touched you before.

Eren didn’t reply right away, contemplating his answers. “Do you want to, um…” He rubbed his nape, not meeting your gaze. “I don’t know, like, go somewhere together tonight? We can go get some coffee or something.”

“And I have to stand right next to you as you make the world’s most vexing order at Starbucks? No, thanks.”

“Hey, come on.” He pouted, batting his eyelashes at you. Eren took a step forward and you moved back in response, stopping only when you had your backside pressed against the wall. “I’m trying to make it up to you here,” he said, taking another stride until his body was standing only an arms reach away from you. “Can you at least give me a chance?” He was going with that so-called puppy look. You knew its power and you would not let yourself succumb to it.

You averted your gaze. “Actually, now that I thought about it,” you replied, “It would’ve been less embarrassing to stand next to you as you tell them your order compared to having me tell them your order.”

He grinned, his crooked teeth showing. “So, is that a yes?”

“No.” You snorted, but who were you kidding? “I mean, yes. Whatever. I’ll swing by your building at seven. I have to give you your outfits for tomorrow anyway.”

“Perfect.” He leaned in and pecked your cheek before you could even register his actions. “I’ll see you at seven, Muffin.”

When he left, taking hasty steps as he headed toward backstage, you found yourself staring at his back. He tossed you a look over his shoulder, grinning when he realized you were staring and you felt your cheeks burn.

Fuck.

***

Okay, so remember when Eren asked you to “get some coffees” to “make it up to you” six hours ago? That was bullshit.

“I think we’re cool,” he told you, sitting right next to you in the car, checking on his surroundings using the rearview mirror. He wore his hair down, wearing all black from head to toe in an attempt to not stick out like a sore thumb. “Seems like we’re not being followed.”

You were perched on your driver’s seat, hands on the steering wheel, feeling absolutely humiliated. “Jaeger.”

“Yeah, Bunny?”

“Bunny?”

“What, it’s the year of the rabbit.”

You punched him hard on the shoulder. Once, twice, three times until he groaned and caught your fist with one hand. “Hey, easy on the hands there. I’m not a punching bag!”

“You’re a trash bag, that’s what you are!” You beat him again with your other hand, right on his chest. “I can’t believe you tricked me into driving you to a bar so you can just hook up with some chick!”

“Bunny,” he chortled, seemingly having the time of his life, that asshole. “You didn’t think I was actually asking you on a date, did you?”

Yeah, okay, that sounds fair. It was all your fault. See, this? This is the power of his puppy eyes. “You’re a dick.”

“A dick who’s about to dick a pretty chick.” He had the audacity to throw a wink at you. “I won’t be long, I promise. I’m not that evil.”

You scoffed loudly. “Yeah, sure.”

“No, I promise.” He landed a kiss on your knuckles before he released your hand. “I’ll behave tonight. For you.” You didn’t want to say it felt like your heart just skip a beat because you’d rather die than admit it, but yes, it certainly felt that way.

“Oh, shut up, Jaeger, you’re about to sleep with a girl on my watch. This thing you’re doing—this—” You gesticulated. “That smirk, those puppy eyes, and that little kiss you just did on my hand—none of them worked on me, okay? None.”

"Yeah, sure." He imitated your earlier response, only flirtatiously.

“Step out of my car. I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave.”

“Yes, I can. It's my car.”

“And what do you think the press is going to say when they find Eren Jaeger, the handsome lead dancer of AXIS, leaving a questionable pub at one in the morning, taking a cab alone?”

You stared back, blatantly judging him. “Did you seriously just call yourself handsome?”

“Am I wrong?”

Lord— “Fine. I’ll give you ten minutes.”

“Thirty.”

“Fifteen.”

“Forty-five.”

“Why are you increasing your—that is not how bargaining works!”

“Give me forty-five minutes and I’ll make a minute-long special video for your birthday,” he offered, followed shortly by that godforsaken smirk. “Think about it. You’ll get Eren Jaeger of AXIS congratulating you on your birthday. Think about the power you’re going to have over your friends.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks, couldn't help but feel tempted. “You’re literally Lucifer.”

“Lucifer as in that DILF from the TV show Lucifer? Why, thank you.”

“Oh my God, just get out!” You shoved him away harshly by the shoulders. Cackling, Eren wore his black baseball cap and his mask, stepping out of your car with his hands sticking inside the pockets of his jacket. “Thirty minutes, Jaeger!”

“See you in fifty, Bunny.”

***

You waited for a whole. damn. hour.

Funny how despite all of that bargaining you did, you still waited for him inside your car at two in the morning, parked on the side of the road in front of a sleazy bar called Swanky Bubbles. But you know what was funnier? The fact that you had to barge in inside this sleazy bar (which literally smelled like sex, smoke, and—oh my God, is that a used condom on the table?!), wearing your favorite red dress and slingback heels (you still couldn’t believe you thought you were going on a romantic date with this fleabag. Have you been single for so long that you became that desperate?), and went to the men’s bathroom (because if he was going to fuck a girl, that would be the spot, right? Not that you’d ever done it or anything) only to find out:

“Ah, fuck, look at that dripping fucking cunt, you naughty little—”

Eren stopped mid-sentence, his green eyes were almost black when they met yours in the mirror. As expected, he was getting his dick wet. What you weren’t really expecting was the way he was fucking his girl from behind, her hands gripping tightly against the edge of the sink as she watched the way he thrust deep inside her through the mirror. Eren had his jeans hanging low on his hips, his belt unbuckled. His black shirt was pushed up, revealing a glimpse of six-pack abs—probably eight, how would you know, you never counted. You spotted his handprints on the girl’s ass, leaving angry red bruises on her milky skin. You could tell that he had been rough with her, which caused your thoughts to wander.

They both froze, the blonde girl’s face caught fire while Eren simply grinned. “Hey, Bunny,” he crooned. “Sorry, the bathroom’s occupied. I hope you’re not on the verge of doing number two.”

The fact that he could still run his mouth was beyond you. “Disappointed,” you told him, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you leaned against the doorframe. “But not surprised.”

The girl he was with tried to break away, but Eren took a hold of her wrist and pinned it behind her back. “Now, now, baby, I’m not finished with you yet,” he chuckled, his posture dominating. His voice was a mix between a sultry whisper and a growl. It was kind of… Hot.

Okay, you did not just think that.

Returning his gaze to the mirror, he smirked at you. “As you can see, I’m a little bit busy right now so I'd appreciate it if you just walk away. Unless you want to join us?”

“I gave you thirty minutes, Jaeger.”

“Aww, I thought we’d agreed that you’d wait for fifty.”

“IT’S ALREADY AN HOUR!” Great, now you were screaming at him. You needed to schedule a date with your therapist after this.

Eren sighed. “Look, as much as I enjoy being watched as I fuck, I can’t cum with you yapping your mouth. So, why don't you be a good girl and wait in the car, yeah? I’ll be with you in ten minutes.”

“Five.”

“Fifteen.”

You couldn’t. You literally couldn’t handle him. Your head would explode.

You went back into your car and you waited. You made a mental note to erase your browsing history after this because, in the last fifteen minutes, all you had been doing was searching how to sneak into a top-security apartment to strangle a fucking brat in his sleep.

When Eren stepped out of the car, his face was full of bliss. You turned the engine but he didn’t climb inside right away. Instead, he placed both palms on the hood of your car, smirking at you from underneath his cap.

“So, Bunny, about that coffee—”

You tried to run him over.

***

“Hey, can you put some music on?” Jean said, sitting on the second row of the van, right next to Eren who was sleeping soundly with his arms folded on his chest, his chin tucked. “It’s too quiet here.”

You were driving them to a five-star hotel for their next photoshoot. Armin and Marco had different schedules for the day so they took a different route, leaving you to your own devices along with these two demons who apparently found it impossible to even give you a minute of peace to yourself. Well, at least Devil Incarnate #1 was asleep. Hopefully, forever.

“Go to sleep, Jean. We still have an hour to go.”

“You want me to nag about it for an hour? Because I’ll do it.”

You took a deep breath. “Your mother never loved you, did she?”

“Why, are you trying to make it up by loving me harder than you already are?”

“Fuck you.”

“Now, you know I won’t say no to that, but—” He sighed dramatically. “All you women just keep taking advantage of me and my body. Am I really too pretty for the world?”

Yeah, he was right. Better put on some music before I lose your mind. “There.” You told him, switching on the radio and listening to whatever the DJ was playing. “Now shut up and let me drive.”

“I want to hear Nicki Minaj.”

“Well, I want to hear silence, but we can’t always get what we want now, can we?”

“I have her whole album on my phone. Turn on the Bluetooth.”

“Jean, I’m fucking driving.”

“And not really good at it. Turn it on.”

“Lord—” Trying to keep your attention on the road, you reached out your hand blindly to swipe your fingers on the screen, switching on the Bluetooth. Jean chuckled to himself, mirroring his phone to the screen. You could see his wallpaper. It was a naked picture of a girl. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Keep your eyes on the road, Sweetheart.”

Wait, now that you looked at it, it was a photo of the same person—a beautiful, Asian girl with a little scar on her right cheek—that you caught sucking on his dick before his concert a week ago. “You're still going out with Miss Sloppy? That's new.”

“Yeah, we’ve been going strong these days.” He went through his playlist, running his eyes from one track through another.

“And using her naked boobs as your wallpaper is a token of your appreciation, I suppose?”

“In the highest form.”

"You should've just given her flowers."

He snorted. "No one wants flowers these days, darling."

"I do," you told him and he spared you a glance. "Call me old school, but I think the traditional way of showing your love through flowers, or poems, or love songs—I think that's romantic." Jean simply remained silent, which made you feel uncomfortable since it felt like you just shared something personal you rarely shared with anyone else before.

The song played and you wished Jean would sing along to it so you didn't have to endure the silence—which was ironic considering how much you yearned for it a few minutes ago—but he didn’t. He didn’t even say a word when the song ended and another track played. Frowning, you took a glance of him through the rear-view mirror. You could see how Jean was leaning his back against his seat, his face turning toward the window. He was in a ruminative mood, which was the first time you had ever seen him in. His eyes had lost their usual puckish glow, growing vacant.

You called out his name, your voice unusually soothing that you were surprised with yourself. “You can take a nap if you want to. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“I think it’s best to catch some rest.”

“Stop sounding like my mother,” he said, a little bit firmer than usual. Unlike Eren, Jean rarely snapped at you. His voice, though rough, was always melodious when he talked to you, as if he was flirting, even though you knew it was just his way to irk you up. He sounded a bit tense now, maybe even upset.

You paused, giving into silence and he noticed the tension that stretched in the air. Releasing a heavy breath, he ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said, keeping his eyes on the scenery outside his window. “I just…” He never finished.

There hadn’t been enough chances for you and Jean to know each other better. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to. You just thought it would make things awkward to suddenly converse about personal matters, especially when the only interaction you two had was him making fun of you on a daily basis. But seeing him looking so unsettled like this didn’t feel right. He seemed like he could use a friend.

“Are you okay?” You asked him.

Jean knitted his eyebrows together. “What?”

“I’m asking you how you’re feeling.”

“Uh... Why?”

“Because you look like you’re about to cry and I don’t feel like having a grown-ass man crying in the backseat.” You rolled your eyes, but when your gazes met in the mirror, you could see him smiling a little to himself. You did the same, even grinning. “Look, I know we’ve been treating each other like shit—well,” you corrected yourself. “You treated me like shit. I was just trying to respond to you being a giant ass by—”

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” He simpered. “Comforting other people?”

“Yeah," you chuckled awkwardly. "I don’t have that many friends.”

“Hmm, figured.” But his posture was more relaxed with no venom in his voice. “Well, at least you tried. It’s been a while since I heard someone asking me that question.”

You stole peeks at him through the mirror as you drove. There it was again. That weary, dispirited look on his face. “Is it hard being the leader? Or an idol in general?”

“Sometimes." He shrugged. "I mean, with more popularity coming your way, you’re bound to have your freedom taken away from you too. It's funny, isn't it? How you can have a thousand people cheering your name but at the same time, you feel like no one understands you. Feel like no one really cares about you. They just like the persona you show them on the stage. They don't give a fuck if you're an empty shell inside. And it makes you feel like you're…” He dawdled, unsure of what to say.

“Like you’re alone,” you finished for him. Jean blinked, his eyes drifting toward the mirror and you smiled softly at him when you locked gazes.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, long and heavy. Admitting it out loud felt like he had half the weight off his chest. “Like you’re alone.”

You were chewing on the inside of your cheek, swerving your car to the right. “Do you miss your mother?”

Jean was unfamiliar with the gentleness in your tone, but he liked it. “I do.”

“When was the last time you saw her? In person, I mean.”

“Three years ago.”

You almost hit the brakes a little too hard than intended. “Wow…” As you waited for the red light to turn green, you kept your gaze fixated on the mirror, examining his every expression. “Well, that sucks.”

He laughed dryly. “Yeah.”

“Is it because of your tight schedules?”

“Partially, yeah. But it was more because…” He clicked on his tongue. “She just didn’t want me to be in show business. She felt like I could’ve done so much better than just taking off my shirt on stage like a fucking stripper.” But there was no anger in his voice, only… disappointment, directed toward no one else but himself.

And you understood. Jean—the leader of AXIS who was always drenched in confidence whenever he took the stage—was insecure about his talent. In some ways, he felt like his body was all that was worthy of him. “Can I tell you a secret?” You asked him and he lifted his face. There was a slight curiosity buried underneath the dismal look in his eyes. Right before the light turned green, you tossed him a smile. “Eren is my bias in AXIS.”

He must have expected some heartwarming words to escape your mouth because he was visibly upset once your sentence rang through his ears. “Ah, yeah," he responded emotionlessly. "Not sure how that's supposed to make me feel better but good to know.”

"Who says I'm trying to make you feel better?"

He scrunched up his nose and you beamed back mischievously.

“Kidding. I’m not finished yet." You tried to ease the tension with a peal of airy laughter. “Well, to be fair, I don’t think I can call myself a fan because now I know how evil you guys are in real life,” Jean grunted at that. “But back when I didn’t know any better, I listened to your songs almost every day. I downloaded them illegally, true, but if I had the money, I would've bought your albums because you guys were that good. And I used my campus' free wi-fi to watch your performances every time I got the chance."

"Just how broke are you exactly?"

"Let's not talk about that." Jean's mood seemed to lighten at the way you retold your story. "I think I've watched you guys more times than I’d like to admit. You know how fangirls are.”

“Did you touch yourself while watching our fancams?” He sniggered.

“Congratulations, you just ruined our first heart-to-heart moment.” The glower you sent him was quickly reciprocated with a wink. “Anyway, as I said, Eren was my bias. I just thought he always looked amazing on stage. I still think so. No matter how big of an asshole he is, I’ve never seen someone having that much talent and passion when it comes to dancing. His expression, the way his body moves—it’s like he was born to dance, you know?”

“Thanks.”

You froze, eyes shooting upright to the mirror. Eren, who just thanked you with his voice heavy with sleep, turned to lay on his side. “I’m going back to sleep but don’t let that stop you from fangirling over me,” he mumbled and it took literally everything in your body to stop the blood from pooling in your face. You were about to say something smart—hopefully—when his soft snores echoed to your ears again.

This is so bad for my heart. “Anyway, umm—” You cleared your throat, trying to return your focus to Jean. “W-where was I?”

“Eren is your bias.”

Fuck. “Was,” you immediately corrected, ignoring the flames that bit your cheeks. “Was my bias, but that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that you, Jean, you were my bias wrecker.”

"The hell is a bias wrecker?"

"Someone who unexpectedly caught my attention and made me rethink my original bias."

It was then that his eyes lit up in surprise. “I... I was?”

“Yeah.” You didn't want to use the word cute to describe him but Jean was exactly that at the moment. “There were a lot of times when I saw your performances and I found myself looking at you the entire video. Hell, I think I even spent a good hour watching your fancams back in the days. Can you imagine? Me, actually looking for your videos on Youtube. Crazy, right?”

“No shit. Seriously?” He was almost like a child, the way he was so enthusiastic about it.

“Yeah. There’s something in the way you perform. Honestly, I didn’t even care if you took off your shirt or not. I even wondered why you had to do that so often. Like I get that you’re hot, but you are so much more than just your looks and your body, you know? I feel like even if you were dressed as a school teacher, people would've still found you captivating. At least, I would. Eren has all the moves but your charisma is on another level. You can literally just stand on the stage, and all eyes would turn to you. And if that’s not talent, then I don’t know what that is.”

Jean’s cheeks reddened in a beautiful shade of crimson. You caught a glimpse of it before he averted his gaze, awkwardly scratching his cheek with his index finger. It made you feel happy and sad at the same time. It seemed like there really hadn’t been a lot of people appreciating him for his talent.

Smiling, you kept yourself muted, letting him take a moment for the words to sink in. It was then that Eren groaned.

“Ugh, gross,” he said sluggishly. “Go back to talking about me again.”

Five seconds later, he went back to sleep.

“Is he always like that?” You asked Jean, your heart palpitating.

“Yeah. Annoying, isn’t he?”

“Not as much as you are.” But you shared smiles with him, his gaze softening when he met yours. Even without him forming the words, you could detect a sense of gratitude radiating from him. You were just as grateful. It made you feel content that you understood him a little better now. Maybe, by the end of this job, you two could actually become friends.

“Hey,” Jean called.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to, uhh…” His voice wavered. You could see how his face changed from musing to frowning, to blushing before he finally gave up and said, “Never mind.”

“What?”

“I said, never mind.”

“What, you want us to grab some coffee together? Like on a date?”

He choked, ears turning pink. “N-no.”

He can’t lie to save his life, you thought in amusement. “Okay, Mr. Kirstein, whatever you say.”

Now that the atmosphere was not as heavy, you started listening to the song he was playing on speakers. That was when you noticed something.

“Bitch, this is Cardi B.”

“Aren’t they the same person?”

***

“Here you go, milady.” Armin handed you a bottle of iced strawberry milkshake; his smile was just as sweet and refreshing. With a white towel hanging around his shoulders, he took a seat on the hardwood flooring right next to you. His forehead was glistening with sweat, his shirt was also soaked with it. But the fact that this man still somehow smelled like Johnson’s baby powder was beyond you.

You were sitting cross-legged with your back leaning against the wall, waiting for the boys to finish their dance practice before you had to drive them back to their building. It was ten pm, your body was just as exhausted as theirs were, even when you hadn’t been dancing to the same track for two hours straight. But it was okay. Tomorrow was your day off. You just needed to grab some takeouts for the boys, drop them back to their flat, and then you could spend the rest of your day lounging in your bathtub with a glass of wine in hand, probably listening to Michael Bublé's Christmas album. This, of course, only happened in your imagination as you were so broke you couldn’t even afford a water heater, but a girl could dream, right?

“Well,” you sighed, thanking Armin for the drink. “I’ve only been thinking about murdering your teammates fourteen times this week. So that’s an improvement, I guess.”

“So, like, twice a day?”

“Yeah.”

“And it went down from…?”

“About one hundred and thirty-six times a day.”

“Yikes.” He chuckled, sipping on his sports drink.

Marco was absent from practice that day. He went with your aunt to do a radio interview to promote the new TV show he was in. It was his first acting gig and it was so cute the way he was so thrilled about it.

Jean was still caught up on another photoshoot. He was going to be on the cover of Men’s Health magazine, which would be out sometime early next month. And yes, you indeed told him that you didn’t care whether he was shirtless or not but that was a lie, wasn’t it? Of course, you cared. It would be stupid—and abnormal—not to.

Eren was still practicing the latest choreography, scrutinizing himself in the mirror as he followed his instructor’s steps, imitating his posture and movement. “He always works so hard,” Armin said, admiring him with a little smile of affection. “People always praise his talent, but it’s very rare to see them appreciating the blood and sweat he shed to get to this point. I’ve been friends with him since we were kids. He always worked himself to the limit. I often found him dancing alone in the studio till morning.” His sapphire eyes drooped in concern. “I feel bad that he has to learn much more complicated routines compared to the rest of us. I mean, he is our lead dancer so he has his solo stage, dance break, and everything but… I just feel like our company is working him too hard.”

You followed Armin’s gaze, landing your eyes on the shape of Eren’s biceps that somehow rippled every time he moved his arms. He was wearing a sleeveless white shirt and a pair of black track pants, his high-top sneakers creating squeaky sounds as they rubbed against the floor. The shirt was glued to his skin, the shape of his chiseled abdomen showing underneath the fabric. Eren took off his cap, running his fingers through his hair—his soft, soft hair that still looked fluffy even though his bangs were drenched with sweat—before he placed it back on. “The hell he’s so hot for,” you mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You cleared your throat, loosening your collar. “I mean, yeah. I agree with you. Actually, I just wish the company will give you guys a break. All of you deserve it.” Armin thanked you with his eyes and that reminded you. “Oh, right, I haven’t gotten the chance to say thank you for the cheesecake you sent me. How did you know that green tea is my favorite flavor?”

“Huh?” He blinked, frowning in confusion before— “Oh! Oh yeah, right. Cheesecake. How could I forget about that?” He slapped himself on the forehead. “Yeah, that was, um—that was from me.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “If little Prince Arlert is lying to me, I don't know who else to believe.”

“Wha—I don’t—” He was sweating for an entirely different reason. When he gave up, he almost curled himself up in a ball. “Yeah, it wasn’t from me. I’m sorry, I lied.”

“Was it from Marco?”

“Uh…” His eyes were shaking. “Umm, yeah, sure.”

“Did you just lie to me again?”

He shuddered. “It wasn’t from Marco.”

Great, you were running out of options. Surely, it wasn’t from Devil Incarnate #1 and #2 seeing how they couldn’t even find the time to buy their own condoms. “Was it from my aunt? Seems very unlikely.”

“No. It was, uhh…” Armin darted his eyes away from yours, mumbling under his breath. He seemed to be in agony when he finally confessed with a grimace, “It was from Eren.”

“What?!” You shrieked, and he was so frightened, he almost jumped out of his skin. There was a reason why you called him Bambi. “Devil Incarnate number one?!”

“I’m legally not allowed to say,” he winced. “But, yeah, Devil Incarnate number one.”

“Why would—” you gasped, eyes widening in horror. “Oh, shit, what if it was poisonous? I just finished the whole cake this morning. What if it’s gonna give me explosive diarrhea or something—oh my God—”

At that point, Armin began to laugh. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that he’s just trying to apologize to you for acting like a douchebag?”

“Because—” You were speechless. After what Eren had done to you, there was no way he would suddenly be so kind and send you presents without any ulterior motive behind it. “Because… I don’t know, it’s just… It feels weird.”

“It feels weird that he’s nice?”

“Eren and the word nice do not belong together. Try to use the words narcissistic bitch, then I’ll agree with you.”

You were Armin's favorite entertainment. Almost everything you did and said never failed to paint a smile on his face. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

“But you were the one who told him about my favorite flavor, right?”

“Nope. I honestly thought strawberry was your favorite flavor.” He gestured toward the bottle in your hand. “Hence, the drink.”

“Oh…” You held the bottle close to your chest, grinning at him. “Well, this is my second favorite flavor.”

“Sure.” He bumped his shoulder playfully against yours and you did the same. Whenever you were with Armin, it felt like you were two best friends from high school watching a football game from the bleachers. "Wait, the red roses from last week," you recalled, your forehead creasing again. "Those weren't from the company, were they?"

He chuckled once. "Why did you think they were from the company?"

"I don't know, I just thought they were thanking me for working hard, that's all."

"You're cute."

"Hey, I worked my ass off for you guys."

Armin raised both hands in the air. "Never said you didn't."

You lightly punched him on the chest. "I can't believe Eren sent me flowers."

"Um, no, those were from Jean, actually."

Your heart, once again, dropped to your stomach. "What?!"

“Which I'm also legally not allowed to say!" Armin stood up in a hurry. "I gotta go practice some more. Talk to you later.” He left before you could snatch his hand to keep him in place, half-running to his previous spot.

“Armin, get back here!”

Clasping both hands to his ears, he shouted back with, “La la la, I can't hear you!”

***

Eren was in the middle of swallowing big gulps of mineral water when you tapped his shoulder. “Eren—”

“Jesus Christ—” Startled enough to have his heart in his throat, he pivoted on his heels and accidentally bumped his back against the vending machine. He gripped onto his plastic bottle too hard, spilling water all over the floor. “You scared me!” He exclaimed with one hand clutching onto his chest, his breathing labored. “Can’t you just show up like a normal person?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare your panties off, Princess.” You fake an accent, trying to make yourself sound even more obnoxious to his ears. “Shall I write a note for you next time? Give you a friendly warning before I normally walk up to you and normally call out your name like a normal person?”

He exhaled sharply. “You and your sarcasm.”

“You and your—” stupid, stupid washboard abs, “—ugly hair.”

And just like that, his mouth curved up in a smirk. “We both know that’s not true, Muffin.”

“Whatever.” You tilted up your chin, crossing your arms on your chest. “So, when are you planning to tell me that you sent me a cake yesterday?”

He raised his bottle to his lips, ready to take a sip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Armin told me.”

He choked, spilling water to his shirt. “Damn it, Armin!” Eren hissed under his breath. With his usual scowl returning to his face, he tried to look unperturbed, even when his nostrils were flaring. “Well, you weren’t supposed to find out about that.”

“What was the point in giving me a cake if you didn't want me to know about it?”

“It’s just…” He dragged his gaze away, mumbling in a subdued tone, “It just makes me feel less guilty about it.”

“Speak louder, Jaeger. Who are you talking to—an ant?”

You were clearly testing on his patience and you loved it. He repeated his words, loud enough to be considered as a shout.

“Ah, okay.” You nodded, playing nonchalantly as usual. “I don’t know if this ever occurs to you, but saying the words I’m sorry would’ve been so much easier to do. And, it won’t cost you anything. Well, your dignity, probably, but you’ll get to keep your wallet.”

Eren flatly stared back. "The last time I apologized to you, you mocked me by saying I had the emotional range of a teaspoon."

"A pregnant woman," you corrected. "Oh yeah, right, you did that. Which was bullshit because then you asked me to come with you to a shady bar where I had to freeze my ass outside, waiting for some girl to finish giving you a sloppy toppy."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. It's summer. It was literally like forty degrees outside." When you opened your mouth to protest, Eren raised a finger in the air to stop you. You, of course, tried to bite it off. "Look, either way, I didn't want to apologize to you directly so I thought I could just send you a cake."

"But you sent it anonymously." You exaggerated a nod, mouth turning upside-down. "All right. No logic can be found there, but okay, man, whatever keeps you sleeping at night, I guess."

"Jesus—" The more he grew frustrated talking to you, the bigger the joy that swelled inside your chest. His jawlines and cheekbones were too sharp and masculine for him to be sporting a pout, but he still nailed it. "I did what I did because I know you’ll just make fun of me for it.”

True, that is true. “I wouldn’t make fun of you.”

He searched your eyes, his jaw clenching as he contemplated. He was sure that you’d laugh at him but after what he did to you at the bar, he knew that he owed you a proper apology. Fuming and abashed, he threw his hands in the air. “Fine, you want to hear me say it? I’m sorry. There, satisfied?”

There was a moment where you tried to be a better person and keep the promise you made him. But then again, you weren’t that kind of girl so what did you do? You cackled.

“See!” He complained, almost whining, with the tips of his ears matching the shade of your lipstick. “You fucking laughed at me!”

“Sorry, it’s just—” You were tearing up, literally. Swiping a thumb over your lid, you tried to tone down your maniacal laughter into a grin. “God, you can be so adorable sometimes.”

And the line shocked you just as much as it shocked him. Adorable? You went with the word adorable? Out of all the things you could have said? This was Devil Incarnate #1 you were talking about. Adorable was for babies, or puppies—or Armin. Adorable was literally the last word you could use to describe him.

“I mean, you’re annoying as hell,” you quickly added. “But, yeah, adorable.” No need to clarify, you idiot, I think he got that the first time.

And there he was, standing before you with unblinking eyes. You wondered if you broke him—maybe he was a robot designed to piss off humanity, with a self-destruct option activated by the word adorable. You certainly hoped so, as that would give you a reason not to see his face ever again.

But then the robot spoke and the second he did, your fist wanted to make contact with his face again. It was just a natural reaction at this point. “So,” he crossed his arms, leaning one shoulder against the vending machine, showcasing that goddamn smirk as if he wasn't just blushing like a schoolgirl. “Is that the reason why I’m your bias?”

“Was my bias,” you rectified through clenched jaws. “And no, we’re not talking about this.” His grin almost reached his ears now. “Bring up this topic again and I will try to run you over with my car, I swear to God, I will.”

His smile slipped. “You did.”

“Yeah, well, just like that, but harder.”

He sighed, looking so weary, he had to rub his temple with his fingers. “So, did you like it?”

“Running you over with my car? Loved it.”

“I meant the cake.”

“Oh.” You giggled, mocking the way his nose flared in anger. “I’ve tasted better.” He’d already expected that answer but he rolled his eyes anyway. “But, umm…” You dawdled. Trying to vocalize your gratitude to him was as hard as acing your algebra test. “Thank you, I guess.”

He gave you a weird look, astonished but also judging the way you said it. Once he detected the genuineness behind it, a coy smile graced his lips. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ve called my mother and let her know that if I die within a few hours from now, she’ll know who’s responsible.”

“Will you ever stop yapping?”

“Will you ever stop being annoying?”

“It’s part of my charm, Muffin.”

“It’s part of mine too, Ren.” You mirrored his glare, but also the little smile that followed right after.

Despite your constant banter with him, the atmosphere was light, like a feeling that shrouded two friends having friendly arguments over a movie. “No, seriously,” you asked him softly this time, wanting him to be honest with you for once. “Why did you suddenly feel like you wanted to make it up to me?”

He pondered, seeming utterly conflicted between telling you the truth and losing his dignity in the process or lying about it even more. He knew the latter would only piss you off so with his eyes looking anywhere else but yours, he mumbled out, “I just—I realized that you weren’t…” It looked like it physically hurt him to say the words. “… as bad as I thought you would be.”

Now you couldn’t deny the slight jolt your heart did when you heard his line (which was dumb because this was Devil Incarnate #1 for God's sake). But it wasn’t just his words that did that to you, it was his tone, the expression on his face, his body language when he said it. Eren was being… sincere.

You stuck out your tongue, acting disgusted. “Why does it sound so gross coming out of your mouth?”

“Oh my God, you’re so—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a female voice came to your hearing zone. Eren’s eyes widened and he pushed you against the wall, his bottle falling to the floor with a dull thud. Your chests were plastered against one another, warm skin meeting warmer one. He had both hands on the wall, placing each one on each side of your head, hiding both of your frames beside the vending machine.

“What are you doing—”

“Pretending to make out with you,” he said before he bent his head down. You could feel his breath on your neck, hear every time he inhaled your scent.

Two females were passing through the hallway, chattering as they walked past you. “Eww, gross, get a room already,” one of them muttered. “Come on, we should go.” They quickened their steps, their heels clicking as they took fast strides, heading toward the stairs.

Eren, with his face buried in the crook of your neck, murmured, "Hold still until they're gone." You knew he was referring to your pose, but you were also holding your breath. Once their voices turned faint, he slightly widened the gap. He still had one hand propping himself against the wall, his other one trapping your jaw underneath his lean fingers. You could feel his breath fanning your lips, the tip of his nose almost brushing against yours. And you wondered whether you wished he had distanced himself further or leaned even closer.

He smelled like sweat, as expected, but underneath that, you could also smell him—pelargonium, warm cinnamon, and cloves. It might just be his perfume but— “Sorry,” he expressed, a bit timidly, “I don’t wear perfume for practice. I must smell like sweat, huh?”

So you’re telling me this is your natural scent?! “Yeah," you snorted. "You stink. Remind me why are we in this position again?”

“Psychotic ex-girlfriend,” he casually explained as if your faces weren’t hanging two inches away from each other. “Just didn’t feel like being spat on again.”

You were both talking in whispers. “I thought…” There was this tension surrounding you, heavy but not displeasing. Suffocating in the best way. “You don’t date.”

When he chuckled, you could almost feel the vibrations on your skin. His fingertips felt scorching and yet delicate when they traced your jawline, gently guiding your face upward to meet his eyes. You expected to see a smirk, but what he gave you was a light, mysterious smile that pricked on your curiosity. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, baby.”

You almost shivered at the nickname. “Liar. She's probably just someone you had a quickie with before the show.”

Eren’s eyes turned half-lidded, gazing at you like he was appreciating a beautiful painting. “Maybe.” He glided his thumb over your lips, biting the corner of his lower one to resist the temptation. “What about you? Do you date?”

None of you bothered to keep your eyes on each other anymore. You just let them wander, tracing the shape of his mouth as he did yours with his. “I don’t have quickies with random men, that’s for sure.”

His lips bowed. “It’s literally just a yes or no question.”

“Well, I don’t—”

He kissed you, tentatively but firm. Your bodies were meshed, his hand framing your face but it only felt different when your lips moved against one another. He caught you off guard but it was as startling as the fact that you felt disappointed when he broke away.

“You…” You wetted your lip, and he almost groaned at the sight of your tongue peeking out, wanting to have it tangled around his. “You just kissed me…”

The desire in his eyes matched the one that rose quickly in your chest. "Did you like it?"

"Well, I'm—" He cut you off again, only this time, he didn't just kiss you to have a taste. He did it to devour your lips. It was like something snapped within him when he saw the look in your eyes, and you were glad that you didn’t have to voice your thoughts out loud.

You were reaching out to grab him by the nape when he took a fistful of your hair. Two parted mouths consuming one another as if you were fighting for air. Your hands landed on his chest, contemplating between pushing him away or keeping him close as the voice inside your head kept telling you that it was a bad idea to keep this going. Eren didn’t give you the chance to decide, however, as he clamped his hands tightly around your wrists, pinning them against the wall.

"You gotta let me…” you tried to vocalize between heavy kisses, body arching to complete his like a perfect set of a puzzle. “…talk…”

Eren's brain was shut down, his body moving solely on instinct. On lust. He grunted against your mouth as a form of response, teeth gnawing at your supple flesh. He could taste the rest of your strawberry milkshake that coated your tongue, and you could taste yourself in his mouth. The zest of his kiss made your legs buckle, and you slid down the wall for only a few centimeters but he was quick to notice. Eren slipped his leg between yours, his thigh pressing against the zipper of your jeans, and your breath hitched in your throat. There was this little growl that erupted from the back of his throat—one that sounded so sensual—when he felt you nipping at his lower lip, teasing it between your teeth. “Fuck,” he breathed out but he swallowed the praise that was about to follow. The kiss was raw and bruising but the thrill was unlike any other. It was addicting as it was... dangerous.

“Eren!” Armin’s voice was like a ball smashing against the window, shattering whatever it was that clouded you and him. You both broke away, just right in time before the blonde boy stepped into the hallway, noticing your presence. “Oh, there you are! Your phone’s ringing. I think it’s our manager.”

“I’ll be there,” Eren said, noticeably flustered and you wondered why. It wasn’t like him to feel all over the place over a kiss. “I, uh, I’m gonna go.”

“Yeah, okay.” You played nonchalant, smoothening down your shirt. “Break a leg.”

It was awkward when he left, but it would’ve been more awkward if he stayed. So, he did, with his thoughts jumbled and his chest feeling like it was about to explode. Before he disappeared into the studio, he stepped back to catch one more look. “Hey, Muffin.”

You card your fingers through your hair—a messy piece of art designed by his hand. “What?”

He hesitated. The words were sitting heavily on his tongue but he couldn’t move the muscle. Giving up with a defeated sigh, he alternated with, “Break a leg is what you say to actors. You should’ve said merde.”

“Pretty sure merde is French for poop.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“And how would you know?”

You smiled, one corner of your lips rising higher than the other. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, baby.”

***

You and Eren didn’t share a word on your way back to their flat, probably because Armin was present. The blue-eyed boy felt the tension but he didn’t comment on it. Eren, for once, felt too indecisive to state out his thoughts. You stole glances at the brunette from the rear-view mirror, his attractive face illuminated by the headlights of passing cars. He was on the edge of his seat, both literally and figuratively and you wondered why. Surely, it was just a kiss?

When you stopped your van in front of their apartment building, Armin climbed out first, followed by Eren who seemed to have his body glued to his seat. You rolled down your window, keeping your engine running. “It’s my day off tomorrow so I won’t be around, but you can call me if you need anything, Bambi.”

“You won’t be around?” Armin sulked like a child. “Oh, man… I wish we could hang but I've got a variety show I need to film tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you again on Monday. Maybe we can take a short trip to the bookstore before your interview?”

He beamed. “You’re the best, honestly.” Bidding his farewell with a warm wave of his hand, the boy turned to the other man. “Come on, Eren, let’s go.”

“You go ahead. I need to talk to her.”

“O… kay…” Armin observed him with a deep furrow on his temple, noticing the tension but decided not to speak up. “All right, I’ll see you guys later, then.”

“Bye, Bambi.” Exchanging smiles with you, Armin left, stepping inside the building and disappearing inside an elevator.

Eren shifted toward you, tautening his hold around the sling of his sports bag. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t want to shut down the engine first?”

“Why, would it take a while?” You smiled at him, acting as if you were drained to your bones—which was true, but not this much. “I’m a bit tired.”

His eyes darkened. Clearly, he did not approve of your attitude. “Fine, let’s cut to the chase then,” he bitterly countered. “Why did you kiss me back?”

“I didn’t.” The way you kept your smile intact throughout the conversation sparked his temper. “You kissed me. I just happened to let you do it.”

His eyes were almost sinister as they perceived you. "Seriously?”

You pouted, blinking your eyes cutely just to rile him up even more. “Was that not what happened?”

“You—” Vexation quickened his blood, painting angry red to his cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re playing hard to get after you stuck your tongue in my mouth!”

“Excuse me?” You retorted, feigning disbelief. “Why are you acting like I just took advantage of you? You kissed me without my permission.”

“Yeah, but—” He exhaled sharply, threading a hand through his hair. “You know what? Yeah. Let’s just pretend that you weren’t rubbing yourself against my thigh two hours ago.”

“Oh no, I’m devastated.” You sniggered. “Might cry myself to sleep tonight.”

“Fuck you.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t, Muffin.” You cast a wink and before he could say anything else, you stepped on your gas and drove away.

Through your window mirror, you could see him standing frozen on the pavement, scowling at you as if he could magically engulf you in flames by his stare. You chuckled to yourself.

Revenge had never tasted so sweet.

***

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you lamented against your phone, “You promised that I’d get my day off today. I’ve already told my friend that I'd go to her party!”

“I know, I’m so sorry.” Your aunt was even whinier than you were. “I promise I’ll pay you for your time. I don’t have anyone else to ask for help, honey, I’m desperate!”

You took a glance at the digital clock sitting on your nightstand. It was almost eight-thirty pm, which meant you still had an hour to spare before the party started. You huffed in defeat, blowing out your cheeks. “Fine, but I’ll hold you to your word.”

“I promise. Look, I’ll even transfer the money to you right now.”

“Perfect. Give me the address then.”

It already took you almost an hour just to get into CMN’s building because of the traffic. Grumbling under your breath, you quickly fetched the invitation letters from the lobby—the same ones that your aunt told you to deliver to the boys. By boys, she meant Eren and Jean who were now staying in a five-star hotel where they would be attending a music award event tomorrow.

“Thirty-two minutes?!” You gasped, glowering at your GPS. You didn’t realize the hotel would be that far away. You were going to miss the party for sure. Oh, God, I was looking forward to it too. Clicking your tongue in irritation, you started your engine and drove away.

About fifty minutes later—damn traffic—you found yourself walking into the lobby of the Eastin Hotel. You weren’t sure you were going to get permission to go up to their room but after showing the receptionist your business card, they let you through.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing them again on my day off,” you groused, jabbing your finger against the doorbell of room 1802. You waited, your patience running thin as you logged back into your Instagram account. Your friends were already having fun at the pool, sipping margaritas and dancing to the upbeat music, while you were there, sweating and breathless from all the running, with anger bubbling up quickly on your chest.

Then, the door slid open.

“Well, hello, darling,” Jean cooed with his usual seductive smirk. “Eren, our room service is here. Think we got ourselves lucky tonight.”

“Shut it.” You pointed your finger at him. You were seething, and usually, you would hold back your anger, but with all the traffic, the sudden change in your plans, and his pesky attitude, you were way past your limit. “I am this close at murdering you with my bare hands, Jean Kirstein. I can’t believe you forgot to bring your invitation letter! That’s literally the only thing you have to bring!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down.” He grinned, leaning his back against the doorframe. “You’re gonna wake up the neighbors.” You could feel his eyes wander your body, stopping momentarily to see how perfectly your black dress hugged your waist. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Because I was supposed to be at a party an hour ago.”

“You look nice.”

“You look disgusting. As always.” Which was a lie, obviously, because Jean was dressed so handsomely in a pair of black trousers and a white button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing veiny arms and large palms. Knowing the boys’ schedule, you were sure that he and Eren were dressed in expensive suits before. It was only right to dress up when you had dinner together with the executives of CMN. Staying unfazed, however, you slapped his letter—and Eren’s—to his chest. “Here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go kill myself before you boys do.”

You rotated on your heels, about to stomp away when Jean took you by the wrist. “Or you can just stay?” He offered, his smile seemed a lot more innocent than it was twenty seconds ago. “We’re having some wine. You look like you could use a drink.”

Wine? The word echoed wonderfully in your ears. It had been a while since you had some (poor college students couldn’t drink wine for fun). Sighing, you took a peek at your phone screen. It was almost eleven pm. The party was still going on, of course, but it would take you another one-hour drive—even without traffic—and you didn’t really feel like going anymore.

“I hate you,” you muttered but you walked past him anyway. Jean chortled to himself, following after you as you stepped further into the suite.

As a broke college student who couldn’t even pay your rent on time, this suite you were in looked like a fucking castle—one that was futuristically designed, of course. It featured two separate bedrooms, with a living room that was probably bigger than your entire apartment. Plush sofas and a chaise longue were placed in front of a full-set home cinema system. The walls that separated the room with the balcony were fully made of glass, giving way to skyline views of the city.

“It isn’t bad, is it?” Jean questioned, walking past you with his hands tucked inside the pocket of his pants.

“Not bad at all,” you mumbled, still a little bit dazed with the scenery. You followed him further into the living room, marveling over the paintings that were plastered on the wall. You only stopped once you spotted Eren—the same Eren Jaeger who kissed you yesterday—still dressed perfectly in his black suit and a matching tie, lounging on the couch with his legs stretched out on the coffee table. His hair was tied up in a bun, nothing unusual, with a few of his baby hairs falling to his temple. He had a cigarette resting between his fingers and a phone in his other hand. There were two tall glasses nearby—both of them were half-empty—and a bottle of Jordan Cabernet Sauvignon. You weren’t knowledgeable when it came to winery, but you could tell that bottle cost more than your entire outfit including what was inside your purse.

Seeing him elevated your mood, knowing that you’d get to tease him again. “Hey, handsome.”

Eren, about to take a drag, drifted his eyes toward you. “Fuck,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth, the cigarette in his hand left forgotten. You wondered if he cursed because he was annoyed at your presence, but it seemed unlikely with the way he was gazing at you. Just like Jean, Eren sized you up and down, being even more blatant with his stare, undressing you with his eyes. And you thought Jean was obvious.

“Take a picture, baby,” you sneered at him. “It will last longer.”

The stupefied look quickly morphed into a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

“Delivering our letters,” Jean answered on your behalf, taking a seat right next to him. “Better not bring it up again if you don’t want to have your balls cut off.” The ash-brown-haired man snatched a cigarette from its package, placing it between his lips. “Where’s the lighter?”

“Somewhere on the couch.” Eren was still glaring at you, watching you take a seat on the other side of the sofa with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, keep staring at me like that,” you challenged him. “That would make me want to kiss you again.”

“Did something happen?” Jean asked before Eren could form his retort, moving his eyes back and forth between you and the brunette.

“Oh, Eren kissed me without permission and he’s butthurt because he thinks I took advantage of him.”

“What—I don’t—” Eren’s face caught fire before he hissed, “Oh, shut up.”

He’s so transparent, you giggled.

“I can’t find the lighter,” Jean complained, not really paying attention to your words. Eren groaned, his mood was all over the place because of you. Grabbing Jean by the collar, he closed the distance between their faces. The taller male staggered but he kept his body still, knowing what Eren was intending to do. While holding his own in his mouth, Jean touched the end of Eren’s lit cigarette to his. Then, he inhaled.

“There you go, buddy,” Eren said once his cigarette was lit properly, releasing his hold from him.

With a muffled, “Thanks,” Jean reclined on the couch, the fabric around his collar crumpled from Eren’s grip. He returned his gaze toward you. “Why are you sitting over there? Come here.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you uttered slyly, standing up from your seat. “I thought you guys were having a moment.”

Jean snorted. “He wishes.”

“Not as much as you do, Horseface.”

You held back your amusement from showing. Jean took you by the hand, guiding you to settle between them. The couch was probably big enough for eight people to sit on, but your shoulders were almost grazing theirs from how close they were to you. You didn’t mind.

“I didn’t expect you guys to be this close to each other in real life,” you commented, silently thanking Jean when he handed you a glass. He poured you some red wine, and as you took a sip, you were shortly impressed by the perfect balance between beautiful fruit, silky tannins, and a lingering finish. You took another big gulp and asked Jean for more. “I mean, you did a lot of fanservice together on stage, but I thought it was just a setup to make yourself more popular.”

“Well, there’s that too, of course.” To your surprise, Eren was the one who answered. You thought he would ignore your existence for the rest of the night, but that didn’t seem like the case. There was still a bitter undertone in his voice but his anger was dissipating. “Want a drag?” He raised his cigarette in the air.

With a smile, too innocent to be alluring, you curled your fingers around his wrist, bringing it closer to your face. Eren watched with hazy eyes, loving the way your lips closed seductively around the same spot he had his mouth on earlier. You inhaled, filling smoke into your lungs before you tilted up your chin and released it in the air. The column of your throat was exposed, allowing his gaze to shift down to your neckline that hung too low. It reveals enough of your cleavage to tease his eyes, but Eren was voracious for more.

It wasn’t just him who was staring. Jean's eyes lingered just as intensely, although he was focusing more on the way your dress rode up your thighs. It felt electrifying, to be heavily gazed at with lust like you were a prey ready to be ravished. You knew that it was only a matter of time before one of you made the first move, and then—

The doorbell rang, surprising all three of you at once. Jean let out a harsh breath. “Must be room service,” he muttered as he returned to his feet. When he left to unlock the door, you returned your attention to Eren.

You just had your lips parted, ready to form his name when he reached out a hand. His fingers skimmed over your cheek, a bit warmer than usual. You had expected him to kiss you and if he did, you wouldn’t be surprised. But he didn’t. He only swatted some loose strands from your face, gently tucking your hair behind your ear. It made you feel weird in such a pleasant way.

"You're still angry with me?" You queried with a juvenile smile breaking on your lips, peering into his eyes.

"What do you think?" His voice was dulcet, almost felt like it didn't belong to him. His eyes drifted down to your lips again, and you were reminded of the passion he burned on your skin a night ago. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

You grinned, sweet and innocent, just the way he liked it. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Jean returned to the living room with a trolley that was filled with ice buckets and a huge plate of blueberry pancakes. The sight made you stitch your eyebrows together. The ice buckets you could understand, but pancakes?

“What?” Eren shrugged when both you and Jean sent him a judging look. “I have midnight cravings, sue me.”

“Sorry, dude, I didn’t realize you were pregnant,” Jean mocked but a grin broke upon his lips when he snatched a bottle of whiskey from the bucket. Holding it in his hands, he showcased his signature smirk. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

***

Two hours, half a bottle of wine and one bottle of whiskey later, you found yourself resting your head on Eren’s lap, your legs on Jean’s. Eren’s suit has been shucked off, but he still kept his tie hanging loosely around his neck. Jean’s white shirt was unbuttoned to his chest, enough for you to admire his sculpted muscles if you wanted to.

You were chuckling at the stupid joke Jean was making about a princess and a horse. You didn’t get it. You just giggled because you caught Eren smiling at the joke, and he laughed because you laughed. Jean was so impressed with himself, he went to tell you another anecdote. None of you really cared. It just felt comforting hearing Jean’s voice and Eren’s little chuckles. You were just simply enjoying the moment.

That moment started to change, however, when the alcohol began to kick in. You were tipsy, but not that much. You were still aware of your surroundings, still aware of how Eren’s fingers were resting dangerously close to your breasts, still aware of how Jean’s calloused palms were sliding up and down your legs. The alcohol didn’t make you foolish, it just made you feel… brazen.

You knew what started it. It began with Eren’s hand framing the underpart of your jaw, his thumb tracing the shape of your mouth. His eyes drooped low, enchanted by the view. “What are you staring at, Muffin?” you teased him. He snorted at the nickname, but the alcohol fogged his thoughts, thick enough to make him frank.

“Your lips,” he answered, his thumb gliding from the corner of your mouth to stop in the middle.

“And what about my lips?” You slightly parted them, enough to let your breath caress his fingertip.

“They’re pretty.” He said it in a sigh as if it was a secret he’d been wanting to tell for so long. “Look even prettier like this.”

“Like what?” Eren swore he saw your eyes gleam a split second before you enveloped his thumb with your lips, cheeks hollowing to provide gentle suction before you twirled your tongue around the tip. Eren’s breath caught in his throat but he didn’t lay his emotions on the table. You released his finger with an obscene pop, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip to break the string of saliva. “Like that?”

Knowing the last time he kissed you, you pretended like it was only him who wanted it to happen, Eren didn’t want to repeat the same mistake. But, God, you were so pretty—so goddamn alluring, you left him weak. So he lowered his head, and you permitted him to pull your face toward his, letting his lips consume yours again.

Jean, who had been playing with his phone, froze at the sight. But when you split away from the kiss, your lips glistening with Eren’s spit, you invited him over with a sultry smile. “There's room for one more if you want.”

Then everything went so fast, it felt like a blur.

Your body was perched on the couch, trapped between the two. Eren brought a blueberry to your lips and you caught it between your front teeth. He leaned in to close the bridge between your mouths, his expert tongue curling around yours, thieving the fruit and your breath away at the same time. You felt Jean’s fingers pressed against your jawline, turning you over to him so you could taste the rest of the whipped cream that blanketed his lips.

“You’re a goddamn beauty,” Jean breathed, placing a wet kiss on your nape.

“Your lips taste fucking amazing,” Eren groaned, a moment before your tongues danced.

They were giving you all the attention, dousing you with all the compliments you deserve. Every touch made you feel wanted. Every kiss was a form of desire. And they drowned you in it. In rapture. In ecstasy.

Eren snatched the bottle of wine from the table, too drunk to care about using glass. He took a few drinks, red wine dripping to his chin, staining the collar of his shirt that was now unbuttoned to his chest. With Jean’s lips still sucking bruises on your neck, you twirled Eren’s tie around your hand, tugging it slightly to return his attention to you. “I want some,” you told him and he reciprocated with a smirk.

Instead of handing the bottle over to you, Eren took another sip and kissed you roughly. His strong hand held you by your jaw, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth, forcing it open. You obeyed, drinking the wine directly from his mouth.

Jean’s lips peppered kisses down your spine, his hand settled on your breast, gently massaging it before he squeezed you a little harder. You whimpered in pleasure against Eren’s mouth, both from the sensation of Jean’s touches and the way the brunette’s tongue was flicking over yours. Eren licked a stripe up from your chin to your lips, wiping the rest of the wine that dribbled down your skin. “How did it taste?” He asked you, loving the way your tongue peeked out to trace your lip.

You purred when he smooched you again, a bit lazily this time, which made it feel even more sensual. “You mean the wine?” You closed your eyes, choosing to focus solely on the little sounds he made as he suckled on your earlobe. “Or you?” Eren’s mouth was pressing hotly against your neck, and you were sure he was going to leave bruises but you didn’t care.

It was Jean who spoke. “What about me?” His lips were thinner than Eren’s, softer too. He kissed you with a hint of romance, which served as a fresh change to Eren’s burning passion. You moaned against his mouth and Jean took the chance to slip his tongue past your teeth.

“You kiss by the book, Kirstein,” you praised breathily as he nipped on your lower lip. You could feel his mouth curve into a smile, deepening the kiss with his soft moan painting the little space between you.

Eren was jealous, you could tell with the way he suddenly grabbed you by the chin, almost growling when your mouths collided. Jean was a little bit more mature than he was, letting him steal your kiss but it didn’t mean that he was patient. He worked on your zipped, tugging it down, while Eren slipped his hand between your legs. You could feel the material of your dress slipping off your shoulders, Eren’s tongue delving inside your clavicle, Jean’s fingers playing with the hook of your bra.

“I want to fuck your mouth,” Eren whispered, stroking two fingers against your lips and when you parted them, he pressed his digits flat on your tongue.

Jean’s raspy groan was right next to your ear. “I want to taste your cunt.”

You shut your lids, your blood boiling under your skin. Fingers were rubbing against your lingerie, and hands were placed on your thighs to spread your legs wide open. Jean tore your bra away, tossing it over his shoulder. He suddenly lifted you by the waist, laying you down on the round marble table.

“Is this your idea of fun?” You teased him when he took off your dress, throwing it haphazardly on the floor.

“What, is this not fun for you?” Jean pushed your legs forward, keeping his palms at the back of your thighs as he rubbed himself against your clothed heat. You could feel him, could feel how huge he was, throbbing cock aching to be released from its confinement. The friction he gave you stole your attention away that when Eren suddenly moved to the other side of the table, his palm pressing against the underside of your chin to lift your face, you gasped against his mouth.

Eren kissed you upside down, giving you a different sensation and leaving you dazed when he broke away. Looming tall above you, he let his fingers work on his tie. “You better not forget about me, baby girl,” he purred, yanking it away from his collar with one swift movement of his hand. He then toyed with the buttons of his shirt, his smirk was devilish. He knew you were watching him, lascivious eyes wanting to see more of his body. He could’ve torn his shirt open with one hand but he didn’t. He wanted to tease you. Wanted to make you suffer. “All this time pretending you don’t want me,” Eren sneered. “Who’s your daddy now?”

His palm hit your cheek, leaving a burning, tingling sensation on your skin. It was hard enough to toss your face to the side but barely enough to send pain coursing through your veins. It was only to tease, to slightly humiliate you, and it did its job. You’d always loved to find a little bit of pain in pleasure.

You poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek, lips curving upwards in a cocky smile. “You think you can control me, Daddy?”

“Let’s see about that.” You were both smiling into the kiss before you felt his tongue exploring your mouth, his nails raking up from your stomach to the front of your throat. You felt something sticky being dribbled onto your bare chest, trickling down to your navel.

“Something sweet for the sweetest girl,” Jean commented, impressed and satisfied as he smeared the maple syrup all over your skin. You could feel his mouth on your abdomen, tongue tracing along your hip bone, licking the substance off your skin.

Eren, keeping his feet on the ground, leaned forward to latch his mouth on your breast. You mewled in content, kissing the taut muscles of his abs, your hand moving past your head to cup his hardness that was straining against the silky fabric of his pants. “Fuck, baby,” Eren moaned, squeezing hard on your breast, sucking on your nipple none too gently. He was rougher than Jean, more ardent as if he wasn’t afraid to hurt you. He did the same thing to your other breast, the vibration of his grunts felt perilous on your sensitive skin.

Your body jolted when you felt Jean's tongue teasing over the fabric of your lingerie. Your thighs closed around his head in reflex but he spread them open again, keeping your legs pinned to the table with his hands. "Didn't I tell you, Sweetheart?" he murmured, softly kissing the inner parts of your thigh. "I want to taste you." His breath felt hot on your skin, but you shivered in response. He pushed your lingerie to the side, licking a stripe up from your entrance to your clit. It had been so long since you had someone pleasuring you like this, that even a single flick of his tongue sent tremors all over your body.

Jean chuckled, loving your reaction just as much as he loved your taste. "Think I'll have you for dessert," he said, wet tongue swirling around your clit before he played it between his lips. “Such a pretty fucking pussy.”

“Wait,” you gasped out, fingers clawing against Eren's biceps. “Wait…”

They stopped, breaking away to give you space. “You all right?” Jean asked you from between your legs. He hadn’t gotten enough taste of you yet, but your consent was his priority.

Tossing him a reassuring smile, you told him to let you go for a minute. You returned to your feet, sliding your lingerie off your legs. Their eyes traversed down your body, enchanted by the way you swayed your hips, wondering how it would feel to have their nails sinking into your skin as they fucked you from behind.

You whirled around, your skin felt like it was on fire underneath the intensity of their gazes. “If we’re gonna do this,” you tempted them with seduction, both on your lips and in your eyes. “Let’s do this right.”

You took them both by their hands, leading the way to the master bedroom. You were their queen, stepping into your throne. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, you crossed your legs and rested your palms on the sheets as you leaned back.

“Boys,” you called. “Why don’t we start with you two sucking each other off?”

“You want us to do what?”

There. Now you’re all caught up.

***

Jean has a secret he hasn’t told you. Or anyone else for that matter. And the truth is…

Fuck, he tastes so good.

Eren’s lips are nothing like a girl’s. They don’t feel as soft, they don’t taste as sweet. But it’s precisely because they’re so different, that when their mouths clash, it feels ten times better. Jean doesn’t have to hold himself back. He doesn’t have to be careful or gentle. Eren kisses like he wants to tear him apart and he can kiss him back just as rough, just as demanding.

The brunette pulls away, a string of saliva connecting their lips. Jean sees the way his viridian eyes move back and forth, drifting from his eyes to his lips as if he’s trying to figure out why the fuck does this feel so good?—the same question that Jean has been asking himself. But that’s where he's wrong.

Because Eren already knows how good it feels to kiss boys. Or to fuck boys. What he doesn’t know—yet—is how good it would feel to have his cock hitting the back of Jean’s throat, and he can’t wait to find out. The shorter male wets his lips—they’re bruised and red, and if Jean kisses him again, just a tad harder, maybe they’ll look even prettier.

Jean is done denying himself. He’s done contradicting the fact that his eyes always lingered a little too long on Eren’s hips during dance practices. And he’s done—he’s so fucking done—pretending like those dirty thoughts he had about him at night don’t exist. He’s thought about him a lot, thought about how pretty Eren’s lips would look around his cock. Thought about those striking green eyes looking up at him as he fucks his mouth. Thought about how his cum would look so good on his sun-kissed skin. And he'd thought about all of that as he fucked his own fist, biting his lip to refrain Eren’s name from escaping his mouth.

“Fuck this.” Jean tugs him back by his key-shaped pendant, sharing grunts and groans when their teeth nip at each other’s lips. Eren’s fingers scratched against his nape, messing up his mullet like how Jean does with his bun. Their jaws clench with every movement, hairs being tugged harshly at the roots.

“You taste fucking disgusting, Jaeger,” Jean snarls before he sucks on his tongue.

Eren sinks his nails on his chest, painting angry half-moons on his skin. “You’re gonna make me vomit,” he counters but their kisses are more teeth than anything else, and if Eren can make him bleed, good.

Jean isn’t given enough time to think about anything else when the other man suddenly descends to his knees. The taller male tenses, his eyes shaking in anticipation. Eren pushes his trousers down to his mid-thighs, frees Jean’s cock, and lets it slap against his stomach. Eren glowers at the sight. He hates to admit just how fucking huge he is. He hates it even more that it only makes him want him better. “Relax, Horseface,” he says. “I’ve done this before.”

“What do you mean you’ve done—fuck—” Jean chokes the second Eren takes him into his mouth, his body slightly bending forward with his fingers fisting his bun. His mouth is warmer than he thought it would be, his teeth dangerously gliding against the pulsating vein on his cock. Ah, shit, Jean laments in his head, I’m so fucking turned on.

Giving in to his desire, he moves his hips, thrusting his cock inside Eren’s mouth. The shorter male growls back, jade eyes sending daggers to him. Eren places both hands on each side of Jean’s hips, holding him in place. He pulls away, Jean’s cock sliding heavily out of his mouth. “I get to suck your cock,” Eren lowly says, gripping tightly on his length, “But you don’t get to fuck my mouth. You got that?”

Jean swallows thickly. The dominating tone in Eren’s voice is something he hasn’t heard before. “Uh… Yeah.”

Eren bobs his head down again, trying to take as much as he can until Jean can feel his head hitting the back of his throat. He whimpers, his hold tensing around Eren’s hair, his thighs trembling.

You giggle at the sight. “You guys are turning me on.”

You step down the bed, taking a couple of strides to reach their spot. Jean’s eyes are half-lidded, hazy with lust when your hand slides up from the middle of his chest to his shoulder. You play with the end of his hair that’s plastered against his nape, damp with sweat. “Does it feel good, Sweetheart?” You ask him, using the nickname he gave you. Your other hand goes down to slip between Eren’s strands, pushing his head forward to take more of Jean’s twitching member.

Eren lets out an involuntary moan, tears prickling on the corners of his eyes. “Mmph!” He chokes, gagging around his length.

“Ssshh,” you shush him down with a smile, stroking the back of his head. “Hold it in. You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Ren? I’m sure you can handle a cock in your mouth.” Eren breathes sharply through his nose, glaring at you but it only makes you smirk wider. “If you can make him cum, I’ll give you a reward.”

Eren breaks away, gasping between coughs. “I’m gonna make you cry after this.”

“Mmm, I can’t wait.” You fasten your hold around his locks, shoving his head forward and backward. Eren lets his jaw hang loose, tasting the saltiness of Jean’s pre-cum, the tip of his nose grazing the hairs that covered his pelvis.

Your tongue is parting Jean’s thin lips when the man shudders, “Fuck, fuck,” he gasps against your mouth. “I’m gonna—”

“Cum, baby,” you whisper, taking his earlobe between your teeth. “Cum in his mouth, I wanna see it. Wanna see him lap at your cock like a slut that he is.”

Eren snarls back but he has no other choice but to sit still with how tightly you’re holding him in his place. Tears mist his hazy eyes, and you wish Jean could hold it in just a little bit longer so you can see Eren cry on his cock. But this is good enough. If Jean can’t make him cry, you’ll do it yourself later.

Jean’s hips stutter when he cums, his jaw turning slack, a long, guttural moan escaping his throat. Eren breathes heavily from his nose, feeling his warm seeds filling his mouth but before he can do anything about it, you yank harshly on his hair, forcing him to face the ceilings. “Open up,” you command him, and he does, letting you take a good look at the thick cum that pools in his mouth. You giggle, satisfied by the sight. “Keep your mouth open for me.” You bend yourself forward, your face hovering above his. You spit into his mouth, startling him. Eren sinks his nails into his thighs, emerald eyes piercing yours as he thinks of ways to make you pay for what you did. Undaunted, you swipe two of your fingers on his chin to collect the cum that trickles down the skin. Jean, still dazed after his orgasm, moans when you shove your fingers inside his mouth, letting him get a taste of himself. Forcing Jean to suck on your fingers, you turn your head toward the boy who’s still waiting obediently on his knees. Smirking, you say, “Now, swallow.”

Eren keeps his eyes on you as he does, trying not to grimace because he knows you’re going to use it as another reason for you to ridicule him. Jean’s seeds leave a bitter aftertaste and he loathes it, but it’s okay. Eren will make Jean pay for that.

And you. He’s going to make you pay for that.

You’re about to land your fingers on his cheek when Eren harshly slaps your hand away. Returning to his feet, he grabs you by the neck, his palm pressing against the front of your throat, fingers curling against the sides. He kisses you roughly, hungrily, taking your breath away but you’re unsure if it’s solely because of his lips or his leans fingers that threaten to crush your windpipes. When he pulls away, your lips are parted in desperate need to refill the air in your lungs. Eren spits in your mouth, just like you did to him a minute ago, only harshly. “How do you like that?” He questions with a smirk.

You chuckle. “I love it, Daddy.” Because even if you don’t, you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of having his power over you.

Eren sweeps your feet off the floor, carrying you with one hand wrapped around your back as you tangle your legs around his waist. Right before he brings you over to the bed, you hook your fingers around Jean’s necklace, tugging him forward with you. Jean, with his legs still wobbling under his weight, nearly trips over his feet before he follows you both.

Eren throws your body onto the sheets, making you bounce once from how careless he’s being. “You’re gonna give me my reward, Sweetheart?” He asks, looking down at you with a degrading stare as he takes his leather belt out of the loops. He ties it around your throat, treating it as a leash. Yanking it forward, he forces you to sit upon the bed until you have your lips hovering a few inches below his. “Gonna be my fucking bitch for the night?”

Eren burns you with his gaze, with his kiss, with his fire. “I’ll be whatever you want, Daddy.”

“What will you offer me then?”

“Everything.” With a nudge of your head, Jean discards the rest of his clothes and joins you on the side of the bed. You tilt your head to the side as an invitation for Jean to praise your body. He eagerly latches his lips on the pulsating vein on your neck, giving kitten licks on the spot under your ear. “Do you want to fuck my mouth?” You ask him, spreading your legs and pushing the fabric of your lingerie to the side so Eren can take a good look at your protruding clit. “Or would Daddy like a taste?”

It’s fucking ridiculous just how much Eren wants you. You’re asking him this question with another man’s hands roaming your body as if you don’t care whether he exists in the room or not. Your lips might form the words that he wants to hear—that you are there to please him for the night—but the rest of your body expresses that Eren doesn’t own even the slightest part of you. God, it’s like the more you’re playing hard to get, the more he wants you. You give him the thrill he’s been looking for. Unlike other girls, you don’t succumb to him, and he’s running out of tricks trying to beat you into submission. Even when it’s obvious just how wet you are for him right now, your arrogant smirk never falters from your face.

“What?” You croon, every tone and gesture is seduction at its finest. You arch your back, making a lewd expression when Jean traps your nipple between his teeth. “Cat got your tongue, Daddy?”

Eren scoffs. “You want me to eat you out?”

“Only if Daddy wants to.”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Eren slaps his hand against your cunt, making you giggle with your legs closing in reflex.

“Don’t be so mean to me, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t get to fuck me.”

“Do you think I’m waiting for your permission?”

“Of course you are.” You run a tongue over your lower lip, knowing how much it drives him insane. “Cause you like me, don’t you, Ren? You’re not gonna hurt me, not in that way. Go ahead and tell me I’m wrong.”

He grits his teeth behind tight lips. You’re a witch. You must be a goddamn witch to be playing with his mind like that.

“That’s right,” you snicker. “You just can’t wait to shut me up with your cock, can you? Though I don’t think you can even if you try.”

Eren snorts, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Jean,” he calls out and the other man lifts his head from the curve of your neck. “Give us a moment, will ya? I need to teach her a lesson.”

If he was still as turned on as he was a few minutes ago, Jean would’ve formed a protest. But with all the alcohol in his system, his cock still flaccid between his legs, he would actually be thankful to just lean back and watch the show. “She’s all yours.”

“Aaw,” you send a pout in Jean's direction. “You’re gonna leave me with him? Just like that? What a bummer.” You spin your face toward the green-eyed boy again, a naughty twinkle in your eyes. “His cock isn’t even as huge as yours.”

That flips the switch. “Come here,” Eren growls, forcefully pulling you to the edge of the bed by the belt that circles your neck. You’re giggling, squealing in anticipation. This is your game, and he’s making all of this too easy. Standing right next to the edge of the bed, Eren orders you to sit on your heels like the obedient little girl he wants you to behave. And for once, you do as he says, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

His hand finds his belt again, twisting it around his palm to guide your face closer to him. “Stick out your tongue.” You follow his words, loosening your jaw and Eren dips his head to suck on it before he encloses his lips around yours. “Now let’s see what that pretty fucking mouth can do.” His voice trickles smoothly like honey.

Eren skims his hand over your throat before he reaches up. His thumb glides along your lips while his other four hold you firmly by the jaw. You dart out your tongue, swirling it around his tip before you close your lips prettily around it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, “Treat it like how you’re gonna treat my fucking cock.”

You moan around his thumb, sucking it a few times before you let it slide out of your mouth. Eren slaps you again, and you titter even when it stings. He plunges his third and fourth fingers into your mouth, pushing them as deep as he can until his knuckles graze your upper lip.

“Don’t choke.” He tilts up his chin haughtily. “Hold it in. You’re a big girl, aren’t you, baby?”

He’s throwing your words back at you. You almost laugh. This fucking bitch.

He’s thrusting his fingers inside your mouth so strongly, it’s almost impossible not to gag but you try your best not to. Your breathing rags when he has his other hand pulling on his belt again, its leather constricting around your throat.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Eren says, smiling both coquettishly and condescendingly when he sees your eyes start to water. “You’re gonna cry, Sweetheart?”

He snatches his fingers away, a thick string of drool dripping down your chin. Your chest is heaving up and down as you cough, which makes Eren simper at the sight. You’re beginning to look wrecked with your lipstick smeared to your cheek and he loves it.

Not wanting to lose, you slide your hand down his chest to the bulge inside his pants. “Why don’t you close your damn mouth for a second, and use this on me instead?”

“I’m glad you asked.”

He unzips his pants, pushing them low enough until he can free himself. Eren, just like Jean, is above normal size. He might be an inch shorter than him, but he has more girth, more pretty veins on the side. It’s already leaking pre-cum from all your teasing, twitching when he feels your warm breath caressing his head. He skims his tip against your lips, tracing the shape of your conceited smile.

“Well, well, well,” you snicker, taking him in your hand and giving him slow, lazy pumps. “Guess you’re not as small as I thought you were.” You reward him with a kiss on his tip. “Still not as long as Jean’s though, which is disappointing.”

Eren has had enough. He can handle your teasing, he can handle the temptation in your gaze, but he can only do it for so long. Without warning, he flips you over, bringing you down until your spine is pressed flat against the sheets, your head dangling over the edge. He slaps the side of his cock against your mouth. “Let’s see if you can still use your mouth after this.” And he pushes in, sliding past your lips and teeth, aiming to hit the back of your throat without waiting for you to adjust. You gag around his length and he can see the way your throat is contracting. It’s beautiful. He doesn't have to imagine—he can vividly see where he is inside your mouth, how far he is down your throat.

“Gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess,” he warns, his tone filled with nothing but mockery. “You better watch your teeth.”

He thrusts forward, one hand still gripping tightly around the belt while his other one takes possession of your breast. You try to relax your jaw as much as you can, eyes shut close with a frown breaking on your temple. Your nose flares as you try to breathe, his testicles smacking against your face with every thrust. It’s the first time someone has ever face-fucked you upside down, and although it frightens you, it also sparks thrill on your skin.

Eren releases you only when he feels you tapping your hands against his thigh, unable to breathe. Coughing, you turn back to your stomach, panting frantically for air. He goes down to his knees, bringing two fingers under your chin to lift your face. Now that your faces are on the same level, he can see hot tears painting your eyes, smudging your mascara. His fingertips are delicate on your cheek, nothing like the way he moved his hips earlier. "You okay?" he asks.

Your vision is too blurry to see the genuinely concerned look on his face. Catching your breath, you try to keep your cocky demeanor in check. “That's all you got, Daddy?”

Your remark stuns him but then his eyes darken. Smiling too innocently to be real, Eren rises back to his feet. He tosses the rest of his clothes to the floor, pitching his voice a little louder when he says, "You're ready for more, Horseface?”

Of course, he is. Jean has been dying to take part in the game again. He's been watching you all the time, observing the way your body jerk with almost every thrust of Eren’s sinful hips. But Jean has always been the more mature one, hasn't he? Kinder, too. “Don’t you need to take a break?” He asks you, and Eren scoffs at the question. You answer with, “No, I don’t,” at the same time as he replies, “No, she doesn’t.”

And that settles it.

Seven minutes later, you have Jean lying underneath you with his cock pulsating deep inside you. You’re bouncing on his lap, your breasts mimicking the motion when they're not caught under Jean's hands. Eren is kneeling right beside his head, stuffing his mouth with his cock. You can feel Jean’s hold around your hips tighten when Eren slides his hand to the back of his skull, taking a handful of his ash-brown hair. “How do you like my cock in your mouth, Leader?” He husks. “Every time you open those pretty lips of yours all I can think about is making you gag around my cock.”

You can feel Jean jolting inside you. Mirroring the expression Eren has on his face, you ask the taller male a question. “Oh, so you like it?” You chime in with a lopsided smile. “You like being talked down like this, don’t you? How very surprising. The charismatic leader of AXIS likes to be degraded in bed.”

Jean blushes, about to move his face away but Eren keeps him still. “I knew those lips would look pretty around my dick," he breathes out, "Look at you taking it in like a fucking whore.” He emphasizes his last words with a string of hard thrusts, making Jean moan harder around his length. Eren throws his head back, drowning in bliss. “Oh, fuck—your mouth feels so good—wanna fill you up with my fucking cum, Jean.”

“What about me?” you shoot him an impish grin, garnering Eren’s attention back to you.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart, you’ll get your turn,” he promises you with a wink. Wrapping the belt around his hand again, he pulls you close. You lean forward in reflex with your hands resting on Jean’s chest, lips meeting Eren’s halfway as he circles his other hand around your throat. “I’m gonna stuff your mouth with my cock again right after we’re finished with him.” Eren takes your lower lip between his teeth. “Gonna cum down your throat so hard, you’re gonna remember how I taste for weeks.”

“Mmm, yes, Daddy.” You grind your hips, biting back a moan when Jean’s pelvis rubs against your clit. Your walls flutter around his cock, robbing a low groan from his throat.

Jean suddenly lifts you by your waist, raising you as high as he can in the air so he can slide himself out of you. Orgasm hits him like the storm and he reaches his high with thick white strings splattering all over his stomach. You blink in surprise, exchanging stares with Eren who is just as startled. Then you both laugh.

Releasing himself from Jean’s mouth, Eren chuckles, “That’s the second time you’ve cummed tonight, Horseface,” he mocks, perceiving the way Jean drapes his arm over his face, hoping that it would be enough to conceal his rosy cheeks.

“Shut up,” he hisses back, deeply mortified.

“What, you can’t even hold it in for ten minutes?” Eren taunts, trading giggles with you. “Have you ever satisfied your women in bed? Seems like to me you don't know how to fuck—”

“Oh my fucking God—” Jean abruptly sits on the bed, almost making you stumble off his lap. You’re still laughing quietly when you try to soothe him down with a kiss.

Eren swipes two fingers across Jean’s stomach, coating his pads with his essence. "Come on," he invites you. "It's only fair."

Rolling your eyes, you bring your face closer to his, darting out your tongue. Eren smears Jean's cum all over your lips and tongue but he smashes his lips against yours so he can share the taste. Jean watches with his face flushed, unprepared to see what's happening before him.

Eren, even though he was so harsh with him before, kneels behind the taller male and wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind.

“It’s okay, Horseface,” he whispers right next to his ear, taking his earlobe between his teeth. “Perhaps you just need some practice. Now sit tight and watch.” Eren’s eyes seem to glow as they catch yours. “I’m gonna teach you how to fuck your woman.”

“Am I your woman, Mr. Jaeger?” You tease him as he meets you in the middle of the bed. You share a kiss, a little too sweet than intended, but you know it’s only a taste of what’s coming.

“For the night.” Eren slides his hand between your legs, talented fingers playing with your clit. “You know, for the little devil that you are, you do have a pretty cunt.” You spread your thighs to let him probe his fingers over your entrance. He rubs his digits around your hole, coating them with your juices before he retracts his hand. Keeping his eyes on yours, he sucks on his fingers. He hums in content, sending shivers down your spine with how sensual he’s being. “Taste fucking sweet too.”

You’re at your limit. This sexual tension between you and him needs to be released. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been wanting him for much longer than you thought. Even way before you started this job. You clamp your fingers around his wrist, stopping him. “No more foreplay.”

His eyes glint in desire. “Then, say it. Say that you want me.”

You take a deep breath, your patience thinning. “I want you.”

The satisfaction in his smile has never been this crystal clear. “All right.” He kisses you softly, tongue slowly pushed in and plundered. “Let’s give him a show he won’t forget, shall we?”

But his next move is anything but soft. He turns you over, slamming your body down to the bed, and keeping your face pressed against the sheets as he rests the heel of his palm between your shoulder blades. He smacks your behind—once, twice—leaving burning handprints on your skin. “Ass in the air, baby girl.”

You hiss in both pain and excitement as you get into position. He’s being as rough as always as if the sweet kisses you just shared with him a few seconds ago were nothing but your imagination. You follow his order, lift your hips, and Eren positions himself behind you. He spits into his palm, lathering his cock before he lets his tip glide against your folds. “I think I’ve made you cry twice before.” He bends forward, murmuring the words against the skin that covers your spine. “But you keep denying that you didn’t.”

“Because that’s the truth,” you heckle him.

“Well then,” he pushes in, burying himself inside you right to the hilt. You almost mewl, taken aback by the friction. You can feel the smirk in his voice when he says, “I’m just gonna have to fuck you hard until you sob out my name, aren’t I?”

When he starts to move, he leaves you gasping. He’s not as big as Jean but he stretches you and fills you in a way that makes you twist your fingers against the sheets. He pumps into you, furiously, groaning in rapture, and building on the shockwaves that already coursed through your body ever since your encounter with Jean. But Eren takes you higher, letting you experience something new—this emotional wrenching, this surge of pleasure and passion, all wrapped into one writhing mess of bodies slick with heat.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Have you ever been fucked this hard before? You don't think you have. If you had, you sure as hell would've remembered it.

Eren steals your hand away from holding you up on the bed. He pins your wrist against your spine, driving himself harder into you. He’s rubbing against your insides so perfectly, that even if he’s not hitting your G-spot just right, it feels like he is even with the slightest sway of his hips.

“That’s right, baby,” he chuckles between heavy breaths, hearing you keen. “That’s more like it.”

The fact that you still feel so fucking tight after taking Jean’s cock inside you makes him ferocious. He leans forward to sink his teeth in the juncture of your neck, making your muscles taut from the pain. With a filthy smile, Eren straightens his back, grabs your other hand, and pins them together behind your back. He keeps them that way, his hand large enough to hold your wrists together. You're whimpering with your forehead planted on the bed, but not for long.

Wanting to take a step further, Eren launches his other hand forward, finding home in your strands before he yanks harshly on the roots. “Ah—” Your eyes are fixated on the ceiling, your hands restrained against your back as Eren propels forward in one hard slam of his hips, hitting your deepest part. He doesn’t give you a chance to breathe—a chance to do anything. He just keeps fucking you like he owns you. And maybe he does, for the night, at least.

You’re close. You’re so close, your body is shaking. “Eren—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he chuckles, picking up his pace. His thrust turns shallow but it’s precisely because of that, that you feel the knots inside your stomach tightening. “God, you feel so fucking good—”

“Ren, I’m gonna cum—”

“Yeah?” He breaks away, flipping you over to your back. You’re whining from the loss. Just a few more thrusts and you would’ve cummed all over his cock. But Eren knew that, that’s why he didn’t.

“I fucking hate you,” you mutter harshly, watching him glide his cock over your folds, slapping it against your clit. It’s so sensitive that your whole body jerk at the sensation.

Eren titters. “How do you like being edged, baby?”

“Eren—damn it—just fuck me.”

“Only if you beg.” His grin was devilish, which suited him so well. “You know how to beg, don’t you, baby girl?”

You almost snarl. He has you right where he wants you. If you had more patience, you would tease him a little more, giving him the taste of his own medicine. But it’s been over an hour—probably two or three, you've lost count—since you started touching each other and you’ve never felt your body aching this much for a release. “Please,” you whisper through gritted teeth.

“What was that, love?” He heard you. You know he did. He just wanted to see your dignity breaking to pieces.

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum—ah!” Eren rams himself back in before you can finish, throwing your legs over his shoulders, folding your body in half. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing his digit vigorously around your sensitive nub. The stimulation is too much and you find yourself sobbing out his name, just like he wants you to.

"Eren, fuck, please, please, please, I want to cum."

It’s beautiful the way you moan it, better than anything he'd imagined, making him feel a thousand things at once. “Ah,” he rasps, releasing a breath as his half-lidded eyes gleam in satisfaction. “Finally.”

And he lets you cum on his cock, lets you clench and unclench your walls around him, lets you surrender in his arms. Your entire body convulses, not accustomed to the intensity of pleasure that hit you at once. Eren doesn’t stop—he won’t, not yet. Your mind reels from the overstimulation, your body still quivering.

You expect him to not care and continuously fuck you hard until he finds his own release. But Eren slows down his pace, sliding your legs down from his shoulders and letting them ensnare his waist. When you part your lips to him, he touches you with his tongue and he moans your name, softly like a soulmate would do. His lips, for the first time, feel real. Honest. Sweet.

Maybe it’s because you’re still drowning in delirium that your mind starts to build fantasies on its own. Because right now, you’re imagining that this would be how he would kiss you if you were his lover. The way your bodies complete each other, the way he whispers your name with his lips brushing against your ear, the way he calls you, "Beautiful. You're so beautiful. I want you to belong to me. Want to make you mine.”

Or maybe it's simply because you've just been denying yourself for so long. This attraction between you, this tension, and the electricity that zaps through your body—what if they all mean something more?

Eren keeps your mouths attached as he slowly regains his pace. “I’m close,” he grunts, sinking his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, baby, I want to cum inside you.”

That’s maybe why you find yourself sighing out his name, winding your arms around his shoulders, and taking the shell of his ears between your lips. “Then, do it. I want to feel you inside me, Eren. I want to feel all of you.”

And he does, his low groan painting the side of your neck, his fingers lacing around yours as he drags your hand over your head. He’s panting hard, his hips losing their rhythm. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, your free hand slipping between his strands, accidentally unfastening his hair tie as you card your fingers through them. His locks fall to frame his cheeks and he presses his temple against yours as he catches his breath. When your hand rests on his upper arm, you can feel the quivers that run through his muscles.

“Did it feel good?” You ask him, and for the first time that night—or perhaps, ever since you met him—your smile is heartfelt, glazed with affection, tender with adoration.

He returns it with his own lips curving upwards, just as sweet, just as soft. He kisses you once, languid and chaste. “It felt amazing. You?”

“Don’t get cocky, but…” You wind your arms around his neck, playing with the baby hair on his nape. “That’s probably one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had.”

Eren beams back with a smile that is just as youthful as his face. “I’m glad.” He bends his head down, nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “Hey, what if we go get—”

“Yo, asswipe!”

Jean’s voice strikes like thunder, snapping you both awake from whatever it was that shrouded you. You’ve completely forgotten that he was there, watching you the whole time.

Eren breaks away from you, turning his head over toward the man who’s leaning his back against the headboard, lounging. Jean throws his hand in the air. “What the fuck was that?”

The shorter male clears his throat. Maybe Jean can’t see it from where he is, but being this close to you, you can see the flush that blooms on Eren’s cheeks. “And that,” Eren says, trying his best to display his arrogant smirk but he’s not fooling anyone in the room. “—is how you fuck your women.”

“No,” Jean snorts. “That’s how you made sweet, sweet love to your girlfriend, you pretentious asshole.”

Your face bursts in flames. Eren probably does too. “Shut up, Jean, you want me to fuck you instead? Maybe that’ll teach you a lesson.”

“I think I’ve had enough of your dick, thank you,” Jean grimaces, sticking out his tongue. His eyes drift toward you, frowning when he sees you unfastening the belt from around your throat, unwinding it in the air as you shift closer to him. “What are you doing?”

“Considering Eren is a bad teacher.” You’re much better than the brunette in concealing your emotions. “I’m thinking about teaching you a lesson myself.” Eren blinks in confusion before his realization sinks in. Then, he smiles. Wicked and smug.

Jean shudders, both in horror and excitement, as you spread the belt between your hands. Eren drapes his arm around your shoulder. Both of you look casual, but the question you’re asking is anything but.

“So how do you feel about being tied up, Leader?”

***

Smokes fill the air as you're lying down on the bed. Your body is still bare from head to toe, skin glistening with sweat. You're savoring the aftertaste of your orgasm, nestled between the two men with your bedcover draping over the bottom half of your bodies.

Eren, just like Jean, is lying on his back, his key-shaped pendant rests above his heart. He takes a drag of his cigarette before he passes it to you and lets you do the same. You mirror his action before you hand it over to Jean.

"So that was wild," Eren comments, breaking the silence.

Jean inhales around his cigar, blowing puffs of smoke to paint the air. “I've had wilder nights.”

“Shut the fuck up, bro, you cummed, like, four times.”

Jean's long arm stretches past you, smacking Eren hard on his chest. "Three!"

You giggle, the sound feels like music to their ears and a couple of seconds later, they share your laughter. “Man, I’m glad they hired you,” Jean says, staring fondly at you.

You scrunch your nose cutely at him. “You certainly didn’t think that way when we first met.”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Great. I’m only gonna be your assistant for another week, though.”

“What?” It's Eren who replies, turning around to face you with his body props by his elbow. “Why?”

“Cause I’m tired of your shits." He pouts at your answer. Stifling a laugh, you retrieve the cigarette back from Jean's hand. “Come on now, Eren, we both know you aren’t a pleasure to work with." Jean snickers at your comment but you quickly silence him with, "Neither are you, Genius.”

"Not a pleasure?" Eren, despite his age and the attitude he showcased a few minutes ago, only pouts harder. “Didn’t I just make you cum, though? Like, four times?”

You wish you could correct him like Jean did but no, that's about right. "S-shut up."

When silence comes to sit like an old friend, the three of you are musing over the same thoughts in a slightly different way. “Well, then..." Jean pauses. "What’s gonna happen now?”

“Keep it between us and move on, what else?” You voice out, handing over the cigarette to the brunette. Eren sulks, even in a more childish way than Armin does. Somehow, after what happened, he becomes much more expressive. And you wonder if he had always been like this from the start but you hadn't been able to notice this side of him until now. “Now, now, boys," you say. "No need to look so upset. You’ll find another set of boobs tomorrow, I’m sure.”

"Yeah, okay," Jean snorts, brooding in his own way.

“A week,” Eren states, startling you both. “We still got a week, right? There’s still a lot amount of sex we can do until then.”

You're left dumbfounded before you titter, “That’s true, I guess. No strings attached?”

Eren, chewing on his lip, slides his hand underneath the cover, moving it closer to yours. You feel his pinky grazing tentatively against your own before you lay out your palm and he intertwines your fingers with his. Smiling sheepishly to himself, he says, "No strings attached."

You feel your heart warmed by the sight. Averting your gaze to see the other man, you toss him the same question. "What about you, Mr. Kirstein? Are you in?"

He dramatically sighs, shrugging. “Well, I mean, if you insist."

And when you laugh, Eren can taste it with his lips. When you drift away to sleep, Jean protects you with his arms.

And tomorrow...

Well, let's see what happens next.

***

This was long as fuck I'm so sorry, but hey HC time!

imagine idol ren dancing like this:

His outfits on the stage:

This video right here is literally how I imagine idol!ren to look like (the hair, the outfit, the way he dances, his expressions, his BODY ROLLS)

youtube

Idol!Jean's solo stage be like (is this magic mike LMAO):

youtube

The kind of fanservice EreJean do on stage:

Giving my biggest thanks and kisses to Sandra, Joli, Coi and Ben for reading this for me beforehand and giving me input/feedback as always. I love you girls ❤️❤️❤️

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @the-princess-button @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashgremlin36 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @ackersune @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @claudevonstrukesblog @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult Thanks for reading, lovelies ❤️

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butler-on-beale-street · 2 years

Text

Unforgettable | E!Austin Butler X Plus!Reader | Part 8

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of physical assault that skates the lines of sexual assault. If this upsets you, please don't read part 8 or part 9.

Word Count: 6.3K

Summary: California feels like a life away when you're desperate for the one that makes you feel safe.

Have you read Part 7?

"Nope," Evelyn said immediately as you rounded the corner of the front desk of the book store. Your eyes followed the postman as he walked away. "Nothing for you. Sorry Y/n." Evey was surprisingly sympathetic for once, her face drawn in a frown.

"It's been almost two weeks," you said, exhaling frustratedly as you leaned against the countertop.

"He's working...probably very busy," Evey defended. She was right. You just struggled to use logic when it came to Elvis. You had feelings for him, and it clogged your judgment, though you'd never admit it. You sighed deeply again.

"I know. I just miss him."

"If you've got time to lean, you've got time to–"

"Clean," You finished Uncle Harold's sentence as he squared the corner with a new shipment of steno pads and office supplies. "Evelyn, honey. Please put these up. Now you won't have to write on the back of the old ones," he said. He'd gotten behind on orders and you'd had to write down book transactions on the back of used steno notes. It wasn't efficient, but it was better than nothing.

"Thank you, Daddy." Evey took the supplies and began to open them.

"Y/n, Baby. Can you please help me balance the books today? The numbers keep coming out different every time I count. You always do it better than me." You nodded.

"Throw in a Nehi?" You asked with an expectant grin. Uncle Harold threw a hand into his pocket to retrieve a nickel, tossing it to you.

"Don't spend it all in one place." He winked at you before stepping away.

"Veronica asked about you. Asked why you haven't returned her calls." Evelyn said, organizing the office supplies. She chewed on a piece of gum especially loudly, smacking her lips. You sighed.

"I've been a bit..."

"Distracted?" Evelyn finished your sentence, eyeing you levely.

"Understandably, I think," You defended, joining her to put up the shipment of supplies. "I don't know how to tell her about Elvis." You spoke honestly. Veronica was a good friend, but she was definitely a talker, and always had new gossip to spill every time you got together. Something warned you to stay quiet, and your version of that was to distance yourself from her.

"That's true. Veronica is one of the most popular girls in school. She talks." It wasn't intentional for her to spread rumors–it was what happened after she told others that would create drama. She was one year younger than you, in her senior year of highschool. She was tall, slender and beautiful. Most likely, she'd gush over the newest football player she was going steady with.

"I caught her outside of Piggly-Wiggly on Thursday. She asked about you–that she hadn't seen or heard from you in a while." You felt guilty, and since you couldn't occupy your time with Elvis, you decided to create a new opportunity.

"Do you remember when we would do our sleepovers with her and Sandra?" You asked with a soft smile.

"Yes. But that was a long time ago...I can't imagine that would be much fun anymore," Evelyn said, turning to watch you.

"You underestimate me, Evey."

***

"Veronica?" You asked through the phone, having dialed your friend from your uncle's office.

"Hello? Y/n?" The voice said over the phone. It was Adam, Veronica's older brother.

"Adam? I thought you were at University."

"I was, but uh..." He paused. "Let's just say I got a bit distracted. Gotta restart in the fall."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that. Is Ronnie around?" You asked.

"So quick to get off the phone with me, Y/n? It's been too long."

Adam always made you uncomfortable. The way that he always spoke to you and looked at you made you feel small, like a mouse in the eye of a cat. You decided to take the passive route.

"It has been! I'm just seeing if she'd like to have a sleepover with Evey and I. I feel like I haven't seen you guys in ages."

"Mm," He hummed, his voice turning upward with interest. "A sleepover?" He asked, as if he hadn't heard you the first time.

"Yep, like old times." You answered.

"I like the sound of that...." He continued before an extended moment of silence. "Well, let me go grab her."

"Thanks," You responded dryly. You listened to the background noise of their house as he shouted Veronica's name. Another moment passed before you heard the receiver pick up.

"Who's that?" Evelyn asked, walking into the office.

"Ronnie," You whispered.

"Hello?" She asked softly.

"Ronnie! It's Y/n. How are you? How's school?" You asked. You nervously picked at the hem of your dress as you waited for her to answer.

"Y/n? It's been ages! I'm well! School's school. You know how all that goes." She spoke with a peppy tone. "What have you been up to lately? I haven't heard from you in a while." It wasn't her intention to guilt you, though you still felt it pinch at your gut.

"Oh, well you know. The bookshop has been busy..." You began before getting cut off by Evelyn snatching the phone. "Hey!" You yelped.

"You will not believe this!" Evelyn began. You glared at her as ferociously as you could.

"Don't. You. Dare." You spoke in a low tone so that Ronnie couldn't hear you speak. Evelyn cowered slightly.

"Y/n has a beau." She said plainly. You prayed to God that she wouldn't say who it was.

"Oh really? That's wonderful!" Ronnie said into the receiver. "How did you guys meet?" She asked.

"Here," Evelyn said to you, handing over the phone.

"Sorry, Ronnie. Evey stole the phone from me." You apologized. "It's a long story. Hey," You changed the subject. "Remember when we would do those sleepovers with Sandra?"

"Of course I do. Remember when I broke my leg chasing Darcy over the back porch?" You couldn't help but laugh, remembering Ronnie's now long-passed cat, who was always unintentionally starting chaos.

"I do," you chuckled. "So I was thinking maybe we could do a sleepover like old times. I know that Sandra's in Texas now, but you could come over if you're up for it."

"Well, I've got some big tests coming up this week, but the end of the week should be fine. Friday night, maybe?" She asked. To be honest, you were surprised she was so willing, especially with such short notice.

"I'd love that!" You answered.

"We could catch up on Gunsmoke." It was a show that you loved to watch when you all went to school. You'd meet during lunch hour and go and on about James Arness and his run as a U.S. Marshall in the wild, Wild West–not to mention the cast of A-list celebrities that supported the show.

"I haven't watched that in forever," You admitted hesitantly.

"All the more reason for us to watch reruns. You know each new episode is something new anyway. Oh! I almost forgot–we just installed a new in-ground pool. You guys should come to my house instead. We can go swimming!" Ronnie explained.

"Sounds like I need to go shopping," You said, cringing inside. "But I'm excited to see you!"

"Me too–tell her me too," Evelyn insisted, pointing to the phone.

"Evelyn said she's excited to see you, too." You spoke a few more words with Ronnie.

"She said she wants her loafers back from the party last year," you said, raising your eyebrows at Evelyn.

"Oh, those..." She said, averting her gaze. "I don't know where those are," She whispered to you with a grimace. "I'll find them."

You rolled your eyes. "She'll have them for you when we come over." You spoke for a few more moments before ending the call.

"You better find those shoes. They can't have been cheap." You glared at your cousin.

"She's the one who left them," Evelyn said with a shrug.

"Evelyn Dawn Moriarity..." you warned using her full name.

"You're my cousin. You don't get to speak to me like that," she said haughtily.

"Find the shoes and I won't," you said, crossing your arms across your chest.

"Fine, geez. What's gotten up your keister?"

"Evey!" You spat, your tone pulling upward. Evelyn chuckled with success as she bounced pridefully out of your uncle's office.

***

CALIFORNIA

"Now Elvis, your natural instinct is correct, I just wanna see more...intensity. I want you to be the bad guy. Rough it up a bit, right?" Richard Thorpe said. He was already a prominent director in Hollywood, but he was ready and willing to hedge his bets on the new breakout star, Elvis Presley.

Elvis nodded. "Yes sir."

"Action!"

"I'll drive you back to your hotel," Judy Tyler said as her character, Peggy Van Alden.

"I'll walk."

"I think I'm gonna just hate you," Judy spoke again as Peggy.

Elvis turned his head back to her, his gaze intense and trained as he stepped closer. He shook his head slowly, his eyes shifting to something more lustful and contemplative. "You don't hate me. I ain't gonna let you hate me." He pulled her against his lips in a forceful kiss, his arms thrown around her shoulders, catching her off guard. She grasped at his arms, pushing him away from her.

"How dare you think such cheap tactics would work with me?" In his smugness, he pulled her against him once more, crashing his lips against hers. He was the one that broke the kiss this time, stepping away with his eyes still half lidded with lust.

"That ain't tactics, honey," He said swiftly, his eyes locked with hers. "That's just the beast in me." His eyes trailed the outline of her lips, smirking proudly before turning and walking away.

"Cut!" Richard shouted. "Excellent! That's exactly what I'm talking about. You'll have the audience by their collar when they see this," He said, walking on set and pulling Elvis into a friendly embrace. "Well done." He extended his hand out for Elvis to take. Elvis shook it enthusiastically.

"Thank you, sir. I do hope they enjoy it."

"Are you kidding?" You already have America hot on your heels, kid. You're about to be an international superstar. Nothing can stop you. I'd bet my fortune on it," He said, pulling two cuban cigars of the finest quality from his breast pocket. He pulled a zippo lighter out of his pocket as well as a cigar cutter. He cut off the end of both cigars with the instrument, placing one of them between his lips and handing the other over to Elvis. With his zippo, he lit both cigars. "Let's take a walk, Presley." Richard puffed on his cigar, blowing white clouds of smoke into the air. "Good job everyone. That's a wrap for the day."

***

"This whole movie thing," Richard said, strolling slowly around the MGM set alongside Elvis. "How serious are you about it?" He asked. It wasn't a condescending question. Elvis was young–in the prime of his life, and the screen surely brought exposure, guaranteeing him even more fame than he already possessed.

"Well, sir uh," Elvis began, taking a puff of his own cigar as he walked with the director. "I've always wanted to act. Never thought I'd get this far, but I think it's definitely something I'm interested in–to further my career," He said, placing the cigar back between his lips. The director turned and stubbed out his cigar against the exterior brick wall of the facility before taking and wrapping it within his pocket square, stuffing it in the front pocket of his coat.

"If you keep it up," Richard said, pointing emphatically at Elvis, "You'll have plenty more than three movies under your belt. Get some sleep. You'll need it for the rest of the week." Elvis shook Richard's hand firmly, exchanging a kind goodbye.

Elvis drove quietly to his hotel. He insisted on driving himself, wanting a great deal of independence despite his fame and growing net worth.

"Elvis? Oh my goodness it's Elvis Presley!" Elvis rolled to a stop as the traffic lights turned red. He turned his head to find the source of the screaming. Beside him was a beautiful 1956 convertible Lincoln Continental full of gorgeous women. "Elvis, take us with you!"

The driver of the car smiled shyly at him. It was the passengers that were outspoken. They were dressed with the latest fashions, their hair pinned and rolled immaculately.

"Evenin' ladies," Elvis nodded, grinning enthusiastically.

"Where ya headed?" a woman in the backseat asked, her eyes bright with interest, obviously swooning over Elvis's appearance.

"Home sweet home, Doll." Elvis answered simply.

"Ooh, can we come?" the passenger asked, craning her head as she chewed on bubble gum.

"Sorry, but I'm not taking house calls, honey." He winked at her, his grin growing wider across his face. She swooned, giggling flirtatiously. "Here, have this," He said, reaching for his pocket square, bunching it in a ball and tossing it across to the packed car. It didn't make it, landing on the ground just beyond reach. The girls still squabbled to open the door to grab what little piece of Elvis that they could. His eyes flicked upward as the light turned green. "Goodnight, ladies," He said with a two-finger wave, speeding off toward his hotel.

He pulled up to the Beverly Wilshire Hotel just as the sunset began to lower itself into dusk. He did what was suggested and drove into the front porte-cochère of the lavish hotel to be met with a valet that would personally park his car. Elvis was prideful and many times he had to remind himself that he was famous–that he had earned the nice things that had recently come into his life.

"Mr. Presley! We've been waiting for you, sir." A handsome valet began. He was smartly dressed in a red, long smocked coat that was decorated in ornate gold buttons. He wore a black, flat, military style hat on his head that was finished with bright red piping upon it. His black slacks were pressed with crisp center pleats that made him look like a million bucks. Elvis still found himself amazed at the luxury granted to him.

"Please. Call me Elvis," he insisted, shutting the car off and stepping out of it to shake the man's hand. The valet smiled with a soft blush; though it didn't occur to Elvis, it was a surprise for an employee who was sure to have seen celebrities of highest adoration still taken back by Elvis's beauty and kind demeanor.

"When shall we pull up the car for you, Mr.--Elvis?" The valet asked politely, holding out his gloved palm to retrieve the car keys. "Have it ready to go at seven tomorrow morning, if you would."

"Yes, sir."

"One more question for you, sir." Elvis said, pulling out his checkbook and a small pen that was clipped to it. Turns out Elvis was used to writing checks.

"Yes?" The valet asked expectantly.

"What is your name?"

"Michael, sir." He answered.

"Are you married, Michael?" Elvis asked.

"Yes sir. With a little one on the way. Due in three weeks." Michael beamed with pride.

Elvis began to write.

"What's your last name?" Elvis asked.

"Drayton." Elvis remained silent as he wrote out the check.

"This is for you. Take care of your family in preparation for your beautiful baby." He ripped the check from the perforated line, handing it over to Michael.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly take this." He said, shock causing the muscles in his face to go slack.

"You can and you will. Please–it's a gift." Elvis nudged the check towards Michael again, urging him to take it.

"Th-thank you, sir." His eyebrows raised with almost-suspicion.

"Good luck with everything, friend." Elvis patted the man's shoulder, squeezing it before walking away toward the entrance of the hotel.

"Th-thank you!" Michael shouted at his back, to which Elvis gave a small wave before stepping into the revolving glass door.

***

He cranked the shower to as hot as he could stand. Stepping into the stream, his body itched from the sudden heat raining down from above. "Jesus–Lord!" He spat. Rubbing his body down, he reached for the faucet to cool the stream of water. "Whew!" He took his time in the shower, washing away the day, letting the fatigue finally set in.

It wasn't very late when he was finally settled in for the evening, only 9 P.M. He spent the entirety of the shower trying to run lines, but his focus continually slipped to thinking about you. He missed you. He hadn't written like he should have, but days were long and busy, hours ticking well past twelve hours long. He pulled out a small piece of paper from the wallet in his trousers to reveal your home phone number. He called the number into the rotary phone at the side of his bed, rolling the dial in between each digit. He waited for the dial tone to begin, lowering himself onto the bed as it rang.

"Moriarty residence. Harold speaking."

"Hello, Good evening, sir. It's Elvis Presley. I was wondering if–"

"She's not home right now." Uncle Harold answered, cutting Elvis off.

"Oh. She's not?" Elvis asked.

"No. She went skating with Evelyn."

"Oh, well. That's quite alright. Please let her know that I called and was thinking about her."

"I will, son. Taking care of yourself?" Uncle Harold asked. It surprised Elvis that he seemed interested in his well-being considering the mob that he had created outside of his store.

"I am, sir. Working hard, of course." There was a long silence. "Mr. Moriarty? Do you have a moment?"

"You've already got me on the phone, young man. Go ahead." Uncle Harold was quite tough on Elvis, but what he didn't admit out loud was that he actually quite liked him. It was his manner, however, to never give young men too much confidence, especially when they were romantically involved with the people he loved. He was intensely protective and wasn't afraid to show it.

"I wanted to ask–I would do this in person if I could–and...I know I could wait, but–" Elvis sputtered, tripping over his words. He took in a deep breath before letting it out. "I want to ask Y/n to go steady. With me. But I wanted to talk to you first, of course." Another lengthy silence dominated the phone line.

"Do you know what you're asking? Really asking here?" Uncle Harold asked sternly.

"Well, yes sir. I think I do at least," he said with an innocent chuckle.

"Don't you dare hurt her, Elvis." This was the first time that Uncle Harold had said his first name. "She's already lost so much."

"I would never hurt her, sir. That's a promise I never intend to break." There was yet another silence before Uncle Harold spoke again.

"If you do, you'll be praying I don't find you somewhere between Hollywood and Memphis." He spoke sternly.

"I wouldn't expect anything less, sir."

"I know that you like her. I know you were brought up well, son. You have my blessing, but don't think for a second that I don't have my eyes on you."

"Yes sir. Please tell her I called."

"I will. And hey. Good luck on everything. Would love to have you over for dinner again when you get home." Uncle Harold said, softening.

"Wouldn't miss it, sir."

Elvis spent the rest of the evening staring at his ceiling, struggling to fall asleep. Uncle Harold's words of warning looped through his brain on repeat as he lay on his pillow...Don't hurt her. Don't hurt her. Don't– He fell asleep with the message constantly droning on and on.

***

"This will have to do," You said, pulling up a light blue gingham bathing suit that was finished in red piping around the bust.

"Have to do?" Evelyn asked. "Y/n, it's so pretty! You'll look beautiful in it!" Evey was feeling nice today. "Where'd you find it?"

"Sears and Roebuck's–got the last one in my size," you said, biting your bottom lip.

"Well, then it was meant to be. Oh–I found Ronnie's shoes." Evelyn pulled them up in the air. You gasped when you saw it. One of the tongues had been chewed, the leather ripped.

"You let Momo eat her shoes?" You said, your eyes growing wide.

"I didn't let her do anything. I found them under Dad's recliner." Evelyn looked at you regretfully. Momo was a relatively new addition to the family and she was still somewhat of a puppy.

"You're buying her a new pair. She can't wear those anymore."

Evey sighed. "I know. Hearing you say it out loud makes me feel worse." You eyed her with a thin grin. "Let's get packed."

Two hours later, a car pulled outside of the house to pick you and Evelyn up. Only, it wasn't Ronnie. Instead, it was her brother, Adam.

"Hop in, cuties." You didn't want Evelyn to know, but it made you feel intensely uncomfortable to be alone with him, and though Evelyn was accompanying you, it didn't make you feel any less skeeved. You had known Adam for years. You were never close with him, though you were both the same age. Throughout the last years of highschool, you would always catch him staring at you, making snide remarks to his friends. You never thought too much of it because once he was away at school, it made no impact on you anymore. However, seeing him today–it filled you with dread. If you were honest, he was part of the reason that you and Ronnie's relationship had grown more and more distant over the years. You hoped that you were just being overly cautious.

"Come on, slow poke!" Evey said, slinging an overnight bag over her shoulder and pulling her shades down on her face. She practically pranced to the car. You silently thanked God that she took the front seat. You picked up your bag and trudged to the car, opening up the back door and getting in.

"Smile, Princess." Adam said, craning his neck to look at you. "I love seeing those cheeks." Your throat fell to your gut, sending disgust through your body. It took you a moment to understand why you already felt violated. It was because he referred to your cheeks–something that felt intimate between you and Elvis only. You hadn't realized that it would leech into other unwanted interactions. You fought the muscles in your face to reluctantly offer a thin smile.

"So uh, how are you home? Isn't school still going?" Evelyn asked, turning in her seat to address Adam.

"Someone's inquisitive," He said, raising his eyebrows.

"I just thought you were at UT for school." Evey leveled, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, let's just say I didn't have University of Tennessee grades." The car was silent as he continued to drive.

"I'm thinking about selling cars," he said after a while.

"Yeah?" Evelyn entertained.

"Yeah, I think I can sell almost anything–I was born to be an entrepreneur." It took everything in you not to scoff or roll your eyes. Instead, you picked at the beading fabric of your worse-for-wear shirt. "So, I was thinking..." He said, turning in his seat to look between you and Evey as he rolled up to a traffic light. "You both could be my models." You felt your face scrunch inward, disturbed. Evelyn's eyebrows rose with opportunity.

"Oooh! Like pin ups?" She said, her naiveté roaringly obvious.

"Evey, I'm not sure that's the most appropriate–" You began before being cut off with her hand in your face.

"I'd love to." She answered, resolutely. "I've always wanted to look like Grace Kelly. Oooh! Or Natalie Wood."

"You certainly have the look, sugar," Adam encouraged. You squashed yourself as far as you could into the backseat, making yourself as small as possible. You endured the conversation by pulling your thoughts away from inside the vehicle to somewhere in California. You imagined what Elvis was doing. How his days would go. You made yourself upset thinking about the breathtaking woman that he would be kissing. You destroyed the image and recollected on your time with him on the riverwalk and how he made you feel.

"Well, are you coming? Or are you gonna stay in here forever?" Evelyn asked, standing outside of the passenger seat. You looked up at her and realized that you had finally arrived.

"Oh, sorry." You said, collecting yourself and your belongings. Adam walked ahead, announcing your arrival.

"Girls are here!" He shouted as he entered the house. Evelyn left the door open for you as you walked in.

"Well, look-a-there," Mrs. Debby greeted, stepping into the living room with her arms wide out in front of her. You and Evelyn stepped into her embrace and immediately felt your face being squished against her bosom. "It's been too long. You girls look like you've sprung up two inches since the last time I've seen ya'!" Mrs. Debby was a bright and cheerful woman, her blonde hair pulled in a tight updo. She was beautiful and her welcoming personality reflected it.

"Mom, you saw them just a couple months ago. The church benefit, remember?" Ronnie said, stepping out of the back hallway to greet you.

"That feels like forever and a day ago, darling. Your mama's losing her wits it seems."

Ronnie stepped forward giving you both a warm hug. "It's so good to see you guys! Come on!" She exclaimed, ushering you further into the house.

You and Evelyn spent much of the afternoon sprawled across Ronnie's bed with her collection of the latest Modern Teen magazine. "You know, I wish I were his," Ronnie said, lying on her back with one of the magazines opened wide.

"Who's?"

She turned over the magazine so that you could see the cover. "Elvis Presley." She said, her tone swirling sweetly upon the utterance of his name. "He's so handsome. And his voice! I heard he's making a new movie–pulling the bad boy angle." Ronnie's eyes were full of stars as she imagined Elvis in his new role. Nervousness wracked your body. You weren't sure why you wanted to keep the information to yourself. Maybe it was because if everyone knew, it would make you feel like you could lose Elvis at any moment. You were so used to being selfless to almost everyone in your life; you'd choose this time to be selfish. You just hoped that Evey would continue to keep her mouth shut.

"Mmhmm! Jailhouse....Jailhouse Rock!" Evelyn said. You nodded in agreement, but stopped, thinking you were drawing too much attention to yourself.

"Y/n, do you like Elvis?" Ronnie asked.

"Like him? Like what? What do you mean?" You asked, your body filling with adrenaline. Oh my goodness, does she know? Did I say something to give it away?

"Do you like his music at all? Have you watched Love Me Tender or Loving You?" Ronnie asked the question innocently, but it still caught you off guard.

"I mean, yeah! I think he's got a wonderful voice. And he's very attractive, for sure." You couldn't help but blush as you gushed to the girls. Evelyn smiled innocently, but her eyes sparked with cunning, as she relished from sitting on inside information.

"Oh he is! I wonder if he has a girlfriend." Ronnie said, rolling over onto her stomach, turning to look at you. "Can you imagine?" Evelyn looked at you with a devious smile. "It certainly would be very exciting."

"Oh it would be crazy. I've heard he's actually a sweetheart despite what the magazines and newspapers say." Evelyn said, popping a gumdrop into her mouth. "Who knows, maybe one day we'll run into him." Way to insinuate, Evey, you thought.

"What a dream that would be," Ronnie said, her full lips spreading into a wondrous grin. "You guys wanna try out the new pool? Dad just opened it this past week."

"Oh my goodness, yes! How'd you even afford it?" Evelyn asked. The question was inappropriate, but since you were friends, Ronnie let it slide.

"Dad's been saving for a while, plus we didn't take a vacation this past year, so we were able to finally get one. Come on, let's get dressed!"

Ronnie and Evelyn took both bathrooms first to get changed, leaving you to wait. You wanted privacy and a door that locked, mostly out of insecurity than prudeness. "It's all yours!" Evey said, stepping out of the hall bathroom. You stepped in and began getting changed. After a moment, you heard Ronnie call out your name.

"We're going to go ahead and go outside! We won't jump in without you!"

"Okay!" You shouted back, pulling the high waisted two piece up on your body. You looked at yourself in the mirror, silently criticizing the imperfections you saw. You turned your attention away; you could have spent forever picking yourself apart, but you decided to not dwell on it. You grabbed a towel and headed out of the bathroom.

"Gorgeous. Just...gorgeous." Your blood ran cold as you heard him speak. Adam blocked the doorway of the bathroom with his hands on each side of the doorframe. His height trumped yours by several inches.

"Excuse me," you said as politely as you could. His hands moved from the door to your shoulders, pushing you back into the bathroom. He slammed the door shut behind him with the toe of his boot.

"Now, Y/n. Why are you so quick to weasel away from me, hm?" His tone pulled upward as if really asking you a question. "You've really come into your own since the last time I saw you," he spoke, pulling his fingertips to your chin, tilting your head upward to look at him. You wouldn't. His grip was iron-clad. When you pulled away, he'd roughly grab your jaw. "Now that's no way to treat an old friend."

"You're not a friend. You're a creep!" You spat from between gritted teeth. "Get off of me!" You said, pushing his hand away. It only made him more determined. He rammed your body further into the bathroom, past the sink and toilet and into the wall. You winced as your back and head made impact with a thud.

"What is wrong with you? Don't touch me!" You yelped.

"Don't worry, Sugar. Mom and Dad went to town. The girls can't hear you. It's just us. You can be as loud as you need to be. I surely won't stop you. Not this time, at least." Disgust filled every fiber of your being. You reached up and slapped him as hard as you could across his cheek.

"Get your filthy hands off of me. How dare you!" You seethed. He threw you back into the wall, biting kisses into your neck. His hands moved to your hips, his fingertips traveling further and further to rub against your bare skin. You could feel his breath against your neck as he overtook you. You squeezed your eyes shut, fearing the worst. His fingertips moved to the waistband of your swim bottoms. It ignited something in you–a fight or flight response. "Get your damn hands off of me!" You used all of your strength to push him off of you. It was a messy tumble; unexpectedly, he flew backward, catching his foot underneath the wadded bathmat. His hands shot out from his body, reaching to grab hold of anything to keep him upright. In his attempt, items flew off of the sink and onto the tile floor in a loud clatter. "Keep your hands off of me!" You scrambled out of the bathroom, swinging the door open as he attempted to get up. Evelyn arrived on the other side just as you pulled the door open.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her eyebrows rising with concern. She looked past you into the bathroom to see Adam rolled awkwardly on his side, attempting to get up from the floor. "Move out of my way, Y/n." Evelyn took you by the shoulders, physically moving your body into the hallway. In your shock, you watched her stomp into the bathroom and kick him as if she were a kicker for the Green Bay Packers and his groin was a field goal.

"Don't ever lay your hands on anyone I know or love, or so help me," she said ferociously. He averted eye contact, rolling and holding himself within fetal position.

"Bitch!" He spat.

"Come on, Y/n. Let's get out of here." Evelyn took your hand and led you into the kitchen to call home.

Uncle Harold was there within ten minutes, having sped across Memphis dirt roads to get to you. Ronnie was unfortunately caught in the middle, unsure of what to say or do. She pulled you in for a tight hug anyway.

"We'll talk about this later," she said, taking your hand and squeezing it. "I am so, so sorry Y/n. If I had known, I would have ne–" You cut her off.

"Ronnie, you didn't know. It's okay." You said. "I love you. I'll talk to you soon." You sniffled, trying your best to remain stoic through it all. In truth, you hadn't had a moment to process it, and even if you had, you would have still saved the crash for when you were finally alone in your bed.

Uncle Harold wanted to pummel Adam for hurting you. Watching the grief spill out of him only made you feel worse. Evelyn calmed him, knowing you too well. "Daddy. Give her some time. She will be okay. She is still saved. Plus, I kicked him in a very...important area." Uncle Harold winced at the word 'saved', struggling to imagine if Adam had gotten further than he did.

The rest of the drive was dead silent. Evelyn sat next to you on the car ride home, holding your hand tightly. Uncle Harold was insistent on asking you if you were okay, asking what he could do to make it better. He watched you with concern and though you loved him, you couldn't stand to be viewed as a victim. It made you feel weak. "I'm fine. I promise. I just want to be alone." You bent to kiss him on his cheek once he was settled in his recliner, giving him reassurance that you were okay.

"Okay, baby. I'll leave my door cracked. If you need me. For anything, wake me up. I love you."

Once your bedroom door was shut and the lights were turned off, you felt the weight slam you down into your bed. You felt violated. You felt angry. You felt alone. And that's when the tears came. They never seemed to leave, either. The one person that you wanted was hundreds of miles away living it up in Hollywood. And even worse, he knew none of this.

Evelyn waited for the house to fall silent, creeping into the kitchen quietly to grab a snack. She felt awkward in her own home, burdened by not only the knowledge of what happened, but to have seen the fallout. Tiptoeing to the kitchen, she flipped on the dim Tiffany light over the dining room table. Opening the fridge, she retrieved a glass bottle of milk and poured some of it into a glass of her own. She leaned against the counter as she sipped, feeling the tenseness in her shoulders. Her gaze traveled to the items on the countertop: a grocery list, a stack of old newspapers, salt and pepper shakers, and a small memo pad. She pulled the pad over to read it more clearly. Upon it, she saw her father's handwriting: Elvis, Room 456, Beverly Wilshire Hotel... 213-784-3249. When you call, ask for Mr. Vince Jones in room 456. It took you a while to realize that 'Vince' was a false name.

She waited for the dial tone to begin before she dialed the number, getting patched through to an operator. Nervousness flooded her body as she waited for someone to answer the phone. "Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Oliver Reich speaking."

"Uh, Good Evening. May I speak to..." Evelyn looked down at the paper. "Mr. Vince Jones in room 456?" She prayed that the operator would complete her request without further questioning. "Yes ma'am. One moment." She heard the dial tone ring for almost too long before she finally heard a rattle on the other side of the receiver.

"Hello?" The voice asked. It was definitely Elvis. His thick southern drawl was immediate.

"Elvis, hi."

"I'm sorry, who is this?" He asked.

"It's Evelyn, Y/n's cousin."

"Oh, yeah. Listen, I know I haven't written. I've been meaning to, but I'm just so busy–"

She cut him off. "What? I don't care about that. Listen, Elvis. Something happened to Y/n."

"What?" He asked, his voice rising in inflection, his tone full of alert and concern. "What happened? Is she okay? What–"

"She will be. Someone did something to her. A man." There was a long silence on the phone. "Please don't tell me...please..." He almost begged.

"No, but he would have."

"I–I'm leaving tonight. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Elvis, no. You've got a job to do." Evelyn reasoned. "I just know that she would want to hear from you. She needs you."

"I don't give a damn about the movie right now. I'm coming home. I'll deal with the consequences later. Tell her I'm coming home to her." There was a determination in his voice that dared her to argue or question him. "I'll be in Memphis by tomorrow afternoon."

End of part 8.

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gucciwins · 3 years

Text

stay, please

it's not the easiest day, but harry helps

Word count: 3669

A/N: hello friends, this chapter is short and sweet. it's when there are two back to back shows in the same cities that the chapters seems to be long. also i promise the smut will be back, but please remember that is not what this entire story is about. i'm enjoying seeing bel and harry's relationship flourish and i hope you are as well.

please remember to reblog and let me know what you thought

warnings: slight angst (talk of missing family members), fluff

love on tour series // previous part

Sunrise, Florida

Since your conversation with Harry last night, you've been feeling melancholy. There's not a day that goes by where you don't think about your parents or grandparents.

Harry's family is a phone call away or plane ride, but you have to wait until they visit you in a dream that isn't as often as it used to be.

You're aware it's irrational to be jealous of Harry having his family, but it hits you sometimes how alone you are. Then you stop and remind yourself how you aren't. Viola has become a guardian in your life that you look up to, that helps you learn the life sessions your family never got the chance to teach you. Naomi loves you like a sister, and her parents have always welcomed you with open arms into their family. You haven't spent a holiday alone thanks to them, and that might be one of the reasons you always try to take them somewhere new to celebrate. You're thankful they let you; they know you only have good intentions.

Which is why this heavy feeling of sorrow you're holding, you allow yourself to feel it because you know it'll pass. That does not mean you'll be speaking with Harry or anyone else about it. No, he's got more things to worry about, and like always, you know you'll get through this.

You're sitting in the band's dressing room as Pauli tells a story about how he once saw an alligator on the side of the road. Everyone was hanging on to his every word as were you at least you were until the topic shifted to his family calling his bluff as he was the only one to see it on the road.

Everything seems to go back to family today. Kodi talks about missing his kids, Sandra talks about visiting her grandparents in North Carolina, and Jeff tells you that he's missing Glenne now that she's gone back to work.

You excuse yourself needing a minute to yourself, but everywhere you look, someone is smiling at you, and any other day you'd start a conversation, but you feel the walls closing around you.

Your breathing is getting heavier, and you're at this point trying to find Harry's dressing room, needing his comfort even if he may not be in there, but everything looks the same, and you feel your eyes blur.

Fuck, this was awful.

You didn't want to be alone, yet here you were.

You kept walking, head down, hoping you'd get to where you needed to when you felt someone bump into you. It was unexpected, so you fell right back. It wasn't that the fall hurt, no it was just unexpected, and it seemed to open the floodgate you were keeping at bay.

"Hey, hey, Bel. You hurt? What's wrong?" The voice was panicky, his accent coming out thicker as he spoke quicker than average. "Bel, you got to answer me. You're worrying me."

Your tears settled a bit as you looked up to meet Harry's gaze, his eyes wide full of concern that he had hurt you.

"I'm fine." your voice low as you wipe your tears away.

"But you're crying. What hurts?"

My heart, you wanted to respond. "Nothing, the fall startled me."

You're defensive, and you have no idea why this isn't his fault. It's not his fault your emotions got the best of you today.

"So you're not hurt," his voice soft, but you can still hear a bit of the panic.

"Fine, H." He helps you stand up, thankful that you let him help you.

"Do you--do you want to talk about it then?"

You frown, shaking your no. "Okay, what do you need?"

"Quiet." Your voice is hoarse thanks to the tears, and you keep sniffing. You know you're a mess.

"Come on then." You stare at his stretched-out hand, "trust me, Bel?" Harry asks.

You find yourself nodding, letting him intertwine his fingers with yours. He's taking turns, not one person in your way. It's empty and a bit worrying. Soon, Harry finds a door and swings it open. The bright sun has you closing your eyes for a second, letting you adjust to bright light.

It's a view of endless grass and trees. There is a bench to the side surrounded by flowers, a nice breeze flowing instantly, letting you relax taking it in.

You drop Harry's hand and move towards the bench. You sit down and close your eyes, taking in the moment, taking the quietness of this moment. Your head is no longer spinning, your hurt has lessened, maybe a cry is what you were missing.

"You okay here? Come find me later, okay." Harry tells you from his spot by the door.

You turn your head quickly, "You're leaving? No, stay, please."

Harry's smile is small, "think you need this moment alone."

"Don't want to be alone anymore." You whisper, hoping it's enough to make him stay.

You're not sure what he's thinking, but something passes through him, sympathy maybe, but he nods and sits next to you on the bench. You scoot close, your thighs touching. It's comforting having him here; there's a reason you were searching for him earlier because he makes you feel safe. Now sitting with him, there's no worry or hurt, only understanding.

Harry lets you lean your head on his shoulder as you play with his ringed hand that's resting on his lap. There's something attractive about his hands that you can't get over, but even that is not enough to distract you from the looming conversation.

He's good at giving you space to open up and know you're in no rush. You're trying to understand what you feel so that he can try to understand. Harry startles you when he raises your hand up to his lips, giving you a gentle kiss before settling it back down. You stare down at your hand and frown because a simple gesture fills you with so much happiness.

"I--I well, I haven't had a good day." He hums, letting you know it's okay to go on. "Grief isn't this linear healing; it hits you sometimes out of nowhere, and for me, if I don't let myself feel it, then I feel like I'm going to explode. Gosh, I didn't want to bring it up because you confided in me about missing your family, and I felt like you'd think I was belittling your problems with mine, and I'd hate for you to feel like because of me."

"Bel--"

"-no, H. I know you wouldn't, but I couldn't bring it up. But it's like everyone was missing their family today, and fuck, I miss mine as well, but I'm reminded I'm alone, and it sucks." You don't dare look at him, instead close your eyes and let your tears flow once more.

"Shh...I got you, Bel. I got you; you aren't alone." He whispers into your hair, pulling you in close, wanting to take all your pain away.

"I know I'm not alone, but sometimes I am. Sometimes, I'm away from those who feel like family for a long time, and when I am home, I'm due to leave soon. I love my job and all I get to do, but it's constant facetime calls and texts." You lean away from him, needing him to understand. "It's going to be the same for you, but you'll have a choice, the choice to stay or walk away because it's easier."

"Darling, I'm not going anywhere."

"Not now, maybe." You mutter.

He places his hands to the side of your face so that you're looking at him. His eyes are sad, and you know all of this is hurting him as much as you. "I'm going to fight for you every day. I'm going to fight even when you don't want me to. I promise I've never felt this much for someone in my life. So what it's been two weeks, you've changed my life, and I'll do everything to keep you in it. I'll fly out to you at the drop of a hat wherever you are in the world if you need me. I need you to know I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You hear me?"

You nod your head slowly, your tears still trickling down as you let all his words surround your heart. "I hear you."

He grins, "good."

Harry wipes your tears away with his thumb, "you're a pretty crier; no wonder you're so good on the big screen."

That comment was so random it makes you laugh, and Harry gladly joins you.

"You're a dork."

"Maybe," he shrugs. "Kissy?

You nod, and he's quick to slot your lips together. It tastes salty due to your tears, but you don't mind, and it seems neither does Harry.

"Feel better?"

"Yes, good talking about it. Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

"Can we stay here a little longer?" You ask just as his phone rings. That answer is enough for you. They are looking for the missing rockstar.

Harry sighs dramatically, wanting you to laugh again, and you do, playing the part of a drama queen very well.

"Yes, Jeff? Oh," Harry looks over at you, "yes, we're together. Alright, mate. Give me ten."

"You're needed?" You guess, standing up and brushing dirt off your jeans.

"Nope, but you are?"

You furrow your eyebrows at him, "how come?"

"Claims he needs his assistants' help."

You snicker, "he's not needed my help since the first night. Told me, yes, I'll put you to work, then proceeded to never need my help."

"Well, it seems like today is your lucky day."

You roll your eyes at him because the one day you felt terrible is when you were needed, "let's go then."

"Nuh-uh, scored us ten minutes." He places his hands on your waist, plopping you down on his lap. "Now, close your eyes and relax with me."

And you do; you take slow, deep inhales, holding it a few seconds, then exhale. It feels good. You welcome each thought and let each one go as you exhale. You learned the breathing technique during high school, and it's always helped you. It also might have to be due to the arms holding you tight around your waist.

The familiar iPhone ringer buzzes out, and you and Harry groan in unison at having to leave this perfect moment.

"Alright, let's get you to Jeff, and I'll go change."

"Thank you, Harry." You whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as he raises you out of his lap.

"Anything for you, love."

It turns out Jeff wanted to go over how long you'd be on tour. And the truth is you didn't know. There were scripts you've been handed that had potential, but you wanted something that spoke to you, and so far, nothing. Viola had told you, you were in high demand and not to accept any job just to do it, and that's what you were doing.

"Can I say expect me here for a while? I've got nothing lined up, I've got scripts to read before I can decide my next role, and joining a tour was not at all in my plans, but I'm enjoying it."

Jeff laughs, nodding, "that boy is just a little crazy sometimes."

"I've caught on."

"We love having you here, just wanted to check in. We are nearing the halfway point."

"I'm aware. You feel like it went by fast?"

"Extremely, we started in September and now are in October." Jeff shakes his head in disbelief.

"Miss Belmonte, Mr. Styles is looking for you," a young person approaches you, he doesn't look familiar, and by the uniform he's wearing, he works with the venue.

"Thank you, I'll see you in our spot Jeff."

"Don't keep him too long." You shoot him a thumbs up, walking away with the worker.

He's fidgeting, looking down at his feet, "are okay?"

His head snaps up, "me?"

You nod, offering him a small smile, "Yeah, what's your name?"

"James."

"Nice to meet you James, you can call me Y/N."

He shakes his head quickly, "not professional, Miss Belmonte."

You respect that he keeps it professional. "Okay, I respect that. Have you worked here for a long?"

"Three weeks."

"Wow, how have you liked it so far?"

"It's great. The staff is always helpful."

"Yes, I've seen that." You arrive at Harry's closed door. "Thank you for walking me."

He smiles at you, looking a bit calmer, "of course, it was my pleasure."

You stick your hand out for him to shake, "take care, James."

"You as well, Miss Belmonte." Then he's turning around and rushing down the hall.

Raising your fist, you knock twice on the door before walking in with eyes closed and shutting the door behind you knowing the drill already.

"Awe, baby, didn't even need to tell you."

You chuckle, "know you well."

Harry goes silent, and you freeze, not sure what he's doing when he surprises you by laying a kiss on your lips, causing your eyes to shoot wide open.

"Got you," he smirks.

You roll your eyes before making him take a step back to let you admire his outfit for the night. Sunrise would see Harry in a red floral print shirt, white wide-leg trousers, of course, the matching suspenders, and his black leather boots.

"You look good enough to eat, Styles."

Harry beams a smile at you, fixing his suspenders. "Do I?"

You nod, "yup."

"Care to have a taste?"

"Sweet offer, but I've got to decline."

Harry pouts, "baby,"

"You're on stage soon. Can't be making a mess of you in this pretty outfit."

Harry's blush is apparent as he tackles you in a hug, landing you both on the couch. He's lying on top of you, and it's not the most uncomfortable feeling. Although he does feel a little heavy, you embrace it. His head is resting on your chest, your hands running down his back soothingly.

He's mumbling something under his breath, but you're too lost in the moment to try to figure it out. You honestly don't want Harry to go. You're enjoying this moment, and if you could, you'd freeze time at this moment.

You both relax and let yourself forget that he has to go on stage to perform for thousands, and in this room are just Y/N and Harry, two people dating and, day by day, falling more for each other.

"Do you need to get ready, love? Almost time to go." He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the bunny on your sweater.

"Not today; going to stay like this wearing my boyfriend's merch."

Harry buries his head in his neck, leaving kiss after kiss, "like when you say that."

"Yeah, like calling you my boyfriend, my rockstar boyfriend who's going to go sing to a sold-out arena."

"Every song is dedicated to you." He whispers against your skin.

You feel the heat rush to your face, the room suddenly feeling too warm, "amor, basta."

"Basta," he repeats, "never."

He's a giggling mess as you begin tickling his side; he's squirming on top of you, begging you to stop when the door swings open, causing you both to freeze.

"Are you naked?" Tommy asks, eyes closed.

"Yes" "No," Harry and you answer at the same time. Tommy removes his hand, trusting your word sighing in relief he didn't walk in on anything.

"This is why we knock." Harry shakes his head as he gets up to fix his shirt that you managed to untuck.

Tommy ignores him, "you're needed in your box."

"Fun." You giggle because it's a sight to behold seeing him get settled in his box to get under the stage.

Harry follows behind Tommy without another word leaving you in the dressing room, shocked. You stand up in a hurry to see if he's making his way back when he continues on speaking with Tommy. You follow close behind, wondering if Harry will turn around to ask you for his good luck kiss he's been doing the past few shows.

You reach the end of the corridor, and still nothing. He's settling in the box and nothing. Just as they are about to shut it, he jumps, hitting his head, muttering a shit shifting out. Harry is not listening to anyone around him; as he's about to run down the hall, he spots you there leaning against a wall staring.

"Why'd you hit your head?"

There's a pout on his face as he approaches you, settling his hands on your waist. "Know why," he nudges his nose against yours.

"Need you to say it."

"Forgot to get my good luck kiss."

"Imagine how worse it could have been."

"Don't want to know." He mutters against your lips, and like always, he takes your breath away. You eagerly kiss back; the kiss is fast. Harry bites your bottom lip as he pulls back, both remembering there are others around you. They all are awkwardly looking around to not make eye contact with either of you.

“Good luck, mi estrella.”

You say it every night, but Harry leaves you impressed. It's the same set of songs each night, yet it feels like a new show each time.

These songs are performed in a way that hearing the album version is no longer that, very much preferring to listen to the live performance for as long as you'll have it.

Tonight, 'cherry' has grabbed you the heart as Harry sings it with the proudest smile on his face. On more than one occasion, you feel him stare at you, causing you to sing even louder, pointing at him. These songs are personal to him, and he comes on stage each night and shares a bit of himself with the audience. That's something to admire; you don't think you'd ever be able to be that vulnerable.

Your job is not easy; at times, it is draining and long hours, but putting a piece of your heart for the world to see and judge is frightening. Harry was born to do this, and you're glad he saw something in you to want you to be a part of it.

You know you're not the only one to have had his heart, but you hope you're the last.

"Are you okay? He's had his eye on you the whole night." Jeff leans in as Harry has gone downstage, and you wipe your tears from hearing his closing song before the encore.

"Had a bit of a hard day." You share, not offering more.

"But you're okay."

"I am," you nod your head towards the stage. "He helped."

Jeff pulls you in for a hug before stepping back to give you your space, except you pull him back over. "Thank you, I know he'll ask you. I am better. I'm not sure how much you know about me, but I miss my family and was feeling alone, and Harry reminded me that I've got all of you now."

You see how Jeff's eyes glass over, and he pulls you in for another hug, except this time you don't let him go. He holds you through the entirety of 'sign of the times.'

"You're special, Bel." He mutters, clearing his throat.

"You too, Jeff."

Tommy ends your moment having you dance with him to 'watermelon sugar.' You could not stop laughing at their moves, not at all good. You try some of your own, but stop when you spot a group of bananas forming a mosh pit. That is clearly something you thought you'd never see, yet here you are.

In an environment where you're meant to be nothing but your whole authentic self, you've never felt happier.

"Who's excited for a day off in Tampa?" Harry cheers as you make your way down the hallway after everyone grabbed a shower and are all packed for the next city. Everyone lets out a cheer at the prospect of sleeping in instead of being up preparing for the show.

"I am," Pauli says, rushing up from behind, pulling Harry into a hug, thanking him for another fantastic show. Then he's off in a hurry to catch up with Niji, who was already exiting the building.

"Think Mitch will let us babysit the bub tomorrow?" He ponders, knowing it's been a while for you all.

You grin at the thought, "I'm sure you'd be able to convince him."

"Good, good. Need some cuddles."

You scoff, "Harry, how rude! Are you saying my cuddles aren't enough?"

Harry sees where he made a mistake and quickly begins to apologize when he sees you failing to hold back a laugh, "you're mean, Bel."

You poke him in the chest, "then don't diss my cuddles."

"Never again."

"Can we watch a movie tonight?"

"Sure, not sleepy tonight?" He checks in.

"Nope."

Harry shakes his head at you, "what if I'm tired?"

"I'll stay in the living room area, you sleep in your bed, and I'll sneak in when I am tired."

Harry pouts, not liking the idea of falling asleep without you in his arms. "What we watching?"

"Hulu has all of the Hunger Games available. I've been meaning to watch it again. Oh," you shout, tapping on his arm repeatedly, "Edward Scissorhands. That's what we're watching in honor of this lovely month."

"Looks like it's been decided."

Standing outside the bus, you see everyone loading up, saying their goodbyes until the next city. You see how much everyone cares for each other, how there are lots of hugs and shouts to text me. Everyone who walks by you sends you and Harry a smile. Not lingering around long as you all know, you have a long ride ahead.

Looking around, it seems that this family Harry had created was becoming yours as well.

thank you so much for reading <333 i adore you

feedback is welcomed and appreciated :)

taglist: @alienorknight @harry-is-my-sunflower @myfavfanficsever @4hazza @springholland @michelleficrecs @harryismyfwend @evanjh

tampa part seven

#harry styles #love on tour #harry styles writing #harry styles stories #harry styles series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles love on tour #lot: sunrise #hslot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fiction

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melis-writes · 2 years

Note

Could you do a Michael/Victori blurb based on the song by Frank Sinatra - I’ll Never Smile Again ?

Maybe they take a break or divorce and Michael says “I’ll never smile again, until I smile at you.”

Omgggg this song! 🥺💔 Yes, more heartaching angst coming up!! 😭 I'm going to do my best by including that sentence for Michael and the overall feel of the song too! 👀

I'll Never Smile Again.

The years came and by like a sweet, summer breeze since August 1949 when Victoria married Michael Corleone. Feeling in tune with the world and knowing time was on her side, Victoria cherished and never took any moment she had for granted with Michael.

When she became pregnant a month into her marriage, the love and support the Corleone girls–Connie, Sandra and Theresa–gave her with Mama Corleone's insight made her feel so loved and taken care of.

Victoria fit in perfectly with the Corleone family, even though everyone expected as much. She got along with all of her in-laws so well, even if at first it was a bit of a struggle with Fredo. Even then to him, Victoria didn't give up on her brother-in-law; all she had was time to love and to forgive.

Time and memory are now nothing but a burden to Victoria. Only one year has passed since her divorce with Michael was finalized. She practically spat in Michael's face when she changed her last name back to Ferrari, but Victoria didn't care anymore.

Married name or maiden name, Victoria knew it wouldn't make a difference–especially to the press. A scandal would be told either way, and just how long could a divorced couple be seen next to each other like that?

In truth, Victoria did it for Michael. Not only did she not want to be associated with the Corleone family anymore, but she didn't want Michael's family name to be sullied on the media if it ever came to that. That may have been the worst case scenario, but it never happened either.

The media only believed Mr. and Mrs. Corleone made less public outings and called it that. In truth however, Victoria and Michael were divorced, and their absence from the public in the beginning was stretched out long enough for people to start asking questions.

After that, Michael and Victoria were seen with each other but never alone. Their marriage may have ended, but their co-parenting with the children did not. There was no hiding the truth from Niccolo and Verona–now nine years old but your youngest three-year-old Vincent and two-year-old James were naturally too young to understand the rift between their parents.

The year following Michael and Victoria's divorce felt like an eternity to both. Everything had changed so suddenly, and even with a year passing by, neither Victoria or Michael could adapt to the aftermath of their divorce.

Victoria continued practicing law full time, but the days refused to pass. Her mind was constantly on Michael, on her marriage, on the children. All she did was overthink about what she could have done to save her marriage, and while Michael's ego and pride didn't let him admit so to anybody, he was thinking the exact same.

The children spent three days in New York with you and your family and three days with Michael and the Corleone's. The seventh day of the week–today–meant you and Michael would be spending time with the children together in New York.

"Miss Ferrari?" Esther peeked her head out into the garden.

"Yes?" Victoria refused to turn her head back, sitting quietly by the array of bright flowers surrounding her.

"Don Corleone is here." Esther said back with a frown and immediately noticed Victoria's muscles tensing up at the sound of his name.

"Thank you for letting me know." Victoria pulled out a new cigarette from her pack, slipping it in the corner of her mouth.

"And um," Esther paused for a moment, hearing Michael's footsteps growing closer. "He's here to see you."

Victoria stared down at her cigarette pack as anxiety raced through her. Her heart began to thunder in her chest and she refused to speak back or react. She had always felt this way on Sundays when Michael was around her, but they were always with the children in the same place–never alone.

With that, Esther turned and headed back down the hallway. She gave Michael a small nod, letting him know that she notified Victoria accordingly. Only then did Michael step out into the garden to see his ex-wife shakily smoking a cigarette for the first time in his life.

Victoria memorized the sound and pressure of Michael's footsteps anywhere he walked. She knew he was approaching her from behind just as well as she could sense his presence. Victoria pretended not to care, but she did more than ever.

"I know you haven't ever spent much time in my family home," Victoria spoke out first, blowing smoke around her. "But you've obviously made a wrong turn. The children are playing in the front yard, not here."

"I'm aware of that." Michael answered back, much more frustrated with the fact Victoria was smoking more than anything else. "Just as you're very well aware I'm here to speak with you."

"I've nothing to say to you, Michael." Victoria turned her head to the opposite direction the moment Michael took a seat next to her.

"I don't like it when you lie to me, Victoria." Michael reached his hand over, snatching the cigarette out of her mouth and throwing it to the ground; the heel of his shoe crushing it instantly.

Victoria blinked in surprise, gazing back at the face of her ex-husband. She hated the way she was still so wildly attracted to him just as much as it pained her to even be Michael's presence.

"You're better than that. If I see you smoking again, we're going to have a problem." Michael told Victoria in a calm and collected voice.

Victoria's throat tightens as she narrows her eyes at Michael. "Don't you have anything better to do than bother me? I can't suffer in peace?"

"Suffer?" Michael raised a brow at her.

Victoria scoffed, feeling tears beginning to form in the corner of her eyes. "Don't act so surprised, please. You're not making this any easier for me."

"And it won't be any easier for me if I don't see you for myself." Michael replied, keeping his eyes on her. "You're the mother of my children, Victoria. Do you hate me that much?"

"Hate you?" Victoria sniffled as she took her hands into her face and rubbed her eyes, attempting to stop her tears. "I hate that I don't hate you. I hate seeing you, I hate talking to you, I–" Victoria stops herself, embarrassed she's already said too much. "I wish I could hate you. It would make things so much easier for me."

"I could have gone my whole life without knowing you." Michael gazed back at her, noticing Victoria's eyes glassy with tears.

'I'll never smile again unless I smile at you.'

"Yeah," Victoria swallowed hard, feeling Michael's words sting at her. "And so could I."

'I'll never laugh again, what good would it do?'

"But I would have wanted to either way." Michael continued.

'For tears would fill my eyes...'

"It would feel like a waste, Michael." Victoria sniffled. "Our marriage is ruined, I'm ruined, so you can go back to feeling like all your big, business decisions have meaning."

'My heart would realize that our romance is through...'

"Look at me, Victoria." Michael gently cupped Victoria's face in his hands, tilting he head to face him. "Look at me."

'I'll never love again.'

Tears streamed down Victoria's face at Michael's touch–one she had longed for and was desperate to feel for over a year. "Y-you don't even..." Victoria shakily raised her hand, hesitant to caress Michael's cheek with it. "You never smile anymore... Because of me?"

'I'm so in love with you.'

"You know I'll never smile again until I smile at you." Michael murmured back to her, leaving a kiss on the back of Victoria's hand.

'I'll never thrill again to somebody new...'

Victoria inhaled sharply at the kiss and squeezed her eyes shut, breaking down into sobs in Michael's arms. While she could hardly bare to be in his embrace again, all Michael could do was hold the woman who was once his wife, his best friend, and his lover.

'Within my heart I know I will never start...'

All Michael could think of was how deeply he regretted every decision he made to leave the two of you at this point. All Michael could see was your hand, your fingers bare where your wedding ring used to be.

'To smile again until I smile at you...'

#Michael corleone x reader #Michael corleone x oc #Michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #Michael corleone smut #Michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #prompts

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 4 years

Text

I’m On Fire [Chapter 2]

With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Spencer start to put a plan together.

A/N: I’ve got a head cold at the mo’ but I had to get a covid test just in case so I’m not allowed leave my room till I get the results! So enjoy a bonus chapter while I wallow on my own for like 36 hours :( On a positive note, thank you guys all so much for the response to chapter 1 I really didn’t see that coming! I’ve tagged everyone who asked, let me know if you wanna be added

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: Cursing, some NSFW language/themes

Word Count: 6.1k

Previous Chapter -- Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

"Are you coming up or what?"

The question was still ringing in my ears. It caught me completely off guard. 'Up' as in up to Spencer's apartment? Where he lived? I knew he lived somewhere in theory, just like I knew deep down that he wasn't made in a test tube.

Without noticing I've undone my seatbelt and I'm hopping out of the car, following him around to the front door. I guess I am coming up.

Spencer's apartment is more cosy than I thought it was going to be. It's warm and lived in. It's not big, but I think that might be what makes it homely. Something about the way he behaves had me thinking it would be fully decked out in stainless steel or glass or something. But it wasn't pristine, it was messy.

There were books bursting from the shelves that lined the walls of the apartment, along with books laid open over nearly every surface in the place, it looked like he was in the middle of reading all of them, and honestly, I didn't doubt it. Maybe I'd misjudged him. He even had some photos of what looked like his family, and maybe friends, even some of the BAU, lining his walls or propped up on his mantle. He had little trinkets and souvenirs on his shelves too, evidence that he'd been around the country for reasons other than a case. I would never admit it to him but there was a real charm to the place.

Once we got inside he took off his bag and suit jacket, tossing them on the desk just inside of the door. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, and he seemed to pick up on my awkward energy.

"You can make yourself at home" he said, his confident streak remaining. I had no idea what to do with that. What would even make me comfortable in Spencer Reid's apartment? I took a seat on his sofa and just sat with my hands resting in my lap. Really not even sure where I should look without feeling like I was invading his privacy. Even though I wanted to. I think it was morbid curiosity, looking for clues on who this man might actually be outside of the BAU. What I really wanted to do was stand up and walk around, soaking in every bit if this place as if it would help me decipher our messy relationship.

He returned to the living room a few moments later, two mismatched mugs in his hands. He places one in front of me on the coffee table. I pick it up and take a sip. It's lemon and ginger, how did he know what kind of tea I liked? I held the mug in my hands inhaling the steam in an effort to relax. When I look up he's watching me, arms folded across his chest.

"So, how does this thing work. What's the game plan?" I honestly have no real idea. This evening really got away from me, I was still expecting to snap out of it and wake up in my bed at any moment.

"Well I can't say I've ever been in a Sandra Bullock movie before either so this is uncharted territory for me too" I say with a chuckle, trying to ease the tension. Even a little. I can see him crack a small smile but hides it almost instantly, his face hardening again.

"My sister, Margot, she's getting married in like 4 months." I can feel myself tense and I shake out my shoulders, I have to remind myself that he's agreed to this already, "Fuck it, I'm just going to be honest with you. My Mom's mostly freaked out that I'm too attached to this job and that I'll just never find someone again." I shouldn't have said again, fuck. I hope he didn't pick up on that. Who am I kidding. "Even though, I'm not sure I care if I do or don't?" he doesn't say anything, like he's waiting for me to continue. I know I've shared a little too much already but I keep going.

"Margot's 2 years younger than me, I introduced her to her fiancé Philip, we met in college, he's a sweetheart. But since they've gotten engaged Mom's gotten exponentially weirder. I think she's convinced I'm fully going to die alone, as if that would be the worst thing that could ever happen? Anyway, she's been trying to auction me off to all these guys, using this wedding as an excuse. I'm not sure how much of that phone call you actually heard earlier but Mom was trying to sell me on this guy, David, and I just… snapped." I look up at Spencer and he unfolds his arms, leaning in ever so slightly coaxing the story out of me.

"David, he uh, he worked for my father for a while back in high school, filing documents and stuff, busy work mostly. He used to make out with me when he was at our house after school, but then he'd ignore me in the halls the next morning. I know it's because I was a pariah back then or something but I didn't want to think about it today and I just got worked up. I shouldn't have let on that you were my date, I was just going to ask if I could bring Garcia or something, and I'm sorry." I cover my face in my hands, "I'm insane, you can back out if you want to."

I can hear him move from his spot on the opposite side of the sofa, he takes my wrists and gently pulls my hands from my face. He looks into my eyes, "I'm in this now Y/N, what do you need me to do?" he asks, and there's a genuine earnest in his voice that I think I've only ever heard a handful of times. And it's never been directed at me.

"Okay, well we've got a few months before you ha–, wait, fuck!" I throw my head back, there's already a complication, "shit" I curse under my breath. His eyebrows knit together, sitting upright.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"I forgot about my Mom's 50th, it's next month. They've got this whole huge party planned back home in upstate New York. I've gotta go and they'll probably want to meet you, or they're gonna have a load of questions for me at least. I can try and get you out of it I'm sure"

He gets that cocky look again, he shakes his head "I don't know, I've always liked a bit of competition" he reclines back into his corner of the sofa, taking a satisfied sip from his own mug before speaking again. "You know, if I've got to learn enough to pass as your boyfriend in a month, surely that means you've got to learn enough to pass as my girlfriend within the month, no?"

Oh god. What have I done, why didn't I think this far ahead. "I mean, yeah I guess you're right." I had to remember he was doing me a favor. I had to get over myself. "Okay, if you're sure you're up for that?" I ask, and he nods, and I think he looks excited, or maybe he just finds the whole situation funny.

"If anyone's up for the competition it's you" he says, and I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a dig but I nod in agreement.

He takes another sip of his tea, collected and relaxed. I can't help but notice how at ease he is when he's in his own surroundings. I'm so used to seeing him sitting at a desk surrounded by paperwork, or combing through file after file in the make-shift office in a small-town police station, usually flustered or anxious, or antagonizing me whenever he wasn’t. This was a different Spencer. Completely in control, at ease.

"Alright, shall we get started then, we can't really afford to waste any time can we?" he was actually sort of right, so I nodded. It was only now occurring to me that I'd have to share parts of my personal life with him if I wanted this plan to work. We already knew the basics about each other, I'd read his file when I started at the BAU, I'd read everyones. And I feel like it was safe to presume he'd done the same.

His eyes bore directly into mine as he leaned forward, I think he was enjoying how uncomfortable I must've looked.

"How about I ask you some rapid-fire questions and you have to answer 'em?" he asks, and it's as good of a plan as any, and I can't think of any other suggestions, so I nod.

"Okay, shoot." I say, unsure and nervous, so I brace myself. I'm just grateful that he's making my life easier rather than harder for what feels like the first time since I met him.

I really should've known better.

He leans in, "So Y/N, first question, when did you lose your virginity?"

I almost choke on the mouthful of tea I just took, that can't be what he just asked, and he looks like he's savoring my shocked expression.

"I uh, I don't think you need to know that?" is all I can get out.

"Really? You think that's something your boyfriend wouldn't know about you?" he's right, but I didn't want to admit it outright.

"I feel like I sort of already hinted. It was that same guy David, I was 18, he was 19. We had sex on the couch while my parents went out one evening. I kept my bra on the whole time, he came, I didn't. It was all very standard stuff." I wasn't sure what compelled me to add that last part. I think I was giving in to the open honestly thing. "So what about you Doc?" I challenged.

He didn't seem embarrassed, or even shy. "I must've bloomed little later than you" he admits with a soft chuckle, "Vivian Stewart, I was 21, she was too. It was the last semester of my last PhD and I figured I must be missing out on something. And I sure was" he smirks to himself. "I came, she did too, 3 times. I did a lot of research ahead of time" he mirrored my story and I rolled my eyes. It was hard not to feel a little impressed but I tried with everything I had to stifle it so he couldn't tell. I wish it didn't make me feel something but it did. I gulp down the mouthful of tea that's been sitting in my throat.

I have to shake myself back to reality. I can't give him the satisfaction of throwing me. "My turn." I command, "When was your last relationship Dr. Reid?" I ask, "I mean like, serious one, not like hook-up" I clarify before he can ask. He thinks on it for a moment.

"I'm not sure what you classify as fully serious, but I guess it was this girl, Rebecca, we dated for a while when I first joined the BAU but it didn't work out. What about you?" he flips it back.

"So that was what, like 6-ish years ago?" I ask, he just nods.

"Mine was like 3 years ago now I think. I met this guy Nathan on my first week of college, we dated for like 4 years. He moved here for me when I got accepted by the BAU." I had to stop myself from delving into the detail. It was a long time ago now but it still hurt. "Long story short, the hours were demanding and they got in the way more than I would've liked. We ended up splitting a couple months after I got the job." I tried to play it off like it wasn't one of the more devastating things to happen in my life. But something told me he’d registered that, so he didn't push.

His energy picks up and he looks at me with a grin, but there's something a little sinister behind it. "I've got a more fun question for you." he leans in closer to me, "Y/N, when was the last time you got laid?" I just looked at him in shock.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, I can go first if you really need me to?" his voice didn't waver,

"Fuck you Reid, I know when it was!" I snapped back at him. I did have to think back a little farther than I'd like to pull up the memory.

"Met this guy in a bar when I was out with Pen one night, we went back to his place and hooked up." I say as deadpan as I can make it.

"Well that's not very exciting is it?" he jokes, "Did you at least cum that time?" I know he's just trying to rile me up, but I answer anyway.

"As a matter of fact I did" I earn back a little of my confidence.

"I'm so happy for you, but you did manage to avoid my initial question" fuck "when was this exciting night of yours Y/N?" he probes, like I really, really wished he wouldn't. I could lie, but I'm sure he'd be able to tell. I cringe before I can say it.

"About 8 months ago" I mutter, just low enough for him to hear.

"Sorry, did you just say 8 months ago?" He nearly shouts in disbelief, he seems to find it funny.

"Hey fuck you Spencer!" I go on the defensive, "When was the last time you even got laid?"

"Like two and half weeks ago" he says, confident, and still laughing, "Wait wait, when was the last time you got yourself off? I know you're not waiting 8 months!" he giggles and I think I could kill him. I know I kept giving him outs but was it too late for me to just get up and leave?

"I'm not doing this with you if you're just gonna make fun of me Reid, I get enough of that at work" I get out, my voice is serious but I'm trying to hide how awkward all of this is making me feel, and I don't know that I'm doing a very good job.

I can tell that's gotten to him, he relaxes and eases up on the giggling. "Look okay wait Y/N. I'll stop, I'm not actually trying to make fun of you. I was being serious, I think stuff like this is important if we're gonna have to be comfortable around each other enough to seem like a real couple. Plus, it'll just help break the ice?" he shrugs. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I soften, because I agree, even thought I hate that he's right. "Fine" I collect my thoughts, "2 nights ago I'm pretty sure." I regret it almost instantly, but breaking the ice is supposed to feel awkward.

"Same here actually," he chuckles, "what'd you do?" I'm so startled by the question I almost forget how to answer.

"I, uh, my, my vibrator? I just felt like uh, I watched some..." I still can't force out a whole sentence. It's not like I was always awkward about sex or anything, I could talk to Garcia, or honestly probably any of the other team members about it. But with Spencer it didn't feel as comfortable. He still sat calmly, smiling just a little.

"Same here, 2 nights back, but with my hands I guess. I wonder if we were doing it at the same time?" he mutters the last part gently and my head goes a bit fuzzy. My eyes drift away from his face and settle on his hands, the mug he's holding looks so tiny with his fingers wrapped around it, I wondered how they'd look wrapped around my-

"Okay I think that's enough for one night, don't you think?" I jump up off the sofa and turn, mostly so that he doesn't catch the blush thats creeping from my neck up to my cheeks. And because I don't know what I'll say, or regret saying, if this conversations continues on its current trajectory.

"Sure," he says, standing up next to me, and I want to move further away instantly, "you're probably right, and it's getting a little late now anyway" he glances at his watch. Ushering me back towards his front door and opening it up. Before I can walk out he lightly touches my shoulder to turn me back to face him, and I wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from every part of me.

"So are you free next Friday after work?" he asks, and I'm so flustered I almost forget why, I just nod. "Perfect, how about we come here again and we can dive into preparing? You could also make a start on getting these onto a hard drive?" he gestures to the antique looking hardbacks adorning the shelves.

'Sounds great!" I perk up, feigning enthusiasm, "See you then!"

"Well, see you Monday morning actually Y/N" he smirks as I walk out the door. Fuck, he was right.

I really hadn't thought this through.

——

The weekend was a bit of a blur. I decided to try and put some useful information into a document for Spencer. It felt strange to try and condense my life into as few pages as possible. I knew Reid had an eidetic memory, and nothing would necessarily overwhelm him. But I also knew that he was someone that the team relied on to fill in a lot of the gaps in the rest of the our knowledge. So I felt bad about dumping a load of information on him, especially considering it was a favor he was doing for me.

I'd complied the majority of my life into a 15 page document and printed it out. Hopefully that would address most of what my family could guerrilla attack him with. There was also something unsettling about the imbalance. I was going to give him so many of the intricate details of my life in a little file, whereas all I really knew about Spencer was what I'd taken it upon myself to learn about him throughout the past few years.

I'd read all of his work while I was in college, given how he was the gold standard of getting into the BAU at a young age, I wanted to know who this guy was. I think I'd pictured something different. And I couldn't deny there was something enticing about finally getting to know him after all of these years of working together. Maybe this could actually be fun, or interesting at least.

----

I arrived early on Monday morning. I thought I was first into the office as usual but Garcia was sitting in my desk chair waiting for me. The second she saw me walk in she tensed, she must've known we were the only people in this early.

"What happened! You've been avoiding me all weekend?" she asked, and she was right. I'd drafted enough texts to her, trying to explain what the plan was, mostly without wanting to admit that she was right. Maybe I was stubborn.

"Alright okay, I drove Reid home." I admitted, dropping my bag by my desk. She rolls her eyes at me, dramatic as always.

"Well I knew that already Y/N damn! What happened next?"

"Fine, we went into his apartment and talked for a while. Trying to sort out the details, get a handle on things I guess?" I said, unsure of how much I should actually give away about our conversation.

"What things!?" She shouts, standing up from my desk,

"I don't know Pen, like logistics and stuff, I still haven't decided how I feel about that little stunt you pulled on Friday night!" I let my frustration get the better of me, and maybe that's why I haven't talked to her. It could also be because I know she's able to read me like a book and I'm not even sure how I feel about this whole situation.

"I call bullshit." She counters, "I know you were relived as hell when I sorted that whole thing out. You would've had anxiety tummy all weekend if I hadn't called Spencer!" I just go silent, she was right. I'd gotten so caught up in the whole, 'how to have a fake boyfriend' that I'd almost forgotten about how stressed I was about Spencer hearing my call in the first place.

"Okay, shit" I sigh. "Maybe you were right Pen. We're actually meeting up again this Friday after work to make a plan for the next while, so I guess that's progress?" I shrug, trying to play it off like this whole situation doesn't make my stomach flip.

"Ohhhhh! So like a date?" She probes, her enthusiasm rising drastically.

"Oh my God Pen no! Like an appointment at best" I diffuse the situation

"Ugh that's no fun" she says, not even trying to disguise her disappointment.

As if on cue Dr. Reid walks through the double doors into the bullpen. Both Garcia and I wave, overall awkwardly, but making an attempt pretend like things were completely normal and like nothing had changed since the last time we were all in the office together.

Penelope heads to her office as the bullpen starts to fill up quickly. Less than an hour later though Garcia's back at my desk and there's a new case that needs the teams attention in Boston. I follow her into the conference room and wait for the rest of the team to join. Spencer follows a moment later with 2 cups of coffee in his hands. I can see my mug in his hand and my automatic response is that he's messing with me. But he places my mug in front of me in the circular table before taking the seat next to me, listening to Garcia's briefing. I don't know if he's ever sat next to me in this conference room, at least not by choice.

I barely had any time to finish my coffee before I have to say goodbye to Garcia and hop on the jet to Boston.

----

The case was grueling. More so than usual. It was wrapped up late on Thursday night and the team decided to fly back home first thing on Friday morning. I was exhausted. Even if there was enough time to get sleep each night it wasn't like I got any. Whenever a case got on top of me like this it made it hard to rest, or get it off my mind at all until it was wrapped up. So even though it was over, that didn't mean I wasn't exhausted.

Hotch gave the team the rest of the day off, given that we have until submit our paperwork by Monday. I wasn't sure if Spencer's invitation from the following week still stood. I didn't want to ask, partly because I was so tired, but also because I was scared. I wasn't about to show up at his house in an effort to have a heart to heart, or hand him a condensed version of my life story on a manilla envelope if he was as drained as I was.

Standing by my desk I packed up everything I'd need to get my paperwork done over the weekend, I was just about finished when Spencer snuck up behind me, perching himself on the edge of my desk. "So, you almost ready to go?" he asks, like it's the most obvious question in the world. I couldn't really hide my surprise.

"Oh yeah. That's fine, I mean, if you're still cool with that?" I ask, and I hate how flustered I sound, like he makes me nervous.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He chuckles, standing up straight.

"Cool, gimme a sec and I'll be good to go."

I pack up the rest of my stuff quickly and we make our way out. There's something that feels a little eerie about the two of us being in an elevator together alone again. It was a different kind of awkward to how it felt a week before hand. It almost felt like a kind of tension rather than a hatred or a rivalry. Either way we rode down in silence.

Once we got to the basement Spencer walks out of the elevator and walks straight to my car without having to ask. I unlock it and he hops into the passenger seat. Like this is a natural interaction. Something we do all the time. And I don't hate it as much as I thought I would.

"So," he says, buckling up his seat belt and breaking the silence, "do you know how to get to my place from here or do you need directions again?"

"Well I've got to turn on the engine first" I tease, hoping he picks up on the reference to our last car ride, he chuckles like he does.

"Are you hungry?" he asks

"Starving."

The delivery guy get's to Spencer's apartment at almost the same time we do.

---

Once the food's been demolished the two of us finally sit on his sofa, the same sides as the week before. "So, shall we get back into this?" He asks, sitting forward slightly to pull a notebook out of his satchel on the floor. It's small and lavender, and it's got a pen clipped into the spine. He cracks it open and flips to a specific page.

"Sorry, what's that?" I ask, pointing to the book, he looks confused,

"They're my notes?" he says, like it should be obvious

"Your notes?" I ask,

"My notes on you." he smirks, again like I'm silly for even asking.

He had notes on me? He had a whole notebook on me? What was even in that thing?

"You've got notes on me?" I ask, my hands reaching out to grab it, but he retreats faster than I can catch him. "What have you got in there that's so serious?"

"Nothing." and his tone's a bit too stern and I don't really want to push it when he's being so uncharacteristically nice to me.

"I've actually got this ready for you" I pull the file out of my own bag and toss it to him. "I'm not sure exactly what you need to know but that should be the majority of it at least."

He opens it up and glances over the the pages. It takes him all of 2 minutes to get through the whole thing. It feels unsettling that he's taking in a boiled down version of my life while I'm just sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. Trying to avoid the attention I pipe up.

"Um, hey, maybe it would be a good time for you to show me where to make a start digitizing your books over here?" I stand up and make my way to the shelf. He jumps up off the sofa and walks toward me, visibly excited.

"That's actually a great idea, I thought that the theses from my degrees could be a good place to start, since I'm pretty sure they're not backed up anywhere." he guides me to a section of the book case by the window. There's a series of leather bound hardbacks, the same gold font embossed on the spines. I recognize all of them, pulling out the first one.

"This is my favorite" I say without thinking about it and he does a double take, clearly thrown.

"You've, uh, you read my work?" he asks, completely puzzled. I'm sort of proud that I've managed to make him this awkward, and I nod.

"Mmhm, back before I joined the BAU actually. Before I really knew you" I regret saying the last part, it comes out a little meaner than I really wanted it to so I back track. "Spencer, I read all of your work while I was in college, you were like the gold standard. I don't think I slept more than 2 hours a night throughout my PHD because I was just trying to get as much done as you." and his face softens at the admission. But it takes him a moment before he responds. Leaving the two of us in silence a little too long.

"I had no idea" is all he says.

"I think this one was best" I say propping up the one in my hand, "you get a bit cockier as you move on” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "but I'll start with all of these I guess" I grab the matching books and stack them in my arms. Walking over to his desk and setting up. Glancing at the clock it was only 7pm so I decided to just make a start.

Spencer didn't contest. Letting me just get settled at his desk, I pull out my laptop and begin work on transcribing the first volume. After a few minutes he silently places a cup of tea down beside me and goes to sit on the sofa. The time rolls in quickly after that, each time I look up at Spencer he's carefully combing through the file I'd given him. Re-reading it and making little markings in his lavender notebook. I'm not really sure what I put in there that was worth making a note on but clearly he was reading between the lines on some things. That little notebook was like a profile of me.

When he seemed like he'd finished writing he pulls out his phone, scrolling through it aimlessly like I'd never seen him do before. It made him look so normal. His eyebrows knit together as he's looking at something on his screen and he stands up. Making his way over to me at the desk and shows me what he was looking at.

"Who's this?" he asks, "This guy you're with?"

I recognize the photo instantly. It's from a few years earlier, Nathan and I on the beach, my head resting on his chest. He'd taken it while we were on vacation celebrating our anniversary. That was about a month before I got into the BAU, I had no idea that was going to be our last anniversary. I gulp down the emotions that it stirs. I'm mostly over the whole thing by now, but looking at old photos like that, photos of happier times, it can still sting.

"That's uh, the boyfriend I was telling you about last week. Nathan, we broke up not long after I joined the BAU?" he nods, but he's smart, and I kind of figure he already knew that.

"Ah alright" he takes out the hardback and jots another note down. Maybe he's trying to get a read on me.

"What are you doing?" I gesture to the phone,

"It's research, do you not think that if you and I were really dating that stalking your social media profiles would be on my agenda?" he's smug, and he's right. But I guess I just didn't expect it from him.

"Well that's not really fair now is it? I can't reciprocate, you've got no social media presence whatsoever!" he finds that funny, letting out a deep chuckle and tucking his phone away in his back pocket.

"Maybe so, but that imbalance is hardly my fault. Besides, you've read all my dissertations apparently..."

"Bastard" I joke, slamming my laptop shut and throwing a pen from his desk at him so that it lightly bounces off the top of his head.

"Hey, there's no need for violence Y/N!" he rubs the spot beneath his curls, "Maybe it's time you took a break actually?" he says, sitting himself back down on the sofa.

I was reluctant to admit it but he was right. My eyes were starting to go a little fuzzy after looking at the screen for so long. I stand up and stretch my arms out above my head, feeling my spine stretch out after sitting for so long, letting out a low groan. Spencer waves me over to the sofa and I join him.

"How about we go back to basics?" Spencer asks with a small grin, and I can't help but let out a long sigh.

"I thought I was taking a break, no more questions" he just laughs at me,

"Relax, you're not that interesting, it's just a simple question." he states, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to find it funny or offensive

"Ugh, fine, shoot"

"Well, actually it's two questions" he corrects, "what's your favorite movie, and what's your favorite snack?"

I'm confused mostly by the fact that it actually is a simple question, I was expecting something a lot more contentious, but also because he looks eager to know the answer.

"I'm not really sure what my favorite movie is to be honest, one of them is Night of the Living Dead?"

He nods to himself, and jots it down in the notebook again, "Alright, I can make that work" he stands up off the sofa before turning back to me, "and snack?"

"Peanut butter cups I guess?" I respond and he grins ear to ear, which is a completely new sight, and I like it way more than I thought I would.

"Perfect, gimme 2 minutes!" he leaves the living room and wanders towards the kitchen.

Spencer returns a few minutes later with a DVD, a packet of peanut butter cups , and a thick knitted blanket gathered in his arms. He drapes the blanket over me and gently places the peanut butter cups on top of it before popping the DVD into the player and sitting down beside me. I'm not really sure how to process any of the situation. Am I about to watch a movie on Spencer Reid's sofa? Sitting next to Spencer Reid?

"I... I, uh, thought you were just asking for your notes?" I ask, pointing at the notebook resting in his lap. He picks it up and throws it onto the coffee table.

"Sometimes I find experience is the best teacher, don't you?" he asks before pressing play, “And besides, it should keep you quiet for a whole 96 minutes” of course.

I can only nod in agreement, I'm not really sure what I'll say if I try to speak. I get myself cosy under the warm blanket and we watch the movie in near silence.

Once the credits roll Spencer finally speaks up, "I actually went to see a screening of this last month downtown, there was this little old horror movie fest-" I cut him off without really realizing, I'm just strangely excited that we've genuinely got something in common.

"Holy shit, I was there!" I say, more enthusiastic than the situation calls for.

He laughs at my excitement, "Well, I guess we have more overlap than I thought, that should probably help with the whole charade." he stretches his arms up over his head and let's out a small, gentle yawn. I'd been enjoying myself more than I thought I would, or would ever tell Spencer, that I'd almost forgotten that we'd both been on a case for almost every waking moment of the past week. I really should feel a lot more drained than I do.

I was just after midnight when I suggested that I head back home. I offered to take some of the books home to work on throughout the weekend but Spencer insisted that I just work on them whenever I came over again. I sort of felt like I should thank him for the evening when I was on my way out the door, or give him a quick hug, no that felt wrong. In the end all I could really muster was a lousy, "goodnight" and a meek wave on my way out the door before I drove home. And couldn't get to sleep.

— —

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msmarvelouswinchester · 4 years

Text

Invisible String

Summary - Dean Winchester was never a man who would freely speak about his feelings and emotions. The reader, is his best friend of many years but some wrong choices and words of Dean's pushes a the reader away.

Pairing - AU Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings - Fluff (lots of fluff), angst-ish, swearing, mentions of abusive relationship, mentions of bad parenting, cheating

Square filled - Bestfriend AU ( @spndeanbingo )

Word count - 6150

A/N - This is written for @supernatural-jackles' Bi-weekly challenge. The prompts are in bold. Spn dividers by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89 (go check her blog out) Beta'd by @mariekoukie6661 (she is a sweetheart for agreeing to take a look at this long fic. Thank you💕)

“So what are we watching?” You asked as you slumped down on the yellow couch. You were dead on your feet after a long week of work but you just couldn't break tradition and not hang out with your best friend like every friday. Pulling the comforter close to your body, you let out a sigh of contentment. Truth be told, no matter how exhausted you were, you always looked forward to movie night.

“I picked the movie last friday, now it's your turn,” Dean handed you a bottle of beer and took a seat beside you. Your eyes sparkled with a glint of mischief, a knowing smile appeared on your face as Dean's lips curled up in disgust. “No chick flicks,” he warned.

“I get to call dibs on the movie tonight so I picked,” you paused for a second to create a dramatic effect, “The Proposal.”

“No!” Dean cried out in horror.

“Oh come on, it is not going to be that bad. Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock are in that movie.” you winked at him, making him groan and he picked up a cushion to cover his face, “Now, now don't be so dramatic.” He removed the cushion from his face and glared at you. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the sound of the doorbell. “Pizza's here!” He exclaimed as he got up to open the door. You turned on the tv, opened Netflix and put on the movie.

“I don't understand how we can be best friends,” Dean grumbled as he came back to the room, “you eat your pizza with pineapple on it.” “It tastes good. You should try it one day.” you said and took the two boxes of food from his hand, setting them down on the table in front.

“Are you kidding me? Even if that becomes the only food available on earth, I still won't eat it. You can't put fruits on pizza,” he said, and took a slice from his own pizza and nestled into the comforter beside you.

“Tomato is a fruit, De,” you said, biting into the slice in your hand. You heard him mutter something under his breath which you ignored and shifted your focus to the movie playing on the screen. Halfway through the movie, you yawned and snuggled into your best friend. He wrapped his warm hands around you, pulling you closer to him. “You want to head back now?” He asked softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, “I want to finish the movie. I need to see if Andrew got Margaret back .” That elicited a chuckle from Dean, the vibrations of his laugh shaking your body a little.

“You're so stubborn and they are gonna find each other, it's a chick flick for God's sake,” he said, “they love each other, clearly.”

“Speaking of love, Cas asked me out,” you said, making Dean sit up straight. “What'd you say?” He asked

“Yes obviously. I need to dive back into the dating life,” you shrugged, “and Cas seems like a good guy.”

“He is but I thought you wanted to wait because of what happened with you know ‘ he who must not be named’,” he said, and you picked up the remote to pause the movie.

“I can't live in the past. I need to move on. It has been two years since I've gone on a date and it's not like I'm getting engaged tomorrow. It's just a date,” you said, messing with the loose end of the comforter.

“As you wish. I'm just looking out for you.”

“I know. You always do,” you said, giving Dean a tight hug, “and I kinda miss doing it.”

“Doing what?” “Sex,” Dean's eyebrows shot up, “oh come on, it's not like I didn't use to have sex with….him.”

“So,” he gulped, “so you m-miss doing….it?”

“Kind of. My fingers are not enough, you know what I mean right?”

“Of course, of course,” Dean cleared his throat, blush crept up his neck.

“And it's not just sex, I miss the physical touch, I miss those things that are part of a relationship,” you said, “I need this and I think I'm ready.”

“If you think you're ready, then it's fine. I just don't want to see my best friend with a broken heart again.” he said, his fingers getting entangled in your hair, as he slowly massaged your scalp.

“That feels good,” you moaned, “after that hell of a meeting with Azazel, I needed this night De. Thank you for always being there.”

“You're my best friend. I'll always be there when you need me even if you make me watch stupid romcoms.” he grinned, “Azazel creating problems again?”

“He never seems to approve of the templates and designs I make no matter how hard I try to make them loveable and on the other hand, the shitty designs made by Abaddon always gets approved.” you groan.

“Why don't you change jobs?”

“I can't. It's not that simple. Life's going good. I don't want to disrupt it by going on a job hunt.” you sighed.

“What if you start working for my company?” You immediately turned your head towards Dean and looked at him with surprise clear in your eyes.

“No.” “Why not?

“I'm a graphic designer, De. I'm not built to work in your company,” you said.

“Be my PA. I really need a personal assistant to help me keep upto date with my schedule and I'm a mess after Charlie left.” Dean said.

“But what is my job criteria? That I'm your best friend? It's like taking advantage of you. I can't do that.”

“What if you work as my PA after being interviewed for the job?” He asked. “Fine, maybe I can give it a shot,” you said.

“Awesome! Meet me in my office on Monday, ten in the morning, sharp. I don't tolerate tardiness.” he said, slipping quickly in the work mode.

“Aye, aye captain.” You giggled, but a deep frown soon appeared on your face.

“What?” “What if it messes up our relationship?”

“It won't. I know how to separate my work life from my personal one,” Dean assured.

“I guess, then it's okay,” you smiled.

“So about your date with Cas. Where's he taking you?”

“I have no idea,” you chuckled, “he said it will be a surprise.”

“That's-that's great but he should know that you hate surprises,” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“He doesn't know me very well. I'll let that pass this one time,” you told Dean.

“Fair enough,” he laughed. You yawned once more, as you tried to fight the drowsiness that was threatening to take over you.

“You want to head back home now or you want to crash here tonight, sleepyhead?” Dean smiled.

“I don't think I can drive all the way in such a state. Do you mind if I crash here?” You grinned, knowing very well he didn't mind because you crashed in his guest rooms on most of the Friday nights. He rolled his eyes as he got up from the couch.

“I'll prepare the guest room.” You sleepily nodded at him. You didn't realise you had fallen asleep but you were soon woken up when you felt your body move.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up. I'm taking you to bed,” you found yourself in Dean's arms as he headed towards the guest room with you, “you looked too peaceful sleeping. Go back to sleep.” He softly murmured. Dean gently placed you in the bed, pulling the cover upto your chest as you snuggled into the warmth of the covers. Within a few minutes, you had dozed off.

“Morning, sunshine. Pancakes for you,” Dean's loud voice woke you up from your deep slumber the next morning. You sat up in your bed, as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, the smell of pancakes hitting your nose.

“Breakfast in bed for my girl. Listen I gotta run to the office now,” he said as he handed you the plate of freshly cooked pancakes to you.

“It's Saturday!” You exclaimed.

“I know but Benny wanted to sign the deal with our company today. It's an important one, we can't let that go out of our hands,” he made you understand, “I'll be back within a few hours.”

“Sufe fing. I wif ve here,” you spoke with your mouth full, “Sure thing. I will be here.” You repeated your words after swallowing your food.

“Maggie will drop by. If you want to leave the house before I return, give the keys to her.” He said as he went back into his room to put his suit on.

“Hot damn,” you let out a low whistle as Dean stepped out of the room in his black suit, “Go get the deal, cowboy!” Dean did a full body laugh at your words, throwing his head backwards before he bid you goodbye and walked out of the door leaving you alone in his penthouse. Finishing your breakfast, you got up and got freshened up for the day. You picked up your phone and saw three texts from Cas.

“Meet me at 7.” “At the Season's 52.” “I'm looking forward to this.”

A smile crept onto your face, as you read the texts from him. “I need your help,” you shot a text to Ruby, “I've a date tonight. I don't know what to wear.” You waited for her to text back but instead of getting a text, you got a call from her.

“He finally asked you out?” She screamed from the other side of the phone.

“What do you mean “finally”?” You wondered.

“Oh come on, Y/N. How long have you two known each other?” “Uh-two months.”

“Two-wait, two months? You don't have a date with Dean?” She asked.

“No! Why would you think that?” You exclaimed, “Cas asked me out.”

“Cas? As in Castiel Novak? Dean's friend? And Dean's okay with it?”

“What's with the twenty questions, Ruby?” You said, annoyed at her questions, “And yes. Dean's fine with it. Why wouldn't he be? He is dating Lisa, in case you didn't remember. Now will you help me? I need a dress for tonight.”

Ruby agreed to go on a little shopping spree with you to find the perfect dress. Handing over the keys to Maggie, the housekeeper, you shot a text to Dean letting him know you were leaving his house. You waited for some time but he didn't text you back. You shrugged it off thinking he was probably busy with the meeting. Your whole afternoon was spent with Ruby as you tried to find a good dress for the date. She made you try on what seemed like a hundred dresses of different colours and style until a green bottleneck dress finally caught your eyes.

“This is a beautiful dress! You gotta try it on,” Your friend insisted.

“You sure? Look at the price - it's too expensive,” you pouted.

“Do you want to get laid tonight?” Ruby quirked her eyebrow.

“Yeah-I mean no….maybe,” you stutter.

“That dress - Cas won't be able to take his eyes off you tonight,” she smiled.

“Fine, if you insist.” Needless to say, the dress was a perfect fit but it was all for nothing.

Tapping on the hardwood of the table, you let out a frustrating sigh. Tears pricked at your eyes as you took a sip of the drink.

“Ma'am do you-are you going to-”

“Please bring the check. I'm done here,” you said, barely managing to keep your tears at bay. The waitress nodded and walked away from your table. You dialed up your best friend’s number and waited for him to pick up.

“Dean,” you said, sniffling a little as he picked up his phone after the third ring. “Y/N, you okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Can you,” you cleared your throat, “Can you pick me up? I'm at Season’s 52.”

“Sure,” you heard shuffling on the other side, “I'll be there as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” you replied.

“He just didn't show up,” you sniffled as Dean drove yourselves back to his house.

“Maybe-maybe he had his reasons,” Dean said, throwing a worried glance at your way.

“Reasons?” You scoffed.

“Cas is a good man. This is very unlike him,” Dean said.

“Am I-am I not good enough, Dean?” “Y/N, you know that's not true. You're pretty, smart, a little badass - you are a good person with a kind heart,” Dean smiled.

“Then why? Why didn't he show up? He could have left a message. I'm telling you Dean, I'm so over men now. All men are the same,” you looked at him, “except you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. That is good to hear.”

“I sure do know how to choose,” you grumbled.

“Y/N, it's just one bad date. So what? Cas is not the only man in the whole world. You'll find someone,” Dean said, pulling into his driveway.

“I don't think so. Maybe he was right,” you opened the door of the car to step out.

“Who?”

“Alistair. Maybe he is right. Maybe the problem is me,” you said, tears pooling in your eyes. Dean grabbed your hands and pulled you back into the car.

“No. He is not right. Alistair will never be right. He was an abusive and manipulative son of a bitch. Listen to me, you are not the problem, sweetheart,” he said, “those men just don't understand you.”

“Is that why no one sticks around?” You turned around to face him with wet eyes.

“I did and I will always be there for you,” he said, his hands cupping your face.

“I know, De,” you leaned into his touch as his thumb gently caressed your cheeks. You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by three harsh taps on the car window. Dean immediately opened the door and stepped out.

“Lisa.” He said.

“Unbelievable, Dean!” Lisa exclaimed. You couldn't see her face but you knew she was furious.

“It's not what it looks like,” Dean whispered.

“You just up and left me in the morning and now when I get back to talk things out, I find you cozying up to her. I'm done with you!” She yelled back. You shrunk back into your seat when you heard her scream. Dean didn't even tell you that he had broken up with her. You wondered why he hid it from you.

“I already said we were over Lisa, just go back home,” Dean said and brought his hand down his face.

“Three years of relationship meant nothing to you! Why?” Lisa shoved Dean, making him stumble back a little.

“I don't owe you an explanation, okay?”

“You cheating asshole-” “I didn't cheat on you, Lisa. I-I'm just not in love with you anymore,” Dean said, making her scoff.

“Have a nice life, asshole!” Lisa said and you heard her retreating footsteps. You stepped out of the car and saw Dean standing against the car, with his face buried in his hands.

“Hey, you okay?” You rubbed his arm gently.

“Yeah. I'm sorry you had to hear that,” he sighed.

“Why didn't you tell me you broke up with her?” You asked.

“It wasn’t important.” “Not important? You let me ramble all the way from the restaurant to your house but not once did you tell me you broke up with her,” you said.

“Y/N, I'm fine. Can we drop this now?” He snapped at you, “I'm sorry.”

“S’okay,” you gave him a sad smile, “I've an idea.”

“Does this idea include booze?” “What do ya think?” “I'm in.”

“What time is it?” You groaned as bright light hit your eyes. The throbbing pain in your head increased as you opened your eyes, trying to focus on the human figure standing in your doorway.

“You got wasted last night, sweetheart,” Dean grinned.

“Stop talking. Just stop talking,” you groaned and nestled deep into your covers.

“Aspirin. You will need these,” he kept the medicine on the nightstand, and walked away, “Breakfast is ready.”

“Morning, how's the hangover?” He gave you a cheeky smile as you walked into the dining room a few minutes later. Dean had his laptop opened in front of him, a cup of coffee beside the electronic device. “You're enjoying this too much, aren't ya? How come you're not hung-over?” You grumbled, “I'm hungry.”

“Here. I made waffles because my heartbroken, hung-over best friend needs her comfort food. Dig in,” he said and pushed a plate of waffles towards you, “I didn't drink much.”

“I thought we were drinking because you had a breakup.” “I told you already I'm not feeling miserable. See there's this girl I like who is not Lisa. I'm thinkin’ of asking her out so I did what I had to do. I ended things with Lisa,” Dean said.

“How come you never told me about this girl?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “‘Cause I wasn't sure how I felt but two days ago I saw her and I just knew that she is the one I want to be with,” he smiled.

“You're such a sap.” You giggled, “she must be very special.”

“She is very special. I have never met a girl like her,” he said, staring at you, “now, eat up.”

“Mhm,” you moaned, taking a bite of the waffles on your plate, “you know, you should give up your business and open up a coffee shop. You make excellent waffles.”

“Sorry sweetheart, no can do. People at work will miss me too much,” he chuckled, “you do remember you are interviewing for the position of PA tomorrow?”

“Yep but I don't know if I will get it or not. I have heard the CEO of the company is kind of a shithead,” you grinned.

“Oh really?” Dean looked at you with amused eyes, “You're terrible.”

“Yeah, so I've heard.” You laughed.

He shook his head at you, “Listen, I have a favour to ask.” “Shoot.”

“I would like it if you could accompany me to Sam and Jess’ anniversary party tonight,” he said.

“Tonight?” “Yeah. I know it's very sudden but it completely sli-”

“I'll go with you but I thought you told me that after what happened with your Dad last time, you wouldn't be attending another family gathering,” you said.

“Uh-huh. Sam insisted that I attend this party,” he replied.

“Fine I'll be there with you at the party to save you from John Winchester,” you giggled.

“You'll be my knight in shining armour tonight.” He chuckled.

You went back to your apartment to get ready for the party. Dean had told you that he would be picking you up at six that evening. As you touched up on your makeup, you heard three knocks on your door.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Dean smirked, looking dapper in a black two-piece suit.

“Good evening, Dean. I'll be out in a minute,” you blushed when you saw his eyes travel all over your body.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“De-” you snaked placed your hand over his, as you both sat inside the Impala with her engine turned off.

“I can't do this Y/N. I can't face John Winchester again, not after the crap he pulled last time,” he gritted out the words, his knuckles turning white as he held the steering wheel tightly, staring off at the direction of his house.

“Why are you here?” He looked at you in surprise. “I-Sam asked me to be here,” he said.

“Exactly. Your little brother asked you to be here so you will go into that house and attend your brother's party. It's up to you if you want to make any small talk, I'll be there with you but Dean you can't avoid your father forever-”

“I'm not avoiding him,” Dean said.

“Yes, you are. Now go in there, ask him why he did that, demand answers from him,” you said.

“I-okay, let's go. Just don't leave my side tonight or someone might get hurt,” he said.

“You're not going to punch your Dad,” you mumbled, “even though he deserves it.” He chuckled at your words as you two stepped out of the car.

“I'll never get used to the fact that you grew up in a mansion,” you smirked.

“It's not a mansion. It's a….big house,” he smiled.

“Yep, whatever you say.” As soon as you stepped through the door of the mansion, Dean was immediately pulled into a hug. “I thought you wouldn't show up,” Sam said, letting go of his brother, “Hey Y/N.”

“Almost didn't,” the older Winchester replied as you gave the younger one a small wave. “He showed up, didn't he? What about Mom?”

“Mom and Dad are in the living room. Last thing I saw they are not speaking to each other even when they are in the same room. I just want everyone to act civil till the party's over,” Sam said, “Drinks are in the kitchen.”

“So kitchen first, living room later. Keep John out of my sight and everything will be perfect,” Dean patted his brother's shoulder and made his way towards the kitchen, taking you with him. Pouring himself a glass, he handed you one.

“Dean,” a deep voice came from the doorway, making Dean stand up straight. “Sam had one job. Dad.” He looked at John and gave him a curt reply.

There was a moment of awkward silence as no words were exchanged between the father and the son. You could feel Dean trying his level best to keep himself from screaming at his Dad. You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.

“I know you don't want to see me right now-” “You're right and you may leave now,” Dean said and turned his back towards his father.

“Son. You have to understand, it was a long time back and I didn't know what was going through my head. I-” John sighed.

“You what? You had a perfect family here. A wife, two sons. And all this time, you knew about Adam but you said nothing. You kept up with the charade of the perfect husband and father when in reality you were neither of them,” Dean gritted out.

“Dean. Maybe I was not the perfect husband but I did everything for you and Sam,” the older man said in a harsh tone.

“Really? You did everything? You were nothing but an absent father. I was there to take care of Mom and Sammy while you were away on your so-called business trips when actually you were plowing another woman's field,” Dean growled at his father.

“Dean!” His father snapped back.

“Mr. Winchester you should leave now,” you said, trying to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand, “John, please.”

“This is family matter Y/N. You have no right to get involved in this,” John retorted.

“Don't speak to her like that. She is more family to me than you ever were,” Dean said and stalked towards his Dad, “so you can leave now. I'm sure as hell Mom is not talking to you so you can get the hell out of this house now, John.”

“Dean-” “Now,” Dean growled.

“I would do what he says, John,” you said. John scoffed, turning around and got out of the house. Dean plopped down on one of the chairs in the kitchen, gently rubbing his temples.

“You sure you're okay?” “I need a stronger drink,” he murmured.

“I saw Dad leave. What happened?” Sam came into the kitchen and asked as he looked at his brother.

“I told you to keep John away from me. You had one job,” Dean snapped and stormed out of the room, grabbing a glass of drink with him.

“He just needs some time to cool down. John came to talk to Dean and-”

“Yeah I understood. I'm gonna check on Mom. This party was a mistake,” Sam said and left the kitchen leaving you standing there alone.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you finished up your drink. You were angry at John too. He had hurt Dean, your best friend. He was a liar and you hated liars. You needed to go find Dean. You placed the empty glass on the counter and made your towards the door but you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him.

“Cas,” you said, “I didn't expect you to be here.”

“Yeah well, Sam is a good friend so he invited me over.” Cas gave you a smile.

“Oh.” You nodded.

“We should probably address the elephant in the room,” he gave an awkward laugh.

“Huh? Oh you mean how you stood me up last night?” You glared at him.

“Well you didn't tell me that you were looking for only a one night stand? I would have backed out sooner. I like you Y/N but I don't do one night-”

“Wait, hold on. Who told you I was looking for a one time, no strings attached thing?”

“Dean told me,” your jaw dropped onto the floor at his confession, “I'm sorry Y-”

“S’okay.” You brushed him off, “I need to have a word with Dean, have you seen him?”

“I think he was talking to Kevin over there,” Cas pointed you towards another room.

“Thanks and it's okay, Cas. We're cool.” You said and almost ran your way into the other room.

“I'm telling you man, you deserve someone better than Y/N. She is clingy and she doesn't take no for an answer. I can give you her number but-” Dean turned around and his eyes locked with your wet ones. You shook your head at him, a look of betrayal evident on your face. You heard him call out to you as you turned on your heels and ran towards the door. “Excuse me, Kevin,” Dean said and went after you but by that time you were already out of the house. “Y/N!” He called, as you pulled out your phone to call for an uber.

“Fuck you!” You exclaimed, “I'm clingy, I don't take no for an answer. Is that what you think of me? All this time while you pretended to be my best friend, is this what went through your head?” Tears were running down your face now, “how many times was I there for you when you needed me and this is how you repay me?”

“I didn't mean to say it like that. You are my best friend Y/N-”

“You are a fuckin’ liar! You told Cas that I was looking for a person to keep my bed warm for only one night. Why? You know what, I don't want to talk to you right now. Leave me alone,” you said.

“No, please,” he took a step towards you. “Don't you dare make a move!” You screamed, “You lied to me and I hate liars more than anything. You are no better than your Dad. I hate you! I regret that I ever thought of you as my best friend.” You heard shuffling behind you and turned around to see him leaving. A sob tore from your throat. Standing there alone on the porch of the Winchester mansion, with your smudged makeup, you waited for the uber to show up.

It took you one hour to finally reach your house. Your phone was getting blown up by messages from the Winchester brothers and Ruby. You broke down in tears as soon as you reached your house. You crawled underneath the covers without bothering to get out of your dress or to remove your makeup. Your body shook as you continued to sob loudly into the pillow. The same man, who acted as your rock when you had left Alistair, gave you shelter in his house when you showed up in the middle of the night because your ex-boyfriend was drunk and was on a rampage, was the one who continued to spew lies about you behind your back. Your trust was shattered just like your heart and you didn't know how to piece them back together. The crying had tired you out and in no time you slipped into a deep slumber with Dean's words haunting your dream.

Morning came way too quickly. You woke up to Ruby knocking on your door along with Dean calling your phone. Your eyes were red and swollen as a result of crying all night long.

“What happened? Who's ass do I need to kick?” Ruby barged into your house as soon as you opened the door as saw you had been crying.

“....Dean.” “Dean? Dean Winchester?” Her eyes widened in surprise which later turned to anger when you told her everything that had happened the day before. Ruby was furious and if Dean was there in the room, he would have been a dead man.

“Oh Y/N,” Ruby cooed as she pulled you into a hug, “I didn't know it was this bad. Sam called me to check on you because you left his house in a hurry. I'm gonna kill Dean Winchester.” You held onto her tightly as sobs racked through your body. She gently caressed your head while cursing the green-eyed Winchester.

You were miserable but what you didn't know is that your ex-best friend was also losing his mind over the incident. The guilt was eating him up alive and he didn't know how to fix it. Sam had punched him in the face and kicked him out of his house when he had told him what happened.

“Tell her the truth or don't ever talk to me again,” Sam had threatened his brother. With red eyes and a swollen cheek, Dean went into his office the next morning. He hoped that after the interview he would get a chance to apologise but you never showed up.

“Okay, Mr. Winchester, that was the last interviewee,” Jody poked in her head into the room. “That was the last? What about uh-Y/N L/N?” Dean asked.

“Uh-she dropped out - called us early in the morning to let us know she won't make it to the interview,” Jody smiled, “I need your decision fast.”

“Decision?” “Who we are hiring for the position of the PA,” she said.

“Sure. I'll let you know. You can go now Jody. Close the door on your way out,” Dean said.

He sighed as he dialed your number, “It's Y/N L/N. She can't get to her phone now. Please leave a message.”

“Y/N, sweetheart I'm sorry. You shouldn't have dropped out of the interview. I know you won't ever forgive me but I'm sorry.” You sniffled as you heard his voice message. He had left you exactly fifty-three texts, twenty three missed calls and seventeen voice messages - all had the same words, ‘I'm sorry’ but you couldn't forgive him.

“Stop listening to that asshat,” Ruby grumbled and snatched your phone from you. “I-I just can't understand why he did that? I thought he was my friend,” you sniffled.

“I'm sorry Y/N,” Ruby took a seat beside you and wrapped you in a comforter, “I brought ice cream with me. I heard they work wonders on a broken heart.”

“And you brought my favourite flavour. Thanks!” You hugged but were interrupted by the sound of your doorbell.

“Stay here. Let me check,” Ruby said and went towards the door. Opening it, she stared at a disheveled, sad Dean Winchester.

“Give me one good reason to not kick you out right now,” Ruby glared at Dean.

“I need to talk to her. Please,” Dean’s voice cracked at the end.

“No you won't. She is miserable and I won't let you break her even more,” Ruby challenged, “Now get out.”

“I don't care if I have to fight you but please let me see her,” he pleaded.

“You are one stubborn, lying piece of shit,” Ruby grumbled.

“Why are you here?” the two heads turned immediately towards you.

“I wasn't sure you wanted to see me but I had to see you,” Dean said.

“And why exactly?” Ruby snapped.

“Ruby. It's okay. Let him in. I need to hear him out.” Dean gave Ruby a side eye and let himself in.

“Y/N,” She started. “I'll be fine," you assured her.

“If you need me to kick him out or kick his ass, just call me,” she glared at Dean once more and left your apartment.

“She's scary,” the green-eyed man said. “Well she has to. She just saw her friend with a broken heart,” you threw him his words back.

“I can't tell you how sorry I am,” Dean said, his head hung in shame.

“Why?” He looked up at you, “I don't know,” he replied, making you scoff.

“You don't know? Well maybe because you actually thought of me to be clingy and the girl who doesn't take no for an answer,” you seethed, “and you even lied to Cas about me. You framed me as some whore who doesn't do relationships. Fuck you, Dean! You knew better than anyone how long it took me to get over Alistair. How could you do this to me?”

“I don't know,” he whispered, “It's just I lied to them because I didn't want them to be with you.”

“It's my life! I get to decide who I want to have sex with and who I want to date,” you hissed.

“Well I couldn't let you make those decisions because I didn't want you to choose them. I wanted you to choose me.” he blurted out. You sat there dumbfounded as you heard his confession, "What? Why?"

“Because...I love you,” Dean muttered.

“You love me?” “Yeah.”

“What are you, a kindergartener? Next thing I know you will be pulling my pigtails,” you sassed.

“I'm sorry. You know I'm bad with feelings-” “So you decided to lie?”

“Yeah.” “You're terrible, you know that,” you said.

“So I have heard,” he shrugged. “Come here you idiot,” you beckoned at him. He went towards you and sat down beside you.

“I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was just-” “What? You were just fending off the boys?”

“Yeah. At first I was scared that I was falling for my best friend and you knew me, you knew all my horrible secrets, the thoughts that are inside my head which keep me up at night and I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same. I broke up with Lisa for you because whenever I closed my eyes at night I wanted it to be you with me, not Lisa.” You were stunned at his confession. Dean never talked about his feelings, he was extremely good at hiding his feelings so hearing him blurt out about how he felt, surprised you.

“Dean,” you said. “No. I need to say this,” he said, stopping you, “I don't know if you feel the same. Even if you did, I don't think I have a chance after the stunt I pulled yesterday. But sweetheart, you mean everything to me, I swear to never hurt you again. I was planning on asking you out after the party but Kevin had asked for your number so I told him all those lies about you but sweetheart I know what I did….said is unforgivable but please I need you. I need my best friend back.” He looked at you, locking his teary eyes with yours.

“I don't know whether to kiss you or hit you,” you said, wiping away the single tear that rolled down your cheek. “K-kiss me?” Dean’s eyes went wide.

“You are the most horrible person I have ever met. I hate you, Dean but I hate me more that I decided to fall for this horrible person that I call my best friend. Kiss me, before I change my mind,” you said and that's all Dean needed before he crashed his lips into yours. It was a harsh kiss but one filled with longing and love. His hands sneaked to the back of your head, his fingers entangled with your hair as your hands held on to his biceps.

“I'm sorry for hurting you,” he said after he let go of your lips. You sat there with his hands cupping your face, your foreheads touching. “Next time, talk to me,” you whispered.

“I will,” he kissed your forehead, “So Y/N L/N, can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night?” “Definitely Dean Winchester, but mind you I'm tough to impress,” you smirked.

“I have plans, special plans for a special girl. I will make you mine,” he said before he leaned in to capture your lips with his once again.

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